# Foreign Tales and Traditions/Volume 1/Legends of Rubezahl/The Bewitched Staff

Translation of story 4 of "Mährchen und Sagen aus dem Riesengebirge" from Geschichten, Mährchen und Sagen (1823)
No. I. THE BEWITCHED STAFF.
A traveller was picking his way, with great difficulty, among the vast heaps of stones which are found in one of the wildest spots of the mountain. Not without peril, had he to leap from one large stone to another; now he reeled, with tottering steps, down some precipitous bank,—now forded with difficulty the brawling torrents which rushed across his path. “How lucky I am,” thought the traveller to himself, “in the companionship of my trusty old staff! Faithful service has it rendered me for many a year!” He placed the end of it on the ground to vault over a little stream: it slipped in between two large stones, and when the wanderer, ​confiding in its aid, leaped into the air, the trusty staff snapped in twain, and its master was precipitated into the brook in a very rough and unpleasant manner.
He arose with heavy sighs, but seemed, in truth, much less grieved on account of his bruises than for the loss of his staff. “How shall I ever get down that precipitous bank,” he exclaimed in a piteous tone, “when thus forsaken by mine ancient faithful staff—my friend and support!”
“What ails you?” suddenly inquired a hollow rough voice close behind. The wanderer turned round, and not without alarm beheld a large gloomy-looking figure wrapped up in a cloak, treading close upon his heels; but recovering his composure, he told the mysterious stranger of the evil which had befallen him, and renewed his lamentations for his beloved staff.
“What are you moaning about?” interrupted the stranger, “as if there were no more trees on the mountain able to furnish you with such another stick! There, take mine,” continued he; and, presenting the traveller with another staff, the stranger disappeared.
The wanderer having reached the extreme skirts of the brushwood which covered these parts, again beheld the tall figure, striding with gigantic steps among the bushes, and seeming to dilate in size with the increasing distance. At last, after having vanished several times, and reappeared again, it melted into thin mist and gradually dissolved away. Meanwhile he himself trudged on in good spirits, mightily comforted by the gift he had received. But ere long his new staff became very troublesome to him. However carefully he set it down on the ground, it was always sure to slip from under his hand when he came to rest upon it; and at other times it slid in between the interstices of the stones in such a manner as to require pretty strong efforts, on the part of its master, to extricate it again. In addition to these serious inconveniences, the staff grew momentarily more and more heavy; till at last the poor wanderer seemed to forget that it ​was intended to serve him for a support; and trudged wearily forward, now sliding down the steep banks, now stepping painfully from stone to stone, without seeking the slightest assistance from the vexatious staff, whose weight, nevertheless, kept rapidly increasing.
The traveller changed his staff from the right hand to the left; then he grasped it convulsively with both hands; next he laid it across his shoulder, changing it alternately from left to right; all would not do—the inexorable staff grew weightier and weightier. Finally, he laid it across his neck, like a milkman’s yoke, and supporting it in this posture with both his hands, he staggered forward on his toilsome path. At last the burden became insupportable even to a peasant’s brawny shoulders; for awhile he attempted to drag it behind him, but it seemed to take root in the ground, and required a still greater exercise of strength and patience to drag it forward in this manner. As a final expedient, he placed himself astride upon it,—when, lo! away it sprung with the most violent bounds—now bearing its rider close upon the brink of the most frightful precipices, now skipping over the plains in the most erratic style imaginable.
The perspiration ran down in streams from the astonished rider’s face; but still he grasped his strange steed with convulsive energy. At last, after many a perilous bound, he found himself in a fir plantation, and his staff becoming stationary, he got off it and cast it from him with feelings of mingled surprise and detestation. Scarcely had he done so before he beheld his own trusty staff lying before him upon the grass, whole and sound, and without reflecting how it had come there, he grasped it firmly and hastened briskly forward.
The wood now became less gloomy,—the aspect of the country more friendly,—before him lay a green pleasant meadow,—in the distance gleamed his own beloved hamlet. The traveller’s strength returned to him; he began to ponder on the marvels of his journey, and, for the first time, he thought ​how very strange it was that he should be again in possession of his ancient staff, entire and uninjured, though he was perfectly sure he had seen it snap asunder in the brook. That the gloomy figure must have been none other than Rubezahl, the lord of the mountain, he now felt quite assured; he also remembered to have heard many adventures similar to his related of travellers in these parts, and did not doubt that the wicked staff, which had wrought him so much woe, had been finally converted into a rod of precious metal. So, after having refreshed himself from the fatigues of his journey, he set out and retraced his steps in search of the staff he had so thoughtlessly flung away; but Rubezahl was not propitious, and the traveller added a vain and toilsome search to the other fatigues of the day.
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