The Pelican

The Pelican

Once, in a faraway kingdom, there lived an old king. Everyone in the palace had noticed something strange: one of his eyes often seemed to smile, while the other always looked a little sad.

The king had three sons. The eldest loved splendid armour and balls. The middle son cared most about horses. The youngest prince, who was twelve, loved birds. He could sit in the garden for hours, listening to larks and thrushes.

One spring morning the brothers began speaking of their father.

“Why is he never entirely cheerful?” the youngest asked.

The elder brothers shrugged.

“Go and ask him, if you are so bold.”

The eldest had asked once, but the king had waved him away. The middle son had learned nothing either.

Still, the youngest went to his father.

“Father,” he said, “I do not want to make you sad. Please tell me what you are missing.”

The king was quiet for a long time. Then he sat his son beside him.

“My smiling eye is glad because I have three sons. My sad eye remembers a bird that I once lost.”

“What bird?”

“A magic pelican. Its song was so beautiful that old people felt younger after hearing it, and sorrowful people remembered why it was worth getting up in the morning. One day the pelican vanished. I have not seen it since.”

The youngest prince rose to his feet.

“We will find it.”

When the elder brothers heard the story, they decided to set out as well. They chose the best horses and packed plenty of money.

No good horse was left for the youngest prince.

He took a little bread and started on foot.

Outside the village, an old traveller was sitting by the road.

“Will you share a piece of bread?” he asked.

The prince broke his loaf in two. “Take it. The road is shorter when it is shared.”

The old man smiled.

“You are seeking the pelican.”

The prince was surprised. “How do you know?”

“There are many roads in the world, but good intentions can be seen from far away. Listen carefully. The pelican is beyond the Operencia Sea. An ordinary horse cannot reach it. But nearby lives an old enchantress. She owns two horses that no one can watch for three nights in a row. If you succeed, you will earn a reward.”

The traveller gave the prince a little silver whistle with three holes.

“The first will call the ruler of insects, the second the ruler of fish, and the third the ruler of mice. Do not lose it.”

That evening the prince knocked at the enchantress’s door.

“I would like to work for you for three days.”

The old woman narrowed her eyes.

“My task is simple only in words. Each night you must pasture my two horses on the Silk Meadow. If you bring them both back in the morning, well and good. If you do not, you will leave with nothing.”

“Agreed.”

On the first night, the prince led the horses to the meadow. But as soon as he sat beneath a tree, a strange sleep overcame him. When he woke, the horses were gone.

He remembered the whistle and opened the first hole.

From every side wings buzzed.

“What do you want?” hummed a great mosquito wearing a silver crown.

“I need to find two horses.”

The insects scattered across the sky and soon brought two griffins. The prince touched them with the bridle, and they became horses again.

The enchantress only grunted.

On the second night, the same thing happened. This time the prince opened the second hole.

A great carp with a golden crown lifted its head from the river.

“Shall we search the water?”

“Exactly.”

The fish searched every inlet and found two golden fish. The prince touched them with the bridle, and once more two horses stood before him.

On the third night, the horses hid beneath the ground. The prince opened the third hole.

Hundreds of whiskered faces peeped from their burrows.

“What have you lost?” squeaked the King of Mice.

“Two horses.”

The mice ran through the earth and soon drove two grey rats out of a storehouse. The prince touched them with the bridle, and they became horses.

In the morning the enchantress said, “You have endured all three nights. Choose gold, silver, fine clothes, or horses from my stable.”

The prince shook his head.

“I need something else. Behind your stable there is an old colt that everyone thinks is good for nothing. And there is an old bridle in the attic. Give me those.”

The enchantress looked at him for a long time.

“Who told you?”

“A good man on the road.”

“Then take them.”

The colt could barely stand. The prince led it to a stream, gave it water, washed it, and put the old bridle on its head.

Then a wonder happened.

The colt’s coat shone like gold, its back straightened, and its eyes gleamed with a clear fire.

“Mount, master,” said the horse. “I know the way.”

“You can talk?”

“When there is need.”

The horse rose into the sky as lightly as a bird. They flew over fields, mountains, and rivers until they caught up with the elder brothers.

