The Star Money – A Tale by the Brothers Grimm, told by Grandmother Elder

Once upon a time there was a little girl who lived all alone in the world. Her father and mother had both died, and she no longer had a home, or a bed to sleep in, or much of anything to eat. She had only the clothes on her back and, tucked in her pocket, one small piece of bread. But she was not a sad child — not at all. She believed with her whole heart that the world is good when you yourself are good. And so she set off bravely into the wide, wide world, without knowing where the road might lead her.

The girl walked through a quiet forest, and the leaves rustled softly in the wind, as though they were whispering: Keep going, keep going — we are watching over you. After a while she came upon a poor old man standing at the side of the path. He looked so weary and so hungry that the girl's heart grew very heavy indeed. She looked down at her bread — that small, precious piece she had left. And then she held it out to him with both hands and said: "Here, take it. I hope it fills you up." The old man thanked her gently, and the girl walked on, having eaten nothing herself.

On and on she walked, and the air grew cooler, for evening was drawing in. At the roadside she found a little child sitting and crying bitterly. The child had no hat and was shivering in the cool evening air. The girl stopped and looked at the child for a long moment. Then she lifted her own little cap from her head and placed it carefully over the child's ears. It was warm and soft, and the little one stopped crying at once. The child smiled — and to the girl, that smile was lovelier than any thank-you in the world. With her head bare, she walked on into the gathering dusk.

Night came on in earnest now, and it was properly cold. The moon hung big and round in the sky, and the first stars had begun to glitter. The girl was crossing a quiet clearing when she met another child, trembling where it stood. This child had no jacket, and was shaking so hard its teeth were chattering. The girl did not hesitate for even a breath. She pulled off her own jacket — thin and warm as it was — and wrapped it gently around the shivering child's shoulders. She was colder herself now, but inside her chest there was a warmth that no wind in the world could ever blow out.

The girl walked on, deeper into the forest, and the wind moved softly through the branches above her. There she met yet another child, who had no dress at all and stood pale and perfectly still with cold. The girl looked down at herself. She had only her simple linen shift left — the plainest thing you could imagine. But she thought: "It is dark, and no one can see me, and this child is so very cold." And so she took off her shift as well and gave it away. She stood now almost entirely alone in the dark night, without her cap, without her jacket, without her dress. But not once had she thought of herself — only ever of the others.

Now the girl stood quite alone in the night. The forest was still, and the trees rose around her like tall, kindly giants. She tilted her head back and looked up at the sky. Oh, how beautiful it was! So many stars, so many tiny lights without number, that you could not know where to look first. The girl had nothing left — nothing at all. And yet she was not sad. She simply stood there, her small bare feet on the cool forest floor, gazing up into that vast and glittering sky. And then, all at once, something very strange and very wonderful began to happen.

One star after another came loose from the sky. Softly, like snowflakes drifting down in winter, they floated earthward, one by one, and wherever they touched the ground they made a tiny, sweet sound — clink, clink, clink. The girl stretched out her little hands and stared in wonder. The stars were turning into coins — beautiful, gleaming silver coins, falling around her like a quiet silver rain. She could hardly believe it. She looked at her hands, she looked at the ground, she looked back up at the sky. And the sky kept sending more and more, a whole bright cascade of stars and silver coins.

The coins lay all around her now, on the soft moss, among the tree roots, on the hushed and motionless leaves. They shone so brightly that the whole forest was lit up by them, warm and golden as a great lantern. And there, quite suddenly, the girl noticed that she was wearing a new dress — a fine, soft dress that felt like nothing at all, like a breath of summer air. She did not know where it had come from. Perhaps the sky had sent it along as a thank-you for her generous heart. The girl stretched and laughed quietly — a small, happy laugh that floated away through the still and listening forest.

The girl gathered the coins into the skirt of her new dress, carefully, one by one. She had so many now that she could live well for the rest of her life, free from hunger and cold. She would find a little home for herself, perhaps at the edge of the forest where the fireflies glow on summer evenings and the birds sing at first light. And she would share — she knew that without question. She would always share, because that was the thing that made her heart feel lightest and warmest. High above, the stars sparkled one last time with particular brightness, as if to say: "Yes — exactly like that. That is just right."

And so the little girl lived well and happily from that day on. She had a warm roof over her head, enough to eat, and a heart that remained every bit as open and generous as it had been on that night when the stars rained down for her. Sometimes, on quiet evenings, she would look up at the sky and smile to herself. For she knew: when you give what you have, kindness finds its way back to you along the softest, most secret of paths. That is the secret of the Star Money. And now, my dear, it is time for you to close your eyes too. The moon is looking down at you, and the stars are keeping watch. Sleep well, you dear and gentle little heart.