Step into the realm of legends, dear readers, as we invite you to explore two captivating tales that have woven their way into the rich tapestry of Luxembourg’s folklore.
These tales are part of the renowned collection of Luxembourgish myths and legends, known as the “Sagenschatz des Luxemburger Landes,” by Nicolas Gredt. Within these cherished tales, passed down through generations, the secrets of the Witch’s Trees await.
Over a hundred years ago, around an old meadow in Contern, there stood a towering old pear tree. Its majestic branches, adorned with moss and abundant mistletoe bushes, earned it the name “Witch’s Tree” among the villagers.
Legend whispers that at the stroke of midnight, a bewitching melody would grace the air, capturing the hearts of those who listened.
“Listen!” the villagers would whisper, “the witches gather beneath the Witch’s Tree, indulging in forbidden delights and reveling in their mysterious dance.”
Yet, one fateful night, their clandestine revelry was interrupted by an approaching thunderstorm. Enraged, they hastily departed, their chorus of howls and hisses echoing through the night as they fled towards Dalheim.
Approaching the outskirts of the village, the tolling bells disrupted their flight. “To Mondorf!” the coven’s leader cried, urgency in her voice, “To Mondorf, for the hounds of Dalheim have been awakened!”
So, if you ever find yourself around a meadow in Contern, pause and see if you can spot the majestic Witch’s Tree. But remember, dear wanderers, tread carefully, for the enchanting dance of the witches may ensnare the unsuspecting...
Legend has it that a long time ago, in the lush forests of Grünewald near Eisenborn, there lived an old man who had many servants. Among them was a young apprentice who worked as a helper. Every evening, the apprentice would take the cattle to the forest and rest under a tree while the animals grazed. One evening, as he lay beneath a large tree, he heard a strange noise coming from above.
It sounded as if all the owls in the forest were gathered on that tree, making a ruckus. The apprentice was scared and fell to his knees, praying as best he could until the noise stopped. When he looked around, he realized the cattle had scattered in the forest, and it took him a long time to find them and bring them back home.
When the animals were safe in the stable, the apprentice felt pain in his right shoulder. He cried out, and the old man heard him. Concerned, he came and asked what was wrong. Upon hearing the apprentice’s tale of the strange forest encounter, the old man took a sacred book and devoted himself to prayer for three consecutive days.
Miraculously, on the third day, the pain in the apprentice’s shoulder disappeared.
“Truly, you are incredibly fortunate,” remarked the old man, his eyes filled with a mix of relief and admiration. “Had it not been for your unwavering prayers beneath that tree, the lurking witches would have surely ensnared you with their wicked spells! Feeble prayers would have invited misfortune, rendering my aid futile.”
From that day on, the apprentice cherished the power of prayer and remained grateful for the guardian spirits that had watched over him.
So, dear wanderers, a word of caution as you rest beneath those ancient boughs, keep a wary eye and let your prayers be strong, for the enchanting forest holds secrets untold!
