“If it’s all the same to you,” said the boy, “let’s have an eating match!”
“Oh yes!” replied the Troll, for at that he felt he could always hold his own.
Well, they sat down at the table, but the boy stole over and took the knapsack and tied it in front of him, and he scooped more into the knapsack than he ate himself. When the knapsack was full, he took up his knife and ripped a gash in it. The Troll looked at him, but didn’t say anything.
When they had eaten a good while longer, the Troll put down his spoon. “Nay! Now I can’t manage any more!” he said.
“You must eat!” said the boy. “I’m barely half full yet. Do as I did and cut a hole in your stomach, then you can eat as much as you wish!”
“But doesn’t that hurt dreadfully?” asked the Troll.
“Oh, nothing to speak of,” replied the boy.
So the Troll did as the boy said, and then, you might know, that was the end of him.
But the boy took all the silver and gold to be found in the mountain, and went home with it. With that he could at least pay off some of the debt.
THE COMPANION
There was once a peasant boy who dreamed he was to wed a king’s daughter in a far-off land; and she was as red and as white as milk and blood, and so rich that there could never be an end to her riches. When he awoke, it seemed to him that she was still standing before him in the flesh, and he thought her so fine and pretty that he could not live if he did not marry her. So he sold all he owned, and set out into the world to seek her.
He walked far, and farther than far, and in the winter he came to a land where all the highways lay end-to-end in a straight line, and made no turning. When he had wandered straight ahead a three-month’s time, he came to a city; and outside the church door stood a big block of ice with a body inside it, and the whole congregation spat on it as they went past.
The boy wondered about this, and when the parson came out of the church, he asked him what it was all about.
“That is a grievous evil-doer,” said the parson. “He has been put to death for the sake of his ungodliness, and set up there to be scoffed and scorned.”
“What did he do, then?” asked the boy.
“In this life he was a wine-tapper,” said the parson, “and he mixed the wine with water!”
That didn’t seem to the boy to be such an evil deed, and as long as he had paid for it with his life, they might just as well let him have a Christian burial, and rest in peace after death.
No, said the parson, that could never be, not in any shape or form; for folk were needed to break him out of the ice, money was needed to buy consecrated ground from the church, the gravedigger had to be paid for the grave, the sexton for the hymns, and the parson for the commitment.
“Do you think anyone would pay all that for an executed sinner?” he asked.
Yes, said the boy, once he got him into the ground, he certainly would pay for the burial out of the little he had.
“Do you think anyone would pay all that for an executed sinner?” asked the parson.
So they broke the wine-tapper out of the block of ice, and laid him in consecrated ground; they rang and sang over him, and the parson scattered on the earth, and they caroused so at the burial feast that they laughed and cried by turns.
But when the boy had paid for the burial feast, he hadn’t many shillings left in his pocket.
He set out on his way again, but he hadn’t gone far before a man caught up with him, and asked if he didn’t think it was dreary to walk alone.
No, the boy didn’t think so, for he always had something to think about, he said.
But maybe he might need a servant all the same, asked the man.
“No,” said the boy. “I’m used to being my own servant, and even if I wanted to ever so much, I couldn’t afford one, for I haven’t money for board and wages.”
“You need a servant — I know that better than you,” said the man, “and you need a servant you can rely on in life and death. If you won’t have me for a servant, you can take me as a companion. I promise that you will benefit by me, and it shan’t cost you a shilling. I shall transport myself, and there won’t be any need for food and clothing.”
Well, on these conditions he’d be glad to have him as a companion.
From then on they travelled together, and most of the time the Companion went ahead and showed the way.
When they had travelled a long way through many a land, over hill and dale, they came to a mountain spur. Here the Companion knocked, and bade whoever was inside to open up. An opening appeared in the rock, and when they had gone a long way inside the mountain, a Troll-hag came forth with a chair and bade them, “Pray sit down, you must be tired,” she said.
“Sit down yourself!” said the man.
So she had to sit down, and when she was seated, she remained sitting there, for the chair was such that it did not let go whatever came near it. In the meantime they walked about inside the mountain, and the Companion looked around until he caught sight of a sword hanging over the door. He insisted on having it, and in return he promised the Troll-hag that he would let her out of the chair.
“Nay!” she shrieked. “Ask me for anything else! You can have anything else, but not that, for that’s my three-sister-sword!” There were three sisters who owned it together.
“Then you can sit there until the end of the world,” said the man.
But when she heard that, she said he could have the sword if only he would let her go.
So he took the sword and left with it, but he left her sitting there just the same.
When they had gone a long way, over bare mountains and broad moors, they came to another mountain spur. There the Companion knocked, and bade whoever was inside to open up. The same thing happened as before: an opening appeared, and when they had gone a long way inside the mountain, a Troll-hag came forth with a chair and bade them sit down; they must be tired, she said.
