# The Juniper Tree _Retold by Talerie (talerie.com) from Household Tales by Brothers Grimm_ · 17 min read · ages 9+ A stepmother kills her stepson and serves him to his father as black puddings, and his sister Marlinchen lays his bones beneath the juniper tree. A singing bird rises from the tree, crushes the stepmother with a millstone, and in the smoke the little brother stands alive and takes his father and Marlinchen by the hand. --- Once upon a time, a good two thousand years ago, there was a rich man who had a beautiful and pious wife, and the two of them loved each other dearly. But they had no children. They wished for one with all their hearts, and the wife prayed for a child day and night, and still none came. In the courtyard in front of their house stood a juniper tree. One winter day the wife stood beneath it, peeling an apple, and as she peeled it she cut her finger, and the blood dropped onto the snow. “Ah,” she said, and sighed deeply. She looked at the red blood on the white snow and felt very sad. “Ah, if only I had a child as red as blood and as white as snow!” As she said it, her heart grew light, and she felt sure that her wish would come true. Then she went back into the house. A month went by, and the snow was gone. Two months, and everything was green. Three months, and the flowers came up out of the earth. Four months, and the trees in the woods grew thick, their green branches twined close together, and the birds sang until the whole forest rang and the blossoms fell from the trees. When the fifth month had passed, she stood under the juniper tree, and it smelled so sweet that her heart leaped, and she fell to her knees, wild with joy. When the sixth month was over, the berries were big and ripe, and she grew very quiet. In the seventh month she picked the juniper berries and ate them greedily, and then she became sick and sorrowful. When the eighth month had passed, she called her husband to her, and she wept and said, “If I die, bury me beneath the juniper tree.” After that she was comforted and happy, until the ninth month was over. Then she had a child as white as snow and as red as blood, and when she saw him she was so filled with joy that she died. Her husband buried her beneath the juniper tree, and he wept bitterly. In time his grief eased a little, and though he still wept, he could bear it. Some time after that, he took another wife. With his second wife the man had a daughter, Marlinchen. The child of his first wife was a little son, as red as blood and as white as snow. When the stepmother looked at her daughter, she loved her very much. But when she looked at the little boy, it cut her to the heart, because she thought that he would always stand in her way. Day and night she wondered how she could get the whole fortune for her daughter. The Evil One filled her head with this thought until she grew furious with the little boy. She slapped him here and cuffed him there, and the poor child lived in constant fear. When he came home from school, he had no peace anywhere in the house. One day the stepmother had gone up to her room, and her little daughter followed her and said, “Mother, give me an apple.” “Yes, my child,” said the stepmother, and she gave her a fine apple out of the chest. The chest had a big, heavy lid with a big, sharp iron lock. “Mother,” said the little girl, “won’t Brother have one too?” That made the stepmother angry, but she said, “Yes, when he comes home from school.” Then she saw from the window that the boy was coming, and it was as if the Devil had gotten into her. She snatched the apple back out of her daughter’s hand and said, “You won’t have one before your brother does.” She threw the apple into the chest and shut the lid. The little boy came in at the door, and the Devil made her speak kindly to the boy. “My son, would you like an apple?” she asked, and she gave him a wicked look. “Mother,” said the little boy, “how dreadful you look! Yes, give me an apple.” Then she felt as if something were making her say it. “Come with me,” she said. She lifted the lid of the chest and said, “Take an apple for yourself.” The little boy bent down into the chest, and the Devil urged her on, and crash! she slammed the lid down. The boy’s head flew off and fell among the red apples. Terror swept over her, and she thought, “If only I could make them believe I didn’t do it!” She went to the chest of drawers in her room and took a white handkerchief from the top drawer. She