THE FOUR SEASONS SPRITES

(translated by Marinka Zoran)

Far, far beneath the surface of the earth, much deeper from the deepest Karst cave, is where this story only begins ….

A huge hall filled with stalactites and stalagmites of thousands different forms, strewn with tiny shiny water droplets, is hiding a great secret in its pale light A lazy brooklet quietly curves along the whole cave, until it finally sinks into complete darkness. It has spent millennia, trying to find its way through earth and rock. Now, the little brook became tired. It can only meekly lean on its smooth banks and caress the rocks. Again and again, schools of tiny fish catch its attention with their bright colours, swishing this way and that way in its waters all day long, lightning up the whole cave.

Not far away from the brook there is a magnificent stalagmite. It reached the top of the cave many years ago, and since then, it has been only gaining on its size. Judging by its outside, this is just an average stalagmite, very much alike to others that grow next to it, only its topmost part is heavily thickened. At a closer inspection, we find out that it is completely hollow, and there are four teeny openings. Under each of these windows there is a shallow bed no bigger than a fingernail, covered in soft, bright green moss. These are four small cots for four small sprites of the four seasons.

Sprites of the four seasons?!

Indeed, in this hollow stalagmite, deep down below the earth, live four naughty and ever so sleepy sprites of the four seasons – they are called Spring Sprite, Summer Sprite, Autumn Sprite and Winter Sprite. Each of them has been sleeping soundly in their tiny little beds for years, waiting for Grandfather Followtime to wake them up once a year. The sprite whose turn it is to make sure the right season is on, puts on a warm little shirt that every sprite should wear, along with a little hat and a pair of trousers. Finally, he puts a magic sprite bag over his back, a bag that no sprite should ever forget while setting up for a journey. Then he spends three long months roaming the world, all on his own, taking care that the season he is charge of is exactly the way it should be. So if it is Winter Sprite’s turn, a cold and white winter covers the earth. With Spring Sprite on his journey, plants burst into leaf all over and the sun is getting stronger every day. The task of Summer Sprite is to warm up the seas and the rivers and the earth and sometimes he is so keen on it they become far too dry. Autumn Sprite merrily knocks colourful leaves off the trees day after day, and sprinkles water everywhere to his heart’s content. One of the little beds in the cave is thus always empty, for every day and every week and naturally, every single month in a year must belong to a certain season.

Grandfather Followtime who minds the four seasons sprites is a very old and sweet-tempered sprite. He is sitting at a small table in the middle of the hollow stalagmite, tired but dares not to fall asleep. All day and all night long, he has to follow the slippery time, and it has been passing him in fleeting hours, weeks and months for years now. Most of all, Grandfather Followtime has to mind the puckish sprites and make sure that at the right time, the right sprite wakes up. The next thing he does then is to whistle at the huge pipe and summon the sprite whose little bed has been left unoccupied for so long. The pipe he uses is made of a long hollow stalactite, and its sound is only audible to the ears of the goblin who is awake at the moment. This way, he knows it is time to return home.

Grandfather Followtime worries constantly that he might fall asleep exactly when the time comes to wake up the next sprite. So he never sleeps and is trying to keep awake at all times. He cannot possibly imagine himself fast asleep and forgetting all about Winter Sprite, for example! A cold and white winter would last for a whole year or even longer! It would be a long and profound sleep if Grandfather Followtime indeed fell asleep, no doubt about that.

Hey, but we can’t have any of that!

Sometimes one of the three sleeping sprites wakes up too soon and their minder must be particularly careful and take extra care that the naughty creature doesn’t steal himself away and play a trick on him! Well, Grandfather Followtime is but a sprite himself and from time to time his eyelids grow just a bit too heavy and he nods off just for a moment. Tough luck! As if the poor fellow doesn’t take it too hard himself, usually, exactly at that very moment, one of the sleeping sprites wakes up, just to make things worse. Although ever so sleepy, the naughty little goblin is, nevertheless, ever so ready for another adventure.

The cunning little sprite may be lucky and may actually pull the clever idea of his off. And at times like that, in the middle of winter the sun can become most extraordinarily warm, and it melts lots of snow. Or, black clouds may cover the most beautiful summer sky, and in a flash, air turns ice-cold, and icy winds blow heavily and scatter the earth with hailstones inches high.

It all depends on which of the sprites manages to slip away from the watchful Grandfather Followtime, and of course, on how long does it take for him to find out that one of his wards is missing, preparing a mischief.

