Prevod
Kralj polarnih medvedov je živel med ledenimi gorami v deželi na daljnem severu. Bil je star in neznansko velik; bil je moder in prijazen do vseh, ki so ga poznali. Njegovo telo je na gosto prekrivala dolga bela dlaka, ki se je v žarkih polnočnega sonca lesketala kakor srebro. Njegovi kremplji so bili močni in ostri, da je lahko varno hodil po gladkem ledu ter grabil in trgal ribe in tjulnje, s katerimi se je hranil.
Tjulnji so se prestrašili, kadar se je približal, in so se mu skušali izogniti; galebi, tako beli kakor sivi, pa so ga imeli radi, ker jim je puščal ostanke svojih pojedin, da so se z njimi nasitili.
Njegovi podložniki, polarni medvedi, so pogosto prihajali k njemu po nasvet, kadar so bili bolni ali v težavah; a so se modro izogibali njegovim loviščem, da ga ne bi motili pri lovu in vzbudili njegove jeze.
Volkovi, ki so včasih prišli tako daleč na sever, da so dosegli ledene gore, so si šepetali, da je kralj polarnih medvedov bodisi čarovnik bodisi pod varstvom mogočne vile. Zdelo se je namreč, da mu nič na svetu ne more škodovati; vselej si je priskrbel obilje hrane in iz dneva v dan, iz leta v leto je postajal večji in močnejši.
Toda napočil je čas, ko je ta vladar severa srečal človeka in ga je modrost pustila na cedilu. Nekega dne je prišel iz svoje votline med ledenimi gorami in zagledal čoln, ki je plul po pasu vode, razkritem zaradi premikanja poletnega ledu. V čolnu so bili ljudje.
Veliki medved takšnih bitij še nikoli ni videl, zato se je odpravil proti čolnu, z vzbujeno radovednostjo vohal nenavadni vonj in se spraševal, ali naj jih ima za prijatelje ali sovražnike, za hrano ali mrhovino.
Ko se je kralj približal robu vode, je v čolnu vstal človek in s čudno pripravo napravil glasen »pok!« Polarni medved je začutil sunek; možgani so mu otrpnili; misli so ga zapustile; njegove mogočne okončine so se zatresle in klecnile pod njim, telo pa je težko treščilo na trdi led.
To je bilo vse, česar se je nekaj časa spominjal. Ko se je prebudil, ga je skelel vsak košček njegovega ogromnega telesa, kajti ljudje so mu odrli kožo s čudovito belo dlako in jo odnesli s seboj na oddaljeno ladjo.
Nad njim je krožilo na tisoče njegovih prijateljev galebov, ki so se spraševali, ali je njihov dobrotnik zares mrtev in ali bi ga smeli pojesti. Ko pa so ga videli dvigniti glavo, zastokati in zadrhteti, so vedeli, da je še živ, in eden izmed njih je rekel svojim tovarišem:
»Volkovi so imeli prav. Kralj je velik čarovnik, saj ga niti ljudje ne morejo ubiti. Toda trpi, ker nima ničesar, kar bi ga pokrivalo. Povrnimo mu njegovo dobroto tako, da mu vsak od nas podari toliko peres, kolikor jih lahko pogreša.«
Ta zamisel je bila galebom všeč. Drug za drugim so si s kljuni pulili najmehkejša peresa izpod peruti, nato pa poleteli navzdol in jih nežno spuščali na telo kralja polarnih medvedov.
Potem so mu v en glas zaklicali: »Pogum, prijatelj! Naša peresa so prav tako mehka in lepa kakor tvoja kosmata dlaka. Varovala te bodo pred mrzlimi vetrovi in te grela med spanjem. Le pogumno, torej, in živi!«
In kralj polarnih medvedov je zbral pogum, da je prenesel bolečino, preživel in si znova opomogel. Peresa so rasla, kakor so rasla na telesih ptic, in ga prekrivala, kakor ga je nekoč njegova lastna dlaka. Večinoma so bila čisto bela, a nekaj peres sivih galebov je njegovemu veličanstvu dajalo rahlo lisast videz.
Preostanek tistega poletja in vseh šest mesecev noči je kralj zapuščal svojo ledeno votlino le zato, da je lovil ribe ali tjulnje za hrano. Svojega pernatega pokrivala se ni sramoval, a mu je bilo še vedno tuje, zato se je izogibal srečanjem z drugimi medvedi.
V tem času samote je veliko razmišljal o ljudeh, ki so mu škodovali, in se spominjal, kako so napravili tisti veliki »pok!« Sklenil je, da se je takim nevarnim bitjem najbolje izogibati. Tako je obogatil svojo zakladnico modrosti.
