Once upon a time there was a very ugly man. He was so terribly ugly that no one could stand to look at him, not even his own mother. He was cast out of his village and left to wander, alone, for most of his life. He built himself a house deep in the woods, and he never bothered anyone. The only time he emerged was to slip into the market at night, after everyone was sleeping. He took what he needed, but always left ample payment, so no one ever complained.
One night, as he filled his sack with bread and cheese, he hummed a little tune to himself. Where the tune had come from, he did not know, but he hummed it all the same.
A little voice startled him. "What are you doing?"
Big blue eyes peeked out at him from around the corner, framed by golden curls.
He fumbled for the right words. "I am… shopping."
But the girl didn't care about that. "What was that noise you were making? It sounded heavenly."
"I do not know," he admitted.
"I want to make a sound like that." she sighed dreamily.
"I could try to teach you. That is, if you don't mind being seen with me."
She cocked her head. "Why would I mind that?"
He gestured to his face in response.
"You're very ugly." Her words made his heart sink. "But I don't mind."
He had never been accepted by anyone before, and from then on he was just a poor dog, willing to die for her.
And so he visited her every night and tried to teach her how to move her voice as he could. The talent seemed to belong to him alone, but she did not give up until the night her father caught them.
"What are you doing to my daughter, you foul, ugly thing?"
"He is teaching me to make heavenly sounds!"
Her father, enraged, chased the man out, waking the other villagers until they surrounded the ugly man. They jeered at him and threw rocks at him while he begged for mercy.
"Beast! Monster! Go back where you came from!" They shouted at him.
"Please, leave me alone! I will go!" he cried.
But the angry mob would not be satisfied without blood and did not stop until they knew he was dead. His pupil ran to him and knelt at his side, weeping over him.
His voice came down from the heavens.
"Do not weep for me, child."
She tipped her tearful face to the sky and watched his spirit descend. "Are you an angel?"
"Yes," he smiled, reaching out and letting his fingertips gently touch her throat. A little spark moved from his fingers and into her.
"Sing," he commanded.
She found that she could now do what she couldn't before, moving her voice to form a beautiful melody. The village was moved, and all who heard understood what a beautiful gift she'd been given. This gift passed to her children and their children and on and on, spreading through the world. She lived a long, happy life sharing her gift with as many as she could and when she passed, her village still remembered her as the woman who had been blessed by the angel of music.