The Tale of the Honest Woodcutter

In the foothills of the Annamite Mountains, where ancient forests stretched as far as the eye could see and morning mist clung to towering trees like silk scarves, lived a woodcutter named Trong. He was a man of humble means but noble character, earning his living by cutting firewood and selling it in the nearby village.

Trong lived in a simple bamboo hut with his elderly mother and his young wife, Hoa. Though they had little money, their home was filled with love and laughter. Every morning, Trong would kiss his wife goodbye, bow respectfully to his mother, and set off into the forest with his old but well-maintained axe.

“Work honestly, my son,” his mother would say as he departed each day, “and the forest spirits will protect you.”

“Yes, Mother,” Trong would reply. “Honesty is the only treasure that can never be stolen from us.”

Trong knew every path through the forest, every stream and clearing. He worked hard but always with respect for the forest, taking only what he needed and never cutting young trees or rare species. The birds seemed to sing more sweetly when he was near, and the forest creatures showed no fear of his gentle presence.

His neighbor, however, was a man of very different character. Cuong was also a woodcutter, but he was lazy, greedy, and envious of anyone else’s good fortune. He often complained that life was unfair and that honest work was for fools.

“Look at Trong,” Cuong would grumble to his wife. “Always working, always struggling, yet he seems happy. If I had a magic axe or knew some secret, I’d be rich by now instead of wasting my time with this backbreaking labor.”

One particularly hot summer day, Trong was working deep in the forest beside a crystal-clear mountain stream. The water was so pure it reflected the sky like a mirror, and lotus flowers bloomed along its banks. As he raised his axe to cut a fallen branch, the wooden handle, weakened by years of use, suddenly snapped. The metal head flew from his hands and disappeared into the deep pool with a splash.

Trong stared at the ripples spreading across the water’s surface, his heart sinking. Without his axe, he couldn’t work, and without work, his family would have no income.

“Oh no,” he said aloud, sitting heavily on the stream bank. “That axe belonged to my father and his father before him. How will I tell my family that I’ve lost our only means of livelihood?”

As he sat contemplating his misfortune, the water in the center of the pool began to glow with a soft, golden light. Slowly, a beautiful woman emerged from the depths, her hair flowing like liquid silver and her robes shimmering like sunlight on water.

“Why do you look so sad, honest woodcutter?” she asked in a voice like wind chimes.

Trong bowed respectfully. “Honored Lady, I have lost my axe in your stream. It was old and worn, but it was all I had to provide for my family.”

The Water Spirit—for that is who she was—smiled kindly. “Perhaps I can help you recover your axe. Wait here.”

She dove back into the pool, and moments later emerged holding a magnificent axe made of pure gold. Its blade gleamed like the sun, and its handle was carved with intricate dragons and phoenixes.

“Is this your axe?” she asked.

Trong’s eyes widened at the beautiful tool, but he shook his head immediately. “No, honored Lady. My axe was made of simple iron with a wooden handle. It was old and scratched from years of use. This golden axe is far too beautiful to be mine.”

The Water Spirit smiled approvingly and dove again. This time she returned with an axe made of gleaming silver, its surface polished to mirror brightness and decorated with precious gems.

“Perhaps this is your axe?” she suggested.

Again, Trong shook his head. “No, honored Lady. This silver axe is magnificent, but it’s not mine either. My axe was very plain—just iron and wood, nothing more.”

For the third time, the Water Spirit disappeared beneath the surface. When she emerged, she held Trong’s own battered old axe, its iron blade dull and its wooden handle worn smooth by countless hours of use.

“And this one?” she asked.

Trong’s face lit up with joy. “Yes! That’s my axe! Thank you so much for returning it to me, honored Lady!”

The Water Spirit’s smile was radiant. “Your honesty pleases me greatly, Trong. Because you spoke truthfully when you could have claimed the golden or silver axes, you have proven yourself worthy of reward.”

She handed him not only his old axe but also the golden and silver ones.

“Take all three,” she said. “The golden axe will never dull, the silver axe will make your work twice as fast, and your old iron axe will always remind you that honesty is more valuable than gold.”

Trong protested that he couldn’t accept such generous gifts, but the Water Spirit insisted.

“Use them wisely and continue to be honest in all your dealings,” she advised before vanishing beneath the water’s surface.