The more successful the trick, the more the culprit is pleased with himself. And while basking in the sun of their ingenious achievements, the eternal sleepyheads’ grow dizzy and heavy and most of the time the fugitives find their own way back to their places, and quite in haste, too.

They are never angry with each other, the sprites. If one of them plays a prank upon the other, the latter only shrugs his shoulders playfully, knowing that the time will come when the prankster will be at the receiving end, for a change!

Grandfather Followtime sometimes wakes up from one of his abrupt short slumbers (which he never admits taking) just in time, and the minute he finds two instead of the usual one empty bed, he quickly whistles a quite particular tune, which makes the runaway all of a sudden very sleepy. The magic powers of the objects in his carrying bag vanish for a while, and the results of his practical joke are turned into one tiny drop of water in the twinkling of an eye.

At the sound of the whistle, the little villain returns home, all his high spirits gone, of course, for without his magic power he cannot tease the other sprite any more. Once he is back, he always promises to Grandfather, like many times before, that he will never ever do that again, although he knows very well - when the opportunity knocks, he won’t be able to stay away from it! Being naughty is in his sprite-like blood and Grandfather Followtime is very well aware of it, and is never too harsh with his little goblins.

The old sprite knows exactly when to wake up the sprite in turn. Four times a year the stalagmite, at the top of which the four season sprites set up their home, mysteriously glows up in most exquisite colours and throws light upon the entire cave. Tiny droplets of water, which dampen the stalactites and stalagmites and sometimes land on huge cobwebs of thousands different forms act as minute looking glasses, throwing little reflections of colour all over the underground cave.

The magic light always appears very suddenly, and it also disappears most mysteriously, in a flash, and along with it also the most appropriate moment for the change of the seasons. Grandfather Followtime must be very careful to wake up one of his sprites fast enough while the stalagmite is all alight; the sprite can then set off on his journey on time for the arrival of the proper season. What Grandfather does next is whistle his big stalactite pipe to reach the tired little sprite whose turn is now running out, and finally, he can rest himself in peace at his little table, follow the passing time and wait for the next time mysterious light shines again.

One may believe that one spring is very much alike any other spring, and one winter to any other winter, that one summer resembles all other summers and one autumn is similar to any other autumn, and yet they are not really alike. The tiny four seasons sprites and their tricks always make sure that this is not the case.

Yet once things took a completely wrong turn, no matter how well everything had been going up until then.

When the colourful light painted the mighty stalagmite in the middle of the cave for the first time that year, straight away Grandfather Followtime went for the tiny beds. Since it was Winter Sprite whose bunk was empty he knew instantly which sprite’s turn it was next. He didn’t have much time, and he was aware of how fast the light would disappear. First of all, he woke up Spring Sprite, and then he blew his whistle to call Winter Sprite home before his friend could start helping green spring to bloom in all its might.

Spring Sprite rubbed his eyes sleepily, put on his sprite garments and made sure his magic bag really contained everything he needed on his travel. He waved Grandfather Followtime goodbye and ran for the window. Next, he swung himself onto a thick cobweb and climbed to the top of the cave as fast as he could. There were bats wrapped in their long wings and clinging closely to each other, hanging upside down. He woke up one of them, jumped on its back and scratched it softly behind its tiny ears. The bat spread its wide wings happily and a moment later they were already flying deep down towards the bottom of the cave, right at the foot of the thick stalagmite. Once they landed, Spring Sprite gave a long whistle to summon the slender proteus which knew all about such Karst caves. Accompanied by the shiny little fish in the brook, they swam against the current and through many unknown corridors further and further up the stream, all the way to where the first beams of daylight could be seen.

Spring Sprite’s little fingers felt very cold right away. A moment later, exiting the beautiful underground world, when he laid his eyes on a waterfall forged in ice and lining the steep rocks like a magnificent crest of crystal, he knew his job would be particularly difficult that year. Winter Sprite had been in extremely good spirits, obviously, and winter was a proper winter again, with his abundant help. White and cold it was.

Spring Sprite lost no more time. He pulled his magic bag off his back and untied it. He pushed his little hands deep down and started raking through its contents of various shapes and forms. When he felt a tiny bottle, he pulled it out carefully and opened it. Then he started to shake out what it contained into his open palm. Green shiny dust of the softest and finest kind came pouring out of the bottle into a small heap. Spring Sprite placed the empty phial back into his bag, and brought out an even smaller bird cage made of gold. In the cage there was a golden-feathered bird sitting in the middle, not stirring a bit but singing a spring tune. The sprite powdered the bird with his green dust, took it out of the cage and set it free. While flying merrily above him, the bird started to grow and finally transformed itself into a sleek swallow, the first harbinger of spring. Green powder was falling off its wings every time it moved, and everywhere this dust touched the earth, snow would start melting and in an instant, icicles started turning into small insignificant puddles, losing all their menacing thickness and sharpness. Spring Sprite waved a happy goodbye to the swallow. He knew it to be a great aviatrix and that it will criss-cross the whole country in no time, spreading the greenness.

