There was once an old castle in the midst of a large and thick forest, where an old witch lived alone. By day, she transformed into a cat or a screech-owl, but by evening, she resumed her human form. She could lure wild beasts and birds to her, then kill and cook them. Anyone who came within a hundred paces of the castle was forced to stand still until she released them. However, if an innocent maiden entered this circle, the witch would change her into a bird, lock her in a wicker cage, and place it in a room within the castle. She had about seven thousand cages of rare birds there.
There was a maiden named Jorinda, fairer than all other girls. She and a handsome youth named Joringel were betrothed and happiest when together. One day, to talk in peace, they went for a walk in the forest. "Take care," said Joringel, "not to go too near the castle."
It was a beautiful evening. The sun shone brightly between the tree trunks onto the dark green forest, and turtle-doves sang mournfully from the young boughs of birch trees.
Jorinda wept now and then, sitting sorrowfully in the sunshine. Joringel was also sorrowful; they felt as sad as if about to die. Looking around, they were lost, unsure of the way home. The sun was half above the mountain and half set.
Peering through the bushes, Joringel saw the old castle walls close at hand. He was horror-stricken and filled with deadly fear. Jorinda was singing:
"My little bird, with the necklace red,
Sings sorrow, sorrow, sorrow,
He sings that the dove must soon be dead,
Sings sorrow, sor—jug, jug, jug."
Joringel looked for Jorinda. She had changed into a nightingale, singing "jug, jug, jug." A screech-owl with glowing eyes flew three times around her, crying three times, "to-whoo, to-whoo, to-whoo!"
Joringel could not move. He stood like a stone, unable to weep, speak, or move hand or foot.
The sun had set. The owl flew into a thicket, and immediately a crooked old woman emerged—yellow, lean, with large red eyes and a hooked nose whose point reached her chin. Muttering to herself, she caught the nightingale and took it away in her hand.
Joringel could neither speak nor move; the nightingale was gone. Finally, the woman returned and said in a hollow voice, "Greet thee, Zachiel. If the moon shines on the cage, Zachiel, let him loose at once." Then Joringel was freed. He fell to his knees, begging for his Jorinda back, but she said he would never have her again and went away. He called, wept, and lamented, all in vain. "Ah, what is to become of me?"
Joringel left and eventually came to a strange village, where he kept sheep for a long time. He often walked around the castle but never too close. One night, he dreamt of finding a blood-red flower with a beautiful large pearl in its center. He picked it, went to the castle, and everything he touched with the flower was freed from enchantment. In the dream, he also recovered his Jorinda.
Upon waking, he searched hill and dale for such a flower. On the ninth day, early in the morning, he found the blood-red flower. In its center was a large dewdrop, as big as the finest pearl.
Day and night, he journeyed with the flower to the castle. Within a hundred paces, he was not held fast and walked to the door. Overjoyed, Joringel touched the door with the flower, and it sprang open. He entered the courtyard, listening for the sound of birds. At last, he heard it and found the room from which it came. There, the witch was feeding the birds in the seven thousand cages.
Seeing Joringel, she grew very angry, scolding and spitting poison and gall at him, but she could not come within two paces. Ignoring her, he looked at the bird cages, but there were hundreds of nightingales. How would he find his Jorinda?
Just then, he saw the old woman quietly take a cage with a bird and head for the door.
Swiftly, he sprang towards her, touching both the cage and the old woman with the flower. She could no longer bewitch anyone, and Jorinda stood there, clasping him round the neck, as beautiful as ever!