Latest / Sandman Stories Presents / EP 315: Korea- The Woodman and the Mountain Fairies (Griffis)

Transcript

EP 315: Korea- The Woodman and the Mountain Fairies (Griffis) · Sandman Stories Presents

• 0:25
  Welcome back, listeners to Sam Man's Stories Presents, a
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  folklore podcast where I read you to sleep or until the next
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  story. I'm your host, Dustin, if you
• 0:34
  want more Sandman, I have extra stories that are too spicy for
• 0:37
  the main feed available on my Patreon, and you can join at the
• 0:40
  free tier and get everything. Today we are back in the Book of
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  Korean Folklore, written down by WE Griffiths.
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  This is the final story in this book and I'll be choosing a new
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  one afterwards. This final story is about a
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  woodcutter and the spirits that inhabit the mountains of Korea
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  and how time can fly when you're having fun.
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  OK, let's begin the Woodman and the mountain fairies.
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  Over 1000 years ago, there lived a woodcutter named Giltayu in
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  the northern village near Pyongyang.
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  He owned a sturdy bowl that carried its branches and twigs
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  on its back, and he sold them on the Main Street of his village.
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  At the five day market the docile brute could carry a load
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  of brushwood piled high over his head and tied down with ropes so
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  that from afar only his legs were visible.
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  This beast was the gentlest creature imaginable.
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  Despite his enormous size, the children were all very fond of
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  him and like to play with him like a pet dog.
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  The reason why was that when he was only a week old, the bull
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  had been taken from his mother and brought up in the family
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  with the children. One fine summer morning Guilty
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  U, leaving his beast behind, went up the mountain to cut down
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  enough wood to pile up and bring down for another day.
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  His wife, as he shouted goodbye, told him to be sure to be home
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  in time for supper, for the eldest son had gone fishing and
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  a good string of perch was expected.
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  Shouldering his axe, he started up the mountain path.
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  He had to go pretty far, because in the nearby towns and cities
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  all the timber had been long since cut away.
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  Every year the Woodman had to search farther afield to find
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  fuel. Arriving in the woods where
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  there was a clearing, Mr. Gill prepared to swing his trusty
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  axe. He was about to take off his hat
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  and coat and lay them down when he spied 2 fairy like beings off
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  in the distance. They had long hair, looked very
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  wise and were dressed in the clothes of the Chao dynasty of
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  nearly 2000 years ago. They sat on stones and they
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  played the game of Baduk. Coming nearer, the woodsmen
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  quietly and respectfully watched them as the two sprites made
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  their moves. They were not disturbed by the
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  presence of the stranger, and in fact, they seemed to invite him
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  over with a series of winks. Feeling quite proud to be
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  honored in this way, Mr. Gill leaned his chin on the handle of
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  his axe and became quite absorbed in the game and grew
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  quite excited. Forgetting himself and his
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  manners, he reached out his right hand to move one of the
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  pieces. Immediately the closest fairy
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  gave him a crack on the fingers for his impudence and jerked Mr.
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  Gill's arm away. Then, without saying a word, he
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  took something out of his wallet that looked like a Persimmon
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  seed and put it in the woodman's mouth.
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  After this, all three were perfectly quiet.
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  The game continued hour after hour, and the players grew more
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  intensely interested. As for Mr. Gill, his eyes never
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  blinked because he looked intensely at the yellow board
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  covered with the black and white pieces.
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  Several times, when he thought he saw how the fairy on his
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  right could win the game or the one on the left could make a
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  better move, he felt like telling them.
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  When, however, he tried to move his mouth, he found that he
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  could not speak or even utter a cry.
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  Somehow, he felt as if he were in a dream.
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  He was so enthralled with the game that he made the decision
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  to see it through to the end. He forgot that the mountain
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  spirits have no night or day or passing of the hours, nor do
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  they care anything about clocks and bells, because in Fairy Land
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  there is no time. The entire time, Gilte Wu was
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  leaning on his chin with the stout axe handle, holding it
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  with both hands under his neck. He took no note of the sun or
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  stars, daylight or darkness, and he felt no hunger.
