CHEROKEE-L Archives

From: "Blue Panther" <>
Subject: Child Of The Evening Star and Birth of the Little People
Date: Sun, 12 Dec 2004 19:45:16 -0600

Child Of The Evening Star and Birth of the Little People


Once long ago, on the shores of the great lake, there lived a hunter who had
ten beautiful young daughters. Their hair was as dark and glossy as the
wings of the blackbird and when they walked or ran it was with the grace and
freedom of the deer in the forest.

Thus it was that many suitors came to court them -- brave and handsome young
men, straight as arrows, fleet of foot, who could travel from sun to sun
without fatigue. They were sons of the prairie, wonderful horsemen who would
ride at breakneck speed without saddle or stirrup. They could catch a wild
horse with a noose, tame him in a magical way by breathing into his
nostrils, then mount him and gallop off as if he had always been ridden.
There were those also who came from afar in canoes, across the waters of the
great lake, canoes which shot swiftly along, urged by the strong, silent
sweep of the paddle.

All of them brought gifts with which they hope to gain the father's favor.
Feathers from the wings of the eagle who soars high up near the sun; furs of
fox and beaver and the thick, curly hair of the bison; beads of many colors
and wampum, the shells that the Indians used for money; the quills of the
porcupine and the claws of the grizzly bear; deerskin dressed to such
softness that it crumble in the hands -- these and many more other things
they brought.

One by one the daughters were wooed and married, until nine of them had
chosen husbands. One by one other tents were raised to that instead of the
single family lodge on the shores of the lake there were tents enough to
form a little village. The country was a rich one and there was game and
fish enough for all.

There remained the youngest daughter, Oweenee -- the fairest of them all.
Gentle as she was beautiful, none was so kind of heart. Unlike her proud and
talkative elder sisters, Oweenee was shy and modest and spoke but little.

She loved to wander alone in the woods with no company but the birds and
squirrels and her own thoughts.

What these thoughts were we can only guess, but from her dreamy eyes and
sweet expression, one could suppose that nothing selfish or mean or hateful
ever came into her mind. Yet Oweenee, modest though she was, had a spirit of
her own. More than one suitor had found this out. More than one conceited
young man, confident that he could win her, went away crestfallen when
Oweenee began to laugh at him.

The truth is Oweenee seemed hard to please. Suitor after suitor came --
handsome, tall young men, the handsomest and the bravest in all the
surrounding country. Yet this fawn-eyed maiden would have none of them. One
was too tall, another too short. One was too thin, another too fat. At
least, those were the excuses she gave for sending them away. Her proud
sisters had little patience with her. She seemed to be questioning their own
taste, for Oweenee, had she said the word, might have gained a husband more
attractive than any of theirs. Yet no one was good enough. They could not
understand her, so they ended up despising her as a silly and unreasonable
girl.

Her father, too, who loved her dearly and wished her to be happy, was much
puzzled. "Tell me, my daughter," he said to her one day, "is it your wish to
never marry? The handsomest young men in the land have sought you in
marriage and you have sent them all away -- often with a poor excuse. Why is
it?"

Oweenee looked at him with her large, dark eyes.

Father," she said at last. "It is not that I am willful. But it seems
somehow as if I had the power to look into the hearts of men. It is the
heart of a man and not his face that really matters. And I have not yet
found one youth who in this sense is really beautiful."Soon after, a strange
thing happened. There came into the little village an Indian named Osseo,
many years older than Oweenee. He was poor and ugly, too. Yet Oweenee
married him.

How the tongues of her nine proud sisters did wag! Had the spoiled little
thing lost her mind? they asked. Oh, well! They always knew she would come
to a bad end, but it was pretty hard on the family.

Of course they could not know what Oweenee had seen at once -- that Osseo
had a generous nature and a heart of gold, that beneath his outward ugliness
was the beauty of a noble mind and the fire and passion of a poet. That is
why Oweenee loved him.

