Norwegian Folktales

by Peter Christen Asbjornsen

  Well, they went upstream, and looked and searched above the falls. There lay the old woman!

  She was the old woman against the stream, she was!

  THE HARE WHO HAD BEEN MARRIED

  There was once a Hare who went for a walk in the green field. “Hop and skip and jump ahigh,” sang the Hare in great glee, and bounced and vaulted hither and thither, and now and then he stood up on his hind legs and looked around and listened.

  Then a Fox came sneaking across the field.

  “Good day, good day,” said the Hare. “I’m so happy today for having been married, so happy that I must tell you all about it.”

  “That must have been very nice,” said the Fox.

  “Well, it wasn’t always so nice either, for she was pretty tough at times too. A real devil she could be, the one I got for a wife,” said the Hare.

  “It must have been really too bad for you, then,” said the Fox.

  “Oh, but it wasn’t altogether as bad as it might have been. I got a good dowry with her, for she had a house of her own,” said the Hare.

  “But that was a fine thing to get,” said the Fox.

  “Well, that wasn’t so good either, for the house burnt down,” said the Hare. “And everything we owned went up in flames.”

  “Oh, but that really was too bad!” said the Fox.

  “No, it wasn’t so bad after all, for she burnt up with it,” said the Hare.

  THE HOUSE MOUSE AND THE COUNTRY MOUSE

  There were once a House Mouse and a Country Mouse who met on the edge of the forest. The Country Mouse sat in a hazel bush gathering nuts.

  “Blessings on your work!” said the House Mouse. “Do I meet kinsfolk so far out here in the country?”

  “Yes, indeed,” said the Country Mouse.

  “You’re gathering nuts, I see, and taking them home,” said the House Mouse.

  “I have to, if we’re to have anything to live on during the winter,” said the Country Mouse.

  “The husks are big and the shells are full this year, so they’ll go a long way to fill stomachs,” said the House Mouse.

  “That is indeed so,” said the Country Mouse, who declared that she was well off and lived comfortably.

  The House Mouse maintained that she was better off; but the Country Mouse stuck to her point, and said there was no place as good as forest and mountain, and that she was better off herself. The House Mouse said she was better off, and this they could not agree on. At last they promised to visit one another at Christmas time so they could see which one was better off.

  The House Mouse was the first to go on her Christmas visit. She scurried through forest and deep valleys, and even though the Country Mouse had moved down the mountain for the winter, the way was both long and hard. It was uphill, and the snow was deep and loose, so that she grew both tired and hungry before she got there.

  “Now it will be good to have some food,” she thought when she arrived.

  The Country Mouse had scraped together pretty well: there were nut kernels, and many different kinds of roots, and all sorts of good things which grow in forest and field. She had stored it all in a hole deep down in the ground so that it wouldn’t freeze. Close by was a spring which was open the whole winter so she could drink as much water as she wanted.

  There was enough of what there was, and they ate both heartily and well; but the House Mouse thought it no more than the bare necessities of life.

  “On this one can keep alive,” she said, “but it’s not particularly good. Now you must be so kind as to come to see me, and taste my food.”

  Yes, this the Country Mouse would do, and it wasn’t long before she came. The House Mouse had gathered together all the Christmas fare which the wife of the house had spilled. There were bits of cheese, and butter, and tallow, and crumbs of buttered bannock and oatcakes spread with cream. In the pan set to catch the drip from the beer tap she had drink enough, and the whole parlor was filled with all kinds of good things to eat. They ate and lived well, and there was almost no end to the Country Mouse’s appetite: such food she had never tasted. Then she became thirsty, for the food was both rich and fat, she said, and at last she had to have a drink.

  “It’s not far to the beer. This is where we drink,” said the House Mouse, and she jumped up on the edge of the pan; but she drank no more than would quench her thirst for she knew the Christmas beer and knew it was strong. But the Country Mouse thought it was a glorious drink — she had never tasted anything but water — and took one sip after the other. She wasn’t used to strong drink, so she was tipsy before she came down off the pan. Then she became light-headed, and it went to her feet, and she took to running and hopping from one beer barrel to the other, and dancing and cavorting on the shelves among the cups and mugs, and peeping and squeaking as though she were both drunk and mad — and drunk she was, too, by now!

  Then she became light-headed, and it went to her feet, and she took to running and hopping from one beer barrel to the other.

  And whoosh! The Country Mouse darted into the hole of the House Mouse.

  “You mustn’t carry on as though you’ve just come out of the mountain today,” said the House Mouse. “Don’t make such a fuss and don’t kick up such a racket. We’ve got quite a strict bailiff here,” she said.

  The Country Mouse said she respected neither bailiff nor tramp.

  But the Cat sat dozing on the cellar door, and heard both the chattering and the commotion. Just then the wife went down to tap beer into a jug, and lifted up the door, so the Cat slipped into the cellar and pounced on the Country Mouse. And now she danced to another tune, I can tell you. The House Mouse popped into her hole, and sat safely watching the Country Mouse, who sobered up at once when she felt the Cat’s claws.

