Collected Folk Tales. Alan Garner

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      Shick-Shack said to the tree, “Grow.” The tree grew. The water came after.

      Shick-Shack said to the tree, “Grow.” The tree grew. The water came after.

      Shick-Shack said to the tree, “Grow.” The tree grew. The water came after.

      Shick-Shack said to the tree, “Grow.” The tree said, “I’ve done with growing.”

      The water came after. Shick-Shack broke branches from the tree to make a raft, and he sat on the raft and floated over the water.

      Shick-Shack saw an otter swimming by, and he said to the otter, “Have you seen any land?”

      “No, I haven’t,” said the otter.

      “Go and find some,” said Shick-Shack.

      So the otter swam down into the water, and when she came back she said, “There is none.”

      Shick-Shack saw a rat swimming by, and he said to the rat, “Have you seen any land?”

      “No, I haven’t,” said the rat.

      “Go and find some,” said Shick-Shack.

      So the rat swam down into the water, and when she came back she said, “There is none.”

      “Show me your paw,” said Shick-Shack.

      The rat showed him her paw. And there were three grains of sand in it.

      Shick-Shack put the three grains of sand on the water, and took some ants from the branches of the raft, and he said to the ants, “Walk round that sand.”

      So they did. And the sand grew.

      “More,” said Shick-Shack. The ants walked round the sand. The sand grew. Shick-Shack said, “More.” The ants walked round the sand. The sand grew. Shick-Shack said, “More.” The ants walked round the sand. The sand grew. “Is that enough?” said Shick-Shack.

      So he put a wolf and her cub out on the new land, and the cub ran; and it ran and it ran, till it was an old wolf, but it never did reach the end of the land.

      “Hah,” said Shick-Shack.

      Then Shick-Shack grew an oak tree, and he lived there, in the oak tree, on the new land. And he was so glad, he sang a little song:

      “Within and out, in and out, round as a ball,

      With hither and thither, as straight as a line,

      With lily, germander, and sops in wine.

      With sweet briar,

      And bonfire,

      And strawberry wire,

      And columbine.”

      

      un-apu and Xbalanque were twin hero-wizards, warriors and mischief-makers, both the pride and the torment of Guatemala.

      Vukub-Cakix, the Great Macaw, was nothing but trouble. He shone with the brilliance of gold and silver, and his teeth were emeralds, and he owned the nanze-tree of succulent fruit. He was a boaster, and his sons were no better. Their names were Zipacna the Earthmaker and Cabrakan the Earthshaker. The sons made mountains and then toppled them, and the father guzzled the harvests, so that between them they were a plague in Guatemala.

      One day Vukub-Cakix climbed his nanze-tree to eat the fruit, but the fruit had been eaten already. He swung in the tree-top, screaming his rage, but the rage turned to pain as a blow-pipe dart struck him on the jaw, and he lost his grip and tumbled to the ground. While he lay there, winded, Hun-Apu jumped on him out of a bush and began to strangle him. Vukub-Cakix would have died then if he had not seen the pulp of the nanze-fruit smeared round Hun-Apu’s mouth. This angered Vukub-Cakix more than his throttling, and he swelled into monster-fury and tore Hun-Apu’s arm from its shoulder.

      Vukub-Cakix went home with the arm, still chattering vengeance, and he built a fire and put the arm on a spit to roast. Then he lay on his bed in a sulk and nursed his jaw.

      Hun-Apu found his brother Xbalanque. “We must get my arm back,” he said, “before it’s cooked, or it will be stiff for life.” So they made their way as doctors to Vukub-Cakix’s house.

      “We are famous doctors,” they said, “and from the noise we hear there must be somebody in need of us.”

      “Aiee,” said Vukub-Cakix. “Aiee.”

      “That sound I diagnose as a bad case of Grimgums,” said Xbalanque.

      “Og, og,” moaned Vukub-Cakix.

      “And that’s Eyetitis,” said Hun-Apu.

      “They’ll have to come out,” said Xbalanque.

      “Yes, all out,” said Hun-Apu.

      “But shall I be cured?” said Vukub-Cakix.

      “Cured?” said the twins. “Why, you’ll not recognise yourself.”

      So they took out Vukub-Cakix’s teeth and put in grains of maize, but they gave him nothing for his eyes. And from that moment Vukub-Cakix was harmless. His colours faded, his mouth was no terror, and whether or not he died, or wandered in the forest as a beggar, no one knew or cared. Hun-Apu pulled his arm off the fire and stuck it back on his shoulder.

      But the twins had not yet finished their work. Vukub’s two sons were still alive, and trouble enough without the need to avenge their father’s disaster. They decided to deal with Zipacna the Earthmaker first, and got four hundred young men to help them.

      The young men pretended to be building a house. They cut down the biggest tree of Guatemala, and Zipacna found them heaving and straining to lift it.

      “Oh, Sir,” they said, “please help us carry this tree. It is the ridge of our new house, which we are making as an offering to those two heroes, the sons of Vukub-Cakix.”

      “Weaklings,” said Zipacna, and hefted the tree on to his shoulder.

      “This way,” said the four hundred young men. “This way, if you please, Sir.”

      The giant carried the tree through the forest to a clearing where the young men had dug a pit deeper even than the giant was tall.

      “That is for the foundations, Sir,” they said. “Would you be so good as to take the tree down there?”

      Zipacna jumped into the pit. “Foundations are a funny place for roof ridges, aren’t they?” he said. In answer, the young men piled logs and rocks on his head, and when the pit was a mound, they danced on it to celebrate the death of Zipacna.

      But Zipacna was not dead. He was holding his strength, and when СКАЧАТЬ