“The road divides ahead,” the eldest said. “Let each of us search separately. We will meet here in a year.”

So they did.

The youngest took the left-hand road. He crossed a golden forest, then a silver forest, and at last came to the Operencia Sea.

Great trees grew on the two shores. Twice a year their tops bent toward each other and touched branches, making a bridge.

That day the trees were joined.

The prince left his horse in a green glade and crossed the sea along the branches.

Beyond the water he met a very old woman.

“I am looking for the magic pelican,” he said.

“I have heard of it,” she replied. “Go through the silver forest. My elder sister lives there.”

Her sister directed him through a copper forest to an even older woman.

At last that woman said, “The pelican is nearby. It is kept in an old stone tower. The people who took it long ago have never been able to make it sing truly for them.”

For several evenings the prince came to the tower and listened. Each time a soft ringing sent him to sleep.

On the seventh evening, he tied a thin thread to his finger and fastened its other end to the door handle. When the door opened, the thread tugged him awake.

Then he heard the song.

It was not only a bird’s voice. It sounded as if streams were ringing, trees were whispering, and children were laughing all at once.

When everyone had left, the prince opened the cage.

The pelican looked at him closely.

“Will you fly home with me?”

The bird stepped onto his hand.

On the way back, the prince visited the three old women. The pelican sang for each of them. Their backs straightened, their steps grew lighter, and their eyes shone.

“It is not youth that is dearest,” one of them said. “It is the feeling that beautiful days still lie ahead.”

The prince crossed the sea, mounted his golden horse, and returned to the meeting place he had agreed on with his brothers.

There he learned that the elder brothers had spent nearly the whole year in towns, squandered their money, and fallen into debt with an innkeeper.

The youngest prince paid their debt.

“Let us go home,” he said. “Father is waiting.”

The elder brothers saw the pelican and felt ashamed. Then shame turned into envy.

When they were very near home, they said, “Let us sleep here. In the morning, we will all ride on together.”

In the night, the brothers took the pelican’s cage and the horses and rode away quietly. They left the youngest by a forest cottage, telling themselves that he would somehow get home.

When the prince woke, he understood what had happened.

He was hurt not because the bird was gone, but because of his brothers.

“I helped them,” he whispered.

An old swineherd lived nearby. He heard the boy’s voice and invited him into his cottage.

“Do not despair. The road to truth is sometimes longer than the road home.”

They walked to the capital together.

Meanwhile, the elder brothers brought the pelican to the king.

“We found it!” they declared.

People gathered in the palace. They set the cage in the middle of the great hall.

“Sing, bird,” the king asked.

The pelican was silent.

They played violins, brought it grain, and opened the windows, but the bird did not make a sound.

The next day the old swineherd came to the palace.

“They say you need someone who can make the pelican sing.”

“Can you?” the king asked in surprise.

“Not I. My young friend can.”

The prince stepped out from behind the old man’s shoulder.

The pelican saw him, spread its wings, and began to sing at once.

The king rose from his throne. His face brightened, his shoulders straightened, and for the first time in many years, his sad eye became as joyful as the other.

“My son!” he cried.

The youngest prince told the whole story: the old traveller, the three holes in the whistle, the enchantress, the golden horse, the trees over the sea, the pelican, and his brothers’ betrayal.

The elder brothers bowed their heads.

“It is true,” said one.

“We were afraid Father would love you more,” said the other.

The king looked at them sternly.

“Love is not divided like a pie. But trust can be lost.”

He did not order a harsh punishment. Instead, his elder sons had to repay their debts, work beside the people whom they had troubled, and prove by their actions that they had changed.

The youngest brother did not forgive them at once. But he did not wish them harm.

The old swineherd was invited to live near the palace, for the king said, “One who helps a person when he is left alone deserves honour no less than a hero.”

The pelican made its home in the great palace garden. It was never kept in a cage again.

Sometimes it sang at dawn.

Then people did not grow younger in years, but younger in heart: they remembered old dreams, made peace after quarrels, and believed again that much good still lay ahead.

And from that day on, the king looked upon the world with two smiling eyes.

May this story leave a little light in your heart ✨