The Foolish Weaver
by Andrew Lang · from The Orange Fairy Book
Adapted Version
Once, a silly weaver lived. He needed a job. He became a shepherd for a farmer.
The farmer knew the weaver was silly. He gave clear rules. "Throw stones at big cats," said the farmer. "Pick up a big stone. Throw it. The cat will run." The weaver said, "I get it."
The next day, the weaver watched the sheep. A big cat appeared! The weaver ran home fast. He got the stones from the farm. He ran back to the hill. But the sheep were all gone.
The farmer was very angry. "You silly man!" he scolded. "You cannot herd sheep. You will care for my Old Mother. She is sick. Drive flies from her face."
So the weaver cared for the Old Mother. She lay on a bed outside. Many flies bothered her. The weaver wanted to help. He thought, "Pick up the nearest stone." He picked up a big, heavy stone. He threw it at the flies. He missed! The stone hit the bed. It gave the Old Mother a big bump. She cried out.
The weaver was scared. The farmer would be angry. So the weaver ran away. He ran and ran.
He walked all day and all night. He came to a new village. Many weavers lived there. "Welcome!" they said. "Eat and sleep. Soon, six of us go to buy wool. You can come too."
"Okay!" said the weaver.
The next morning, seven weavers walked together. They came to a deep ravine. It was often full of water. They always swam across. But today, the ravine was dry.
The weavers did not think. They took off their clothes. They tied their clothes on their heads. They started to "swim" across the dry ravine. They wiggled and crawled on the sand. They got very dusty. They bumped their knees and elbows.
They reached the other side. One weaver counted the group. He counted, "One, two, three, four, five, six!" He forgot himself. "Oh no!" he cried. "One is lost!"
Each weaver counted. Each forgot himself. Each cried, "One is missing!" They were upset. They ran along the ravine, looking for their lost friend.
A farmer found them. "What is wrong?" he asked.
"Alas!" said a weaver. "We were seven. Now we are six! One friend is gone!"
The farmer looked at them. He smiled. He picked up a stick. He gave each weaver a light tap. He counted as he tapped. "One! Two! Three! Four! Five! Six! Seven!" he said.
The weavers were amazed. "Seven!" they shouted. "We are all here! You are a magic farmer!" They were very happy.
And so, the weavers learned to think before they act! They laughed and walked away as a group.
Original Story
The Foolish Weaver
Once a weaver, who was in want of work, took service with a certain
farmer as a shepherd.
The farmer, knowing that the man was very slow-witted, gave him most
careful instructions as to everything that he was to do.
Finally he said: ‘If a wolf or any wild animal attempts to hurt the
flock you should pick up a big stone like this’ (suiting the action to
the word) ‘and throw a few such at him, and he will be afraid and go
away.’ The weaver said that he understood, and started with the flocks
to the hillsides where they grazed all day.
By chance in the afternoon a leopard appeared, and the weaver instantly
ran home as fast as he could to get the stones which the farmer had
shown him, to throw at the creature. When he came back all the flock
were scattered or killed, and when the farmer heard the tale he beat
him soundly. ‘Were there no stones on the hillside that you should run
back to get them, you senseless one?’ he cried; ‘you are not fit to
herd sheep. To-day you shall stay at home and mind my old mother who
is sick, perhaps you will be able to drive flies off her face, if you
can’t drive beasts away from sheep!’
So, the next day, the weaver was left at home to take care of the
farmer’s old sick mother. Now as she lay outside on a bed, it turned
out that the flies became very troublesome, and the weaver looked round
for something to drive them away with; and as he had been told to pick
up the nearest stone to drive the beasts away from the flock, he
thought he would this time show how cleverly he could obey orders.
Accordingly he seized the nearest stone, which was a big, heavy one,
and dashed it at the flies; but, unhappily, he slew the poor old woman
also; and then, being afraid of the wrath of the farmer, he fled and
was not seen again in that neighbourhood.
All that day and all the next night he walked, and at length he came to
a village where a great many weavers lived together.
‘You are welcome,’ said they. ‘Eat and sleep, for to-morrow six of us
start in search of fresh wool to weave, and we pray you to give us your
company.’