“Sit down yourself,” said the Companion, and then she fared just as her sister. She dared not do otherwise, and when she sat down in the chair, she remained sitting there. In the meantime the boy and the Companion walked about inside the mountain; and the Companion opened all the cupboards and drawers until he found what he was looking for: a ball of golden yarn. He insisted on having it, and he promised the Troll-hag that if she would give it to him, he would let her out of the chair. She said he could have anything else she owned, but that she didn’t want to lose, for it was her three-sister-ball. But when she heard she would be sitting there until Doomsday if he didn’t get it, she said he’d better take it all the same, if only he would let her go. The Companion took it, but he left her sitting where she was.
Then they walked for many days, over moors and through forests, until they came to another mountain spur. There the same thing happened as before: the Companion knocked, an opening appeared, and inside the mountain a Troll-hag came up with a chair and bade them sit down. But the Companion said, “Sit down yourself,” and there she sat. They hadn’t gone through many of the rooms before he caught sight of an old hat hanging on a peg behind the door. The Companion wanted to have it, but the hag wouldn’t part with it, for it was her three-sister-hat, and if she gave that away she would be downright unhappy. But when she heard that she would have to remain sitting until the end of the world if he didn’t get it, she said he could take it, if only he would let her go. When the Companion had safely got hold of the hat, he left her sitting where she was, just like her sisters.
At long last they came to a fjord. There the Companion took the ball of golden yarn, and threw it so hard against the cliff on the other side of the water that it came back again; and when he had thrown it a few times it became a bridge. They went over the fjord on it, and when they were on the other side, the man bade the boy wind up the yarn again as fast as he could, “for if we don’t get it up quickly, the three Troll-hags will come and tear us to bits!” he said. The boy started winding as fast as he could, and
when no more than the last thread was left, the Troll-hags came rushing up. They plunged down into the water so the spray rose before them, and made a grab at the end; but they couldn’t get hold of it, and so they were drowned in the fjord.
When they had walked some days more, the Companion said, “Now we shall soon come to the castle where she lives — the king’s daughter that you’ve dreamed of. And when we get there, you must go in and tell the king what you’ve dreamed, and what you’re searching for.”
When they arrived, the boy did just as he had been told, and he was quite well received; he was given a room to himself, and one for his servant, which they were to stay in, and when it was getting on towards dinner time, he was invited to sit at the king’s own table.
When he set eyes on the king’s daughter, he recognized her right away, and said that she was the one he had dreamed he was to marry. He told her his errand, and she replied that she liked him well, and would as soon take him. But first, she said, he must undergo three trials. When they had eaten, she gave him a pair of golden scissors, and then she said, “The first trial is that you must take these scissors and hide them, and give them back to me again tomorrow at midday. That’s not a difficult trial, I hardly think,” she said, making a face. “But if you fail, you’ll lose your life, that’s the law; and then you’ll be executed and broken on the wheel, and your head placed on a stake, just like those suitors whose skulls you see outside the windows!” Men’s skulls were hanging around the king’s manor like crows sitting on the fence pickets in the fall.
When no more than the last thread was left, the Troll-hags came rushing up and made a grab at the end.
That was easy enough, thought the boy. But the king’s daughter was so frolicsome and wild, and rollicked with him so that he forgot both the scissors and himself; and while they were romping and disporting themselves, she stole the scissors from him when he wasn’t looking.
When he came up to his chamber in the evening, and related what had happened, and what she had said about the scissors she had given him to hide, the Companion said, “You do have the scissors she gave you?”
He felt about in his pockets, but no scissors were there, and the boy was more than beside himself when he realized they were gone.
“Well, well, have patience. I’ll have to try to get them back for you again,” said the Companion, and went down to the stable. There stood a great big ram which belonged to the king’s daughter, and it could fly many times faster through the air than walk on the ground. So he took the three-sister-sword and struck it between its horns and said, “When does the king’s daughter ride to her lover tonight?”
The ram bleated and said it dared not say, but when it was struck one more blow, it said that the king’s daughter would come at eleven o’clock. The Companion put on the three-sister-hat, which made him invisible, and waited until she came. She smeared the ram with a salve which she had in a great horn, and then she said, “Aloft! Aloft! Over rooftree and church spire, over land, over water, over hill, over dale, to my lover who waits for me in the mountain tonight!”
At the same moment as the ram set off, the Companion flung himself onto its back, and off they went like the wind through the air. They weren’t long on the way. All at once they came to a mountain spur. There she knocked, and they passed inside the mountain to the Troll who was her lover.
“Now a new suitor has come to woo me, my friend,” said the king’s daughter. “He’s young and handsome, but I won’t have anyone else but you,” she said, making herself pleasing to the Mountain Troll. “So I put him to a test, and here are the scissors he was to hide and look after. You take care of them now,” she said. Then they both laughed heartily, as though the boy were already being broken on the wheel.
“Yes, I’ll hide them, and I’ll take care of them! And I’ll be sleeping in the arms of the bride, when the raven pecks at the boy’s insides!” said the Troll, and put the scissors in an iron casket which had three locks. But at the same moment as he dropped the scissors into the casket, the Companion took them. Neither of them could see him, for he was wearing the three-sister-hat, and so the Troll locked the casket for nothing, and he hid the keys in the hollow tooth where he had a toothache. The boy would have a hard time finding it there, he thought.