Now, although Oweenee did not suspect it, Osseo was really a beautiful youth
on whom an evil spell had been cast. He was in truth the son of the king of
the Evening Star -- the star that shines so gloriously in the western sky,
just above the rim of the earth as the sun is setting. Often on a clear
evening it hung suspended in the purple twilight like some glittering jewel.
So close it seemed, and so friendly, that the little children would reach
out their hands, thinking that they might grasp it before it was swallowed
by the night, and keep it always for their own. But the older ones would
say, "Surely it must be a bead on the garments of the Great Spirit as he
walks in the evening through the garden of the heavens."

Little did they know that poor, ugly Osseo had really descended from that
star. And when he, too, stretched out his arms toward it, and murmured words
they could not understand, they all made fun of him.

There came a time when a great feast was prepared in a neighboring village
and all of Oweenee's kinfolk were invited to attend.

They set out on foot -- the nine proud sisters, with their husbands, walking
ahead, much pleased with themselves and their finery, and all chattering
like magpies. But Oweenee walked behind in silence, and with her walked
Osseo.

The sun had set. In the purple twilight, over the edge of the earth,
sparkled the Evening Star. Osseo, pausing, stretched out his hands toward
it, as if imploring pity. But when the others saw him in this attitude they
all made merry, laughing and joking and making unkind remarks.

"Instead of looking up at the sky," said one of the sisters, "he had better
be looking on the ground. Or else he may stumble and break his neck." Then
calling back to him she cried, "Look out! Here's a big log. Do you think you
can manage to climb over it?"

Osseo did not answer, but when he came to the log he paused again. It was
the trunk of a huge oak tree blown down by the wind. There it had lain for
years, just as it fell, and the leaves of many summers lay thick upon it.
There was one thing, however, but the sisters had not noticed. The tree
trunk was a solid one, but hollow, and so big around that a man could walk
inside it from one end to the other without stopping.

But Osseo did not pause because he was unable to climb over it. There was
something mysterious and magical in the appearance of the great hollow
trunk. He gazed at it a long time, as if he had seen it in a dream and had
been looking for it ever since.

"What is it, Osseo?" asked Oweenee, touching him on the arm. "Do you see
something that I cannot see?"

But Osseo only gave a shout that echoed through the forest, and he leaped
inside the log. Then as Oweenee, a little alarmed, stood there waiting, a
man came out from the other end.

Could this be Osseo? Yes, it was he -- but how transformed! No longer bent
and ugly, no longer weak or ailing, but a beautiful youth -- vigorous and
straight and tall. His enchantment was at an end. He smoked his pipe to
give thanks to the Creator.

But the evil spell had not been wholly lifted, after all. As Osseo
approached he saw that a great change was taking place in his loved one. Her
glossy black hair was turning white, deep wrinkles lined her face, she
walked with a feeble step, leaning on a staff. Although he had regained his
youth and beauty, she had suddenly grown old.

"Oh, my dearest one!" he cried. "The Evening Star has mocked me in letting
this misfortune come upon you. Better far had I remained as I was. Gladly
would I have borne the insults and laughter of your people rather that you
should be made to suffer."

"As long as you love me," answered Oweenee, "I am perfectly content. If I
had the choice to make, and only one of us could be young and fair, it is
you that I would wish to be beautiful.

Then he took her in his arms and caressed her, vowing that he loved her more
than ever for her goodness of heart. And together they walked hand in hand,
as lovers do.

When the proud sisters saw what had happened they could scarcely believe
their eyes. They looked enviously at Osseo, who was now far handsomer than
any one of their husbands and much their superior in every other way. In his
eyes was the wonderful light of the Evening Star, and he spoke all men
turned to listen and admire him. But the hardhearted sisters had no pity for
Oweenee. Indeed, it rather pleased them to see that she could no longer dim
their beauty and realize that people would no longer be singing her praises
in their jealous ears.

The feast was spread and all made merry except Osseo. He sat like one in a
dream, neither eating nor drinking. From time to time he would press
Oweenee's hand and speak a word of comfort in her ear. But for the most part
he sat there gazing through the door of the tipi at the star-besprinkled
sky.