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  Suddenly the handle of his axe seemed to turn to dust, and his
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  chin fell. The next thing he knew he had
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  lost his support. Down went his head, and forward
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  fell his body as he tumbled over, upsetting the
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  chequerboard, breaking up the game, and scattering the round
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  pieces hit her and yon over the ground.
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  Awakening out of a daze, and being thoroughly ashamed of
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  himself for his impoliteness, he tried to pick himself up and
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  humbly apologize for the accident which had been caused
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  by his own rudeness. He expected and was ready for a
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  good scolding, but when he looked up, the fairies were
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  gone. They were nowhere to be seen,
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  nor the board, nor the checkers, and he wasn't sure that they had
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  been there, except that when he put his hand on the flat stone
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  seats he found them warm to the touch.
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  But where was his axe handle? And what had happened?
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  When he had left home? He had come straight from the
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  Barber shop with his face smooth and clean shaven.
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  Now he put his hand to his chest and found that he had grown a
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  long white beard. As for the iron axe head, it was
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  there, but rusty and half buried in the ground.
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  He had worn one of his big farmer hats.
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  Where could that be? He looked around but only saw
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  bits of the frame and a few scraps of the hat.
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  The rest of it had rotted away long ago.
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  Then he had discovered that his joints were stiff and he felt
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  like an old man. His clothes were rags, his
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  sandals were no more and on both fingers and toes he had grown
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  long nails like talons. His hair had burst its top notch
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  string and hung down his back like a woman's, only it was pure
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  white. Confused, Gilte Wu hobbled down
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  the mountain and found the Main Street to his village.
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  The rocks, hills, rivers and pools were there, but what a
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  change. Instead of the two grinning
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  Jangsong, which had stun at the entrance of the village since
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  the days of Kita, there were tall thick poles with iron wires
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  stretching for at least Ali. These, he found out afterwards,
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  were Telegraph poles. Instead of the thatched houses
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  and yards separated by mats, there was an odd looking office
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  of painted wood with openings in the sides.
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  They were dressed in strange clothes and were pawing at
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  strange looking instruments that clicked.
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  He was curious to go up and look more closely when something
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  bumped against his nose and nearly knocked him over.
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  When he tried again to get closer, his face was flattened.
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  Feeling with his hands to solve the mystery, he touched
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  something hard which he could yet see through.
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  Just then he heard a young man inside shout to him in Korean.
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  Hey mountain daddy, leave that glass alone.
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  Glass, glass, what is that? But he could not speak.
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  He had hardly drawn a breath when, looking down to long lines
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  of shiny iron in the street, he saw a house on wheels coming
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  right at him. There was no horse nor man
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  pulling it, but overhead was a long pole, and at the end of
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  which was an iron wire. Inside, near the glass, said a
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  dozen or so Koreans. The whole thing, wheels and all,
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  nearly random over as it thundered by, and his mouth
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  opened in wonder, while a man at the end shouted rudely.
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  Hey mountain Daddy, where did you get your big mouth?
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  You look like you're about to swallow the moon.
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  Get out of the way of the trolley.
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  That is how the conductor made fun of the poor old fellow
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  because he looked like one of the shamans that donned masks
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  that represent the characters and goblins that once lived in
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  the mountains. These masks are usually shaped
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  like a melon and are cut with eyes, nose and mouth like the
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  ones worn by American kids on Halloween.
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  The Woodman and tatters, with no topknot long hair down his back
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  and a white beard floating over his breast, leaning on a long
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  white stick as he hobbled down the street, looked just like one
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  of the ancients that had long ago been driven into the
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  mountains. Nurses and old women frightened
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  naughty children simply by mentioning their names.
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  When one of these mountain men, odd creatures that were half
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  savage and dress in ways, came into town, all the children
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  laughed and the big dogs barked, while the little ones ran away,
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  for the sight was so unusual even the bulls bellowed and the
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  donkeys balked and the pigs squealed as Guilteou came near.