Ko je luna izginila z neba in je prišlo sonce, da so se ledene gore zableščale v čudovitih mavričnih odtenkih, sta h kraljevi votlini prišla dva polarna medveda, da bi ga vprašala za nasvet o lovni sezoni. Ko pa sta videla njegovo veliko telo, prekrito s perjem namesto z dlako, sta se začela smejati in eden je rekel:
»Naš mogočni kralj je postal ptič! Kdo je že kdaj slišal za pernatega polarnega medveda?« Tedaj je kralja popadla jeza. Z globokim renčanjem in veličastnim korakom se jima je približal ter z enim samim udarcem svoje orjaške šape položil posmehljivca mrtvega k svojim nogam.
Drugi je zbežal k svojim tovarišem in jim prinesel novico o kraljevi nenavadni zunanjosti. Zato so se vsi polarni medvedi zbrali na prostranem ledenem polju in resno razpravljali o osupljivi spremembi, ki je doletela njihovega vladarja.
»V resnici ni več medved,« je rekel eden, »pa tudi ptič ga ne moremo upravičeno imenovati. Napol je ptič in napol medved, zato ni primeren, da bi še naprej ostal naš kralj.«
»Kdo pa naj potem prevzame njegovo mesto?« je vprašal drugi. »Tisti, ki se lahko spopade s ptičjim medvedom in ga premaga,« je odgovoril ostareli član skupine. »Le najmočnejši je primeren, da vlada našemu rodu.«
Nekaj časa je vladala tišina, nazadnje pa je velik medved stopil naprej in rekel: »Jaz se bom spopadel z njim; jaz, Woof, najmočnejši našega rodu! In jaz bom kralj polarnih medvedov.«
Drugi so prikimali v soglasje in poslali h kralju sla s sporočilom, da se mora spopasti z velikim Woofom in ga premagati ali pa se odpovedati svoji oblasti.
»Kajti medved s perjem,« je dodal sel, »sploh ni medved, in kralj, ki ga ubogamo, mora biti podoben nam drugim.« »Perje nosim, ker mi je tako všeč,« je zarenčal kralj. »Mar nisem velik čarovnik? Kljub temu se bom boril, in če me Woof premaga, bo kralj namesto mene.«
Nato je obiskal svoje prijatelje galebe, ki so se prav tedaj gostili z mrtvim medvedom, in jim povedal za bližajoči se boj. »Zmagal bom,« je ponosno dejal. »Pa vendar imajo moji podložniki prav, kajti le nekdo, ki je kosmat kakor oni, lahko upa, da ga bodo ubogali.«
Kraljica galebov je rekla: »Včeraj sem srečala orla, ki je pobegnil iz velikega človeškega mesta. Povedal mi je, da je videl orjaško kožo polarnega medveda, pogrnjeno čez zadnji del kočije, ki se je peljala po ulici. Ta koža je morala biti tvoja, o kralj, in če želiš, bom poslala sto svojih galebov v mesto, da ti jo prinesejo nazaj.«
»Naj gredo!« je osorno rekel kralj. In sto galebov je kmalu naglo letelo proti jugu. Tri dni so leteli naravnost kakor puščica, dokler niso prispeli do raztresenih hiš, vasi in mest. Tedaj se je začelo njihovo iskanje.
Galebi so bili pogumni, prebrisani in modri. Četrti dan so prispeli v veliko prestolnico in krožili nad ulicami, dokler ni po eni pripeljala kočija z veliko belo medvedjo kožo, pogrnjeno čez zadnji sedež. Tedaj so se ptice spustile nanjo — vseh sto — in s kljuni zgrabile kožo ter naglo odletele.
Bili so pozni. Kraljev veliki boj naj bi bil sedmi dan in leteti so morali hitro, da bi do takrat dosegli polarne kraje. Medtem se je ptičji medved pripravljal na spopad. V drobnih ledenih razpokah si je brusil kremplje. Ujel je tjulnja in preizkusil svoje velike rumene zobe, tako da je med njimi drobil njegove kosti. Kraljica galebov pa je svoji jati naročila, naj medvedjemu kralju uredi perje, dokler ni gladko ležalo ob njegovem telesu.
Toda vsak dan so zaskrbljeno pogledovali v južno nebo in čakali, kdaj bo sto galebov prineslo kraljevo lastno kožo. Prišel je sedmi dan in vsi polarni medvedi iz tistih krajev so se zbrali okoli kraljeve votline. Med njimi je bil Woof, močan in prepričan o svoji zmagi.