Soon a silence fell on all the company. From out of the night, from the
dark, mysterious forest, came the sound of music -- a low, sweet music that
was like, yet unlike, the song sung by the thrush in summer twilight. It was
magical music such as none had ever heard, coming, as it seemed, from a
great distance and rising and falling on the quiet summer evening. All those
at the feast wondered as they listened. And well they might! For what to
them was only music, was to Osseo a voice that he understood, a voice from
the sky itself, the voice of the Evening Star. These were the words that he
heard:

"Suffer no more, my son, for the evil spell is broken and hereafter no
magician shall work you harm. Suffer no more. For the time has come when you
shall leave the earth and dwell here with me in the heavens. Before you is a
dish on which my light has fallen, blessing it and giving it a magic virtue.
Eat of this dish, Osseo, and all will be well."

So Osseo tasted the food before him and behold! The tipi began to tremble,
and rose slowly into the air; up, up above the treetops -- up, up toward the
stars. As it rose the things within it were wondrously changed. The kettles
of clay became bowls of silver, the wooden dishes were scarlet shells, while
the bark of the roof and the poles supporting it were transformed into some
glittering substance that sparkled in the rays of the stars. Higher and
higher it rose. Then the nine proud sisters and their husbands were all
changed into birds. The men became robins, thrushes, and woodpeckers. The
sisters were changed into various birds with bright plumage. The four who
had chattered most, whose tongues were always wagging, now appeared in the
feathers of the magpie and the blue jay.

Osseo sat gazing at Oweenee. Would she, too, change into a bird and be lost
to him? The very thought of it made him bow his head with grief. Then, as he
looked at her once more, he saw her beauty suddenly restored, while the
color of her garments was to be found only where the rainbows are made.

Again the tipi swayed and trembled as the currents of the air bore it higher
and higher, into and above the clouds. Up, up, up -- until at last it
settled gently on the land of the Evening Star.

Osseo and Oweenee caught all the birds and put them in a great silver cage
where they seemed quite content in each other's company. Scarcely was this
done when Osseo's father, the king of the Evening Star, came to greet them.
He was attired in a flowing robe, spun from stardust, and his long white
hair hung like a cloud on his shoulders.

"Welcome," he said, "my dear children. Welcome to the kingdom in the sky
that has always awaited you. The trials you have passed through have been
bitter, but you have borne them bravely and now you will be rewarded for all
your courage and devotion. Here you will live happily. Yet of one thing you
must beware."

He pointed to a little star in the distance -- a little winking star, hidden
from time to time by a cloud of vapor.

"On that star," he continued, "lives a magician named Wabeno. He has the
power to dart his rays, like so many arrows, at those he wishes to injure.
He has always been my enemy. It was he who changed Osseo into an old man and
cast him down on the earth. Be careful that his light does not fall on you.
Luckily, his power for evil has been greatly weakened, for the friendly
clouds have come to my assistance and form a screen of vapor through which
his arrows cannot penetrate."

The happy pair fell upon their knees and kissed his hands in gratitude.

"But these birds," said Osseo, rising and pointing to the cage. "Is this
also the work of Wabeno, the magician?"

"No," answered the king of the Evening Star. "It was my own power, the power
of love, that caused your tipi to rise and bear you here. It was likewise my
power that the envious sisters and their husbands were transformed into
birds. Because they hated you and mocked you, and were cruel and scornful to
the weak and the old, I have done this thing. It is not so great a
punishment as they deserve. Here in the silver cage they will be happy
enough, proud of their handsome plumage, strutting and twittering to their
hearts' content. Hang the cage there, at the doorway of my dwelling. They
shall be well cared for."

Thus it was that Osseo and Oweenee came to live in the kingdom of the
Evening Star and, as the years passed by, the little winking star where
Wabeno, the magician, lived grew pale and paler and dim and dimmer, until it
quite lost its power to harm. Meanwhile, a little son had come to make their
happiness more perfect. He was a charming boy with dark, dreamy eyes of his
mother and the strength and courage of Osseo.

