Norwegian Folktales

by Peter Christen Asbjornsen

  As soon as they tugged on the rope, the captain and the lieutenant hauled up the princesses one after the other. But when they were safely up, the soldier realized that he had been foolish not to seat himself in the basket and go up ahead of the princesses, for he didn’t trust his comrades at all. Now he decided to try them, so he put a huge lump of gold in the basket and jumped to one side. When it was a good halfway up, they cut the rope so that the basket crashed down on to the rock and the pieces flew about his ears.

  “Now we’re rid of him!” they said. Then they threatened to kill the princesses if they didn’t say that they were the ones that had rescued them from the Trolls. The princesses didn’t like it one bit, especially the youngest one; but life is precious, so the captain and the lieutenant had it their own way.

  Now when the captain and the lieutenant came home with the princesses, there was indeed great rejoicing at the king’s manor. The king was so happy that he didn’t know which foot to stand on. He took his best bottle of wine out of the cupboard and poured out a cup of welcome for the two of them; and if they hadn’t been made much of before, they were now, I can tell you. And they strutted back and forth, and preened themselves like gentlemen the whole day, now that they were getting the king himself for a father-in-law; for it was clear that each would wed a princess — whichever one he wanted — and that they would divide half the kingdom between them. They both wanted the youngest, but for all they begged and threatened, they got nowhere. She wouldn’t have them in any shape or form. So they talked to the king about setting twelve men to guard her; she had been so gloomy ever since she had been in the mountain, they said, and they were afraid she might do herself some harm.

  This the king agreed to do; and he told the guard to take good care of her, and to follow her wherever she went day and night.

  And now a feast was to be prepared for the two eldest princesses, with much brewing and baking. This was to be a wedding the like of which had never before been seen nor heard of; and they brewed, and they baked, and they butchered as though it would never come to an end.

  In the meantime, the soldier wandered aimlessly back and forth in the other world. He was sad to think that he would never again see a human face nor the light of day; but he had to keep himself busy with something, he thought, and so he went from room to room, one day and two days and many more. He rummaged in all the cupboards and drawers, and poked about in the shelves, and looked at all the fine things that were there. After a while he came to a drawer in a table; he pulled it out, and inside lay a golden key. So he tried the key in all the locks there were, but not one did it fit until he came to a little wall cupboard over the bed, and in that he found a rusty old whistle.

  “It might be worth trying to see if there’s any sound in it,” he thought, and put it to his mouth. Before he knew what was happening, there was a whirring and a rushing on all sides, and, all of a sudden, down swooped a flock of birds so large that the ground was black.

  “What does our master wish today?” they asked.

  Well, if he were their master, said the soldier, then he’d certainly like to know if they could tell him how to get back to the earth.

  No, there was not one who could, “— but our mother hasn’t come yet,” they said. “If she can’t help you, then there’s no way!”

  So he blew the whistle once more, and after a little while he heard something beating its wings a long way off. At the same time a wind started blowing so hard that he was thrown from one wall of the courtyard to another like a wisp of hay, and if he hadn’t grabbed hold of the rail fence he would almost certainly have blown away at once. Thereupon an eagle glided down in front of him, so big that it was beyond words to describe.

  “You come hard, you do!” said the soldier.

  “I come the way you blow!” said the eagle.

  Then he asked if she knew of a way for him to escape out of the world they were in now.

  “Nestlings can’t get away from here,” said the eagle, “but if you’ll slaughter twelve oxen for me, so that I can eat my fill, I’ll try to help you, I will! Have you a knife?”

  “No, but I have a sword,” said the soldier.

  When the eagle had finished off the twelve oxen, she bade him slaughter one more and take it along as provisions for the journey. “Every time I open my beak, you must be quick and throw a piece in,” she said, “or else I won’t be able to carry you aloft.”

  Well, he did as she asked, and hung two big sacks of meat around her neck; and he snuggled down among her feathers. Then the eagle flapped her wings, and with that they were off like a wind so that the air whistled past. The soldier had all he could do to hold on tight, and it was only by the skin of his teeth that he managed to fling the pieces of meat into the eagle’s beak each time she opened it. At last daylight began to glimmer above them; but now the eagle was losing speed and began fluttering her wings. The soldier was ready, and grabbed the last haunch and threw it to her. Then she got back her strength and flew on. And after she had sat and rested for a while in the top of a big fir tree, she set off with him again so fast that they flashed past land and sea, wherever they went. Close by the king’s manor he climbed down, and the eagle flew home again; but first she said that if there was anything he wanted, he had only to blow the whistle and she would come at once.

  In the meantime, everything was in readiness at the king’s manor, and the day was approaching when the captain and the lieutenant were to wed the two eldest princesses. But they were not much happier than the youngest sister. Never a day went by that they didn’t grieve and cry, and the closer they came to the wedding day, the sadder they grew. At last the king asked what was wrong with them. He thought it more than strange that they were not happy and gay now that they were free and saved, and were to be married as well. They had to say something, so the eldest princess said they would never be happy again if they couldn’t get a board-game like the one they had played with in the Mountain-in-the-Blue.