»Ptičjemu medvedu bo perje še kako letelo, ko ga dobim v kremplje!« se je bahal; drugi pa so se smejali in ga spodbujali. Kralj je bil razočaran, ker še ni dobil nazaj svoje kože, a je sklenil, da se bo pogumno boril tudi brez nje. Ponosno in kraljevsko je stopil iz vhoda v svojo votlino, in ko se je znašel iz oči v oči s sovražnikom, je tako strašno zarenčal, da je Woofu za trenutek zastalo srce in začel je spoznavati, da boj z modrim in mogočnim kraljem njegovega rodu ni nič smešnega.
Ko si je z nasprotnikom izmenjal nekaj težkih udarcev, se je Woofu vrnil pogum in sklenil je, da bo tekmeca prestrašil z bahaštvom. »Pridi bliže, ptičji medved!« je zavpil. »Pridi bliže, da ti oskubim perje!«
Ta izziv je kralja navdal z besom. Naščeperil je perje kakor ptič, dokler ni bil videti dvakrat večji, kot je bil v resnici, nato pa je stopil naprej in Woofa udaril s tolikšno močjo, da mu je lobanja počila kakor jajčna lupina in je zgrmel na tla.
Medtem ko so zbrani medvedi s strahom in začudenjem strmeli v svojega padlega prvaka, se je nebo stemnilo. Sto galebov je priletelo od zgoraj in na kraljevo telo spustilo kožo, prekrito s čisto belo dlako, ki se je v soncu lesketala kakor srebro.
In glej! Medvedi so pred seboj zagledali dobro znano podobo svojega modrega in spoštovanega gospodarja ter vsi hkrati sklonili svoje kosmate glave v poklon mogočnemu kralju polarnih medvedov.
Ta zgodba nas uči, da pravo dostojanstvo in pogum nista odvisna od zunanjega videza, temveč prihajata od znotraj; pa tudi, da sta bahanje in širokoustenje slabi orožji za boj.
Izvirnik
The King of the Polar Bears lived among the icebergs in the far north country. He was old and monstrous big; he was wise and friendly to all who knew him. His body was thickly covered with long, white hair that glistened like silver under the rays of the midnight sun. His claws were strong and sharp, that he might walk safely over the smooth ice or grasp and tear the fishes and seals upon which he fed.
The seals were afraid when he drew near, and tried to avoid him; but the gulls, both white and gray, loved him because he left the remnants of his feasts for them to devour.
Often his subjects, the polar bears, came to him for advice when ill or in trouble; but they wisely kept away from his hunting grounds, lest they might interfere with his sport and arouse his anger.
The wolves, who sometimes came as far north as the icebergs, whispered among themselves that the King of the Polar Bears was either a magician or under the protection of a powerful fairy. For no earthly thing seemed able to harm him; he never failed to secure plenty of food, and he grew bigger and stronger day by day and year by year.
Yet the time came when this monarch of the north met man, and his wisdom failed him.
He came out of his cave among the icebergs one day and saw a boat moving through the strip of water which had been uncovered by the shifting of the summer ice. In the boat were men.
The great bear had never seen such creatures before, and therefore advanced toward the boat, sniffing the strange scent with aroused curiosity and wondering whether he might take them for friends or foes, food or carrion.
When the king came near the water’s edge a man stood up in the boat and with a queer instrument made a loud “bang!” The polar bear felt a shock; his brain became numb; his thoughts deserted him; his great limbs shook and gave way beneath him and his body fell heavily upon the hard ice.
That was all he remembered for a time.
When he awoke he was smarting with pain on every inch of his huge bulk, for the men had cut away his hide with its glorious white hair and carried it with them to a distant ship.
Above him circled thousands of his friends the gulls, wondering if their benefactor were really dead and it was proper to eat him. But when they saw him raise his head and groan and tremble they knew he still lived, and one of them said to his comrades:
“The wolves were right. The king is a great magician, for even men cannot kill him. But he suffers for lack of covering. Let us repay his kindness to us by each giving him as many feathers as we can spare.”
This idea pleased the gulls. One after another they plucked with their beaks the softest feathers from under their wings, and, flying down, dropped then gently upon the body of the King of the Polar Bears.
Then they called to him in a chorus:
“Courage, friend! Our feathers are as soft and beautiful as your own shaggy hair. They will guard you from the cold winds and warm you while you sleep. Have courage, then, and live!”
And the King of the Polar Bears had courage to bear his pain and lived and was strong again.
The feathers grew as they had grown upon the bodies of the birds and covered him as his own hair had done. Mostly they were pure white in color, but some from the gray gulls gave his majesty a slight mottled appearance.
The rest of that summer and all through the six months of night the king left his icy cavern only to fish or catch seals for food. He felt no shame at his feathery covering, but it was still strange to him, and he avoided meeting any of his brother bears.
