The Tartaro and Petit Perroquet

The Tartaro and Petit Perroquet

Once there lived a mother and her son. They lived very modestly, and at times had very little indeed. The son was called Petit Perroquet. He was young, attentive to people, and had one rare habit: before doing anything, he looked carefully and thought.

One morning, Petit said to his mother, “I will go and look for work. I do not want us always counting our last coins. Perhaps there is a task for me somewhere.”

His mother put bread in his bag, hugged him, and said, “You may not be the strongest, but your head is clear. Take care of it, and do not lose your kindness.”

Petit travelled far. He passed one village, then a second, then a third, crossed hills, roads, and fields, until at last he reached a great city. Above its rooftops rose the royal palace.

“Are any workers needed here?” Petit asked.

“In the royal garden, they are looking for a helper,” people told him.

So Petit became a gardener.

At first he warned them honestly, “I scarcely know how to use a hoe.”

The old gardener laughed.

“If you do not know, we will teach you. Worse is the person who thinks they already know everything.”

Petit learned quickly. He watered trees, tied up young branches, carried water, and swept away dry leaves. He greeted everyone, was rude to no one, and never laughed at another person’s mistake.

Before long, servants, cooks, and guards all liked him.

The princess often walked in the royal garden. She too noticed the new gardener. Not because he tried to impress her, but because Petit spoke with the same kindness to a royal adviser and to the boy who swept the paths.

But at court lived a young prince who had long hoped to marry the princess. He saw that she gladly spoke with Petit, and jealousy awoke in him.

“Who is he?” thought the prince. “Only an ordinary gardener.”

One day he came to the king.

“Your Majesty,” he said, “do you know what your gardener boasts of? He says he can bring Tartaro’s horse here.”

Tartaro was a giant who lived far beyond the river in the mountains. People were afraid to enter his forest, for he did not like uninvited guests and drove them away so fiercely that few dared return a second time.

The king was surprised and summoned Petit.

“They say you promised to bring Tartaro’s horse.”

“I never said that, Your Majesty.”

“But I have been told that you did.”

Petit understood that arguing would be useless.

“If you truly order me to try, give me money for the journey. And let me decide for myself how to act.”

The king agreed.

Petit set out. He walked a long way until a wide river lay before him. A ferry stood near the bank.

“Will you take me across?” Petit asked the ferryman.

“I will.”

Petit paid him well and added, “Perhaps I will not return alone. If you have trouble because of me, I will pay for that too.”

Beyond the river began a dense forest. Petit walked higher and higher until he saw a lonely house by a slope.

He knocked.

A very old woman opened the door.

“Boy, go away,” she whispered. “My son Tartaro cannot bear strangers. If he hears you, there will be trouble.”

Petit thanked her for the warning and hid beneath a great heap of ferns nearby.

Soon the ground seemed to hum. Heavy footsteps sounded. Tartaro was coming home.

“Someone has been here!” he boomed from the doorway.

“No one is here,” answered his mother. “Go and eat supper.”

Tartaro searched for a long time, looking behind stones, beneath trees, and through the ferns. Petit lay very, very still. The giant lifted a few upper branches right above him, but eventually grew tired of searching and went inside.

When loud snoring came from the house, Petit climbed out of his hiding place and crept to the stable.

There stood a remarkable horse. A huge bell hung from its neck.

“You can be heard halfway up the mountain,” Petit whispered.

He packed the bell tightly with soft fern, so the clapper could no longer strike the metal.

Petit led the horse from the stable, mounted, and raced toward the river.

The ferryman was waiting. Together they brought the horse onto the ferry and crossed.

Once the far bank was behind them, Tartaro’s roar came from the forest.

“Bring back my horse!”

But the river already lay between them.

Petit reached the city. Just before the palace, he pulled the fern from the bell.

Boom. Boom.

People looked from windows and ran into the streets.

“Petit has returned!”

“And with Tartaro’s horse!”

The king was amazed. The princess was sincerely glad that Petit was alive and unharmed.

But the jealous prince only frowned more deeply.

The next day he came to the king again.

“Have you heard, Your Majesty? Now Petit says he will bring Tartaro’s diamond.”

The king summoned the gardener once more.

“Did you boast that you would bring the giant’s diamond?”

Petit sighed.

“No. But it seems my words are invented here faster than I can speak them.”

The king thought for a moment, yet still said, “Try again.”

Petit took money for the journey and went once more to the river. When the ferryman saw him, he shook his head.

“Back there again?”

“Back there.”

“I do not like that mountain.”

“Neither do I,” Petit answered honestly.

He crossed over, walked to Tartaro’s house, and hid in the ferns again. The giant searched a long time for the uninvited guest but did not find him.