set the head back on the neck and tied the handkerchief around it so that nothing could be seen. Then she sat the boy on a chair by the front door and put the apple in his hand. Some time later, Marlinchen came into the kitchen. Her mother was standing by the fire with a pot of hot water in front of her, stirring and stirring it. “Mother,” said Marlinchen, “Brother is sitting by the door, and he looks very white, and he has an apple in his hand. I asked him to give me the apple, but he didn’t answer, and it frightened me.” “Go back to him,” said her mother, “and if he won’t answer you, box his ear.” So Marlinchen went back to him and said, “Brother, give me the apple.” But he said nothing, and she boxed his ear, and his head fell off. Marlinchen was terrified. She began to cry and scream, and she ran to her mother and said, “Oh, Mother, I’ve knocked Brother’s head off!” She wept and wept, and nothing could comfort her. “Marlinchen,” said her mother, “what have you done! But hush, and don’t let anyone know. It can’t be helped now. We’ll make him into black puddings.” Then the stepmother took the little boy and chopped him into pieces, put him in the pot, and cooked him into black puddings. Marlinchen stood beside her, weeping and weeping, and all her tears fell into the pot, so there was no need for any salt. Soon the father came home and sat down to dinner. “But where is my son?” he asked. The stepmother brought in a great dish of black puddings, and Marlinchen wept and could not stop. Again the father asked, “But where is my son?” “Oh,” said the stepmother, “he’s gone off to the country to visit his mother’s great-uncle. He’ll stay there for a while.” “And what is he going to do there? He didn’t even say goodbye to me.” “Oh, he wanted to go so badly, and he asked me if he could stay six weeks. They’ll take good care of him there.” “Ah,” said the man, “I feel so uneasy. I’m afraid something isn’t right. He should have said goodbye to me.” With that he began to eat. “Marlinchen, why are you crying?” he said. “Your brother will come back, I’m sure of it.” Then he said, “Oh, wife, this food is delicious! Give me some more.” And the more he ate, the more he wanted. “Give me more,” he said. “Neither of you is to have any. It seems to me as if it were all mine.” He ate and ate, and threw all the bones under the table, until he had finished every bit. But Marlinchen went to her chest of drawers and took her best silk handkerchief from the bottom drawer. She gathered up all the bones from under the table, tied them in her silk handkerchief, and carried them outside, weeping tears of blood. She laid them in the green grass beneath the juniper tree. When she had put them there, the juniper tree began to stir. Its branches parted and came together again, just like someone clapping his hands for joy. At the same time a mist seemed to rise from the tree, and in the middle of the mist something burned like fire. Out of the fire flew a beautiful bird, singing gloriously, and he flew high up into the air. When he was gone, the juniper tree was just as it had been before, and the handkerchief with the bones had vanished. Marlinchen felt as light and happy as if her brother were still alive. She went merrily back into the house, sat down at the table, and ate. The bird flew away and perched on a goldsmith’s house and began to sing. My mother, she killed me, my father, he ate me, my sister, little Marlinchen, gathered together all my bones, tied them in a silken handkerchief, laid them beneath the juniper tree. Kywitt, kywitt, what a beautiful bird am I! The goldsmith was sitting in his workshop making a gold chain when he heard the bird singing on his roof, and the song seemed very beautiful to him. He got up, and as he stepped over the threshold, one of his slippers came off. Still he walked right up the middle of the street with one slipper and one sock. He had his apron on, he held the gold chain in one hand and his pliers in the other, and the sun shone brightly on the street. There he stood still and looked up at the bird. “Bird,” he said, “how beautifully you sing! Sing me that song again.” “No,” said the bird, “I won’t sing twice for nothing. Give me the gold chain, and I’ll sing it for you again.” “Here,” said the goldsmith, “here’s the gold chain. Now sing me that song again.” The bird flew down, took the gold chain in his right claw, perched in front of the goldsmith, and sang. My mother, she killed me, my father, he