<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/atom10full.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemcontent.css"?><feed xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearch/1.1/" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0" xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0" gd:etag="W/&quot;CEMCQ304fyp7ImA9WhRaFEQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-170748826360776019</id><updated>2012-02-17T22:27:42.337+07:00</updated><category term="West Sumatra" /><category term="Korea" /><category term="Mermaid Story" /><category term="Jambi" /><category term="Frog Tales" /><category term="Article" /><category term="East Kalimantan" /><category term="Fairy Tales" /><category term="German Folktales" /><category term="Philippines Folktales" /><category term="Info" /><category term="Japan Fairy Tales" /><category term="American Legends" /><category term="East Java" /><category term="Nigerian Tales" /><category term="West Java" /><category term="African Fable" /><category term="Sweden" /><category term="North Sumatra" /><category term="Arabian Tales" /><category term="Central Java" /><category term="Singapore" /><category term="Other" /><category term="Bali" /><category term="American Native" /><category term="Russian Legend" /><category term="Indian Tales" /><category term="West African" /><category term="Thailand Folktales" /><category term="Canadian Folktales" /><category term="France Folktales" /><category term="Chinese Folktale" /><category term="American Folktale" /><category term="Indonesian Folklore" /><category term="Turkey Tales" /><category term="Riau" /><title>FOLKLORE LOVER</title><subtitle type="html" /><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://folklore-lover.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://folklore-lover.blogspot.com/" /><link rel="next" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/170748826360776019/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false&amp;v=2" /><author><name>Hermawan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="28" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4omqHURdI0k/SlAkYMm8b1I/AAAAAAAAADU/B0EQd2Gd468/S220/SDC11910.jpg" /></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>89</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/FolkloreLover" /><feedburner:info uri="folklorelover" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><feedburner:emailServiceId>FolkloreLover</feedburner:emailServiceId><feedburner:feedburnerHostname>http://feedburner.google.com</feedburner:feedburnerHostname><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkMGSHo4fSp7ImA9Wx9aFUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-170748826360776019.post-4215444438042441407</id><published>2011-03-05T16:21:00.001+07:00</published><updated>2011-03-07T23:13:49.435+07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-03-07T23:13:49.435+07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Indonesian Folklore" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Bali" /><title>THE ORIGIN OF CATU HILL - BUKIT CATU</title><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/170748826360776019/posts/default/4215444438042441407?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/170748826360776019/posts/default/4215444438042441407?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FolkloreLover/~3/1smEN547MX8/origin-of-catu-hill-bukit-catu.html" title="THE ORIGIN OF CATU HILL - BUKIT CATU" /><author><name>Hermawan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="28" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4omqHURdI0k/SlAkYMm8b1I/AAAAAAAAADU/B0EQd2Gd468/S220/SDC11910.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-uSgt_0hd9Lc/TXH-7WbykQI/AAAAAAAAAMY/xqDbkP5cNK0/s72-c/bukit_catu_1.gif" height="72" width="72" /><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/SXITEBk2lmohyjgAkb8vVNSjE8c/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/SXITEBk2lmohyjgAkb8vVNSjE8c/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/SXITEBk2lmohyjgAkb8vVNSjE8c/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/SXITEBk2lmohyjgAkb8vVNSjE8c/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Once upon a time in Bali island, there is a fertile and prosperous country. Farm and fields always provide an abundant harvest. In the village lived a farmer named Mr. Jurna and his wife. They wanted his rice-plants yield more than the previous harvest.
"Hmm, should the rice planting season now that we make vows," Mr Jurna motion to his wife. 
"Vows what, sir?" Miss Jurna said. 
"Well, if rice &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FolkloreLover/~4/1smEN547MX8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://folklore-lover.blogspot.com/2011/03/origin-of-catu-hill-bukit-catu.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0ADQXg5fip7ImA9Wx9UF0U.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-170748826360776019.post-4415935065794368511</id><published>2011-02-15T21:56:00.000+07:00</published><updated>2011-02-15T21:56:10.626+07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-02-15T21:56:10.626+07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="African Fable" /><title>The Hedgehog and The Dog</title><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/170748826360776019/posts/default/4415935065794368511?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/170748826360776019/posts/default/4415935065794368511?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FolkloreLover/~3/mMner4MEQGE/hedgehog-and-dog.html" title="The Hedgehog and The Dog" /><author><name>Hermawan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="28" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4omqHURdI0k/SlAkYMm8b1I/AAAAAAAAADU/B0EQd2Gd468/S220/SDC11910.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-71fpRCTTWSo/TVqTSq3OSoI/AAAAAAAAAJY/J2e2WhLxeK4/s72-c/The+Hedgehog+and+The+Dog.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/K0jxl8gWFsaoAtn_LunFdK3mc4Q/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/K0jxl8gWFsaoAtn_LunFdK3mc4Q/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/K0jxl8gWFsaoAtn_LunFdK3mc4Q/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/K0jxl8gWFsaoAtn_LunFdK3mc4Q/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  The Hedgehog and the Dog were formerly best friends, and cultivated bananas together. When the bananas were full-grown, the Hedgehog utilized to go to face at them every day, and when at end the were mature he welcome the Dog to go with him and eat them. When the two friends reached the metre of the banana player, the Hedgehog tried in vain to move the bunches of bananas. The Dog, meanwhile, &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FolkloreLover/~4/mMner4MEQGE" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://folklore-lover.blogspot.com/2011/02/hedgehog-and-dog.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0cCR384cCp7ImA9WhRaE0o.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-170748826360776019.post-5071759786495454490</id><published>2010-06-16T09:33:00.001+07:00</published><updated>2012-02-16T13:51:06.138+07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-02-16T13:51:06.138+07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Indonesian Folklore" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="West Java" /><title>SANGKURIANG</title><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/170748826360776019/posts/default/5071759786495454490?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/170748826360776019/posts/default/5071759786495454490?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FolkloreLover/~3/ByVC9sU6c98/sangkuriang.html" title="SANGKURIANG" /><author><name>Cyber Mind</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11490978270198223352</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_I9E9hldhprU/SffCZu-ErhI/AAAAAAAAAAc/lKuQJyNC7oI/S220/monz+yeah.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-An9L1aiHLkg/Tzyjzj2dNWI/AAAAAAAAAB8/qYULl5ggu9g/s72-c/sangkuriang1.gif" height="72" width="72" /><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/g5YqiqoqcG5b09Mmca0xdYDKCX4/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/g5YqiqoqcG5b09Mmca0xdYDKCX4/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/g5YqiqoqcG5b09Mmca0xdYDKCX4/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/g5YqiqoqcG5b09Mmca0xdYDKCX4/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
Long ago, The King Sungging Perbangkara go hunting. In the middle of the woods of the King dispose of urine deposited in caring leaves (taro forest). A female pig named Wayung who was meditated for being human, had to drink urine. Wayungyang pregnant and gave birth to a beautiful baby. Beautiful baby was taken to the palace by his father and named Dayang Sumbi or Rarasati. Many kings who wanted &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FolkloreLover/~4/ByVC9sU6c98" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://folklore-lover.blogspot.com/2010/06/sangkuriang.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0UEQ309eCp7ImA9Wx9UFE4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-170748826360776019.post-1726111326807134702</id><published>2010-05-08T11:20:00.011+07:00</published><updated>2011-02-11T22:46:42.360+07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-02-11T22:46:42.360+07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="East Java" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Indonesian Folklore" /><title>PANJI SEMIRANG</title><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/170748826360776019/posts/default/1726111326807134702?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/170748826360776019/posts/default/1726111326807134702?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FolkloreLover/~3/IarSZ-AZQ0c/panji-semirang.html" title="PANJI SEMIRANG" /><author><name>Hermawan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="28" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4omqHURdI0k/SlAkYMm8b1I/AAAAAAAAADU/B0EQd2Gd468/S220/SDC11910.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lebcb87p_XI/TVVZd6lK_lI/AAAAAAAAAIw/ru9LElZwDEU/s72-c/pjsm1.gif" height="72" width="72" /><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Sj9ws08dZaMxTXydxdCj5ChajSc/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Sj9ws08dZaMxTXydxdCj5ChajSc/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Sj9ws08dZaMxTXydxdCj5ChajSc/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Sj9ws08dZaMxTXydxdCj5ChajSc/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Kuripan was a big kingdom. The king had a son. His name was Raden Inu Kertapati. The prince was engaged with a princess from Daha kingdom. Her name was Dewi Candra Kirana. One day, Raden Inu Kertapati planned to visit Daha kingdom. He wanted to meet his fiance.