  “Oh, my dear bailiff! My dear bailiff! Have mercy and spare my life, and I’ll tell you a story,” she said.

  “Out with it!” said the Cat.

  “Once there were two little mice,” said the Country Mouse, squeaking slowly and so pitiably, for she wanted to drag it out as long as she could.

  “Then they weren’t alone!” said the Cat, both short and cross.

  “Then we had a roast we were going to roast for ourselves.”

  “Then you didn’t go hungry!” said the Cat.

  “Then we put it out on the roof to cool off,” said the Country Mouse.

  “Then you didn’t burn yourselves,” said the Cat.

  “Then the Fox and the Crow came and took it and ate it,” said the Country Mouse.

  “Then I’m going to eat you!” said the Cat.

  But at that moment the wife slammed the cellar door, and the Cat was so startled that he let go his hold. And whoosh! The Country Mouse darted into the hole of the House Mouse. From there she went right out into the snow, and she wasn’t slow in heading for home.

  “You call this being well off, and say that you live best?” the Country Mouse said to the House Mouse. “Heaven content me with less, then, instead of such a big manor and such a hawk for a bailiff. Why, I barely got away with my life!”

  THE BEAR AND THE FOX WHO MADE A BET

  There was once a Bear who came trudging across a swamp carrying a fat pig. The Fox sat high up on a stone by the edge of the swamp.

  “How do you do, grandpa,” said the Fox. “What is that good thing you have there?” he asked.

  “Pork!” said the Bear.

  “I, too, have something that tastes very good,” said the Fox.

  “What’s that?” said the Bear.

  “It’s the largest bees’ nest I’ve ever found,” said the Fox.

  “Is that so?” said the Bear, grinning and drooling. How good he thought it would be to have a little honey!

  “Shall we swap?” said the Bear.

  “Oh no! Not me!” said the Fox.

  But then they made a bet, and agreed that they were to name three different kinds of trees. If the Fox could say it faster than the Bear, he should get one bite of the pork
. But if the Bear could say it faster, he was to have one suck at the nest. He would certainly manage to drain all the honey in one suck, thought the Bear.

  “That will be all right with me,” said the Fox. “But if I win, I want you to pull out all the bristles where I want to bite.”

  “To be sure. I’ll do it if you can’t manage it yourself,” said the Bear.

  So then they got ready to name the trees.

  “Spruce, fir and pine!” growled the Bear in a gruff voice.

  But this was only one tree, for spruce is nothing but fir.

  “Ash, aspen, oak!” shrieked the Fox so the forest rang.

  Now he had won the bet, and he rushed down and took the heart out of the pig in one bite, and was about to run away. But now the Bear was angry because the Fox had taken the choicest part of the whole pig, and, catching the Fox on the run, he held him fast by his tail.

  “Wait a bit!” shouted the Bear and was white with rage.

  “Well, it’s the same to me, grandpa. If you’ll let me go, I’ll give you a taste of my honey,” said the Fox.

  When the Bear heard that, he let go his hold, and the Fox went up after the honey.

  “Here on this bees’ nest,” said the Fox, “I’m holding a leaf, and under that leaf is a hole which you can suck through,” he said. And at the same moment as he held the nest up under the Bear’s nose, he took the leaf away, hopped up on the stone, and began to giggle and laugh. For there was neither a bees’ nest nor honey. It was a wasps’ nest as big as a man’s head, full of wasps; and the wasps came swarming out of the nest and stung the Bear’s eyes and ears and mouth and nose. And he was so busy scraping them off that he had no time to think of the Fox.

  From that day all bears have been afraid of wasps.

  SQUIRE PER

  There was once a poor couple; they had nothing but three sons. What the two eldest were called, I do not know, but the youngest was named Per.

  When the parents died the children were to inherit from them, but there was nothing left but a pot, a griddle and a cat. The eldest, who was to have first choice, took the pot. “When I loan out the pot, I’ll always be allowed to scrape it,” he said. The next one took the griddle. “For when I loan out the griddle, I’ll always get a taste of oatcake,” he said. But the youngest had no choice; if he wanted anything, it would have to be the cat. “If I loan out the cat, then I won’t get anything for her, I’m sure,” he said. “If the cat gets a drop of milk, she’ll have it herself. But I’d better take her along all the same. It would be a shame for her to wander about here and die.”

  So the brothers set out into the world to seek their fortunes, and each took his own way.

  But when the youngest had walked a while, the cat said, “You shall indeed be repaid for not wanting to leave me behind in that old cottage to die. Now I’m going into the forest to find some strange animals. Then you’re to go up to the king’s manor you see over there, and say you have come with a little present for the king. And when he asks who it’s from, you’re to say it’s from ‘Squire Per’.”

  Well, Per hadn’t waited long before the cat came back with a reindeer from the forest. She had jumped up onto the reindeer’s head, and sat down between its horns. “If you don’t go straight to the king’s manor, I’ll scratch out your eyes!” she said, and then the reindeer dared not do otherwise.