  The king thought he could certainly get one for them, so he sent word to all the best and most skilled goldsmiths in the land to make a board-game of gold for the princesses. But, for all they tried, there was not one who was able to make such a game.

  At last all the goldsmiths in the land had been asked save one, and he was a feeble old man who hadn’t turned out a proper piece of work for many a year, but only tinkered with a little silver work — just enough to keep himself alive. So the soldier went and apprenticed himself to him, and the old man was so happy to get an apprentice — he hadn’t had one for a year and a day — that he dug out a flask from his cupboard and sat down to drink with the soldier. It wasn’t long before the spirits had gone to his head, and when the soldier saw that, he persuaded the smith to go to the king and tell him that he could make the game for the princesses. The old man agreed to this on the spot, for he had made things just as fine and fancy in his day, he had!

  When the king heard there was someone outside who could make a copy of the board-game, he wasn’t slow in coming out.

  “Is it true, what they say, that you can make a game like the one my daughters want?” he asked.

  Yes, that was quite true, replied the smith, and he stuck to his story.

  “That’s good,” said the king. “Here is some gold for you to make it from. But if you fail, you shall lose your life, seeing that you have come forward of your own accord!” And the old man was given three days to make the game in.

  Next morning, when the goldsmith had slept off his befuddlement, he wasn’t anywhere near so proud. He cried and carried on, and swore at his apprentice who had caused him to get himself into mischief while he was tipsy. Now the only way out would be for him to do away with himself right away, for there was no point in pleading for his life. If the most skillful goldsmiths couldn’t make such a game, it wasn’t likely that he could manage it.

  “Don’t worry about that, just hand over the gold,” said the soldier. “I’ll get the game all right. But I
want a room to myself to work in,” he said.

  This he got, and the old man’s thanks into the bargain.

  But time dragged on and on, and he did nothing, and the goldsmith went about moaning because he would never get on with his task.

  “Never bother yourself about that,” said the soldier. “It’s a long time to the hour. If you’re not satisfied with what I’ve promised, you can make the game yourself!”

  It was the same tale that day and the next; and when the smith heard neither hammer nor file from his room all the last day either, he gave up all hope; for now there was no longer any chance of saving his life, he thought.

  But as night drew on, the soldier opened his window and blew his whistle.

  Yes, that was quite true, replied the smith, and he stuck to his story.

  “Out in the barn I’ve got a couple of ox carcasses for you,” said the soldier.

  In a trice the eagle appeared, and asked what he wanted.

  “The golden board-game which the princesses used in the Mountain-in-the-Blue,” said the soldier. “But no doubt you want something to eat first? Out in the barn I’ve got a couple of ox carcasses for you. You can have them,” he said.

  When the eagle had eaten them, she didn’t lose much time, and long before the sun rose she was back with the game. Then the soldier put it under his bed, and lay down to sleep.

  At the crack of dawn next morning the goldsmith came and pounded on his door.

  “You’ve been doing quite a bit of running,” said the soldier. “All day you’ve rushed around as if you were completely mad. If I’m not going to be allowed to have a night’s rest, you’ll have to get another apprentice!”

  But this time neither pleading nor praying was any use; the goldsmith insisted on being admitted, and at last he pushed up the latch.

  And you can imagine that there was an end to his whining!

  But even more delighted than the goldsmith were the princesses, when he came up to the king’s manor with the game; and most delighted of them all was the youngest princess.

  “Have you made that game yourself?” she asked.

  “No, to tell the truth I haven’t,” he said. “It’s an apprentice I have.”

  “I would like to see that apprentice,” said the princess.

  Good day, how nice to see you again!” said the youngest princess.

  All three of them wanted to meet him, and, if he valued his life, he had better come.

  The soldier feared neither lords nor ladies, and if it gave them any pleasure to look at his rags, they might as well have their wish gratified.

  The king’s youngest daughter knew him again right away; she pushed aside the guard, ran over and offered him her hand, and said, “Good day, how nice to see you again.” Then she said to the king, “Here’s the man who rescued us from the Trolls in the mountain! He’s the one I want to marry!” And she swept off his cap and showed them the ring she had fastened in his hair.

  Well, then the full story of the way the captain and the lieutenant had carried on came to light. They had to pay for it with their lives, and that was the end of them.

  But the soldier got the golden crown, and half the kingdom, and wed the king’s youngest daughter. And at the wedding they drank and reveled both long and merrily, for all who were there could revel — even if they couldn’t all rescue the king’s daughters.

  And if they haven’t drunk their fill, they must be sitting and drinking and reveling still!

  THE GOLDEN BIRD

  There was once a king who had a garden. In that garden stood an apple tree, and on that tree there grew, each year, a golden apple. But when the time came to pick it, it was gone; nobody knew who had taken it nor what had become of it, but gone it was.

  This king had three sons. So one day he told them that the one who could recover the apple or catch the thief should inherit the kingdom after him, no matter whether he was the eldest, the youngest or the middle one.

