High in the Carpathians, where the wind whistles old prayers through pine, a shepherd named Dragomir lived alone with his flock. He played his flute each night by the fire, haunting, restless melodies that rose into the sky.
One night, the music changed. Dragomir didn’t know how or why, but the song moved like moonlight.
The trees stilled. The sheep froze.
Then she came.
She stepped down from the sky barefoot, glowing silver. Her eyes held the stars. Her voice? Like cold water on hot skin.
“You called,” she said.
Dragomir stood, heart thudding. “I, I didn’t mean to.”
“But you did. That tune hasn’t been played since the First Shepherd. It opens a path between our worlds.”
“Who are you?”
“I am Lumnia. Daughter of the Moon.”
She turned to leave, but Dragomir stopped her. “Will you come again?”
“If you keep playing.”
And so she returned. Night after night. They sat by the fire. Spoke little. Danced sometimes. Laughed more. He carved her image into bark. She whispered names of stars. They fell in love, as people do when they share silences well.
Months passed.
One night, he took her hand. “Stay with me.”
“I cannot,” she said. “I belong to the sky. If I stay, tides will forget how to pull. Wolves won’t find their path. Dreams will lose their rhythm.”
“Then take me with you.”
“You’re made of earth,” she said. “Light might break you.”
He didn’t flinch. “Try me.”
She studied him. “Then meet me at Mount Ceahlău, full moon, stone circle. Come alone. Come ready.”
For three weeks, Dragomir prepared. He fasted. He slept outside, under open sky. The villagers thought he’d gone mad. He didn’t care.
The full moon rose.
Dragomir climbed. At the top, Lumnia waited. Pale. Still. Beautiful.
“Are you sure?” she asked.
He nodded. “I am.”
She reached out.
The sky cracked.
Light poured down, thick as honey.
Dragomir rose, drawn into the beam. His body shimmered, then vanished, no scream, no struggle. Only his flute remained, resting on the moss.
Lumnia vanished too.
Some say they live on the moon now, dancing in its glow. On clear nights, villagers swear they see shadows twirling in the light.
And on full moons, the sheep still gather in a circle, listening to a song no one plays.
Moral / Life Lesson
Some loves belong to this world; others to the spaces between. Dragomir teaches us that love doesn’t always mean staying, but sometimes, it means leaping, even when the ending isn’t certain. True love asks not for possession, but courage, and sometimes a quiet goodbye.
This story comes from the Romanian tradition of Europe.
Knowledge Check: The Shepherd and the Moon Princess
1. What is the moral of the folktale “The Shepherd and the Moon Princess”?
The story teaches a lesson about courage and sacrifice, showing that love often requires letting go, or risking everything.
2. What cultural group does the tale “The Shepherd and the Moon Princess” come from?
This folktale originates from the Romanian tradition in Europe.
3. Why did Dragomir ask to go with the Moon Princess?
In the tale, Dragomir asked out of love and longing, wanting to live beyond earthly limits.
4. How does the folktale “The Shepherd and the Moon Princess” explain the moon’s shadows?
The story explains why people see figures dancing in the moonlight, believed to be the shepherd and the moon princess.
5. Is “The Shepherd and the Moon Princess” considered a trickster tale, ghost story, or moral fable?
“The Shepherd and the Moon Princess” is a moral fable, told with romance, magic, and spiritual symbolism.
6. How is this folktale relevant to modern readers?
The message of “The Shepherd and the Moon Princess” remains timeless, exploring sacrifice, passion, and love that transcends worlds.