Raden Inu Kertapati went to Daha kingdom with his guards. While they were riding the horses,suddenly a group of people from Asmarantaka &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FolkloreLover/~4/IarSZ-AZQ0c" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://folklore-lover.blogspot.com/2010/05/panji-semirang.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkIDQHgzeCp7ImA9Wx9UF0U.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-170748826360776019.post-157873235797046320</id><published>2010-03-25T22:28:00.000+07:00</published><updated>2011-02-15T22:42:51.680+07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-02-15T22:42:51.680+07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Chinese Folktale" /><title>THE MAGIC BROCADE</title><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/170748826360776019/posts/default/157873235797046320?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/170748826360776019/posts/default/157873235797046320?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FolkloreLover/~3/PsOtyANcENU/magic-brocade.html" title="THE MAGIC BROCADE" /><author><name>Hermawan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="28" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4omqHURdI0k/SlAkYMm8b1I/AAAAAAAAADU/B0EQd2Gd468/S220/SDC11910.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-alRgaJx2u5E/TVqdHPLOroI/AAAAAAAAAKA/VqWq-1IXZLw/s72-c/The+Magic+Brocade.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/a8ATPZJy60wtgnHUkqV8HqN7QOM/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/a8ATPZJy60wtgnHUkqV8HqN7QOM/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/a8ATPZJy60wtgnHUkqV8HqN7QOM/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/a8ATPZJy60wtgnHUkqV8HqN7QOM/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  Once in China there lived an old widow and her son,  Chen. The widow was known all over for the brocades that she made on her  loom. Weaving threads of silver, gold, and colored silk into her cloth,  she made pictures of flowers, birds, and animals, so real they seemed  almost alive. People said there were no brocades finer than the ones the  widow wove.
  One day, the widow took a pile of &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FolkloreLover/~4/PsOtyANcENU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://folklore-lover.blogspot.com/2010/03/magic-brocade.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEUHSHY9eSp7ImA9Wx9UF0U.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-170748826360776019.post-87111942742149064</id><published>2010-02-15T21:57:00.005+07:00</published><updated>2011-02-15T23:10:39.861+07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-02-15T23:10:39.861+07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="West African" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Nigerian Tales" /><title>MASTER MAN</title><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/170748826360776019/posts/default/87111942742149064?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/170748826360776019/posts/default/87111942742149064?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FolkloreLover/~3/gETCjKwOtTY/master-man.html" title="MASTER MAN" /><author><name>Hermawan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="28" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4omqHURdI0k/SlAkYMm8b1I/AAAAAAAAADU/B0EQd2Gd468/S220/SDC11910.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-B11s643FE44/TVqac9pPOlI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/eL79lOC-bBQ/s72-c/Master+Man.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/wEZXXmPd--gptjWdR5oN-jZ6dh0/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/wEZXXmPd--gptjWdR5oN-jZ6dh0/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/wEZXXmPd--gptjWdR5oN-jZ6dh0/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/wEZXXmPd--gptjWdR5oN-jZ6dh0/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Once there was a man who was strong. When he gathered firewood, he hauled twice as much  as anyone else in the village. When he hunted, he carried home two  antelopes at once. This man’s name was Shadusa, and his wife was named  Shettu.
One day he said to her, “Just look at these muscles. I must be  the strongest man in the world. From now on, just call me Master Man.”
But Shettu said, “Quit your&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FolkloreLover/~4/gETCjKwOtTY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://folklore-lover.blogspot.com/2010/02/master-man.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUUCR30_cCp7ImA9Wx9UFE4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-170748826360776019.post-9157238360340377073</id><published>2010-01-21T04:19:00.004+07:00</published><updated>2011-02-11T22:14:26.348+07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-02-11T22:14:26.348+07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Japan Fairy Tales" /><title>GONBE AND 100 DUCK</title><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/170748826360776019/posts/default/9157238360340377073?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/170748826360776019/posts/default/9157238360340377073?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FolkloreLover/~3/aM_JhdGFX1c/gonbe-and-100-duck.html" title="GONBE AND 100 DUCK" /><author><name>Hermawan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="28" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4omqHURdI0k/SlAkYMm8b1I/AAAAAAAAADU/B0EQd2Gd468/S220/SDC11910.jpg" /></author><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/gKhsFb7bjgPXQsslvwM0AO6N1tE/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/gKhsFb7bjgPXQsslvwM0AO6N1tE/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/gKhsFb7bjgPXQsslvwM0AO6N1tE/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/gKhsFb7bjgPXQsslvwM0AO6N1tE/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;In one village, there lived a father with a son named Gonbe. They live by hunting ducks. Each game, the father of Gonbe shot a course of ducks. Gonbe Seeing that his father asked, "Why we just have to shoot one of the tail," Well? "" Because if we kill all the ducks, the ducks will be exhausted and could not be reproduced, except that if they kill the ducks we can get arbitrary punishment.