That evening, Trong returned home with enough firewood to last his family a month, cut effortlessly with his new magical tools. When he told his family about his encounter with the Water Spirit, they marveled at his good fortune but were not surprised—they knew that Trong’s honest character would eventually be rewarded.

Word of Trong’s amazing good luck spread quickly through the village, and soon everyone was talking about the magical axes and the generous Water Spirit. When Cuong heard the story, his eyes burned with envy and greed.

“That should have been me,” he muttered. “If Trong can get magical axes just by dropping his old one in the water, I can do the same thing!”

The next morning, Cuong rushed to the same mountain stream, carrying his perfectly good axe. Without hesitation, he threw it into the deep pool and began wailing dramatically.

“Oh, woe is me!” he cried loudly. “I’ve lost my precious axe! How will I feed my family?”

Just as before, the Water Spirit emerged from the pool, though this time her expression was cool and watchful.

“What seems to be the trouble?” she asked.

“I’ve lost my axe in your stream, beautiful Lady,” Cuong said with exaggerated sorrow. “It was my most treasured possession!”

The Water Spirit dove and returned with the golden axe, its surface glowing brilliantly in the sunlight.

“Is this your axe?” she asked.

Cuong’s eyes lit up with greed. “Yes! Yes, that’s exactly my axe! That beautiful golden axe is definitely mine!”

The Water Spirit’s expression grew stern. “Are you certain this is yours?”

“Absolutely!” Cuong lied eagerly. “I’d recognize that magnificent golden axe anywhere!”

The Water Spirit’s form began to shimmer with an ominous light. “You are lying, greedy man. This golden axe was never yours, and your dishonesty has earned you nothing but punishment.”

With a gesture of her hand, the golden axe vanished. The Water Spirit dove once more and retrieved Cuong’s real axe—but when she handed it to him, he cried out in dismay. The blade had become dull and rusty, and the handle was cracked and splintered.

“Because you chose greed over honesty,” the Water Spirit declared, “your axe will now break after only a few strokes and will never cut cleanly again. Until you learn to value truth over treasure, this curse will remain upon you.”

She disappeared beneath the water, leaving Cuong standing on the bank with his ruined tool.

From that day forward, Cuong’s work became increasingly difficult. His cursed axe would barely cut through the smallest branches before dulling completely, and he spent more time sharpening it than using it. His income dwindled, and he found himself poorer than ever.

Meanwhile, Trong’s fortunes continued to improve. With his magical axes, he could cut the finest firewood in half the time, allowing him to help other villagers with their work and share his prosperity with those in need. His honesty in all his dealings earned him the respect and friendship of everyone who knew him.

Cuong, watching his neighbor’s continued success while his own situation worsened, finally began to understand the lesson the Water Spirit had tried to teach him. Swallowing his pride, he approached Trong one evening.

“Trong,” he said humbly, “I have been dishonest and greedy, and now I’m paying the price. Will you teach me how to live with integrity like you do?”

Trong smiled kindly. “Of course, neighbor. Honesty isn’t something you learn overnight, but it starts with small acts of truthfulness every day.”

Under Trong’s patient guidance, Cuong began to practice honesty in all his dealings. He admitted his mistakes, spoke truthfully even when it was difficult, and worked hard without complaint. Gradually, his cursed axe began to work better, and his luck improved.

One year later, as Cuong was working honestly by the same mountain stream, the Water Spirit appeared to him again.

“You have learned the value of honesty,” she observed. “Your heart has changed, and you now understand that integrity is worth more than gold.”

She restored his axe to perfect condition and blessed him with moderate prosperity—not the magical wealth that Trong enjoyed, but enough to live comfortably as a reward for his sincere repentance.

Years passed, and both woodcutters became known throughout the region for their fine work and honest character. Trong became a prosperous businessman who always dealt fairly with his customers, while Cuong became a respected craftsman who took pride in his honest labor.

The story of the honest woodcutter spread far and wide, teaching generations of children that honesty is always rewarded in the end, while greed and dishonesty lead only to misfortune. Parents would tell their children, “Be like Trong the woodcutter—speak the truth even when lies might seem more profitable, for honesty is a treasure that multiplies when shared.”

And in the mountain stream where the Water Spirit dwells, the clear water continues to reflect only the truth, reminding all who see it that integrity is the foundation of all genuine prosperity and happiness.

The End