It was a wonderful place for a little boy to live -- close to the stars and
the moon, with the sky so near that it seemed a kind of curtain for his bed
and all the glory of the heavens spread out before him. But sometimes he was
lonely and wondered what Earth was like -- the Earth his father and mother
had come from. He could see it far, far below -- so fare that it looked no
bigger than an orange. And sometimes he would stretch out his hands toward
it, just as the little children on Earth stretch out their hands for the
moon.

His father had made him a bow, with little arrows, and this was a great
delight to him. But still he was lonely and wondered what the little boys
and girls on Earth were doing, and whether they would be nice to play with.
Earth must be a pretty place, he thought, with so many people living on it.
His mother had told him strange stories of that faraway land, with its
lovely lakes and rivers, its great green forests where the deer and the
squirrel lived, and the yellow rolling prairies swarming with buffalo.

These birds, too, in the great silver cage had come from Earth, he was told.
And there were thousands and thousands just like them, as well as others
even more beautiful that he had never seen at all. Swans with long, curved
necks, that floated gracefully on the waters, whippoorwills that called at
night from the woods, the robin redbreast, the dove, and the swallow. What
wonderful birds they must be!

Sometimes he would sit near the cage, trying to understand the language of
the feathered creatures inside. One day a strange idea came into his head.
He would open the door of the cage and let them out. Then they would fly
back to Earth and perhaps they would take him with them. When his father and
mother missed him they would be sure to follow him to Earth, and then --

He could not quite see how it would all end. But he found himself quite
close to the cage, and the first thing he knew he had opened the door and
let out all the birds. Round and round they flew. And now he was half sorry,
and a little afraid as well. If the birds flew back to Earth and left him
there what would his grandfather say?

"Come back, comeback!" he called.

But the birds only flew around him in circles and paid no attention to him.
At any moment they might be winging their way to Earth.

"Come back, I tell you" he cried, stamping his foot and waving his little
bow. "Come back, I say, or I'll shoot you."

Then, as they would not obey him, he fitted an arrow to his bow and let it
fly. So well did he aim that the arrow sped through the plumage of a bird,
and the feathers fell all around. The bird itself, a little stunned but not
much hurt, fell down and a tiny trickle of blood stained the ground where it
lay. But it was no longer a bird, with an arrow in its wing. Instead there
lay in its place a beautiful young woman.

Now, no one who lives in the stars is ever permitted to shed blood, whether
it be of man, beast, or bird. So when the few drops fell up the Evening Star
everything was changed. The boy suddenly found himself sinking slowly
downward, held up by invisible hands, yet ever sinking closer and closer to
Earth. Soon he could see its green hills and the swans floating on the
water. Until at last he rested on a grassy island in a great lake. Lying
there, and looking up at the sky, he could see the tipi descending, too.
Down it softly drifted, until it in turn sank upon the island. And in it
were his father and mother, Osseo and Oweenee -- returned to Earth, to live
once more among men and women and to teach them how to live. For they had
learned many things in their life upon the Evening Star and the children of
Earth would be better for the knowledge.

As they stood there, hand in hand, all the enchanted birds came fluttering
after them, falling and fluttering through the air. Then as each one touched
the Earth it was no longer a bird but a human being.



Each was a human being, yet not quite as before. For now they were only
dwarfs, Little People, or Puk-Wudjies, as the Indians called them. Happy
Little People they became, seen only by a few. Fishermen, they say, would
sometimes get a glimpse of them dancing on a summer night in the light of
the Evening Star.

The Little People became great helpers to humans. They warn of pending
danger and find plants deep in the forest to cure the sick. It is now a
custom to honor the Little People with gifts tied to tiny poles stuck in the
ground near the place where they live.

From Blue Panther Keeper of Stories.

This thread:

• Child Of The Evening Star and Birth of the Little People by "Blue Panther" <>