A few&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FolkloreLover/~4/aM_JhdGFX1c" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://folklore-lover.blogspot.com/2010/01/gonbe-and-100-duck.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUIMR3w5eCp7ImA9Wx9UFE4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-170748826360776019.post-8355158026995783273</id><published>2010-01-15T13:53:00.005+07:00</published><updated>2011-02-11T22:19:46.220+07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-02-11T22:19:46.220+07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Indonesian Folklore" /><title>KERIS | THE CURSED SWORD</title><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/170748826360776019/posts/default/8355158026995783273?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/170748826360776019/posts/default/8355158026995783273?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FolkloreLover/~3/_Q0X_ayde48/keris-cursed-sword.html" title="KERIS | THE CURSED SWORD" /><author><name>Hermawan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="28" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4omqHURdI0k/SlAkYMm8b1I/AAAAAAAAADU/B0EQd2Gd468/S220/SDC11910.jpg" /></author><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/SLphvFIVcb_10LTCgjemzdxMums/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/SLphvFIVcb_10LTCgjemzdxMums/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/SLphvFIVcb_10LTCgjemzdxMums/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/SLphvFIVcb_10LTCgjemzdxMums/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;In Indonesian people's life, keris has been a precious traditional sword. It can be identified with its special shape.The king of Kediri Kingdom in East Java, Kertajaya thought himself as a deity, and he was opposed by the Brahmana (priests) caste. When he threated the Brahmanas, they ran to Tumapel and asked the ruler, Ken Arok, for his protection. Ken Arok thought that Kediri army would attack &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FolkloreLover/~4/_Q0X_ayde48" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://folklore-lover.blogspot.com/2010/01/keris-cursed-sword.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUcFQHs9fyp7ImA9Wx9UFE4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-170748826360776019.post-7205002685135943216</id><published>2010-01-09T12:54:00.013+07:00</published><updated>2011-02-11T22:10:11.567+07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-02-11T22:10:11.567+07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Indonesian Folklore" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Bali" /><title>WANEBAKA | THE SON OF TUNDE</title><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/170748826360776019/posts/default/7205002685135943216?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/170748826360776019/posts/default/7205002685135943216?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FolkloreLover/~3/l5KpSf-TLfk/wanebaka-son-of-tunde.html" title="WANEBAKA | THE SON OF TUNDE" /><author><name>Hermawan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="28" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4omqHURdI0k/SlAkYMm8b1I/AAAAAAAAADU/B0EQd2Gd468/S220/SDC11910.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4omqHURdI0k/S0gdXPnP47I/AAAAAAAAAFk/5-e_bx_MZbU/s72-c/tunde+son+snake+folklore.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/TqeX3xduSQbQxKuDcK4Tb5eD5lM/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/TqeX3xduSQbQxKuDcK4Tb5eD5lM/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/TqeX3xduSQbQxKuDcK4Tb5eD5lM/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/TqeX3xduSQbQxKuDcK4Tb5eD5lM/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;In Bali, there was a man called Tunde. He had been married for 10 years but had no child. So he was very happy when his wife got pregnant. But after a few months, his wife's belly returned to its normal size. It happened many times and he asked a shaman for a help but the shaman could not do anything about it.One day, when he’s pregnant wife was washing at the river, she felt something falling &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FolkloreLover/~4/l5KpSf-TLfk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://folklore-lover.blogspot.com/2010/01/wanebaka-son-of-tunde.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C04GQHY5cCp7ImA9Wx9UFEk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-170748826360776019.post-5113188223072123969</id><published>2009-12-03T13:26:00.005+07:00</published><updated>2011-02-11T23:32:01.828+07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-02-11T23:32:01.828+07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="East Kalimantan" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Indonesian Folklore" /><title>QUEEN AJI BIDARA PUTIH</title><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/170748826360776019/posts/default/5113188223072123969?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/170748826360776019/posts/default/5113188223072123969?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FolkloreLover/~3/hXqcoYCkoOo/queen-aji-bidara-putih.html" title="QUEEN AJI BIDARA PUTIH" /><author><name>Hermawan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="28" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4omqHURdI0k/SlAkYMm8b1I/AAAAAAAAADU/B0EQd2Gd468/S220/SDC11910.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OpV7Oqsrh7s/TVVkD8u9LxI/AAAAAAAAAI0/1mfXyR4aglo/s72-c/ratu-aji-bidara-putih-150x150.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/77M3xR03j_8IENJrhDIrfgaDzwY/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/77M3xR03j_8IENJrhDIrfgaDzwY/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/77M3xR03j_8IENJrhDIrfgaDzwY/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/77M3xR03j_8IENJrhDIrfgaDzwY/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Muara Kaman county lies along the Mahakam River, in eastern Borneo. In the past the county was a kingdom, ruled by Queen Aji Bidara Putih. She was a typical queen of myths: beautiful, wise, and sensitive. Many princes and kings proposed her but she always refused them because she concerned more about ruling her country and guarding her people.

