The Dancing Bear

In a bustling village at the foot of the Baekdu Mountains, where merchants gathered to trade goods and traveling performers entertained crowds with their skills, there lived a young girl named Da-hee. She was known for her gentle heart and her special way with animals—birds would perch on her shoulders, and even the most timid cats would approach her with trust.

One autumn day, as red and gold leaves danced on the wind, a traveling entertainer arrived in the village with a most unusual performer. Chained to a heavy post was an enormous brown bear named Gomdol, whose sad eyes spoke of years in captivity. The bear had been trained to dance on his hind legs, to bow to the crowd, and to perform tricks for the amusement of onlookers.

“Come one, come all!” shouted the entertainer, Master Cho, a harsh-faced man with callused hands. “See the amazing dancing bear! Watch him perform feats that will astound you!”

The villagers gathered excitedly as Master Cho commanded Gomdol to dance. The great bear rose on his hind legs and swayed awkwardly to the rhythm of a small drum, his chains clinking with each movement. The crowd cheered and threw coins, delighted by the spectacle.

But Da-hee, watching from the edge of the crowd, felt only sadness. She could see the exhaustion in Gomdol’s eyes, the way his massive shoulders slumped when the performance ended, and how he gazed longingly toward the distant mountains where bears roamed free.

After the crowd dispersed, Da-hee approached the bear cautiously. Master Cho had gone to the tavern to drink with his earnings, leaving Gomdol alone and chained in the village square.

“Hello, friend,” Da-hee whispered softly, sitting down just beyond the reach of the bear’s chain. “You must be very tired.”

To her surprise, Gomdol looked directly at her with intelligent eyes and made a low, rumbling sound—not a growl of threat, but something almost like conversation.

Da-hee began visiting Gomdol every day. She would bring him fresh fish from the market, sweet honey cakes, and cool water from the mountain spring. More importantly, she would sit with him and talk, treating him not as a performing animal but as a friend.

“You came from those mountains, didn’t you?” she would ask, pointing toward the snow-capped peaks. “Do you remember running free through the forests? Do you miss the taste of wild berries and the feeling of soft earth under your paws?”

Gomdol would listen intently, and sometimes he would make soft sounds in response, as if he were indeed answering her questions.

Da-hee learned that Gomdol had been captured as a young cub and forced to learn tricks through harsh training. For fifteen years, he had traveled from village to village, performing the same dances, living in chains, never knowing the freedom that was his birthright.

“This isn’t right,” Da-hee told her grandmother one evening. “Gomdol should be free to live as bears are meant to live. He’s so sad, Halmoni. His spirit is being crushed.”

Her wise grandmother, who had lived through many seasons and understood the hearts of both humans and animals, nodded thoughtfully. “Sometimes, child, doing what is right requires great courage. What do you think should be done?”

Da-hee knew the answer immediately, but she also knew it would not be easy. “He should be returned to the mountains, to his home.”

That night, Da-hee lay awake making plans. She knew that Master Cho would never willingly give up his performing bear—Gomdol was his source of income, and the man cared nothing for the bear’s happiness.

The next morning, Da-hee approached Master Cho with a proposition.

“Honored sir,” she said respectfully, “I would like to buy your bear.”

Master Cho laughed harshly. “You? A village girl? You couldn’t afford such a valuable animal. This bear earns more money in a month than your family sees in a year.”

“What if I could prove that I can offer you something more valuable than money?” Da-hee asked boldly.

Master Cho’s eyes narrowed with greed. “What could you possibly have that would interest me?”

Da-hee had spent the night preparing for this moment. “I know where to find a cave filled with wild honey—more than you could carry, and worth far more than one old bear. But the location is a secret that only I know, and I will only share it in exchange for Gomdol’s freedom.”

This was partially true. Da-hee did know of a cave where wild bees made their honey, but she also knew it was carefully guarded by the village elders as a resource for times of great need. She would have to ask their permission and promise to work for years to repay the debt.

Master Cho’s greed won over his caution. The prospect of all that valuable honey was too tempting to resist. “Very well,” he agreed. “Show me this honey cave, and if it is as you say, the bear is yours.”

Da-hee led Master Cho deep into the forest, to the secret cave she had spoken of. When he saw the enormous combs of golden honey, his eyes lit up with avarice. He immediately began filling containers, completely focused on his treasure.

While Master Cho was distracted, Da-hee quietly returned to the village and, with the help of her friends, freed Gomdol from his chains. The great bear seemed to understand that something important was happening. He followed Da-hee willingly as she led him toward the mountain paths.

“Go now, friend,” Da-hee whispered, her eyes filled with tears of both joy and sadness. “Go home to where you belong. Run free through the forests, catch fish in the streams, and remember that somewhere in the valley below, there is a girl who will always think of you with love.”

Gomdol looked at Da-hee for a long moment, then gently touched her hand with his massive paw—a gesture of gratitude and farewell. Then he turned toward the mountains and walked away, his steps growing lighter and more confident with each stride toward freedom.

When Master Cho discovered what had happened, he was furious. But the village elders, who had learned of Da-hee’s brave deed, stood behind her decision. They agreed that no creature should be forced to live in chains for human entertainment, and they helped Da-hee work off her debt to the honey cave through community service.

Years passed, and Da-hee grew into a wise young woman known throughout the region for her kindness to animals. Sometimes, on clear mountain days, hunters would return with stories of seeing a magnificent brown bear in the high forests—free, healthy, and wild as bears were meant to be.

One autumn evening, as Da-hee sat by her window watching the sunset paint the mountains gold and crimson, she saw a familiar figure at the edge of the forest. Gomdol stood there, now gray around the muzzle but strong and proud, looking down at the village where his freedom had begun.

He saw her in the window and raised one great paw in what could only be described as a wave—a final thank you to the girl who had given him back his life.

Da-hee waved back, her heart full of joy, knowing that somewhere in those mountains, her friend was living the life he was always meant to live.

And the mountain spirits, who watched over all wild creatures, smiled down on both the bear who had found his freedom and the girl who had been brave enough to give it to him, understanding that true friendship sometimes means having the courage to let go.