The Wild Swans

Once, in a far-off kingdom, a king had eleven sons and one daughter. The daughter’s name was Elisa, and she was as kind as she was brave. Her brothers loved her dearly, and she loved them back with her whole heart.

After the queen, their mother, died, the king married again. The new queen looked beautiful but had a cold heart and a mind full of wicked magic. She could not bear the love the family shared. She whispered lies to the king and plotted against the children.

One day, while the king was away, the new queen cast a spell on the eleven princes. In a swirl of feathers and a cry of sorrow, they changed into wild swans. With sweeping wings, they rose into the sky and flew away from their home. When the king returned, the queen pretended to weep and said the boys had run away. She sent Elisa far from the castle, hoping the world would forget her.

Elisa grew up gentle and strong in the countryside. When she was finally allowed to return, the queen tried one last trick. She gave Elisa a strange bath and smeared her with dark stains so the king would not know his own child. But Elisa’s goodness shone through, and the stains fell away. Still, the queen’s lies confused the king, and Elisa left the palace to wander alone.

She walked into a deep forest and slept in a bed of soft leaves. In the morning, an old woman by a spring told her, "I saw eleven wild swans fly over the sea at sunset. Each wore a shining crown on its head."

Elisa hurried toward the shore. All day she waited by the waves. As the sun touched the water, eleven great swans came gliding in. The moment the sun disappeared, the swans’ white feathers melted away, and there stood her brothers, young men once more. The night made them human; the day made them swans.

They embraced Elisa and told her of the rocky island where they lived. "We may be men only when the sun rests," said the eldest. "By day, we must fly." Elisa wanted to go with them. The brothers made a strong net of willow bark, and at dawn they each took a corner in their beaks and lifted her into the sky. She saw the sea gleam like silver below them. At noon they rested on a lonely rock out in the waves. By evening they reached their island with its caves and stiff, sea-wind grasses.

That night, as the brothers slept, Elisa dreamed that a good fairy stood by her. The fairy said, "There is a way to break the spell. You must gather stinging nettles that grow in graveyards and on wild cliffs. Crush them with your hands and spin the fibers into thread. Knit eleven shirts with long sleeves—one for each brother. While you work, you may not speak. You may not even laugh. If you utter a single word before the shirts are finished, the spell will stay forever. Remember: your silence is their hope."

Elisa woke with her heart full of courage. She found the cruel nettles growing among gray stones. The plants burned her fingers and blistered her skin, but she kept working. By day she gathered and crushed and spun; by night, when her brothers were human, she knitted, and they watched over her in quiet love.

One afternoon, a young king came hunting on the island shore. He saw Elisa sitting among the nettles, her hands raw, her eyes bright and brave, her lap full of green thread and half-finished sleeves. He spoke to her kindly, but she did not answer. She only pressed her lips together and bowed. Thinking she was a girl struck silent by sorrow, the king lifted her gently onto his horse and took her to his castle, promising she would be safe.

The court was dazzled by Elisa’s beauty, but some did not trust her silence. The archbishop whispered, "She gathers nettles from the churchyard and will not speak. Such things are signs of a witch." The king did not believe it. He gave her a quiet room with a window, and there she worked every spare moment, spinning and knitting, knitting and spinning, her fingers smarting and her heart steady.

Elisa needed more nettles than the gardens could give, so at night she crept to the churchyard. The plants burned like fire, but still she gathered them. The archbishop watched and grew fearful. He urged the king to judge her. The people murmured. They did not understand that silence can be full of love.

Elisa kept her vow. Shirt by shirt, sleeve by sleeve, she neared the end. Only one last shirt remained—just one more sleeve to finish. But the murmurs became shouts, and the law was harsh. The people dragged her away to be punished as a witch. Even then, she did not speak, for a single word would doom her brothers forever.

On the morning of the dreadful day, they placed her on a cart and led her through the streets. In her lap lay the eleven shirts she had made, all but one complete. The crowd jeered; the archbishop prayed aloud. The king, torn between love and the demands of his people, rode with a sorrowful heart.

Then, far above, came a sound like a storm of white wings. Eleven swans swept down from the sky. The sun was sinking. Its last red edge touched the roofs.

Elisa stood, her eyes blazing with hope. The moment the sun slipped away, the swans’ feathers fell, and her brothers stood before her as men. With swift hands, Elisa threw a nettle shirt over each of them. As each shirt fell upon a brother’s shoulders, the spell broke with a soft shiver, and the wild grace of the birds turned back into human strength. She reached the last brother—a sleeve still missing. The shirt covered him, and he was freed, but his right arm remained a strong white swan’s wing, a sign of her work done almost, but not entirely, in time.

At that very instant, Elisa’s vow ended. Her voice returned like a song after long winter silence. "I am innocent," she cried. "My brothers were enchanted. I could not speak until I broke the spell. These shirts, made from stinging nettles and my silence, have saved them."

The king leapt from his horse and rushed to her side. The people dropped their torches and fell quiet. The archbishop bowed his head, ashamed of his fear. The brothers told their story. The wind seemed to carry away every cruel whisper.

The king begged Elisa’s forgiveness and placed a crown of roses upon her hair. The whole kingdom rejoiced. Soon after, the wedding bells rang, and Elisa became queen. Her brothers stayed by her side—the one with the swan wing as brave as any with two hands—and they all lived in the light of love and truth. No spell was stronger than Elisa’s courage, her kindness, and her silent promise kept.