One day, a Chinese junk came to eastern Borneo. &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FolkloreLover/~4/hXqcoYCkoOo" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://folklore-lover.blogspot.com/2009/12/queen-aji-bidara-putih.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEEHR3Y6fCp7ImA9Wx9UFUo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-170748826360776019.post-2364062871722530535</id><published>2009-11-30T09:58:00.005+07:00</published><updated>2011-02-13T12:57:16.814+07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-02-13T12:57:16.814+07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Fairy Tales" /><title>THE PRINCESS of THE TOWER</title><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/170748826360776019/posts/default/2364062871722530535?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/170748826360776019/posts/default/2364062871722530535?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FolkloreLover/~3/3EQsHzgfJeE/princess-of-tower.html" title="THE PRINCESS of THE TOWER" /><author><name>Hermawan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="28" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4omqHURdI0k/SlAkYMm8b1I/AAAAAAAAADU/B0EQd2Gd468/S220/SDC11910.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4omqHURdI0k/SwdZckATfKI/AAAAAAAAAEU/veFD8xoZHf4/s72-c/princess-of-the-tower.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/GIKOf2QDXLgiFTIR1SmRGpH4lwo/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/GIKOf2QDXLgiFTIR1SmRGpH4lwo/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/GIKOf2QDXLgiFTIR1SmRGpH4lwo/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/GIKOf2QDXLgiFTIR1SmRGpH4lwo/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
Princess Solima was sick, not exactly ill, but so much out of sorts that her father, King Zuliman, was both annoyed and perturbed. The princess was as beautiful as a princess of those days should be; her long tresses were like threads of gold, her blue eyes rivaled the color of the sky on the balmiest summer day; and her smile was as radiant as the sunshine itself.

She was learned and clever, &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FolkloreLover/~4/3EQsHzgfJeE" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://folklore-lover.blogspot.com/2009/11/princess-of-tower.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEEHSH47eip7ImA9Wx9UFUo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-170748826360776019.post-5345556833583576272</id><published>2009-11-21T08:58:00.006+07:00</published><updated>2011-02-13T12:57:19.002+07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-02-13T12:57:19.002+07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Frog Tales" /><title>THE FAIRY FROG</title><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/170748826360776019/posts/default/5345556833583576272?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/170748826360776019/posts/default/5345556833583576272?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FolkloreLover/~3/j8Mf_38PUwU/fairy-frog.html" title="THE FAIRY FROG" /><author><name>Hermawan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="28" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4omqHURdI0k/SlAkYMm8b1I/AAAAAAAAADU/B0EQd2Gd468/S220/SDC11910.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4omqHURdI0k/SwdR6ksvmDI/AAAAAAAAAEM/QlTzInD77SU/s72-c/frog-tale.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/PkWtt2f5b6KAMl5E_GfUviDV8s4/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/PkWtt2f5b6KAMl5E_GfUviDV8s4/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/PkWtt2f5b6KAMl5E_GfUviDV8s4/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/PkWtt2f5b6KAMl5E_GfUviDV8s4/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Once upon a time there lived a man of learning and wealth who had an only son, named Hanina. To this son, who was grown up and married, he sent a messenger asking that he should immediately come to his father. Hanina obeyed, and found both his father and mother lying ill.

