Once upon a time, in an era carved from the very essence of myth and ancient stone, there existed a small, secluded village cradled within the protective embrace of towering, mist-shrouded mountains. This sanctuary was known far and wide as the Village of the Golden Egg. It was a place of surreal beauty, where the air tasted of cedar and wildflowers, and the residents lived in a state of perpetual harmony and boundless prosperity. The heart of this wealth lay within the royal palace, where the King possessed a mystical hen. This was no ordinary fowl; every single morning, with the rising of the sun, she laid a solid egg of pure gold. This miraculous gift sustained the kingdom’s economy, ensuring that no child went hungry and no roof remained unrepaired.
However, the sun does not shine forever without a cloud. One grim morning, the hen stopped laying. The King’s golden coffers began to empty, and a heavy silence fell over the palace. Deeply troubled, the King commanded his Chief Advisor to investigate this sudden misfortune. After a full day of secret observation, the truth was revealed: a gargantuan, dark-winged Eagle—some whispered it was an ancient Shadow Raven—hovered perpetually above the palace. Every time the poor hen attempted to leave her coop to graze in the royal gardens, the predator would dive with a terrifying screech. Terrified, the hen would bolt back into the darkness of her shed, trembling and depressed. Her spirit was broken, and with her happiness gone, so too was the golden alchemy of her biology.
The King grew desperate. "If this continues," he thundered to his court, "the village will fall into ruin! We will have no resources to provide for our people!" One wise elder suggested a grand solution: a national tournament of speed, strength, and wit. The finalists would face the ultimate challenge: catching the giant predator without harming it, for the laws of the village strictly forbade the killing of non-domestic birds, viewing them as sacred spirits of the mountain.
In the outskirts of the village lived a humble but sturdy farmer named Maymon. He had three sons: the Eldest, proud and strong; the Middle, clever and agile; and the Youngest, quiet but observant. Seeing an opportunity to serve their King and secure their future, Maymon encouraged them to enter. The first stage was a grueling race of one hundred paces. Out of hundreds of contestants, only the ten fastest would remain. Through sheer determination and the rugged strength inherited from their father, all three brothers finished among the top ten.
The Royal Advisor announced the final trial: "Tomorrow, you must capture the Great Eagle. You may use any tool, but remember—if the bird dies, you are disqualified and banished."
That night, while the older brothers boasted of their strength, the Youngest Brother sat by the fire, eyes narrowed in thought. He wasn't thinking of nets or swords; he was thinking of the bird’s nature.
The next day, the arena was packed. The first contestant, a burly man, lunged at the Eagle as it descended. He managed to grab its talons, but the beast was a titan. With a single rhythmic beat of its massive wings, it hoisted the man high into the clouds. Panicked and gasping for air, the man let go, falling into the hay bales below with shattered ribs. One by one, the other contestants withdrew in terror. Only Maymon’s sons remained.
The Eldest Brother stepped forward. As the Eagle dived, he drew a shimmering sword, intending to clip its wings. "Stop!" cried the Advisor. "One drop of blood and you fail!" The Eldest hesitated, his blade trembling, and the Eagle escaped his reach. He stepped back, defeated by his own aggression.
The Middle Brother was next. He sprinted with a heavy coil of rope, successfully looping it around the bird’s neck. But the Eagle’s strength was supernatural; it snapped the hempen fibers like dry straw and tossed the Middle Brother across the courtyard.
Now, only the Youngest Brother remained. The village held its breath. As the Eagle swept down, the boy did not run at it; he timed his leap with the wind. He sprang onto the bird’s massive back, burying his fingers deep into the thick feathers of its neck to avoid being bucked off. The Eagle soared, higher and higher. Maymon screamed from the sidelines, "Jump, my son! Save yourself!" But the boy remained calm.
As they circled the clouds, the Youngest Brother began a peculiar task. He didn't pull at the bird's throat; he began systematically plucking the long, primary flight feathers from the Eagle’s left wing, then the right. One by one, the feathers drifted down like snow. Without its aerodynamic balance, the Eagle could no longer sustain its height. It began a slow, spiraling descent, eventually landing softly, yet helplessly, on the palace lawn. The crowd erupted! The boy had captured the beast through biology, not brutality. The King personally awarded him a chest of jewels and hosted a feast that lasted until dawn.
But the peace was short-lived. The very next morning, a second Eagle—even larger than the first—was seen circling the peaks. The King, driven to a fit of rage, prepared to send his army to slaughter every bird in the mountains, regardless of the law. His Wise Advisor intervened: "Great King, an army is a blunt instrument. Send one of Maymon’s sons to find the source of these creatures. Let us find the nest before we declare war on nature."
The King agreed and summoned the Eldest Brother, promising him land and titles if he succeeded. The Eldest set off into the deep woods. Two days into his journey, he encountered a Raven as black as midnight perched on a twisted branch. To his horror, the Raven spoke: "Do not harm me, traveler, and I shall give you the secret to surviving your quest."