  The eldest brother set out first, and sat down under the tree to wait for the thief. As night was drawing near, a golden bird came flying, and it shone from afar. But, when the king’s son saw the bird and the light, he became so frightened that he dared not stay but ran home as fast as his legs would carry him.

  In the morning the apple had disappeared. But now the king’s son had regained his courage, and so he started fitting himself out, for he wanted to go away to look for the golden bird. The king equipped him well and spared neither clothes nor money.

  When the king’s son had travelled a while he became hungry, and, taking up his knapsack, he sat down by the roadside and started to eat. Just then a fox came out from a grove of fir trees and sat down and looked at him.

  “Pray give me a little food,” said the fox.

  “I’ll give you some burnt horn!” said the king’s son. “I need all the food for myself, as nobody knows how far or how long I shall have to travel.”

  “Well, that was that!” said the fox, and then he went back to the woods again.

  When the prince had eaten and rested, he continued on his way. After a while he came to a big city, and in that city was an inn where there was always great merriment and never sorrow. This must be a fine place to stay, thought the prince to himself, so he remained there. And there was so much dancing and drinking, and pleasure and fun, that he forgot all about the golden bird, and the apple, and his father and the journey, and the whole kingdom. Gone he was and gone he stayed.

  The next year the middle son was to try to catch the apple thief in the garden. Well, he sat under the tree too, when the apple was almost ripe. And all at once the golden bird came one night, shining like a sun, but the boy became so frightened that he took to his heels and ran home as fast as he could.

  The following morning the apple was gone; but by now the king’s son had regained his courage, and wanted to set out to see if he could find the bird. So he started fitting himself out, and the king equipped him well, and spared neither clothes nor money.

  But the same thing happened to him as to his elder brother: when he had travelled a while he became hungry, and, taking up his knapsack, he sat down to have lunch by the side of the road. Then a fox came out from a grove of fir trees and sat down to watch.

  “Pray give me a little food!” said the fox.

  “I’ll give you burnt horn, I will!” said the king’s son. “Nobody knows how far or how long I shall have to travel, so I need all the food for myself.”

  “Well, that was that!” said the fox, and then he went back to the woods again.

  When the king’s son had eaten and rested a while, he continued on his way again. After a while he came to the same city and the same inn where there was always merriment and never sorrow, and he, too, thought it was a good place to stay; and the first one he met was his brother, and so he stayed there. His brother had feasted and drunk so much that he hardly had any clothes left on his back; but now they began all over again, and there was such dancing and drinking, and pleasure and fun that the second brother also forgot about the bird, and the apple, and his father, and the journey and the whole kingdom. Gone he was and gone he stayed, he too.

  When it was getting on for the time that the golden apple would be ripe again, the youngest prince was to go out in the garden and watch for the apple thief. He took with him a friend to help him up in the tree, and a keg of ale and a pack of cards to while away the time and keep them awake. All of a sudden there came a light that shone like a sun, so they could see every feather on the bird while it was still far away. The king’s son started climbing up into the tree, and just as the bird snatched the golden apple, he tried to grab it, but all he got was one of its tail feathers. So he went into the chamber where the king lay sleeping, and when he came in with the feather, the room was as bright as the clearest day.

  So he, too, wanted to go forth into the wide world to try to find out something about his brothers and capture the bird; for he had been so near that he had left a mark on it and g
ot a feather from its tail, he said. Well, the king pondered a long time as to whether he should let him go, for it wasn’t likely that he, who was the youngest, would fare better than the two eldest, who were wiser in the ways of the world, and the king feared that he, too, would be lost. But the youngest son pleaded so earnestly that at last he was allowed to go. So he fitted himself out, and the king equipped him with clothing and money, and then he set off on his way.

  When he had travelled a bit, he became hungry and, taking up his knapsack, he sat down to have something to eat; and just as he was doing this, a fox came out from a grove of fir trees, and sat down to watch.

  “Oh pray give me a little of your food,” said the fox.

  “I may well need all I have for myself,” said the prince, “for I don’t know how far I shall have to travel,” he said. “But I have so much that I can at least give you a little.”

  When the fox had a piece of meat to chew on, he asked the king’s son where he was going. Well, that he told him.

  “If you will listen to me, I will help you, and luck will be with you,” said the fox.

  The prince promised, and then they went along together. They travelled for some time until they came to the same city and the inn, where there was always joy and never sorrow.

  “I’m afraid I shall have to stay away from here, for the dogs are so troublesome,” said the fox, and then he told the prince where his brothers were and what they were doing. “And if you go in there, you will never come any farther,” he added.

  The prince promised, and gave him his hand on it, that he would not go inside, and then each one went his own way. But when the prince came to the inn and heard the music and merriment, he had to go in, no question about it. And when he met his brothers, there were such carryings on that he forgot about the fox, and the journey, and the golden bird, and his father as well. But when he had been there a while, the fox came — he had ventured into the city after all — and opened the door a crack and winked at the prince, and said that now they must be on their way. So the king’s son came to his senses again, and then they set out.