Făt-Frumos

The horse nobody wanted stood in the corner of the emperor’s stable, all ribs and scabs, with the smell of old straw on it. The prince had already gone down the line of fine stallions, taking each by the tail, and each one had fallen over. Then the wreck in the corner lifted its head and spoke. Fetch your father’s sword, it said, and his spear, his bow, and the clothes he wore when he was young. Feed me with your own hand for six weeks, barley boiled in milk. The boy did as he was told. This is how most of his stories begin: with good advice from an unlikely mouth, and the sense to take it.

His name is hardly a name at all. Făt is an old Romanian word for a boy or a lad, descended from the Latin for offspring, and frumos means handsome. Făt-Frumos is the Handsome Lad, and Romanian storytellers hung that title on the hero of tale after tale, the way English ones say Jack. He is the emperor’s youngest son in one story, a foundling with golden hair in another, a boy who learns in a month what others learn in a year in a third. The plots change. The part stays the same.

It is a demanding part. He is brave, of course, and strong beyond the common run, but the tales care just as much that he is fair, clever and loyal, and that once he has given his word he keeps it. His enemies are the standing army of Romanian wonder tales: the zmeu, a scaled ogre who steals girls and suns; the balaur, a dragon with too many heads; Muma Pădurii, the hag of the deep forest. In many tellings two older brothers ride out first against the monster and come home beaten or do not come home, and only then does the youngest saddle up. At the far end of the road waits a fairy bride, most often Ileana Cosânzeana, sometimes the Queen of the Fairies herself.

Between here and there lies the other realm, which the tales call simply that. The horse is what gets him across. It flies, it talks, it knows the country, and it is usually the wiser of the two. There is a crossroads on the way as well, kept by an old woman, and her directions are not encouraging. Turn right and there will be sorrow. Turn left and there will be sorrow too. The mythographer Victor Kernbach read that as a people’s memory of living between empires, where every choice was a bad one. The hero picks a road anyway.

Of all the tales told about him, the one Romanians know best was set down by Petre Ispirescu, a Bucharest printer who collected stories from ordinary tellers and first published this one in 1862. Its title is Youth Without Old Age and Life Without Death. Before he is even born, the child weeps in the womb and will not stop. His father promises him kingdoms, then brides, and the crying goes on. Only when the emperor promises him youth without old age and life without death does the child fall silent and consent to be born. At fifteen he asks for what he was promised. His father cannot give it. So he goes to find it.

That is where the mangy horse comes in. After six weeks of barley and milk, and six weeks of the prince scouring rust from his father’s arms until they shine like mirrors, the horse shakes off its scabs and stands up sleek, with four wings. They ride east. On a plain white with human bones they meet the Gheonoaia, once a woman, cursed by her parents into a monster, who comes through the forest snapping trees as she runs. The horse lifts over her, the prince’s arrow takes off her leg, and when she begs for mercy he gives the leg back and it heals where he sets it. Her sister the Scorpia is worse, three-headed and spitting fire and pitch over a field burnt black on one side. He shoots off a head and returns that too. Then the horse clears a forest full of beasts in one leap, and they come down at a palace where three fairies live. He has found what he was promised.

He marries the youngest and does not age. There is one rule: never set foot in the Valley of Weeping. One day he puts an arrow in a hare, chases it, and crosses the line without knowing. Homesickness comes over him at once like an illness. The fairies tell him his parents have been dead for hundreds of years. He goes anyway. On the road back, the lands of the Scorpia and the Gheonoaia are towns and ploughed fields, and people laugh when he asks after them. His hair whitens as he rides. His father’s palace is a ruin under weeds. In the cellar he finds an old chest and lifts the lid, and a thin voice inside tells him he is welcome, and that had he come any later it would itself have perished of waiting. It is his Death, dried and bent like a hook. It strikes him once. He falls to dust.

It is an odd ending for a fairy tale, and it is the reason this one is remembered. The hero wins everything and then loses to missing his mother.

Poets took him up after that. Mihai Eminescu published a tale of his own in 1870, Făt-Frumos Born from a Tear, in which the hero is conceived from a tear shed by an icon of the Mother of God and wears a shirt woven from his mother’s weeping. That one is a written work by a named author, though a closely matching folk tale was collected in Transylvania and there is still argument over which came first. Later writers, and a good many jokes, have kept the name in daily use.

His strengths come straight from what he is. He is young, so he has stamina and nerve. He is good, so monsters he spares become his hosts and helpers, and fairies open their doors to him. He listens, so a talking horse can save his life several times an afternoon. He has small touches of the uncanny about him, such as crying before birth, but he is no sorcerer. Nearly all the real magic belongs to the horse.

His limits are just as human. Without the horse he would not get past the first field of bones. He can be beaten by a rule he breaks by accident, and by his own heart. Against dragons he is nearly unbeatable. Against time, in the one tale that tests him on it, he lasts exactly as long as he stays away from home.

Frequently Asked Questions

Who is Făt-Frumos?

Făt-Frumos is the standard hero of Romanian fairy tales, a brave and honest young prince who is often the youngest son of an emperor. The name is given to the hero of many different tales, so he is a type of hero more than a single person. He fights monsters such as the zmeu and the balaur and usually wins a fairy bride.

What does the name Făt-Frumos mean?

Făt-Frumos means “Handsome Lad” in Romanian. Făt is an old word for a boy or son, from the Latin fetus, and frumos means handsome. English versions often translate the name as Prince Charming.

What is the magic horse of Făt-Frumos?

Făt-Frumos rides a talking, flying horse that carries him between this world and the other realm and advises him along the way. In Petre Ispirescu’s tale the horse starts as a mangy, starved animal in the corner of the stable. After six weeks of barley boiled in milk it becomes a strong horse with four wings.

What happens in Youth Without Old Age and Life Without Death?

Făt-Frumos refuses to be born until his father promises him youth without old age and life without death. At fifteen he rides out to find it, defeats the Gheonoaia and the Scorpia, and reaches a palace of three fairies where he never ages. After he strays into the Valley of Weeping he grows homesick, returns to his ruined home centuries later, and is struck down by his own Death.

Who does Făt-Frumos marry?

Făt-Frumos usually marries a fairy maiden, most often Ileana Cosânzeana, and in some tales the Queen of the Fairies. In Youth Without Old Age and Life Without Death he marries the youngest of three fairy sisters.

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Zmeu, Balaur, Muma Pădurii, Zână, Căpcăun, Uriaș, Iele, Sânziană, Zburator, Solomonari, Koschei, Vasilisa the Beautiful, Baba Yaga, Zmey