The goblins turned to stone

The goblins turned to stone

Long ago in the Netherlands, when long green fields were just beginning to take the place of forests, people learned to make so much cheese that scarcely a meal was served without it.

Cheese was eaten fresh, toasted, in thin slices and thick chunks. It was put on bread, melted by the fire and served with dinner. And when someone ate too much hot cheese in the evening, they sometimes had strange dreams at night.

People did not yet know that a heavy supper could bring troubled dreams. So they had a simple explanation for anything mysterious:

“The goblins have been here!”

Many strange stories were told about Dutch goblins. They were said to be small and nimble, fond of nighttime pranks, and so quiet that not even a rustle betrayed them. Each goblin’s most precious possession was a little red cap.

As soon as a goblin pulled it onto his head, he became invisible.

Because of this, the night pranksters were very proud of their caps.

They might creep up to a window and echo the last word of a conversation in a squeaky voice, move a wooden mug from a shelf to a bench, or clink a spoon so softly that the household searched and searched for the culprit.

But one strict magical rule governed their lives. Goblins could not bear sunlight. Old tales said that any goblin who failed to hide before the first morning sunbeam would turn to stone.

So every night the goblins had fun to their heart's content, but before dawn they hurried underground.

In a little village in Drenthe, a girl named Alida lived with her elderly mother. Their home was warm and tidy, but a narrow gap beside the window frame had never quite been repaired.

One cold evening, her mother had gone to bed while Alida tidied the kitchen.

Suddenly, there was a soft rustling in the room.

Rustling, rustling.

Then a faint giggle.

Alida went to look in on her mother.

A little goblin stood beside the bed, wearing a red cap. He must have thought no one could see him. But perhaps his cap had slipped, or perhaps he wanted to show off: for a moment, he became visible.

Her mother sat up against her pillow.

“Who’s making noise here at night?” she asked sternly.

The goblin made a funny face and stuck out his tongue.

“Alida, bring my wooden shoes,” said her mother.

The goblin seemed to realise that the evening was losing its fun and darted towards the gap. In his hurry, his cap caught on the window frame.

The little red cap fell straight to the floor.

The goblin squeaked, became visible from head to toe, and in an instant slipped out.

Alida lifted the hat with two fingers.

“So, this is how they do it,” she whispered.

The next day, the girl showed the find to the neighbors. The older people warned:

“Don’t tease the creatures of the night. They get angry when they lose their things.”

But Alida didn’t want a fight.

“I will give back the cap,” she said. “But first, they must agree to stop frightening people and prowling through our homes.”

In the evening she put a small note near the crack:

“I will return the red cap tomorrow at midnight on the great moor. Send your elders to talk. No nighttime pranks.”

At night, something rustled behind the wall. The note disappeared.

The next day the news spread throughout the village. People decided to go to the moor together, but not to take anything dangerous. Someone took a lantern, someone a bell, someone a hazel branch, which in old fairy tales was considered a protection against spells.

“We are not going to fight,” Alida reminded them. “We only need to show that we know the secret of their caps and will no longer let them make mischief in our homes.”

At midnight, a large round moon hung over the moor.

Alida hung the red cap on a bush.

At first nothing happened.

Then the grass began to stir.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

A thin whisper was heard from all sides:

“The cap… the cap… our cap…”

Dozens of red specks appeared in the clearing. Goblins were creeping up in their magic caps. Their bodies could scarcely be seen, but their little hats flickered in the moonlight, then vanished into the grass.

One goblin stretched out his hand to the bush.

Alida stood in front of the cap.

“First, we need an agreement.”

In response, laughter was heard from the darkness.

And suddenly someone tugged at her sleeve ribbon.

“So you have come to play tricks as well?” the girl cried indignantly.

The villagers formed a circle. They stretched out their hands and began to catch the little red hats that were flashing around.

“Here is one!”

“And here is the second!”

“Look, the third!”

As soon as the hat flew off the head, its owner became visible. More and more short, confused goblins appeared in the clearing.

Now no one laughed anymore.

“Give them back!” they squeaked.

“Promise to stop frightening people,” Alida replied.

But the goblins were stubborn. Some snatched at the caps, others ran in circles, and still others called for their invisible friends. A strange commotion filled the night. Nobody struck anyone, but everyone ran, grabbed caps, tripped over tussocks, and argued so loudly that even an owl moved to another tree.

Time passed.

The moon was sinking lower.

The sky in the east was beginning to turn gray.

Alida was the first to notice.

“The sun will rise soon!” she shouted. “Goblins, hide! We don’t want you to come to any harm!”

A few of the smartest ones immediately rushed away. The others ran after them.

But some were too stubborn. Instead of running away, they were still trying to get their caps back.

“Just a minute!”

“This is mine!”

“Give me the red one!”

And then the first golden ray appeared over the edge of the field.

It touched one goblin.

He froze.

It touched another.

That goblin froze too.

Within moments, rounded grey stones, large and small, lay where the most stubborn goblins had stood, as though someone had scattered them over the moor.

All the people fell silent.

Alida took down the red cap that had started it all and laid it on the nearest stone.

“I warned you,” she said quietly.

When the moon rose over the moor that evening, the little stone figures crackled softly. One by one, the goblins woke from their enchanted sleep, shook off the stone dust, and hurried underground. After that adventure, they became much more careful. They stopped making mischief in people’s homes. If they echoed someone’s words, they did it from far away.

Ordinary rounded boulders remained where they had stood as stones until evening. For many years, children were shown those curious groups of rocks among the grass and fields on the moors of Drenthe.

In the summer, flowers bloomed among them. In the autumn, the wind howled. In winter they were covered with snow, and in spring cows grazed nearby, who had no interest in the old magic.

And when someone asked:

“Where did so many stones come from?”

The old people smiled and answered:

“That is a very old story, about goblins who became so caught up in an argument that they forgot to check whether the sun was rising.”

Afterwards, the children spent a long time searching the grass for a little red cap.

May this story leave a little light in your heart ✨