"Know, my son," said the old man, "we are about to die. Grieve not, for it has been so ordained. We have been companions &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FolkloreLover/~4/j8Mf_38PUwU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://folklore-lover.blogspot.com/2009/11/fairy-frog.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEAAQH86eSp7ImA9Wx9UFUo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-170748826360776019.post-1024126535923051133</id><published>2009-08-07T03:46:00.004+07:00</published><updated>2011-02-13T12:59:01.111+07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-02-13T12:59:01.111+07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Japan Fairy Tales" /><title>THE TWO FROGS</title><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/170748826360776019/posts/default/1024126535923051133?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/170748826360776019/posts/default/1024126535923051133?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FolkloreLover/~3/rG1m2Fi9fe0/two-frogs.html" title="THE TWO FROGS" /><author><name>Hermawan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="28" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4omqHURdI0k/SlAkYMm8b1I/AAAAAAAAADU/B0EQd2Gd468/S220/SDC11910.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://i434.photobucket.com/albums/qq67/monzcutter/Content/th_japanese-frog-1.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/qSXvONXcQN1pJ7NmuoNmygH8vEA/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/qSXvONXcQN1pJ7NmuoNmygH8vEA/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/qSXvONXcQN1pJ7NmuoNmygH8vEA/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/qSXvONXcQN1pJ7NmuoNmygH8vEA/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
Once upon a time in the country of Japan there lived two frogs, one of whom made his home in a ditch near the town of Osaka, on the sea coast, while the other dwelt in a clear little stream which ran through the city of Kioto.  At such a great distance apart, they had never even heard of each other; but, funnily enough, the idea came into both their heads at once that they should like to see a &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FolkloreLover/~4/rG1m2Fi9fe0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://folklore-lover.blogspot.com/2009/08/two-frogs.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DE4HR345eip7ImA9Wx9UFUo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-170748826360776019.post-7466467486565047276</id><published>2009-07-31T16:46:00.005+07:00</published><updated>2011-02-13T13:02:16.022+07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-02-13T13:02:16.022+07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="American Legends" /><title>The Baker’s Dozen | A Saint Nicholas Tale</title><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/170748826360776019/posts/default/7466467486565047276?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/170748826360776019/posts/default/7466467486565047276?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FolkloreLover/~3/5ewA3131Ro4/bakers-dozen-saint-nicholas-tale.html" title="The Baker’s Dozen | A Saint Nicholas Tale" /><author><name>Hermawan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="28" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4omqHURdI0k/SlAkYMm8b1I/AAAAAAAAADU/B0EQd2Gd468/S220/SDC11910.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4omqHURdI0k/SnK_k5eaZAI/AAAAAAAAAD0/16Kp-_erX1g/s72-c/Baker-dozen-a-saint-nicholas-tale-legend-thumbnail.gif" height="72" width="72" /><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/QBlww8lrdddl3ySC209wpPp1quI/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/QBlww8lrdddl3ySC209wpPp1quI/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/QBlww8lrdddl3ySC209wpPp1quI/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/QBlww8lrdddl3ySC209wpPp1quI/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;In the Dutch colonial town later known as Albany, New York, there lived a baker, Van Amsterdam, who was as honest as he could be. Each morning, he checked and balanced his scales, and he took great care to give his customers exactly what they paid for—not more and not less.
Van Amsterdam’s shop was always busy, because people trusted him, and because he was a good baker as well. And never was the&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FolkloreLover/~4/5ewA3131Ro4" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://folklore-lover.blogspot.com/2009/07/bakers-dozen-saint-nicholas-tale.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUcERXwzcSp7ImA9Wx9UFUo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-170748826360776019.post-6077551991985971449</id><published>2009-07-02T08:38:00.006+07:00</published><updated>2011-02-13T13:03:24.289+07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-02-13T13:03:24.289+07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Indonesian Folklore" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="West Java" /><title>THE GOLDEN ANTELOPE</title><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/170748826360776019/posts/default/6077551991985971449?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/170748826360776019/posts/default/6077551991985971449?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FolkloreLover/~3/9R2al8QCQNQ/golden-antelope-folklore-from-west-java.html" title="THE GOLDEN ANTELOPE" /><author><name>Hermawan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="28" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4omqHURdI0k/SlAkYMm8b1I/AAAAAAAAADU/B0EQd2Gd468/S220/SDC11910.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4omqHURdI0k/SkwgJw23W4I/AAAAAAAAADM/cMG3id1UsA4/s72-c/the-golden-anrelope-deer.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/chVW386yjNI4asVK_QdKH7WIQ3k/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/chVW386yjNI4asVK_QdKH7WIQ3k/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/chVW386yjNI4asVK_QdKH7WIQ3k/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/chVW386yjNI4asVK_QdKH7WIQ3k/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;There was an old and poor man lived alone in the jungle. His wife passed away years ago and he did not have any children. Everyday he collected some woods and sold them in the village.