‘Willingly,’ answered the weaver. So the next morning the seven
weavers set out to go to the village where they could buy what they
wanted. On the way they had to cross a ravine which lately had been
full of water, but now was quite dry. The weavers, however, were
accustomed to swim over this ravine; therefore, regardless of the fact
that this time it was dry, they stripped, and, tying their clothes on
their heads, they proceeded to swim across the dry sand and rocks that
formed the bed of the ravine. Thus they got to the other side without
further damage than bruised knees and elbows, and as soon as they were
over, one of them began to count the party to make sure that all were
safe there. He counted all except himself, and then cried out that
somebody was missing! This set each of them counting; but each made
the same mistake of counting all except himself, so that they became
certain that one of their party was missing! They ran up and down the
bank of the ravine wringing their hands in great distress and looking
for signs of their lost comrade. There a farmer found them and asked
what was the matter. ‘Alas!’ said one, ‘seven of us started from the
other bank and one must have been drowned on the crossing, as we can
only find six remaining!’ The farmer eyed them a minute, and then,
picking up his stick, he dealt each a sounding blow, counting, as he
did so, ‘One! two! three!’ and so on up to the seven. When the weavers
found that there were seven of them they were overcome with gratitude
to one whom they took for a magician as he could thus make seven out of
an obvious six.
[From the Pushto.]
Story DNA
Moral
Blindly following instructions without understanding context or using common sense can lead to disastrous and absurd outcomes.
Plot Summary
A slow-witted weaver, hired as a shepherd, literally follows instructions to use stones against a leopard, leading to the flock's demise. Reassigned to care for a sick old woman, he again takes instructions literally, killing her by throwing a large stone at flies. Fleeing, he joins other weavers who foolishly 'swim' across a dry ravine and then cannot count themselves, believing one is missing until a farmer beats them, revealing all seven, whom they then hail as a magician.
Themes
Emotional Arc
absurdity to relief (for the weavers, not the weaver)
Writing Style
Narrative Elements
Cultural Context
The story reflects a common folk tale trope of the 'fool' or 'simpleton' character, often used to highlight common sense versus literal interpretation, found across many cultures.
Plot Beats (14)
- A weaver, needing work, takes a job as a shepherd for a farmer.
- The farmer, knowing the weaver is slow-witted, gives explicit instructions on how to scare away wild animals with stones.
- A leopard appears, and the weaver runs home to get stones, returning to find the flock scattered or killed.
- The farmer beats the weaver for his foolishness and assigns him to care for his sick mother, instructing him to drive away flies.
- Flies bother the sick mother, and the weaver, taking instructions literally, throws a large stone at them, killing the old woman.
- Fearing the farmer's wrath, the weaver flees the area.
- After walking all night, the weaver arrives in a village of other weavers.
- He is welcomed and invited to join six other weavers on a trip to buy wool.
- The seven weavers encounter a dry ravine they are accustomed to swimming across.
- They strip, tie clothes on their heads, and 'swim' across the dry ravine, bruising themselves.
- On the other side, one weaver tries to count the group but forgets to count himself, declaring one is missing.
- Each weaver makes the same counting mistake, confirming their belief that one is lost.
- A farmer finds them distressed and, understanding their folly, beats each one while counting them.
- The weavers realize all seven are present and are grateful to the farmer, believing he magically produced the missing member.
Characters
The Foolish Weaver ★ protagonist
Not described, but likely of average build for a manual laborer.
Attire: Simple, homespun tunic and trousers appropriate for a shepherd in a rural setting.
Slow-witted, literal-minded, easily confused.
Image Prompt & Upload
A young man with a bewildered, slightly silly expression, his hair messy and sticking up at odd angles. He wears a simple, slightly too-large tunic with rolled-up sleeves and patched trousers, both dusted with colorful lint. He stands in a clumsy pose, one hand tangled in a mess of knotted, brightly colored threads, the other holding a broken wooden shuttle. A half-finished, lopsided weaving droops from a small loom beside him. Plain white background, full body visible head to toe, single figure, no watermark, no text, no signature.
The Farmer ◆ supporting
Strong, weathered from working the land.
Attire: Practical, durable clothing suitable for farm work.
Impatient, easily angered, exasperated.
Image Prompt & Upload
A middle-aged man with a kind, weathered face and gentle smile. He has short, salt-and-pepper hair peeking out from under a wide-brimmed straw hat. He wears faded blue denim overalls over a simple white cotton shirt, with sturdy brown boots caked in dry earth. His posture is relaxed but strong, leaning slightly on a wooden pitchfork held in his calloused hands. He stands in a sun-drenched field of golden wheat under a clear blue sky. Plain white background, full body visible head to toe, single figure, no watermark, no text, no signature.
