Lost in the Realm of the Saligen…

…From that moment on, an insatiable longing drove the growing boy to the heights of the mountains. Over time, he became a courageous mountaineer and a daring marksman, who scaled the most inaccessible rocks and slopes to hunt down the elusive chamois with a sure shot. A mysterious urge kept drawing him back to the Mohrin region over and over again. It was said that there, on an ice- and snow-covered rocky plateau above the Mohrin, chamoises could be found in droves. Even ibexes were said to live there, but no hunter could ever reach them. The daring boy could not let this tale go, he wanted to embark on this adventure. So one day he climbed up the steep walls. However, his dangerous venture ended with him being unable to move neither forward nor backward – until his foot lost all grip and he fell down from a dizzying height into the abyss, where he lay unconscious. As the hunter regained consciousness, he was lying on a bed of spikenard and edelweiss in the crystal palace of the three Saligen ladies, who had saved his life for the second time. Radiant with heavenly charm, they stood by his bed. The sight of them allowed him to forget all of his wounds and pain and made him feel blissfully happy and at ease. For three days they provided him with the most excellent care; he was allowed to walk around all the halls and rooms and see all the wonders and splendours of the fairy palace. He was also allowed to admire their gardens and animals. When three days had passed, they told him that he could now return to his parents. However, before leaving their home, they made him swear a threefold vow that he would have to honour if he ever wanted to see them again or be happy down in the valley. Above all, he had to vow not to say a single word to anyone about having seen the Saligen damsels or having been with them on the mountain. Secondly, he had to swear never to kill or pursue any Alpine animal, be it chamois, mountain hares or ptarmigans. And finally, he had to swear never to show the path that led to their palace, which they would now show him, to any mortal. His fourth promise was that he would keep the love and reverence he had always shown them in the mountains and that he would not be devoted to any earthly girl in love. He did not have to vow it, as the Saligen believed this would go without saying.

After the hunter had sworn his promise with a solemn oath, they bid him a tender farewell and took him to a remote part of their realm. There was a gaping chasm that reached down to the bottom of the mountain. At the bottom, however, where the roaring stream begins, a narrow exit from the chasm opened up into the open amidst dense alpine rose bushes. Before they lowered him into the dark gorge, they told him that he could visit them on every night of the full moon and stay with them for three days. When he stepped through the opening into the gorge, he only had to give them a special sign and they would be there.

The young man was transformed when he returned home. He felt as if he had been dreaming, and went about as if caught in a reverie. Soon he was known as the dreamer, for he withdrew from all the merry goings-on of youth, no longer went to dances, no hunt could excite him, and his rifle hung unused in his chamber. Yet on every full moon night, he hurried up to the rocky cleft beneath the Mohrin and slipped between the blossoming alpine roses into the dark opening that formed the entrance to the realm of the Saligen. For three days he was a guest of the enchanting women. He was enraptured and listened to their sweet singing for hours. But at home he wandered around tired and weary, his previously robust figure deteriorated, his blooming cheeks became colourless and pale. When his parents and friends, who were alarmed to notice this inexplicable change, pressed him to tell them what was wrong with him, he impatiently refused. He said that he lacked nothing, that he had everything he needed and wanted in abundance.

Over time, his parents realised that he left the house every full moon night and only returned three days later. One night they followed him and got as far as the entrance to the realm of the Saligen maidens. When the mother saw her son trying to slip through the dark opening into the mountain kingdom, she called out his name in an imploring tone. At the very same moment, a thunderous crash resounded, boulders and rubble fell from the mountain all around. Before the horrified youth’s eyes, the rocks moved together and closed the entrance to the place of his longing. No matter how often and how diligently he searched for it, he was never able to find it again.

Gloomy and withdrawn, the unfortunate man now wandered around his home town, paying no attention to his mother’s tears or his father’s scolding, listening to no encouraging consolation and wanting no distraction. No amount of work could entice him; he brooded to himself, thinking his gloomy thoughts and cursing his unhappy fate. This continued throughout the entire summer until autumn came and the flocks left their mountain pastures and returned to their stables in the valleys.

As winter came over the mountains and the fringes of his snowy cloak began to touch the mountain pastures, a couple of old friends came to the shepherd’s son’s house and began to talk about game and the joys of hunting in the mountains. They wanted to go hunting on the Platte near the Mohrin and hoped to bring home a large haul. The young, pale marksman’s eyes lit up again for the first time in a long time, and his passion for hunting, which had been subdued until then, began to stir once more. Perhaps it was also a different thought that drove him to join his friends. He was to go up to the area where the Saligen lived. He would try once more to enter the place he felt drawn to with all the fibres of his heart, even if it meant risking his life. If he succeeded in his venture, it would mean his life and happiness, but if he found death, he would be free from torment and heartache.

The young man put his hunting gear in order, borrowed a rifle – for his had been smashed when the stone debris fell and the rock gate disappeared before his eyes – and joined the other hunters on their early morning stalk. At first he walked with them, then he hurried ahead, faster and faster, climbing higher and higher, as if drawn by an irresistible force. He finally found himself alone in the rugged rocky tangle of the Ötztal mountains.  His heart was lighter than it had been for a long time and the open, fresh mountain air allowed him to breathe a sigh of relief. For too long, the narrow, dull air of the valley had weighed down on his chest. The first chamois appeared before his peering eyes, but with a whistle the wary animal disappeared behind the rock on which it had been standing. Climbing the ridge, the hunter saw a strong pack of chamois on a small meadow not far below him, but out of shooting range. Only one was quite close to him, and he used all his skill and strength to hunt it down. Swinging from rock to rock, he chased after the elusive animal and pursued it relentlessly until the frightened creature could go no further and came to a halt in front of a wide chasm that the archer had not even noticed in his eagerness to hunt. With the joyful satisfaction of finally having the chamois in front of him ready to shoot, he put the rifle stock in place. In the quiet mountain solitude, a sound like a girl’s plaintive voice suddenly rang out. In his passion, however, the hunter heard nothing, he took sharp aim and fired… Suddenly a bright light shone out, and the chamois stood unharmed in the midst of the splendour. Hovering in front of her were the three Salinger maidens in gleaming white robes. The marvellous glow emanated from them. They approached him with stern, dark looks. And when the young man now saw them for the first time, not with winning grace and mild kindness on their faces as they had before, but with an enraged expressions, he was seized with cold-tinged horror. He staggered back, stretching his hands out in defence, took another step – and plunged down the bottomless depths with a muffled cry. Loose rocks and boulders crashed thunderously behind him, burying the wretched marksman underneath them forever.