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  No wonder he was taken for a mountain granddaddy or a bunk,
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  and dressed up like one. For few of the city or village
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  folks had really ever seen one of the mountain men, any more
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  than they had seen tigers that are plentiful farther away, but
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  which only the hunters have ever caught sight of.
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  More and more bewildered Giltiu found his way further into the
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  town. He found that the men no longer
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  wore top knots or shingons, nor did the lads have a long braid
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  down their back which show that they were youths but not yet
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  married. Just then some street boys,
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  supposing that some rustic gawk had mistaken the time of year,
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  jeered at him and cried. Hey, mountain daddy, do you
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  think it's New Year's Eve? Giltiu stopped to ask them some
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  questions. He caught sight of a dignified
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  looking gentleman in a black broad brimmed hat and flowing
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  white clothes who was coming down the street and toward him,
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  and Guiltyou bowed his head almost to the ground.
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  As he did so, the stone the fairies put in his mouth fell
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  out and his tongue was loosened. He inquired as follows.
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  Exalted Sir, can you tell me where there may be the wretched
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  Hut of my miserable wife and children?
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  She was the daughter of Kim Kyung UN and my humble name is
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  Gilteo. The gentleman looked long and
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  hard at the questioner to make sure that he was not being
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  mocked, and then he shouted. Heavens man, are you a spirit of
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  the mountains? Your words sound like the
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  dialect spoken in these parts 500 years ago.
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  Back then that family lived here, but the father, a
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  woodcutter, is said to have gone up into the mountains and was
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  eaten up by a tiger. Over in the graveyard are buried
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  10 generations of his descendants.
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  Tell me, kind Sir, what has happened since King Sajo died?
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  It was under his reign that I was born and lived in this
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  village. Still lying the questioner, as
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  if expecting to see him jump out of his rags and declare himself
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  a jester in the whole affair a joke.
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  The kindly gentleman proceeded to outline the history of Korea.
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  During the previous 500 years there have been many kings.
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  The Tartars first, and then the Japanese had invited the land.
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  A Great War between the Japanese and Chinese had taken place.
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  It was just over. And now people rode in cars,
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  talked hundreds of miles over wires, and travelled over iron
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  rails as fast as a dragon could fly, drawn by a steel horse that
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  drank water and fed on wood and black stones that burned.
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  In a word, Korea was in an era of civilization.
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  This was too much for guilty U. He now realized that he had
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  lived 10 times longer than the average man, so, hobbling over
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  to the graveyard, he stumbled among the mounds until he found
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  the one of his clan where the bones of his wife and children
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  lay. Next morning all that was seen
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  of Guiltyou was a mass of dust, rags, some bones, and much long
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  white hair. Yet when they buried him, there
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  sprang up around him and on his grave strange flowers that no
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  one had ever seen in the city or village, but which bloomed only
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  in the high mountains. THE End.
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  I like this green version of Ripa and Winkle.
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  It was funny to read as the author was writing down around
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  the turn of the century and new and modern things to him feel
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  really old and historic to us. Some of Griffith's writing is a
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  bit lazy. He picks non Korean names and
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  uses a lot of Japanese terms and he's also got a thing about oh
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  the Aborigines of Korea, oh the untamed savages.
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  It's really kind of gross. But that makes sense as he was
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  over in Japan before he came to Korea.
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  And I'm sad to end one of my Korean folk tale books, but I'll
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  start another as there are many books with Korean folk tales
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  that I have not told on the show.
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  And the podcast Shout out is to Bill Wilderbeests.
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  Though it's ended, the show lives on in YouTube.
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  It's a pretty cool show about animals and humans.
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  And Melissa is a kick butt human.
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  Enjoy. And the listener shout out is to
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  the city of Bach in Afghanistan. Its name was used by the Greeks
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  to name the country of Bakhtria. And if I go there, I would love
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  to see the mosque of the 9 domes.
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  And so to my listener in Bach, I say in Dari Tashkar, Visha
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  Bahir. Thank you.
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  Good night.