One swallow does not make a summer but only heralds warmer season, and the little sprite had yet a lot to do. Swiftly, he cleared away the golden cage into his bag, and took out a small white box. When he lifted its lid, he saw an even smaller white mole curled up inside, sleeping peacefully on tiny pieces of soft moss. Around its neck, on a thin chainlet there was the tiniest bell he had once made himself out of the remains of a broken stalactite.

The sprite took the small white mole into his arms and caressed its snout tenderly. It started waking up; it kicked with its tiny feet this way and that way a few times and tinkled the bell around its neck. Soft chimes were dancing in the air like light butterflies, and finally flew to the ground and melted there. The tinkling continued for a while longer, then it stopped and the earth started cracking up exactly at the spot. Tender green stalks started pushing out of the openings in the ground, and they were growing with incredible speed and when a single white flower appeared at the end of each, Spring Sprite recognised them as the first spring flowers, snowdrops. He placed the white mole gently down and it tinkled away cheerfully into one of the cracks in the ground. The little mole will burrow through all wide country, up and down, and stir the sleeping plants into life once more in no time. Grass will turn into a succulent green again, hair-like roots will start sending food into flowers, making them grow, buds will shoot out from tiny branches in bushes and trees.

Spring Sprite replaced the little box back in his bag, and brought out a small cup with something thick and yellow inside it, along with a most unusual paintbrush. It only had one single hair in it. Then he tied his bag, threw it over his back and set out on his way. He knew well that he had to walk the world for three months, making spring come out all over the country. While walking, he dipped his brush into his cup from time to time and drew a thin, almost unrecognisable ray of light in the air. Each sunbeam will turn thicker and thicker as the days go along. The thicker it gets, the warmer it will shine and heat the surroundings, making spring more pleasant every day.

The swallow was flying much faster and the mole was burrowing much quicker than Spring Sprite could walk, and everywhere he came, the snow was already melting and the greenery of the budding plants decorated the countryside.

On the fourth day, Spring Sprite was surprised to see a snowstorm begin abruptly. The falling snowflakes were much bigger than the tiny sprite, and icy wind was spreading them all over the place in no particular order on a blanket of snow, getting thicker every minute. A sudden gust of wind lifted Spring Sprite and took him far up into the sky. The helpless goblin could only watch himself being thrown mercilessly in the air. In a moment of distraction his one-hair brush slipped from his hands, and when he started moving his arms wildly to stop it from falling, the yellow contents of the cup he was carrying ran out and changed itself into thousands of yellowish droplets. The wind took them into its arms merrily, and started strewing them playfully behind its back.

Spring Sprite had absolutely no idea whatsoever where did a snowstorm come from. Winter Sprite crossed his mind at first, for he was the only one who was able to make such a mess of snow and ice. On the other hand, Spring Sprite knew that his friend only just finished his job a few days ago and should have been home already. And the ever sleepy goblins always go to sleep the minute they arrive and do not wake up for months, to make up for the time they couldn’t sleep and to regain their strengths. Should they stir during this time, by mistake, they are far too tired to even think of doing any mischief. And yet something must have been wrong!

Deep in thought, Spring Sprite was suddenly thrown at the foot of a tall spruce fir by the high wind. He fell on a thick layer of moss that somewhat relieved the crash, but the unlucky creature hit his head into a root and fainted. Thus, he couldn’t possibly hear the tune that Grandfather Followtime was whistling impatiently back at the cave. The problem was that Winter Sprite hadn’t returned yet by that day, and that meant only one thing – that something went terribly wrong.

Grandfather Followtime was extremely worried about his sprite. When there was no sign of him even the second day after he had used his magic whistle, Grandfather decided to go and try to find him himself. He knew by heart all the paths his four seasons sprites usually took and never went too far away off them, and he was certain he would find Winter Sprite sooner or later. He could ask for help the other two goblins, Autumn Sprite or Summer Sprite. It would take less time if they went looking for their counterpart, for they had legs far younger and mobile than those of Grandfather Followtime. On the other hand, he was almost sure the two pranksters would take the opportunity and pull some new tricks of theirs. Thus, he took his travelling stick that was propped up against his table, he checked that the remaining goblins were still peacefully asleep in their bunks and then directed his step firmly towards the cobweb at the window. He had to start looking for Winter Sprite along the path the sprite usually took.

