Once upon a time, there lived a miller who shared a quiet, contented life with his wife. Year after year, their fortune grew. Their barns were full, their coffers heavy with coins, and prosperity seemed to follow them wherever they went. But fate is fickle. Without warning, their luck turned. Their wealth dwindled day by day, until at last the mill was all that remained.
The miller fell into deep sorrow. No matter how hard he worked, peace eluded him. At night he lay awake, restless and troubled. One morning at dawn, seeking fresh air to clear his thoughts, he walked toward the mill and stopped beside the dam. The rising sun scattered golden light across the water.
Suddenly, he heard a soft rustling sound. From the depths of the water rose a beautiful woman. Her long black hair flowed over her shoulders, veiling her pale body like silk. At once, the miller knew she was a water spirit. Fear gripped him, and he hesitated, torn between fleeing and standing still. But the spirit spoke gently, asking his name and the reason for his grief.
At first he said nothing, but her kind manner gave him courage. He told her of his former wealth, his sudden ruin, and his helpless despair. The water spirit smiled and said, “Do not mourn. I can make you richer and happier than before—but only if you promise me one thing. You must give me the first living being born in your house.”
The miller thought to himself, It will surely be a puppy or a kitten, and agreed without hesitation. The spirit sank back into the water, and the man returned home with a lighter heart. But as soon as he entered his house, a servant ran toward him, breathless with joy, announcing that his wife had given birth to a baby boy.
The miller stood frozen. He realized then that the water spirit had tricked him. With heavy steps, he approached his wife’s bed. She asked why he did not rejoice in their newborn child. In tears, he confessed everything—the promise he had made and the terrible price it carried.
“What good is wealth,” he cried, “if it costs me my child?”
Friends and relatives came, but none could offer a solution. Strangely, though, fortune returned at once. Everything the miller touched prospered. His chests filled with gold overnight. Yet his heart remained heavy. He avoided the dam, fearing to meet the water spirit again, and kept his son far from the water.
The boy grew into a strong young man and became an apprentice to a hunter. In time, he entered the service of the local lord. In the village lived a virtuous and beautiful girl, and the two fell deeply in love. Seeing this, the lord granted them a house. They married and lived happily, devoted to one another.
One day, while hunting a deer, the young man followed it from the forest into open fields. He shot it down, unaware that he had wandered close to the dam. After dressing the animal, he stepped to the water’s edge to wash his bloodstained hands. The moment his fingers touched the water, the surface stirred.
The water spirit appeared, laughing softly. She wrapped her cold, wet arms around him and dragged him into the depths. The waves closed over him, and he was never seen again.
That night, when her husband did not return, his wife went out searching. Knowing his fears of the water spirit, she guessed the truth. By the dam, she found his hunting bag lying abandoned. Weeping, she called his name again and again, but no answer came. The water lay still, reflecting the crescent moon.
She refused to leave the shore. Days passed as she wandered, cried, fell silent, and cried again. Exhausted, she collapsed and fell into a deep sleep. In her dream, she walked along a narrow path between two cliffs, stumbling through thorns and branches. Rain lashed her face, wind tore at her hair. At last, she reached a summit—and there, before her, lay a peaceful meadow under a blue sky. In its center stood a small, spotless cottage. Inside, an old woman greeted her kindly.
When the woman awoke, dawn was breaking. Determined to learn whether the dream held truth, she set out. After much hardship, she found the very mountain and the same cottage. The old woman welcomed her warmly.
“You would not have come,” the old woman said, “unless sorrow had driven you here.”
Through tears, the young wife told her story. The old woman nodded. “I will help you. Take this golden comb. When the moon is full, go to the water’s edge. Comb your long black hair, let it trail into the water, and place the comb upon the surface. Then watch.”
That night, beneath the full moon, she did as instructed. A ripple passed through the water. A wave carried the comb away—and the water parted. Her husband’s head rose from the depths. He gazed at her in silence, grief in his eyes. Another wave followed and pulled him under once more.
Heartbroken, she returned home. That night, she dreamed again of the old woman, and the next day she returned. This time, the old woman gave her a golden flute.
“When the moon is full,” she said, “play a song by the water and leave the flute on the sand.”
The woman obeyed. As soon as the flute touched the ground, the water stirred. A wave swept it away, and the hunter emerged again—this time to his chest. He reached for her, but another wave dragged him back beneath the surface.
In despair, she cried, “What good is this? I see him only to lose him again!”
Once more she dreamed of the old woman, who now gave her a golden spinning wheel.
“When the moon rises,” she said, “spin wool by the water. When the thread is finished, set the wheel upon the water.”
That night, as the moon climbed high, she spun until the wool was gone. The moment the wheel touched the water, a great wave surged forth. The water split open, and her husband leapt out whole and alive. Hand in hand, they fled.
But behind them, the water roared. A towering wave chased them. As it closed in, terror seized the woman—and in that instant, a miracle occurred. She became a turtle, and her husband a frog. The wave swept them apart but did not destroy them.
When calm returned, they were human once more—alone in a strange land, separated by mountains and valleys. To survive, both became shepherds, wandering the fields for many years, longing for home.
One spring day, their flocks crossed paths in a valley. They met—but did not recognize one another. Still, glad for companionship, they tended their sheep together.
One night, under the full moon, the man took out a flute and played a sorrowful tune. When he finished, he noticed the woman weeping.
“Why do you cry?” he asked.
She answered, “I last heard that melody beneath a full moon—when my beloved rose from the water.”
The man stared at her, tears filling his eyes. In that moment, they recognized each other. They ran into each other’s arms, reunited at last.
Their joy was beyond all words.
Enjoy another bedtime story: The Little Match Girl