ate me, my sister, little Marlinchen, gathered together all my bones, tied them in a silken handkerchief, laid them beneath the juniper tree. Kywitt, kywitt, what a beautiful bird am I! Then the bird flew away to a shoemaker’s house, perched on the roof, and sang. My mother, she killed me, my father, he ate me, my sister, little Marlinchen, gathered together all my bones, tied them in a silken handkerchief, laid them beneath the juniper tree. Kywitt, kywitt, what a beautiful bird am I! The shoemaker heard it and ran out of the house in his shirtsleeves. He looked up at his roof and shaded his eyes with his hand so the sun wouldn’t blind him. “Bird,” he said, “how beautifully you sing!” Then he called in through the door, “Wife, come outside, quick! There’s a bird up here. Just look at that bird! How well he sings!” His daughter came out at his call, then the rest of his children, and his apprentices, both the boys and the girls. They all stood in the street and looked up at the bird. They saw how beautiful he was, with such fine red and green feathers, a neck that looked like real gold, and eyes that shone like stars. “Bird,” said the shoemaker, “now sing me that song again.” “No,” said the bird, “I won’t sing twice for nothing. You must give me something.” “Wife,” said the shoemaker, “go up to the attic. On the top shelf there’s a pair of red shoes. Bring them down.” His wife went and brought the shoes. “There you are, Bird,” said the shoemaker. “Now sing me that song again.” The bird flew down, took the shoes in his left claw, flew back up onto the roof, and sang. My mother, she killed me, my father, he ate me, my sister, little Marlinchen, gathered together all my bones, tied them in a silken handkerchief, laid them beneath the juniper tree. Kywitt, kywitt, what a beautiful bird am I! When he had sung it all, he flew away, with the chain in his right claw and the shoes in his left. He flew far away to a mill, and the mill went klipp klapp, klipp klapp, klipp klapp. Inside the mill sat twenty miller’s men, cutting a millstone, hick hack, hick hack, hick hack, and the mill went klipp klapp, klipp klapp, klipp klapp. The bird perched in a linden tree in front of the mill and sang. My mother, she killed me, One of the men stopped working. My father, he ate me, Two more stopped working and listened. My sister, little Marlinchen, Four more stopped. Gathered together all my bones, tied them in a silken handkerchief, Now only eight were still cutting. Laid them beneath Now only five. The juniper tree. And now only one. Kywitt, kywitt, what a beautiful bird am I! Then the last man stopped too, just in time to hear the end. “Bird,” he said, “how beautifully you sing! Let me hear it too. Sing it once more for me.” “No,” said the bird, “I won’t sing twice for nothing. Give me the millstone, and I’ll sing it again.” “Yes,” said the man, “if it were mine alone, you could have it.” “Yes,” said the others, “if he sings again, he can have it.” Then the bird flew down, and all twenty millers set to work with a beam and lifted the stone up. The bird put his neck through the hole and wore the stone like a collar. He flew back up into the tree and sang. My mother, she killed me, my father, he ate me, my sister, little Marlinchen, gathered together all my bones, tied them in a silken handkerchief, laid them beneath the juniper tree. Kywitt, kywitt, what a beautiful bird am I! When he had finished singing, he spread his wings. In his right claw he had the chain, in his left the shoes, and around his neck the millstone, and he flew far away to his father’s house. In the house the father, the stepmother, and Marlinchen were sitting at dinner. “How light my heart feels,” said the father. “How happy I am!” “Not I,” said the stepmother. “I feel so uneasy, as if a great storm were coming.” But Marlinchen sat there weeping and weeping. Then the bird came flying, and as he settled on the roof, the father said, “Oh, I feel so happy, and the sun is shining so beautifully outside. I feel as if I were about to see an old friend again.” “Not I,” said the stepmother. “I’m so frightened my teeth are chattering, and there’s fire running in my veins.” She tore open the front of her dress. Marlinchen sat in a corner and cried, holding her plate in front of her eyes, and she cried until the plate was wet through. Then the bird perched in the juniper tree and sang. My mother, she killed me, The stepmother put her hands over her ears and shut her eyes tight, so