One day, the old man saw a beautiful antelope. The antelope was different from other antelopes. The color of the skin was golden. The old man walked slowly towards the antelope. The antelope looked very weak. He &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FolkloreLover/~4/9R2al8QCQNQ" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://folklore-lover.blogspot.com/2009/07/golden-antelope-folklore-from-west-java.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkAAQHc-eip7ImA9Wx9aFk0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-170748826360776019.post-2601447856022625902</id><published>2006-03-09T01:17:00.001+07:00</published><updated>2011-03-09T01:25:41.952+07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-03-09T01:25:41.952+07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Indonesian Folklore" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Central Java" /><title>MOUSE DEER AND CROCODILE</title><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/170748826360776019/posts/default/2601447856022625902?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/170748826360776019/posts/default/2601447856022625902?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FolkloreLover/~3/FHkvfecTaE8/mouse-deer-and-crocodile.html" title="MOUSE DEER AND CROCODILE" /><author><name>Hermawan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="28" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4omqHURdI0k/SlAkYMm8b1I/AAAAAAAAADU/B0EQd2Gd468/S220/SDC11910.jpg" /></author><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/twET2o7QAO4ywToLwSqldVwRvno/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/twET2o7QAO4ywToLwSqldVwRvno/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/twET2o7QAO4ywToLwSqldVwRvno/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/twET2o7QAO4ywToLwSqldVwRvno/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;One day, Mouse Deer go to the river to take a  drink. But he knew that the crocodile might be waiting underwater to eat  him, so he said out loud.

“I wonder if the water’s warm. I’ll put in my  leg and find out.” 

Of course Mouse Deer didn’t put in his leg. He  picked up a stick instead and put one end into the water. Chomp…!  Crocodile grabbed the stick and pulled it underwater. Mouse Deer  &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FolkloreLover/~4/FHkvfecTaE8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://folklore-lover.blogspot.com/2006/03/mouse-deer-and-crocodile.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEYESXw7fip7ImA9Wx5TFUg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-170748826360776019.post-8341550284485834498</id><published>2005-03-21T11:42:00.015+07:00</published><updated>2010-07-31T13:01:48.206+07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-07-31T13:01:48.206+07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Indonesian Folklore" /><title>Indonesian Folklore List</title><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/170748826360776019/posts/default/8341550284485834498?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/170748826360776019/posts/default/8341550284485834498?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FolkloreLover/~3/sBtWt3SsJzw/indonesian-folklore-list.html" title="Indonesian Folklore List" /><author><name>Hermawan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="28" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4omqHURdI0k/SlAkYMm8b1I/AAAAAAAAADU/B0EQd2Gd468/S220/SDC11910.jpg" /></author><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/CB8dEeCT-M4NuAeoH2WbIpDhwgo/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/CB8dEeCT-M4NuAeoH2WbIpDhwgo/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/CB8dEeCT-M4NuAeoH2WbIpDhwgo/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/CB8dEeCT-M4NuAeoH2WbIpDhwgo/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;THE LEGEND of TOBA LAKE

LUTUNG KASARUNG

Roro Jonggrang

Timun Mas (Golden Cucumber)

The Legend of Sangkuriang

Keong Mas (The Golden Snail)

Bawang Merah and Bawang Putih

Cindelaras

The Story of Malin Kundang

The Legend of Banyuwangi

Aji Saka

Telaga Warna (Colorful Lake)

