The Tale of Jack Lop the Clever
I have a story to tell of Jack lop the Clever, a Harengon trickster whose wit was as sharp as his ears long.
Now, Jack lop was no ordinary rabbit-folk. He wandered the roads and forests, delighting in harmless pranks—swapping signposts to confuse travelers, only to guide them to better paths than they’d planned. He’d conjure phantom feasts that vanished at first bite, then leave real food for the hungry. Mischief was his trade, but kindness was his craft.
One autumn eve, as golden leaves danced on the wind, Jack lop hopped into a tavern where the ale was bitter and the mood even more so. The villagers spoke in hushed tones of a Lord Blackwood, a wicked aristocrat who invented cruel taxes to steal from his villagers—fees for walking on roads, charges for rain, tolls for shadows cast by his own estate.
Jack lop’s long ears twitched with interest. His nose quivered with purpose.
The next day, Jack lop arrived at the manor gates dressed in motley silks, bells jingling with each hop. “My lord,” he proclaimed to the aristocrat, “I am Jack lop the Magnificent, jester extraordinaire!”
With a twitch of his whiskers, he conjured lights and made cutlery float. Lord Blackwood, delighted, welcomed Jack lop to his court.
For weeks, Jack lop entertained the mighty lord and his court, all the while observing his habits and weaknesses.
One night after finishing the night’s entertainment, Jack lop approached Lord Blackwood.
“My lord, I propose a wager. If I can trick you—truly deceive you in a way you cannot detect—you must grant me one wish of anything I desire.”
Lord Blackwood’s laughter boomed through the manor hall. “And when you fail?”
“Then you may flay me and add me to the dinner pot.” Jack lop said with his charismatic grin, not at all afraid.
The prideful lord agreed to this grizzly proposal. “Verywell, sir rabbit. You will have until sunset tomorrow to deceive me.”
After retiring for the night, Lord Blackwood found his wife missing from bed. When he called out for her, he heard her voice from the other room.
“My darling,” his wife’s gentle voice drifted to his ear. “I have lately been troubled by the taxes and policies you pose to the villagers.”
“What would you have me do, my love?” Lord Blackwood called out to the darkness.
“Abolish these unnecessary taxes. The village will not survive if they continue.” Her voice shook with emotion, and soon he could hear the sounds of her weeping.
“My love, weep not, for I shall do as you ask, only let me see you and console you.”
“I cannot bring myself to be held by a man who does not care for his people. My love, do this for me. Do as you say you will, and I shall see you at the setting of the sun on the morrow.”
The next morning, Lord Blackwood did as he was bidden by his wife, and abolished the taxes on the villagers. He was unbothered all day, not seeing Jack lop once.
At sunset, Lord Blackwood summoned Jack lop to his court. Before his arrival, however, the court was suddenly engulfed in darkness. Amongst the confused tones of his courtiers, the gentle voice of Lady Blackwood echoed through the room.
“My Lord, have you done as I asked and abolished the taxes?”
“Yes, my love. I have done just so.”
Suddenly, the hall was illuminated once more, and in the place of Lady Blackwood was Jack lop, grinning from ear to ear.
“You!” Lord Blackwood gasped. “But that was my wife’s voice!”
Jacklop’s voice shifted to Lady Blackwood’s gentle tones: “My love, do this for me.” Then back to his own: “That was me, my lord. You’ve been following the requests of a rabbit, my Lord, never once suspecting.”
A hushed silence fell across the court as the courtiers looked up to their lord. A deal witnessed by nobles could not be broken.
Through gritted teeth, Lord Blackwood asked, “Your wish?”
“I wish that, in addition to abolishing your taxes, you return every remaining coin you’ve unjustly taken from the village.”
By morning, wagons rolled down the hill heavy with returned wealth. The villagers wept with joy.
As for Jacklop? He was gone before dawn, hopping toward new adventures, his bells jingling in the mist.
Notes
Fig was told this tale when they were young and still living with the Harengon village.