Late at night, when all was quiet, Petit entered the house softly. Beneath Tartaro’s pillow lay a great shining stone. It was the stone court people called the giant’s diamond.

Petit took the stone and slipped outside.

He ran as fast as he could. The ferryman carried him across the river, and behind him Tartaro’s voice sounded once more.

“Bring back my diamond!”

Petit did not stop.

When he brought the stone to the king, the court buzzed even more loudly than it had the first time.

The princess came to Petit and said quietly, “I do not like these trials. Each time you are risking yourself because of someone else’s words.”

“I do not like them either,” Petit replied. “But now I want to find out who is inventing those words.”

He did not have to wait long.

For a third time, the jealous prince came to the king.

“Petit says he can bring Tartaro himself.”

When Petit stood before the king again, he did not spend many words denying it.

“I did not say that. But if you order me to go, I need a strong iron carriage, three horses, a barrel of honey, plenty of feathers, and two horns.”

Everyone was surprised.

“What do you need honey and feathers for?” asked the king.

“If all goes well, you will see,” said Petit.

Within a few days, the carriage was ready.

Petit drove to the river. When the ferryman saw the iron carriage, he threw up his hands.

“This time have you decided to bring an entire house across?”

“Almost,” said Petit.

Together they barely managed to ferry the heavy carriage across. On the other bank, Petit smeared his cloak with honey, covered it with feathers, and fixed two horns to his hood. In the dusk he truly looked like some strange creature from an old mountain legend.

He drove up to Tartaro’s house and knocked.

The giant opened the door himself.

“Who are you?”

Petit spoke in the deepest voice he could make.

“I am the elder spirit of the far mountains. I have heard that Tartaro lives here, a giant whom no one can frighten.”

Tartaro stood straight.

“I am Tartaro, and I fear no one.”

“Then prove it. Sit in my iron carriage. If you are not afraid of the journey, I will admit that you are the bravest giant.”

Tartaro snorted and climbed in by himself.

Petit shut the heavy door and set off.

Only by the river did the giant understand that he was being taken far from home.

“Open the door!”

“We will arrive soon,” Petit replied.

The ferryman asked nothing. He only looked at Petit as if he had decided that after this journey, nothing could surprise him anymore.

When the iron carriage rolled up to the palace, a commotion began.

“Tartaro is here!”

“Close the gates!”

“Call the guards!”

The guards reached for their weapons, but Petit raised his hand.

“No one will shoot. I brought him alive so that a battle would not begin here.”

The king ordered everyone back. The carriage doors remained shut while they agreed to speak calmly.

Petit stood beside the carriage and said, “Tartaro! Your horse and your diamond are here. They will be returned to you. But you must promise that you will no longer drive travellers from the forest with threats or frighten those who lose their way near your mountain.”

For a long time, no answer came from the carriage.

At last an angry voice said, “And will you promise never to creep into my house again?”

Petit smiled a little.

“With pleasure.”

“And you will return my horse?”

“We will.”

“And the stone?”

“Yes.”

Tartaro thought a little longer.

“Then we have an agreement.”

The king ordered the carriage opened. Tartaro stepped out, angry and dishevelled, but whole and unharmed. When he saw his horse, he grew kinder at once.

Then the princess spoke to her father.

“Now, please ask who three times put words into Petit’s mouth that he never spoke.”

The hall fell silent.

The king turned his eyes toward the jealous prince.

The prince grew pale. At first he tried to make excuses, then he tangled himself in his own words, and finally confessed.

“It was I. I was jealous of him.”

The king frowned.

“Because of your jealousy, another person was put in danger three times.”

The prince was not thrown into prison or punished harshly. But he had to leave the court, ask Petit’s forgiveness, and spend a long time learning to take responsibility for his own words.

Tartaro returned to his mountain with his horse and diamond. They say that afterward, travellers no longer heard terrible threats from him. Most often he only grumbled, “Do not trample my ferns!”

Petit remained at court. The king offered him a high position, but first Petit asked to bring his mother to the city.

“Everything I did began because I wanted to help her,” he said.

The princess and Petit spent more and more time together. They talked in the garden, disagreed, laughed, and came to know each other well. When they later decided to marry, it was not anyone’s reward for three trials, but their own choice.

Even the ferryman was invited to the wedding. He raised his cup and said, “I always knew that if this boy crossed my river a third time with an iron carriage, the story would end in something remarkable.”

Everyone laughed.

And from then on, Petit Perroquet often told young gardeners, “The hardest trials do not begin with giants or dark forests. They begin with another person’s jealousy and false words. So listen carefully, think for yourself, and do not let fear decide for you.”

And that, perhaps, was the most valuable thing he brought back from that distant mountain.

May this story leave a little light in your heart ✨