The Legend of Tengger

The Legend of Crying Stone

si Loreng

The Legend of Kelana Sakti

Jaka Tarub

The Legend of &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FolkloreLover/~4/sBtWt3SsJzw" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://folklore-lover.blogspot.com/2005/03/indonesian-folklore-list.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Ck8FSX06eCp7ImA9Wx9aFkw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-170748826360776019.post-1346191215040716610</id><published>2005-01-10T14:31:00.016+07:00</published><updated>2011-03-09T02:00:18.310+07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-03-09T02:00:18.310+07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="North Sumatra" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Indonesian Folklore" /><title>THE LEGEND of TOBA LAKE</title><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/170748826360776019/posts/default/1346191215040716610?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/170748826360776019/posts/default/1346191215040716610?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FolkloreLover/~3/mYrMGNUz3tE/lake-toba-tale.html" title="THE LEGEND of TOBA LAKE" /><author><name>Hermawan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="28" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4omqHURdI0k/SlAkYMm8b1I/AAAAAAAAADU/B0EQd2Gd468/S220/SDC11910.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4omqHURdI0k/S3ZPEAGeyWI/AAAAAAAAAGE/mtTaBjvBsig/s72-c/danauToba1.gif" height="72" width="72" /><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/hFnPaKTr0DXnB51qFElIhL6U07Y/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/hFnPaKTr0DXnB51qFElIhL6U07Y/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/hFnPaKTr0DXnB51qFElIhL6U07Y/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/hFnPaKTr0DXnB51qFElIhL6U07Y/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;In a village in Sumatra, there lived a farmer. He was a farmer who diligently worked, although not large farm he have. He worked hard enough to get their needs. Actually he was already enough to get married, but he still chose to live alone. On a sunny morning, the farmers are fishing in the river.
"Hopefully today I got a big fish," the farmer whispered to himself.
Some time after the hook was &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FolkloreLover/~4/mYrMGNUz3tE" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://folklore-lover.blogspot.com/2009/01/lake-toba-tale.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0QEQn49cCp7ImA9Wx9UF0U.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-170748826360776019.post-7090144940359338241</id><published>2004-04-16T22:43:00.017+07:00</published><updated>2011-02-15T22:55:03.068+07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-02-15T22:55:03.068+07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="American Native" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="American Legends" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Canadian Folktales" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="American Folktale" /><title>THE HIDDEN ONE</title><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/170748826360776019/posts/default/7090144940359338241?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/170748826360776019/posts/default/7090144940359338241?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FolkloreLover/~3/3K02MZ4KfRU/hidden-one.html" title="THE HIDDEN ONE" /><author><name>Hermawan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="28" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4omqHURdI0k/SlAkYMm8b1I/AAAAAAAAADU/B0EQd2Gd468/S220/SDC11910.jpg" /></author><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/nDShuT7a05-UPCfGwcPUbnt42q0/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/nDShuT7a05-UPCfGwcPUbnt42q0/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/nDShuT7a05-UPCfGwcPUbnt42q0/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/nDShuT7a05-UPCfGwcPUbnt42q0/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  A long time ago, in a village by a lake, there lived a  great hunter who was invisible. He was called the Hidden One. It was  known that any young woman who could see him would become his bride.
  Many were the hopeful young women who visited his  wigwam at the far end of the village. Each was tested by the hunter’s  sister, who was called the Patient One. But years passed, and none  succeeded.&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FolkloreLover/~4/3K02MZ4KfRU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://folklore-lover.blogspot.com/2004/04/hidden-one.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUUMRHw_cCp7ImA9Wx9UFUo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-170748826360776019.post-2082370194392981565</id><published>2004-03-01T13:52:00.009+07:00</published><updated>2011-02-13T13:08:05.248+07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-02-13T13:08:05.248+07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Indonesian Folklore" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Central Java" /><title>THE LEGEND of LORO JONGGRANG</title><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/170748826360776019/posts/default/2082370194392981565?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/170748826360776019/posts/default/2082370194392981565?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FolkloreLover/~3/FU4O2Kxq4Hw/loro-jonggrang.html" title="THE LEGEND of LORO JONGGRANG" /><author><name>Hermawan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="28" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4omqHURdI0k/SlAkYMm8b1I/AAAAAAAAADU/B0EQd2Gd468/S220/SDC11910.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4omqHURdI0k/Sdh_5gAvR9I/AAAAAAAAAB4/VW_8b_8r2g0/s72-c/legend_of_loro_jonggrang_temple.gif" height="72" width="72" /><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/B2xHqTOJIHYZLrMpdCUiS8Ie-IE/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/B2xHqTOJIHYZLrMpdCUiS8Ie-IE/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/B2xHqTOJIHYZLrMpdCUiS8Ie-IE/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/B2xHqTOJIHYZLrMpdCUiS8Ie-IE/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  Once upon a time, there was a kingdom named Prambanan. The people lived peacefully.However, soon their happy lives were disturbed by  Pengging Kingdom. The king, Bandung Bondowoso, wanted to occupy Prambanan. He was a mean king. The war between Prambanan a nd Pengging could not be avoided. Prambanan lost the war and led by the new king, Bandung Bondowoso. Pengging could win the war because &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FolkloreLover/~4/FU4O2Kxq4Hw" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://folklore-lover.blogspot.com/2009/03/loro-jonggrang.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUEGRX87fSp7ImA9Wx9UFUo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-170748826360776019.post-6525469977448521327</id><published>2004-02-28T22:54:00.005+07:00</published><updated>2011-02-13T13:13:44.105+07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-02-13T13:13:44.105+07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Mermaid Story" /><title>The Sea Morgan's Baby Story</title><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/170748826360776019/posts/default/6525469977448521327?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/170748826360776019/posts/default/6525469977448521327?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FolkloreLover/~3/1yYMjRSF-OE/sea-morgans-baby-story.html" title="The Sea Morgan's Baby Story" /><author><name>Hermawan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="28" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4omqHURdI0k/SlAkYMm8b1I/AAAAAAAAADU/B0EQd2Gd468/S220/SDC11910.jpg" /></author><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/G54QsXz9NiVcmoVzB_142FPDNNQ/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/G54QsXz9NiVcmoVzB_142FPDNNQ/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/G54QsXz9NiVcmoVzB_142FPDNNQ/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/G54QsXz9NiVcmoVzB_142FPDNNQ/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Here was a fisherman come down in the owl-light into St. Audries Bay. He'd heard someone singing down there in the dark and he were curious. So he come down by all a tip-toe. But he couldn't be quiet enough if he tried and the sea-morgans was all away off the rocks and into the tide, but in their hurry they left a baby-morgan a-kicking and chuckling under the cliff waterfall and the fisherman &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FolkloreLover/~4/1yYMjRSF-OE" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://folklore-lover.blogspot.com/2004/02/sea-morgans-baby-story.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUQAR3g5eyp7ImA9Wx9UFUo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-170748826360776019.post-4571308637556375784</id><published>2004-01-18T00:03:00.004+07:00</published><updated>2011-02-13T13:09:06.623+07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-02-13T13:09:06.623+07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Mermaid Story" /><title>Johnie Croy of Volyar and the Mermaid</title><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/170748826360776019/posts/default/4571308637556375784?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/170748826360776019/posts/default/4571308637556375784?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FolkloreLover/~3/wQHJAWYV-24/johnie-croy-of-volyar-and-mermaid.html" title="Johnie Croy of Volyar and the Mermaid" /><author><name>Hermawan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="28" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4omqHURdI0k/SlAkYMm8b1I/AAAAAAAAADU/B0EQd2Gd468/S220/SDC11910.jpg" /></author><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/WqnIVkXEjK0yAr25pFBSboT0pLk/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/WqnIVkXEjK0yAr25pFBSboT0pLk/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/WqnIVkXEjK0yAr25pFBSboT0pLk/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/WqnIVkXEjK0yAr25pFBSboT0pLk/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Johnie Croy of Volyar was the bravest, boldest and bonniest man in all the broken isles of Orkney. Many a fair lass cast longing glances towards young Johnie, but never a one did he care for.
Now it happened one day that Johnie went to seek driftwood on the shore on the west side of Sanday. The tide was well out, and he was threading his way through the big boulders under the crags.
Suddenly he &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FolkloreLover/~4/wQHJAWYV-24" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://folklore-lover.blogspot.com/2004/01/johnie-croy-of-volyar-and-mermaid.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUQMQn84cSp7ImA9Wx9UFUo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-170748826360776019.post-2442566506324842731</id><published>2003-12-01T23:38:00.003+07:00</published><updated>2011-02-13T13:09:43.139+07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-02-13T13:09:43.139+07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Mermaid Story" /><title>The Legend of Loreley</title><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/170748826360776019/posts/default/2442566506324842731?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/170748826360776019/posts/default/2442566506324842731?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FolkloreLover/~3/knQ3iwt7cPs/legend-of-loreley.html" title="The Legend of Loreley" /><author><name>Hermawan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="28" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4omqHURdI0k/SlAkYMm8b1I/AAAAAAAAADU/B0EQd2Gd468/S220/SDC11910.jpg" /></author><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/zJssgyYSl8jI8DbP3XwPNqq9JV8/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/zJssgyYSl8jI8DbP3XwPNqq9JV8/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/zJssgyYSl8jI8DbP3XwPNqq9JV8/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/zJssgyYSl8jI8DbP3XwPNqq9JV8/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;I do not know what haunts me, What saddened my mind all day; An age-old tale confounds me, A spell I cannot allay.