During this period of retirement he thought much of the men who had harmed him, and remembered the way they had made the great “bang!” And he decided it was best to keep away from such fierce creatures. Thus he added to his store of wisdom.
When the moon fell away from the sky and the sun came to make the icebergs glitter with the gorgeous tintings of the rainbow, two of the polar bears arrived at the king’s cavern to ask his advice about the hunting season. But when they saw his great body covered with feathers instead of hair they began to laugh, and one said:
“Our mighty king has become a bird! Who ever before heard of a feathered polar bear?”
Then the king gave way to wrath. He advanced upon them with deep growls and stately tread and with one blow of his monstrous paw stretched the mocker lifeless at his feet.
The other ran away to his fellows and carried the news of the king’s strange appearance. The result was a meeting of all the polar bears upon a broad field of ice, where they talked gravely of the remarkable change that had come upon their monarch.
“He is, in reality, no longer a bear,” said one; “nor can he justly be called a bird. But he is half bird and half bear, and so unfitted to remain our king.”
“Then who shall take his place?” asked another.
“He who can fight the bird-bear and overcome him,” answered an aged member of the group. “Only the strongest is fit to rule our race.”
There was silence for a time, but at length a great bear moved to the front and said:
“I will fight him; I—Woof—the strongest of our race! And I will be King of the Polar Bears.”
The others nodded assent, and dispatched a messenger to the king to say he must fight the great Woof and master him or resign his sovereignty.
“For a bear with feathers,” added the messenger, “is no bear at all, and the king we obey must resemble the rest of us.”
“I wear feathers because it pleases me,” growled the king. “Am I not a great magician? But I will fight, nevertheless, and if Woof masters me he shall be king in my stead.”
Then he visited his friends, the gulls, who were even then feasting upon the dead bear, and told them of the coming battle.
“I shall conquer,” he said, proudly. “Yet my people are in the right, for only a hairy one like themselves can hope to command their obedience.”
The queen gull said:
“I met an eagle yesterday, which had made its escape from a big city of men. And the eagle told me he had seen a monstrous polar bear skin thrown over the back of a carriage that rolled along the street. That skin must have been yours, oh king, and if you wish I will sent an hundred of my gulls to the city to bring it back to you.”
“Let them go!” said the king, gruffly. And the hundred gulls were soon flying rapidly southward.
For three days they flew straight as an arrow, until they came to scattered houses, to villages, and to cities. Then their search began.
The gulls were brave, and cunning, and wise. Upon the fourth day they reached the great metropolis, and hovered over the streets until a carriage rolled along with a great white bear robe thrown over the back seat. Then the birds swooped down—the whole hundred of them—and seizing the skin in their beaks flew quickly away.
They were late. The king’s great battle was upon the seventh day, and they must fly swiftly to reach the Polar regions by that time.
Meanwhile the bird-bear was preparing for his fight. He sharpened his claws in the small crevasses of the ice. He caught a seal and tested his big yellow teeth by crunching its bones between them. And the queen gull set her band to pluming the king bear’s feathers until they lay smoothly upon his body.
But every day they cast anxious glances into the southern sky, watching for the hundred gulls to bring back the king’s own skin.
The seventh day came, and all the Polar bears in that region gathered around the king’s cavern. Among them was Woof, strong and confident of his success.
“The bird-bear’s feathers will fly fast enough when I get my claws upon him!” he boasted; and the others laughed and encouraged him.
The king was disappointed at not having recovered his skin, but he resolved to fight bravely without it. He advanced from the opening of his cavern with a proud and kingly bearing, and when he faced his enemy he gave so terrible a growl that Woof’s heart stopped beating for a moment, and he began to realize that a fight with the wise and mighty king of his race was no laughing matter.
After exchanging one or two heavy blows with his foe Woof’s courage returned, and he determined to dishearten his adversary by bluster.
“Come nearer, bird-bear!” he cried. “Come nearer, that I may pluck your plumage!”
The defiance filled the king with rage. He ruffled his feathers as a bird does, till he appeared to be twice his actual size, and then he strode forward and struck Woof so powerful a blow that his skull crackled like an egg-shell and he fell prone upon the ground.
While the assembled bears stood looking with fear and wonder at their fallen champion the sky became darkened.
An hundred gulls flew down from above and dripped upon the king’s body a skin covered with pure white hair that glittered in the sun like silver.
And behold! the bears saw before them the well-known form of their wise and respected master, and with one accord they bowed their shaggy heads in homage to the mighty King of the Polar Bears.
This story teaches us that true dignity and courage depend not upon outward appearance, but come rather from within; also that brag and bluster are poor weapons to carry into battle.