When it was getting on past midnight, the princess went home again. The Companion sat on the ram behind her, and they weren’t long on the homeward journey.
At dinner time the boy was invited to dine at the king’s table, but now the king’s daughter made such bored grimaces, and she sat so stiff and straight that she would hardly look in the direction where the boy was sitting.
When they had eaten, she put on her most angelic expression, made herself as sweet as butter, and said, “Perhaps you have the scissors I asked you to hide yesterday?”
“Yes, I have. There they are,” said the boy, and he pulled them out and drove them into the table so that plates and dishes jumped. The king’s daughter couldn’t have been more uncomfortable if he’d hurled the scissors in her face. But she made herself nice and sweet all the same, and said. “Since you’ve taken such good care of the scissors, it won’t be difficult for you to hide my ball of golden yarn, and take care of it so that you can give it back to me by midday tomorrow. But if you haven’t got it, then you’ll lose your life and be put to death, for that’s the law,” she said.
Then they both laughed heartily.
That was an easy matter, thought the boy, and put the ball in his pocket. But she started joking and rollicking with him again, so he forgot both himself and the ball; and while they were romping and disporting themselves to their hearts’ content, she stole it from him and let him go.
When he came up to his chamber, and told the Companion what they had said and done, he asked, “You do have the ball of golden yarn which she gave you?”
“Yes, I have it,” said the boy and grabbed at the pocket where he had put it. But no, he hadn’t any golden ball, and now he was so beside himself again that he didn’t know what to do.
“All right, have patience,” said the Companion. “I’ll have to try to get hold of it,” he said, and taking the sword and the hat, he strode off to a blacksmith and had twelve iron crowbars put on his sword.
When he came into the stall, he gave the ram a blow between the horns with the sword, so that the sparks flew, and then he asked, “When does the king’s daughter ride to her lover tonight?”
“Twelve o’clock,” bleated the ram.
The Companion put on the three-sister-hat again, and waited until she came rushing in with the horn, and smeared the ram. Then she said, like the first time, “Aloft, aloft! Over rooftree and church spire, over land, over water, over hill, over dale, to my lover who waits for me in the mountain tonight!”
Just as they set off, the Companion jumped up onto the ram’s back, and they went like the wind through the air. All at once they came to the Troll-mountain, and when she had knocked three times, they flew in to the Troll who was her lover.
“How did you hide the golden scissors I gave you yesterday, my friend?” asked the king’s daughter. “My suitor had them and gave them back to me again,” she said.
That was downright impossible, said the Troll, for he had locked them in a casket with three locks, and hidden the keys in his hollow tooth. But when they opened it up to look for them, the Troll had no scissors in the casket. Then the king’s daughter told him that she had given the suitor her ball of golden thread.
“Here it is,” she said, “for I took it from him when he wasn’t looking. But what shall we think of now, since he knows such tricks?”
Well, the Troll didn’t quite know. But when they had thought about it a bit, they decided to make a big fire and burn the golden ball. Then they’d be certain that he couldn’t get hold of it. But at the same moment as she threw the yarn onto the fire, the Companion was ready and grabbed it, and neither of them saw him take it, for he was wearing the three-sister-hat!
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nbsp; When the king’s daughter had been with the Troll a while, and it was getting on toward morning, she went home again. The Companion sat on the ram behind her, and they travelled both fast and well.
When the boy was invited to dinner, the Companion gave him the ball. The king’s daughter was even more stiff and staid than the last time, and when they had eaten she pursed her lips and said, “I don’t suppose it’s likely that I’ll get back my ball of golden yarn which I gave you yesterday to hide?”
“Why, yes,” said the boy. “You shall have it. Here it is!” And he threw it down on the table, so that the table jumped and the king hopped high in the air.
The king’s daughter turned as pale as a corpse. But she soon made herself cheerful again, and said that it was well done. Now she had only one more little trial. “If you’re clever enough to fetch me what I’m thinking about by midday tomorrow, then I’m yours to have and to hold,” she said.
The boy felt as though he had been sentenced to death, for he thought there was no way of knowing what she was thinking about, let alone getting it for her; and when he went up to his chamber, it was almost impossible to calm him. But the Companion told him not to worry. He would take care of the matter just as he had done on the other two occasions. And at last the boy calmed down and went to sleep.
In the meantime, the Companion rushed off to the blacksmith and had twenty-four iron crowbars put on his sword. And when that was done, he went to the stall and gave the ram such a blow between the horns that the sound rang around the walls.
“When does the king’s daughter go to her lover tonight?” he said.
“One o’clock,” bleated the ram.
As the hour approached, the Companion waited in the stall with the three-sister-hat on. And when the princess had smeared the ram and said what she usually said, that they were to fly through the air to her lover who was waiting for her in the mountain, they were off through wind and weather again, with the Companion sitting behind. But this time he wasn’t gentle, for all at once he gave the king’s daughter a squeeze here and a squeeze there, so hard that he almost crippled her for life. When they came to the mountain spur, she knocked on the gate until it opened, and they flew in through the mountain to her lover.
Norwegian Folktales Page 9