The air is cool and in twilight The Rhine's dark waters flow; The peak of the mountain in highlight Reflects the evening glow.

There sits a lovely maiden Above so wondrous fair, With shining jewels laden, She combs her golden hair.

It falls through her comb in a shower, And over &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FolkloreLover/~4/knQ3iwt7cPs" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://folklore-lover.blogspot.com/2003/12/legend-of-loreley.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUMESXg4eCp7ImA9Wx9UFUo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-170748826360776019.post-7484418232131679021</id><published>2003-11-29T23:26:00.006+07:00</published><updated>2011-02-13T13:10:08.630+07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-02-13T13:10:08.630+07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Mermaid Story" /><title>The Water Maid</title><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/170748826360776019/posts/default/7484418232131679021?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/170748826360776019/posts/default/7484418232131679021?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FolkloreLover/~3/7WFCTyPT0mk/water-maid.html" title="The Water Maid" /><author><name>Hermawan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="28" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4omqHURdI0k/SlAkYMm8b1I/AAAAAAAAADU/B0EQd2Gd468/S220/SDC11910.jpg" /></author><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/AlWMRWY0P8Bly8Mqna-rcxk-eJ8/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/AlWMRWY0P8Bly8Mqna-rcxk-eJ8/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/AlWMRWY0P8Bly8Mqna-rcxk-eJ8/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/AlWMRWY0P8Bly8Mqna-rcxk-eJ8/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;At the time when there was nothing in the Harz but virgin forest, a knight came here to hunt. Before he could orient himself, he became lost, and he wandered about for several days without finding a path.

Finally he came upon a beautiful castle situated in a large meadow and surrounded with water. A pathway led to a drawbridge, which had been suspended.

He called out; he whistled; he waited. He&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FolkloreLover/~4/7WFCTyPT0mk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://folklore-lover.blogspot.com/2003/11/water-maid.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUMGRng9eip7ImA9Wx9UFUo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-170748826360776019.post-4041656582630589131</id><published>2003-11-15T23:20:00.003+07:00</published><updated>2011-02-13T13:10:27.662+07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-02-13T13:10:27.662+07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Mermaid Story" /><title>The Water Horse</title><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/170748826360776019/posts/default/4041656582630589131?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/170748826360776019/posts/default/4041656582630589131?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FolkloreLover/~3/twvMBmLMvzw/water-horse.html" title="The Water Horse" /><author><name>Hermawan</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="28" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4omqHURdI0k/SlAkYMm8b1I/AAAAAAAAADU/B0EQd2Gd468/S220/SDC11910.jpg" /></author><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/8m84bUQqTJjkue8ZV20T8fCLwWM/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/8m84bUQqTJjkue8ZV20T8fCLwWM/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/8m84bUQqTJjkue8ZV20T8fCLwWM/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/8m84bUQqTJjkue8ZV20T8fCLwWM/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;The Water Horse is named either Nykur or Nennir, and lives in rivers or lakes or even the open sea. He looks just like a horse, usually grey but sometimes a black one, but all his hoofs are turned back to front and the tufts on his pasterns point backwards. However, he is in no way limited to this form; it is characteristic of him to change suddenly into various shapes, just as he chooses.
In &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FolkloreLover/~4/twvMBmLMvzw" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://folklore-lover.blogspot.com/2003/11/water-horse.html</feedburner:origLink></entry></feed>

