The Golden Flute

Please feel free to enjoy this song while you read.

As I have said, I have been everywhere, and I have seen and heard almost everything. But there was a time in which I had traveled no further than just beyond the city walls. I was young, perhaps a few years younger than you, with no stories of my own to tell. I had an insatiable desire to wander. To fulfill my wanderlust, I found work with a local merchant who regularly sold our village's wares in cities I dreamed of seeing. After some time of being his assistant, he finally allowed me to set out on a journey without him. I was to drive a cart full of tanned leather to Prague, the seat of the king of Bohemia and a large trading hub for our region, and return with a load of wool. It was a simple job, but I was enthusiastic nevertheless.

Harvest having just been completed by the time I arrived, the entire city was out celebrating in the marketplace. I quickly sold all of my wares and filled my purse with gold and silver coins. You see, my plan was to take the coins to a nearby village and buy the wool directly from the farmers. But in the meantime, I decided to join in the festivities. In the town square, a stage had been built and troops of performers entertained the crowd upon it. The crowd cheered as the dancers brilliantly stepped and twirled in their traditional costumes to bands playing cheerful folk songs. When they were finished and leaving the platform, a modest-looking man, simply dressed, took the stage. The crowd fell silent as if they knew something I did not.

To my surprise, out from his plain, wool coat, he pulled a golden flute. After taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and began to play. Soft, melting notes spilled from the flute creating the richest and purest sound I had ever heard, and I have yet to hear anything sweeter. I was awestruck by the flute player’s song and feeling as if it were being played just for me, I smiled. When he had finished his song, he put the golden flute back in his coat, bowed, and stepped off the the stage. I had to meet this extraordinary musician. I stopped him just as he stepped down onto the cobblestone of the square. I told him that his music was incredible and that I would happily give him a gold piece just as soon as he apprised me how he learned to play the way he did. He smiled and nodded. We then went together to a tavern where he began to tell me his story.

I learned that his name was Claus, and that he was a local of Prague. For all of his life he worked as a travelling musician, going from town to town, festival to festival, in order to earn a living wage. On one of his trips, he joined a fellow troop of performers in Leipzig. Having already performed and filling their purses, they planned to return to Prague. The night before, the group discussed how they would be traveling through the Riesengebirge mountains, home of the infamous trickster Rübezahl. While the others joked about the Mountain Lord, Claus fantasized about playing his flute for him. You see, flute playing yielded an unremarkable wage for poor Claus, but his wish was to make enough to be able to marry his beloved Anna. He thought that if he could play for Rübezahl, the Mountain Lord might reward him for his song. So, while the others were still asleep, Claus set out for the road through the mountains.

After traveling for some time and thinking about taking a rest, Claus saw a large mansion in the middle of an open lawn. Believing this to be the work of Rübezahl, he excitedly approached the door and readied himself to play. Out of the mansion came a richly clad man wearing glittering golden rings and a purple coat decorated with ornate lace. He asked Claus, “What is it you wish?” Claus told the man he only wished to play the flute for him. “If you can play something really excellent, you are welcome. For I am passionately fond of good music.” The once fearless Claus, was now overcome with anxiety. But knowing it was too late for hesitation, he began to play with his utmost skill. He felt as if he had never played more excellently and was proud of his music. But even still, Claus could not tell if his listener was pleased with his efforts. After finishing, the man, who had listened attentively, blew a silver whistle and out came a beautiful young man holding a golden flute. He played a divine song for the man and Claus. After which, Claus, now ashamed of his own ability, apologized to the man for playing such wretched music. The man answered, “Tis well that you realize your music is only bungling. Return to your home and take pains to learn your instrument better. When you have improved, you can let me hear you again. As a remembrance, you may take this golden flute.”

With many thanks, Claus left the mansion and returned home to practice with unwearied zeal. Through his efforts, he began to recreate the angelic tones that the golden flute had once made. Having become a renowned artist, Claus no longer had to travel to play. He now earned a respectable wage in Prague and was able to marry his beloved Anna. However, despite his efforts, Claus could never find the mansion again and never got the chance to play his golden flute for his benefactor.

That was the first time I had heard of Rübezahl. When he had finished his story, I remarked how such a tale could only be conceived by a master bard such as himself. But he pensively insisted that it was none other than Rübezahl and that if I had any wit about me, I would restrain from mocking the Mountain Lord. His seriousness made me realize his story bore no fiction. Ever since, I have taken no chances while traveling through these mountains, for anyone you meet around here might very well be the ole Mountain Lord himself.