as to see nothing and hear nothing. But a roaring filled her ears like the wildest storm, and her eyes burned and flashed like lightning. My father, he ate me, “Oh, wife,” said the father, “what a beautiful bird that is! He sings so splendidly, and the sun is so warm, and everything smells just like cinnamon.” My sister, little Marlinchen, Marlinchen laid her head on her knees and wept without stopping. “I’m going outside,” said the father. “I must see that bird up close.” “Oh, don’t go!” said the stepmother. “I feel as if the whole house were shaking and on fire.” But the father went out and looked at the bird. Gathered together all my bones, tied them in a silken handkerchief, laid them beneath the juniper tree. Kywitt, kywitt, what a beautiful bird am I! With that the bird let the gold chain fall, and it dropped right around the father’s neck and fit him perfectly. He went back inside and said, “Just look what a fine bird that is! He’s given me this handsome gold chain, and he’s so beautiful to look at!” But the stepmother was so terrified that she fell flat on the floor, and her cap fell off her head. Then the bird sang again. My mother, she killed me, “I wish I were a thousand feet under the ground, so I wouldn’t have to hear it!” cried the stepmother. My father, he ate me, At that she fell down again, as if she were dead. My sister, little Marlinchen, “Oh,” said Marlinchen, “I’ll go out too and see if the bird will give me something.” And out she went. Gathered together all my bones, tied them in a silken handkerchief, Then the bird threw the shoes down to her. Laid them beneath the juniper tree. Kywitt, kywitt, what a beautiful bird am I! Marlinchen’s heart grew light and glad. She put on the new red shoes and danced and skipped back into the house. “Oh,” she said, “I was so sad when I went out, and now I’m so happy! What a wonderful bird! He’s given me a pair of red shoes.” The stepmother sprang to her feet, and her hair stood up like flames of fire. “Well,” she said, “I feel as if the world were coming to an end! I’ll go out too and see if it makes my heart any lighter.” As she stepped out the door, crash! the bird threw the millstone down on her head, and it crushed her flat. The father and Marlinchen heard the noise and ran outside. Smoke and flames and fire were rising from the spot, and when it was over, there stood the little brother. He took his father and Marlinchen by the hand, and all three of them were full of joy. Then they went into the house, sat down to dinner, and ate. --- ## About this tale The Juniper Tree was written down in Low German dialect by Otto Runge, who took it from a folk telling and passed it on to the Brothers Grimm. It is tale 47 in the opening volume of their collection, printed in Berlin in 1812 under the title Van den Machandel-Boom. Bolte and Polívka report an earlier print of 1808. The Grimms’ later editions keep every scene and change only the language: from 1843 the dialect is spelled differently and the bird’s song is in High German. We worked from Margaret Hunt’s translation, and the page offers our text twice, as Gentler and as the longer Original; we wrote both. > My mother, she killed me, > my father, he ate me, > my sister, little Marlinchen, > gathered together all my bones, > tied them in a silken handkerchief, > laid them beneath the juniper tree. > Kywitt, kywitt, what a beautiful bird am I! > > Brothers Grimm, 1812: Min Moder de mi slacht’t, / min Vader de mi att, / min Swester de Marleeniken / söcht alle mine Beeniken, / un bindt se in een siden Dook, / legts unner den Machandelboom; / kywitt, kywitt! ach watt een schön Vagel bin ick! ### The Grimms’ text of 1812 beside their text of 1857 | | Grimm, 1812 | Grimm, 1857 | | --- | --- | --- | | Title | Van den Machandel-Boom | Von dem Machandelboom | | Edition | 1st, Berlin | 7th, Göttingen | | Opening words | Dat is nu all lang her, woll twee dusent Joor | Dat is nu all lang heer, wol twe dusend Johr | | The tale told in | Low German | Low German | | Bird’s song in | Low German | High German | | Song’s first line | Min Moder de mi slacht’t | mein Mutter der mich schlacht | | Plot | the same as in 1857 | the same as in 1812 | ### What our text does Both of our versions follow Hunt’s story to the end. The stepmother kills the little boy with the lid of the apple chest and cooks him into what Hunt calls black puddings, and the father, who has just asked where his son is, eats the whole dish. Marlinchen, the