A young count of Geroldseck had been so captivated by the charm of the maiden of Freundstein that he sought her favor, but received no favorable answer from her. He then turned to her father, yet from him too he received only refusal. Beside himself with wounded pride, he resolved to win by force what had been denied to his urgent suit. At the head of a band of fighting men he marched before the castle and attacked it. The startled garrison was too weak to withstand for long the violent assault of the attackers and was forced to surrender.
The victor was already riding in triumph with his men across the drawbridge, rejoicing in the thought of his coming revenge, when the old father, in wild despair, clasped his daughter in his arms, mounted his warhorse with her, and hurled himself with her over the battlements into the deep valley below.
To this day the ruins of Freundstein still rise up opposite the mighty Belchen peak and bear witness to the power of their former lords. But in quiet nights people often hear around the desolate walls the trampling of horses and the ring of hooves: it is the lord of Freundstein riding about the castle with his daughter, while the Geroldseck pursues behind them tirelessly, never able to reach his bride.
