The King of the Golden River: The Last Drops

To become rich, Gluck needed to carry three drops of holy water to the top of a mountain. He set out with a full bottle. Surely that would be enough.

The valley below had once fed his family. His cruel brothers had helped destroy it. Now both had vanished while seeking the river’s gold. Gluck hoped he could succeed where they had failed.

Once, he had freed a little king from an enchanted cup. The king promised that three holy drops at the river’s source would turn it to gold. Gluck would have only one chance.

A priest had given him the water. Gluck also packed bread. But on the glacier, he fell and lost his basket. He climbed out hungry, with the flask still safe.

By midday, the path burned with heat. Gluck lifted the flask toward his mouth. An old man stood above him, leaning on a stick, too thirsty to go farther.

Gluck handed it over. The old man drank two thirds of the water. Gluck watched the level fall. There was still enough for the river. He kept climbing.

An hour later, a child lay panting beside the path. Gluck was thirsty too. He held the bottle for the child until only a few drops remained.

The child ran downhill. Flowers brightened the rocks. Gluck climbed on. In his bottle, five or six drops still clung together. Enough for the river. None to spare.

The source was close now. Then Gluck heard a whine. A little dog lay on the rocks, gasping. He looked at the dog. He looked at his flask.

He tried to walk past. If he used the last drops, he would lose his only chance. But the dog would be dead before he came back.

He knelt and tipped every last drop into the dog’s mouth. Then he turned the flask upside down. Nothing. The gold would have to stay in the mountain.

The dog sprang up—and became the king. He told Gluck why his brothers had failed: water denied to someone dying of thirst was not holy, however carefully it had been blessed.

The king shook three drops of dew from a white lily into Gluck’s flask. He told the boy to pour them into the river, then go down to his valley. The king dissolved into colored mist.

Gluck poured in the dew. A whirlpool opened, and the river began to sink into it. No gold. Disappointed, he followed the king’s instructions and started down.

Below the rocks, he heard water moving. It burst into the dry valley. Grass spread beside it. Vines climbed. The red earth became a garden again.

Later, grain filled Gluck’s barns. Hungry strangers came to his door. This time, there was plenty. He opened the door wider.