Korean Tale
The Delicious Stone Tteok
This old folk tale reminds us that when we are smart, we can overcome the most difficult obstacles, even if we are at an obvious disadvantage.
It is long and well-known in Ireland about
Just overnight it happened. Where her bonny, blue-eyed baby boy had been was now a shriveled, dry and wrinkled
“It’s not bad, Mrs. Sullivan. Your boy’s with the Good People and they’ll take right good care of him,” they told her as she wept. They also had a lot of terrible advice to give her about what to do with the
But kind Mrs. Sullivan, though she believed it was a fairy, didn’t want to hurt it. Even if it was so wrinkled like a pink raisin and even if it was as skinny as her pinky. It still looked a little like her bonny baby. And harm him, she
Then one day, who should she meet on the road but the famous healer, Ellen Grey. She always wore grey, from top to bottom. Even her eyes and shoes were grey. But she could do many wonderful
“You’re in grief this morning, Mrs. Sullivan,” she said. “What has you sad, now?”
“Well, Ellen, I have good cause for grief. My very own wee boy was taken from his cradle - without so much as an ‘ask your pardon’ - and a little old and shriveled fairy has taken his place. It’s no wonder I’m in such grief.”
“I see, Mrs. Sullivan,” said Ellen. “But are you sure it’s a changeling?”
“Ellen, as sure as I have two eyes in my very skull and as sure as I’m
“Will you take an old woman’s advice, then?” asked Ellen Grey.
“I will, if it’ll get him back. I’d do most anything now,” said Mrs. Sullivan with hope in her eyes. “Can you help me?”
“Might be I can help, if you do as I say.” The mother nodded quickly. “This is what you need
“How will I know?” asked Mrs. Sullivan.
“You’ll know, plain
Mrs. Sullivan ran home and followed Ellen’s instructions exactly. The whole time the thing in the cradle screeched and screeched. It grew very quiet, though, when she put the eggshells, with no yolks, into the boiling water. It watched her with a strange gleam in its dark eyes.
He suddenly spoke, in a very old man’s voice: “What are you doing, mammy
Her heart pounded, nearly choking her throat in fear. There was no way that her bonny boy could speak; it was a supernatural trick. It was definitely a fairy! She carefully slid a poker into the fire.
“I’m brewing, darling
“And what are you brewing, mammy mine?” asked the old-man voice. The second true proof he could not be her son.
“Oh, how I wish the poker were red already!” Mrs. Sullivan thought to herself. But she had to wait, so she said: “I’m brewing eggshells, darling son.”
“Oh wonders!” cried the fairy, sitting up in the cradle and clapping his hands in delight. “I’m fifteen hundred years in the world and never have I seen a brewery
The poker was finally red-hot. Mrs. Sullivan grabbed it from the cool end, turned and ran towards the cradle. But alas! She tripped and fell, and the poker slid across
But when she got to the cradle, what did she see? Why, none other than her own bonny
And not once, not ever did the fairies bother Mrs. Sullivan or her bonny wee