Not long after Grandfather Followtime left the cave, Summer Sprite slowly woke up. He had been sleeping for quite some time now, since he last returned home from one of his journeys. Silly ideas kept coming up in his mind the instant he was awake. He took a very careful look from under his blanket towards the table in the middle of the hollow stalagmite where Grandfather would usually sit, for he was the only one who could stand in the way of his jokes. But look here – the chair by the table was empty, and there was no travelling cane that Grandfather always used, in a good-natured manner, to threaten the jolly sprites and their pranks. Summer Sprite felt quite confident that their minder only took one of his walks along the underground caves. He got up instantly and put on his clothes, grabbed his magic bag and ran for the window to climb the cobweb as fast as possible, get the nearest bat and they would fly straight into new adventures. But firstly, he wanted to see whose bed was empty this time. His jokes would be most successful if he knew what was the current season. It would make no sense, really, if he helped make Winter Sprite snow, or melt icicles for Spring Sprite or colour green leaves into autumn shades, so that Autumn Sprite would be even happier knocking them off trees.

It took him very much by surprise, when he found two empty beds. That was absolutely unheard of! Anyway, he didn’t want to cudgel his brains too heavily about whether it was Spring Sprite’s turn and Winter Sprite’s, trying to pull his leg or was it the other way round. In any case, he could make a fool of at least one of them, and that was the thought that made him most infinitely happy. So he set off for his journey before Grandfather Followtime could return and find another empty bunk. The minute the magic whistle tune reached his ears, he would become sleepy, and the magic powers of his bag would vanish and he would have to walk back to the cave. That was the last thing on his wish list at that moment.

Summer Sprite shook with cold when he arrived from the underground and saw the countryside all covered in snow. The waterfall that usually met him gushing and spraying water in all directions was now as meek as a lamb, clinging strongly to the overhanging rock.. The whiteness of the daylight blinded the sprite at first, but once he got used to it, he suddenly jumped back and hid himself behind the first rock on the path leading from the cave. Not far away, he caught sight of Grandfather Followtime who walked the new snow, leaning on his walking stick and shooting with his eyes this way and that way and that way and this way. Obviously, he was looking for somebody. Summer Sprite didn’t want for Grandfather to spot him, so he crawled further into the bushes by the rock. Then he tripped over something soft. He took a good look and recognised the sleeping Winter Sprite.

Winter Sprite had been an extremely busy goblin that winter. There hadn’t been so much snow for years then, and the air went so cold that no river could avoid getting covered with ice. He had used every single instrument in his bag he needed to create a proper winter, especially once when he had to fight some witty idea of one of the other sprites who managed to escape the careful supervision of Grandfather Followtime and wanted to belittle all his efforts. Winter Sprite was thus completely exhausted by the end of his season when Grandfather was already summoning him back home with his whistle. He gathered the last of his strengths to manage the return. Just at the entrance to the underground world he stopped for a while, to pick up the last two of his tools that he had hidden months before into thick shrubbery. Then and there weariness came over him, and even though he only wanted to take a rest, he nodded off into a sound sleep. The magic instruments were still lying on the ground next to his bag and helped make winter harsher all the time, and it wouldn’t go away. Winter Sprite, naturally, wouldn’t wake up at the sound of the whistle, for it was only the waking goblins who heard the tune!

When Summer Sprite discovered the sleeping sprite he was confident that it was wintertime, for there was snow everywhere, and heavy black clouds were rolling from a distance, forecasting a proper winter storm. A thought crossed his mind that Spring Sprite, whose bed was empty as well, was obviously trying to play a trick on Winter Sprite. He only had to decide then at whom his joke would be directed. Having seen Grandfather Followtime, who eventually found every runaway, and would most probably very soon put an end to any trick of his, too, Summer Sprite decided to try with all his might to stop the cold winter and thus make a fool of the Winter Sprite.

The poor sprite was still sound asleep then. Summer Sprite took some sort of a lead lid out of his bag and approached the little box that was hidden in the bushes. Ice cold air was blowing strongly from it. Summer Sprite made every effort to shut the opening with the heavy lid and quickly put it back into his friend’s bag. The air was already getting warmer. Next to the little box there was a huge sharpener that Winter Sprite once made himself from a stalactite. This tool could sharpen the icicles hanging from rooftops all by itself. Again, Summer Sprite cleared that away as well. The sharpener safely shut in the bag, icicles will gradually grow dull and, saddened by their looks far too mild for any respectable icicles, will slowly turn into quite ordinary puddles of water.