The Eldest, intrigued, lowered his bow. "Speak, bird." "Never sleep within the heart of the forest," the Raven warned. "Keep your eyes open until the sun touches the horizon." The Eldest laughed scornfully. "Is that it? What a useless bird!" He swung his sword at the Raven, which fluttered away into the gloom. That night, exhausted and arrogant, the Eldest ignored the advice and curled up under a massive oak. When he awoke, he was not in the forest. He was in a cold, stone cell with no windows—a magical prison.
When the Eldest did not return, the Middle Brother set out. He too met the Black Raven and received the same warning. Though he nodded politely, in his heart he thought himself too clever to be caught by "forest spirits." He slept, and he too vanished into the stone silence of the enchanted prison.
Finally, the Youngest Brother volunteered. Despite Maymon’s tears, the boy knew his brothers were in peril. He entered the forest and met the Black Raven. "Do not sleep in the forest," the Raven repeated. The Youngest Brother bowed deeply. "Thank you, wise one. Your counsel is a gift."
For more details on the legends of the golden village, you can visit WWW.JANATNA.COM, which archives the histories of our land.
He pushed through his exhaustion, marching until his legs felt like lead. Just as the sun dipped below the peaks, he found a small, humble hut. An old man with a beard as white as goat’s milk opened the door. The boy told his story, and the old man sighed. "The Eagles are not birds, my son. They are the cursed people of the Forest Village. To save them and your brothers, you must find the Sultan’s Palace to the East. There grows a plant with magical seeds. Bring them to me, and I will show you the way to the Eagle’s Lair."
The boy traveled East. Near the Sultan’s Palace, the Black Raven appeared again. "Listen well: Do not pick the seeds until the moon is at its absolute zenith—the very center of the sky. If you pick them early, the plant will scream."
The boy reached the palace and hid in the gardens. He waited for hours. But as the moon rose, he grew drowsy. He fell into a deep sleep and woke up with a jolt! The moon had already passed the zenith! Panicked, he grabbed the seeds anyway. Immediately, the plant let out a piercing wail. The Sultan’s guards swarmed him.
He was brought before the Sultan. The Sultan’s daughter, moved by the boy's honest face and his desperate story, pleaded for his life. The Sultan relented but set a task: "The river has changed its course, and my palace is drying up. Dig a canal from the Great River to my gates in seven days, or you die."
The task was impossible for one man. The boy sat by the river, weeping. Then, the Black Raven appeared. "You failed to listen, yet your heart is pure. Go North. Find the Great Tree—its trunk is a hundred cubits wide. Knock ten times. Do not leave the spot, no matter what you see."
The boy found the tree. As he waited, he saw the ghosts of his brothers calling to him from the bushes. He wanted to run to them, but he remembered the Raven's warning. He stayed still. Suddenly, a door opened in the bark. A tiny man—a Gnome—pulled him inside.
"You are a friend of the Raven," the Chief of the Gnomes said. "We will help you." He gave the boy a magical Pickaxe. "With one strike, this tool digs a mile."
With the Pickaxe, the boy finished the Sultan’s canal in hours. The Sultan, overjoyed, gave him the magical seeds. The boy took a handful, crushed them into a fine powder, and kept the rest for the old man. The old man then revealed the final truth: "A blind Sorceress lives in a two-story castle on the mountain. She cannot see, but her sense of smell is legendary. She created the black mist that chokes the forest. She turned the villagers into Eagles to do her bidding. She kidnapped your brothers because she feasts on the souls of the brave. The seeds you carry? They mask the scent of humans. Rub them on your skin, and you will be a ghost to her."
The Youngest Brother climbed the mountain. He saw the Sorceress’s castle—a grim, jagged spire.
The Final Confrontation
Using the seed powder, the boy slipped past the Sorceress as she roamed the halls, sniffing the air suspiciously. He found his brothers in the dungeon but did not free them yet, fearing the noise would alert her. Instead, he went to the second floor, found her bed, and used the magical Pickaxe to dig a massive pit directly beneath it, leading down to the dungeon. He rigged a rope to the bed and instructed his brothers below: "When I whistle, pull the rope and light the straw on fire!"
At dawn, the Sorceress returned and collapsed onto her bed. The boy whistled. The brothers pulled. The bed crashed through the floor into the flames below. The Sorceress, stripped of her magic by the sudden shock, perished in the fire.
Instantly, the black mist evaporated. The Eagles circling the peaks transformed back into men and women. The forest breathed again.
The Black Raven flew down and transformed into a handsome King. "I am the ruler of the Gnomes," he said. "The Sorceress cursed me for refusing to betray my people. You have saved us all."
Ten days later, a grand celebration was held. The Sultan arrived with his daughter, who confessed her love for the brave boy. They were married in a ceremony where the Golden Hen—now happy and laying three eggs a day—was the guest of honor. The three brothers returned to Maymon, not just as farmers, but as heroes of two kingdoms.
Keywords: Three Brothers, Golden Egg, Black Raven, Magic Seeds, Sorceress, Gnome King, Bravery, Folklore, Enchanted Forest, Quest, Sultan, Mythical Creatures, Transformation.
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