Long ago, in a green valley in Korea, there lived two brothers.
Nolbu, the older brother, kept the big tiled house, the fat ox, and every last sack of rice — all for himself.
Heungbu, the younger brother, was as kind as the spring rain. He got nothing at all — nothing but a tiny straw hut and a houseful of hungry children.
Winter came, and the little hut grew cold and hungry.
“Brother,” said Heungbu at Nolbu's gate, “just one bowl of rice for the children? I'll work for it.”
“Rice? MY rice?!” cried Nolbu. And his wife waved her big sticky rice paddle — shoo! shoo! shoo!
So Heungbu walked home through the snow, with nothing but snowflakes in his hands.
But spring always comes, even to the poorest roof.
One bright morning, two swallows swooped in under the roof of Heungbu's hut and began to build a nest of mud and straw.
“Welcome, little guests!” laughed Heungbu. And the children clapped as the swallows sang — jiji-baebae! jiji-baebae!
Soon the nest was full of baby swallows, all beaks and cheeping.
Then one day — sssss! — a hungry snake came sliding up the wall toward the nest!
The baby swallows flapped and tumbled, and the littlest one fell — down, down — and hurt its tiny leg.
Heungbu ran up waving his arms — “Shoo, snake, shoo!” — and the snake slid away into the grass.
Then he scooped up the little bird in two gentle hands. “There now. You're safe.”
Softly, softly, he wound a bit of red silk thread around the tiny leg — round and round, just right.
All summer long the children fed the little swallow, until it could hop, then flutter, then fly.
When autumn winds turned the leaves gold, the swallows gathered to fly away south, where the winters are warm.
The little swallow with the red thread circled the hut once, twice, three times.
“Jiji-baebae!” it sang — which surely meant thank you — and away it flew, over the mountains.
All winter Heungbu's family huddled and hoped. And when spring came back — jiji-baebae! — so did their swallow, with the little red thread still on its leg!
It dropped something small and shining into Heungbu's hand.
A seed. One small, shining seed.
They planted the seed by the door, and oh, how it grew!
The vine climbed the wall, crawled up over the top, and by autumn, three ENORMOUS gourds sat on the roof — round and pale as full moons.
“One seed,” whispered Heungbu, “and look! Our roof is full of moons.”
They rolled the first gourd down and took the long saw, one handle each.
“Saw, saw, saw the gourd — zzzk, zzzk, zzzk!” they sang.
CRACK! The gourd split wide — and out poured white rice like a waterfall, more rice than the children had ever, ever seen!
The second gourd spilled soft silk cloth of every color, and strings of shining coins.
From the third — whoosh! — up rose walls and doors and a brand-new roof, until a fine new house stood where the old hut had leaned.
And do you know what Heungbu did first? He filled every neighbor's bowl with rice. Kind hearts stay kind — even rich ones.
When Nolbu heard that a thankful swallow had made his brother rich, his eyes went narrow and greedy.
He watched his own roof until — at last! — a swallow built a nest there.
Then he grabbed a baby bird — and oh! — he hurt its little leg, on purpose, just to wrap it in a big showy bandage.
“There, birdie,” he said with a big pretend smile. “Now fly south, and don't forget my seed!”
Sure enough, the swallow brought Nolbu a seed too — and next autumn, giant gourds sat on his roof. “Gold!” he sang, sawing fast. “Saw, saw, saw the gourd — all for ME, for ME, for ME!”
CRACK! But no rice poured out. No silk. No gold.
Out tumbled GOBLINS — wild-haired, stamping, swinging their magic clubs! They whirled up his coins, his fat ox, even the tiles off his roof — and rumbled away into the night.
And the last goblin turned and said, “That — was for the little bird.”
In the cold rain stood Nolbu and his wife — no house, no ox, not even a rice paddle. Nowhere to go... but one door.
Nolbu hung his head. “Brother... I'm sorry. For everything.”
And Heungbu ran out into the rain — no umbrella, no scolding — and hugged him hard. “Brother! You're home.”
After that, the two brothers lived together under one wide roof, and they shared everything in it.
Nolbu learned to give — and found out it felt better than gold. And every spring, the swallows came back to nest above their door.
Jiji-baebae! Jiji-baebae! — the sweetest song in Korea, sung for two brothers who shared everything.