To help speed up things even better, he opened his bag and let out a firefly. It started making huge circles round and round him, and the tiny light that helped her light its way, started to warm up the entire countryside in abundance.

Summer Sprite was very pleased with his job. He hid himself behind the nearest rock, and waited for Winter Sprite to wake up. He didn’t want to miss the expression on the latter’s face, realising how winter that he was supposed to take care of was gone .

It had been a long journey for Grandfather Followtime. Snow was melting visibly under his feet. He thought the sunbeams were a bit too warm for the season under the care of Spring Sprite. He couldn’t possibly know, naturally, that it was all Summer Sprite’s doing. Grandfather suddenly grew very tired and he made a decision to stop for a moment and rest before he started searching again. He took a good look around and saw a tall spruce fir not far away. He went straight for it, for he knew that its roots would be abundantly covered in soft moss. There was no better place to rest.

As he walked closer and started looking for a place to sit down, he perceived Spring Sprite lying motionlessly next to a thick root. Grandfather Followtime ran anxiously to his goblin, and discovered, to his deep relief, that the poor creature was safe and sound. He could feel a big bump on his head which was probably the reason why Spring Sprite was so sound asleep. Grandfather gathered some moss and laid it under the sprite’s head, then picked a green berry from a nearby shrub and placed it in his open palm. He started crushing it with the thumb of his other hand until some colourless liquid appeared. He applied those drops under Spring Sprite’s little nose. Every time he took a breath, he inhaled heavily the medicinal vapours, and the colour of his pale white cheeks was turning visibly into a healthy bright red. Grandfather was relieved. He knew that Spring Sprite will be completely awake in a few short moments and will again, to the best of his abilities, try and make sure spring reaches every nook and cranny of the country. He didn’t want to bother him any longer and so he rather headed for he beautiful underground world of his. He was unable to find Winter Sprite, though, but since the weather was improving rapidly while he made the last bit of his journey, he was certain that the missing goblin had probably already found his way back home.

Precisely at the moment when Spring Sprite started to recover from his unconsciousness, Summer Sprite started throwing conifer needles at the sleeping Winter Sprite. He couldn’t stand any longer watching him sleep while he was so pleased with himself for pulling his big trick and ruining the winter for him. Winter Sprite started to wake up, all dizzy from the long sleep. He was stretching himself in all directions and yawning his mouth out. He didn’t have the opportunity to find out why he woke up – the sound of the magic whistle calling for the runaway sprites to return home was heard. Strong summer sunbeams immediately faded a bit, and the firefly with its warm light came flying back in that instant and found its own way back to the Summer Sprite’s bag. The magic tune made both runaway goblins very sleepy and they could hear it very well, thank you, now that they were awake. They grabbed their bags and ran for home, to get some proper sleep at last. Summer Sprite only just realised that it was the wrong goblin he had played a trick upon, and that he had probably helped Spring Sprite, and not the other way round. Yet it didn’t vex him much. He knew for certain that there would be plenty of other opportunities for new pranks.

Hey, wait a minute! Who sounded the whistle then, if Grandfather was not home yet, and three seasons sprites were loitering around the wide world?

Who else but the fourth sprite, of course! When Autumn Sprite woke up in his soft little bed for no particular reason, he soon discovered that Grandfather Followtime and his walking stick were both gone. He was certain that the old sprite had probably taken one of his rare walks along the cave. It had been Autumn Sprite’s long lasting wish, once to whistle the magic tune that Grandfather used to reach the runaway goblins and he felt that that was just the occasion he had been waiting for. If Grandfather was really taking a walk, he would be able to play the entire tune before he returned and made him stop.

The sprite started to blow the whistle but he felt eyelids getting heavier and heavier; the tune makes every waking season sprite sleepy, except the one whose turn it is to be awake.

When Grandfather Followtime finally reached the stalagmite, Summer Sprite and Winter Sprite, who had arrived minutes earlier, were already fast asleep in their little beds. Only Autumn Sprite was leaning against the huge pipe, with his eyes shut and a pout on his face. He slept contentedly, for a life-long wish of his had come true. Grandfather Followtime took him to his bed and covered him lovingly with warm moss blanket. Tired, he went for his chair, where he would be able to follow time in peace, watch the naughty seasons sprites and wait for the new season to arrive once more.

The End