The Farmer's Old Mother ○ minor
Frail and sick.
Attire: Simple bedclothes.
Helpless, infirm.
Image Prompt & Upload
An elderly peasant woman in her late seventies, with deep wrinkles around her kind, pale blue eyes and a soft, weary smile. Her long gray hair is neatly braided and coiled into a bun beneath a simple white linen headcloth. She wears a faded blue woolen dress with a patched, brown apron tied at her waist. Her posture is slightly bent from a lifetime of labor, standing with her hands gently clasped before her. Plain white background, full body visible head to toe, single figure, no watermark, no text, no signature.
The Other Weavers ◆ supporting
Not described, but likely similar to the Foolish Weaver.
Attire: Simple, homespun tunics and trousers appropriate for weavers in a rural setting.
Gullible, easily confused, prone to groupthink.
Image Prompt & Upload
A middle-aged woman with kind, focused eyes and a few strands of silver in her dark, braided hair. She wears a simple, sturdy linen dress in a muted blue, with a leather apron tied at the waist. Her hands, slightly calloused, are carefully adjusting the threads on a large wooden loom. She is in a poised, standing position, leaning slightly forward with a gentle, concentrated smile. Plain white background, full body visible head to toe, single figure, no watermark, no text, no signature.
The Second Farmer ○ minor
Not described.
Attire: Not described.
Helpful, observant, perhaps a bit mischievous.
Image Prompt & Upload
A middle-aged man with a weathered face and stubble, wearing a faded straw hat, a rough linen shirt with rolled-up sleeves, and patched trousers. He stands with a tired but determined posture, leaning slightly on a wooden pitchfork. Plain white background, full body visible head to toe, single figure, no watermark, no text, no signature.
The Leopard ○ minor
Spotted coat, lithe build.
Attire: None.
Predatory, opportunistic.
Image Prompt & Upload
A young humanoid leopard creature with soft golden fur covered in dark rosettes, large curious amber eyes, and small rounded ears. Wearing a simple tunic of rough-spun brown fabric and patched green shorts. Standing in a playful pose with one paw-like hand on its hip, the other holding a half-eaten apple, tail curled slightly upward. Expression is mischievous yet innocent. Plain white background, full body visible head to toe, single figure, no watermark, no text, no signature.
Locations
Farmer's hillside pasture
Hillsides where the flock grazed all day.
Mood: peaceful, then chaotic
The weaver fails to protect the sheep from the leopard.
Image Prompt & Upload
Rolling green hillsides under a late afternoon sun, bathed in warm golden light. Soft shadows stretch across lush meadows dotted with white clover and yellow buttercups. A weathered wooden fence follows the curve of the hill, with a worn sheep track leading to a distant, thatched-roof farmhouse. Scattered granite boulders and a single, gnarled oak tree break the gentle slopes. The sky is a soft blue with wispy cumulus clouds. A sense of peaceful, pastoral solitude. no border, no frame, no watermark, no text, no signature, edge-to-edge illustration.
Farmer's home
A bed outside the home where the old woman rests.
Mood: calm, domestic, tragic
The weaver accidentally kills the farmer's mother.
Image Prompt & Upload
A rustic wooden bed draped with patchwork quilts sits on a small porch of a thatched-roof cottage at dusk. Warm lantern light glows from within, casting soft shadows on the weathered timber walls. A stone path leads to a garden of lavender and herbs, their silhouettes gentle against the peach and lavender twilight sky. A wooden fence encloses the yard, with a distant rolling hill under a star-pricked canopy. Cozy, serene, and isolated atmosphere. no border, no frame, no watermark, no text, no signature, edge-to-edge illustration.
Dry ravine
A ravine that was once full of water but is now dry, with sand and rocks forming the bed.
Mood: foolish, confused
The weavers swim across the dry ravine and miscount themselves.
Image Prompt & Upload
A vast, sun-bleached ravine under a harsh midday sun, its steep walls layered with bands of ochre and burnt sienna sandstone. The dry riverbed is a path of cracked, pale clay and smooth, water-worn stones, winding between weathered rock formations. Scattered, gnarled petrified wood lies half-buried in the sand. Deep shadows pool in crevices, contrasting with the brilliant, washed-out light. Heat haze shimmers above the ground, and a tiny dust devil swirls in the distance. The color palette is dominated by dusty sage, terracotta, and bone-white. no border, no frame, no watermark, no text, no signature, edge-to-edge illustration.