stepmother’s own daughter, gathers the bones in her best silk handkerchief and lays them beneath the juniper tree. That last step is in the German text but not in Hunt, and we put it back. A bird flies out of the tree and sings at a goldsmith’s, a shoemaker’s and a mill, and is paid with a gold chain, a pair of red shoes and a millstone. At home the chain falls around the father’s neck, the shoes go to Marlinchen and the millstone comes down on the stepmother and kills her, and then the boy is standing there alive. Gentler tells the killing in a single line, as the lid slams shut, with no beheading and no chopping. When Marlinchen later boxes the dead boy’s ear, he only topples from the chair where the stepmother has propped him, and Marlinchen believes she has killed him. Original, also our retelling, is longer and keeps Hunt’s hardest details, the head that flies off under the lid and the stepmother chopping the body before she cooks it. The boy comes back alive at the end, but nothing in our versions, in Hunt or in the Grimms’ 1857 text says that the father ever learns what he ate, so it is worth knowing the whole tale before reading it to a child. ### Kindred tales, and red shoes of another kind The Grimms noted in 1812 that the opening, where the boy’s mother cuts her finger, recalls Snow White; Bolte and Polívka make the same link through the drops of blood on the snow. Bolte and Polívka list versions from the Palatinate, Swabia and Tyrol as well as Danish, Flemish, French, Italian, Czech, Slovak, Latvian and Estonian ones, with the song worded very differently from place to place. From England they cite “The Rose-Tree” from Devonshire; its verse names a little brother instead of a sister. The Grimms already pointed to a passage in Goethe’s Faust, and Bolte and Polívka place it in the prison scene, where the boy’s verses are put in the mouth of the woman who killed her child and has lost her mind. Another Grimm tale, The Singing Bone, also brings a murder in a family to light through a song. The red shoes Marlinchen dances home in have nothing to do with Andersen’s The Red Shoes, a different story that is also on this site. Sources (claims checked against them on 2026-10-30): - 1812: Van den Machandel-Boom, Kinder- und Haus-Märchen, 1st ed., Berlin 1812, vol. 1, no. 47, pp. 203–217; note, pp. XXIX and XXX (https://de.wikisource.org/wiki/Van_den_Machandel-Boom_(1812)) - 1843: Von dem Machandelboom, Kinder- und Haus-Märchen, 5th ed., Göttingen 1843, vol. 1, no. 47, pp. 270–281 (https://de.wikisource.org/wiki/Von_dem_Machandelboom_(1843)) - 1857: Von dem Machandelboom, Kinder- und Hausmärchen, 7th ed., Göttingen 1857, vol. 1, no. 47, pp. 232–241 (https://de.wikisource.org/wiki/Von_dem_Machandelboom_(1857)) - The Juniper-Tree, Household Tales by Brothers Grimm, trans. Margaret Hunt, Project Gutenberg #5314, no. 47 [our source] (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/5314) - 1856: Kinder- und Haus-Märchen, Band 3: Anmerkungen, 3rd ed., Göttingen 1856, vol. 3, no. 47, pp. 77–79 (https://de.wikisource.org/wiki/Kinder-_und_Haus-M%C3%A4rchen_Band_3_(1856)/Anmerkungen) - 1913: Johannes Bolte, Jiří Polívka: Anmerkungen zu den Kinder- und Hausmärchen der Brüder Grimm, Leipzig 1913, vol. 1, no. 47, pp. 412–423 (https://de.wikisource.org/wiki/Anmerkungen_zu_den_Kinder-_und_Hausm%C3%A4rchen_der_Br%C3%BCder_Grimm_I/Van_den_Machandelboom) - Wikidata Q560960, ATU 720 (https://www.wikidata.org/wiki/Q560960) --- - Read online: https://talerie.com/en/tales/the-juniper-tree-original - Characters: Marlinchen - Version: longer, more faithful retelling; the gentler retelling: https://talerie.com/en/tales/the-juniper-tree.md - Also in: [Spanish](https://talerie.com/es/cuentos/el-enebro-original.md), [Portuguese](https://talerie.com/pt/contos/o-pe-de-zimbro-original.md) - Author's country: Germany (https://talerie.com/en/tales/country/germany) - Wikidata: https://www.wikidata.org/wiki/Q560960 - Tale type: ATU 720 (per Wikidata) - Source: Household Tales by Brothers Grimm, trans. Margaret Hunt (Project Gutenberg #5314) (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/5314) - Public-domain basis: Talerie contemporary retelling (CC0 2026), based on: Household Tales by Brothers Grimm, trans. Margaret Hunt (Project Gutenberg #5314) — translation: author died 1859/1863 (+70 passed); translator Margaret Hunt died 1912 (+70 passed) - License: CC0-1.0 (https://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/zero/1.0/)