  Now when Per came to the king’s manor, he went into the kitchen with the reindeer and said, “I’ve come with a little present for the king, I have, if he won’t look down his nose at it.”

  The king came out to the kitchen, and when he saw that fine reindeer he certainly was glad. “But my dear friend, who is sending me such a generous gift?” said the king.

  “Oh, it comes from Squire Per, to be sure,” said the boy.

  “Squire Per?” said the king. “Now where would he be living?” he said, for he thought it a shame not to know such a fine man.

  But the boy wouldn’t tell that at all; he dared not for fear of his master, he said. So the king gave Per a big tip, and bade him greet them heartily at home, and say many thanks for the present.

  The next day the cat went to the forest again, and jumped onto the head of a stag, sat herself between its eyes, and forced it to go to the king’s manor. There Per went with it into the kitchen again, and said he had come back with a little present for the king, if he wouldn’t look down his nose at it. The king was even happier about the stag than he had been about the reindeer, and asked again who could be sending him such a generous present.

  “It’s from Squire Per, to be sure,” said the boy, but when the king wanted to know where Squire Per lived, he got the same answer as the day before, and that time Per received an even bigger tip.

  On the third day the cat came with an elk. So when Per went into the kitchen of the king’s manor, he said that he had still another little present for the king, if he wouldn’t look down his nose at it. The king came out to the kitchen at once, and when he caught sight of that big, fine elk, he was so happy that he didn’t know which foot to stand on, and that day he gave Per a much, much bigger tip; indeed, it was a hundred dalers. He insisted on knowing where Squire Per lived, and pried and asked questions about one thing and another; but the boy said that he dared not tell because his master had forbidden it, and that both strictly and sternly.

  “Then bid Squire Per to look in on me,” said the king.

  Yes, that would do, the boy said.

  “Squire Per?” said the king.

  But when he came out of the king’s manor again, and met the cat, he said, “Well, you’ve landed me in a fine mess, you have. Now the king wants me to pay him a visit, and I have nothing but these rags I stand and walk in.”

  “Oh, don’t be afraid about that,” said the cat. “In three days you shall have horses and a carriage, and such fine clothes that the gold will be dripping off you. Then you can certainly visit the king. But no matter what you see at the king’s manor, you’re to say that everything is much finer and more splendid at home. That you must not forget!”

  No, Per certainly wouldn’t forget that, he thought.

  When the three days were up, the cat came with a carriage and horses, and clothing, and all that Per needed; everything was so fine that no one had seen such things before. Then he set out, and the cat sprang along ahead. The king received him both kindly and well, but no matter what the king offered him, and no matter what he showed him, Per said it was good enough, but what he had at home was even finer and more splendid. The king didn’t like this at all, but Per stuck to it, and at last the king grew so angry that he couldn’t control himself any longer.

  “Now I want to go home with you,” said the king, “and see if it’s true that everything’s so much finer and more splendid. But if you’re lying, then woe be unto you! I’m not saying any more, I’m not!”

  “Well, you’ve really landed me in a fine mess!” said Per to the cat. “Now the king wants to come home with me; but my home — that’s certainly no easy matter to find.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about that,” said the Cat. “You just follow where I lead.”

  Then they set out, first Per who drove behind the cat, who ran ahead, and the king with all his company.

  Now when they had driven a good distance, they came to a big herd of pretty sheep, with wool so long that it almost reached the ground.

  “If you’ll say that this herd of sheep belongs to Squire Per, when the king asks you, you’ll get this silver spoon,” said the cat to the shepherd. She had taken the silver spoon from the king’s manor.

  Yes, he’d do it gladly.

  So when the king came, he said to the shepherd, “Now I’ve never seen such a big herd of pretty sheep! Who owns it, my little lad?”

  “Oh, it’s Squire Per’s, to be sure,” said the boy.

  In a little while they came to a big, big herd of fine brindled cows. They were so glossy they shone.

  “If you’ll say that this herd belongs to Sq
uire Per, when the king asks you, you’ll get this silver ladle,” said the cat to the shepherdess. The cat had also taken the silver ladle from the king’s manor.

  “Yes, gladly,” said the shepherdess.

  So when the king came, he was quite astounded at the big, fine herd, for such a beautiful herd he had never seen before. He asked the shepherdess who owned those brindled cattle there.

  “Oh, it’s Squire Per,” said the maiden.

  They travelled a little farther, and then they came to a big, big herd of horses; they were the handsomest horses any one ever saw, big and fat, and six of each color — red, and white, and black.

  “If you’ll say that this herd of horses belongs to Squire Per, when the king asks you, you’ll get this silver goblet,” said the cat to the herder. She had also taken the goblet from the king’s manor.

  Yes, he’d do that all right, said the boy.

  So when the king came, he was greatly astonished over that big, fine herd of horses; for he had never seen the like of such horses, he said. So he asked the herder whom these red, and white, and black horses belonged to.

  “They’re Squire Per’s, to be sure,” said the boy.

  Now, when they had journeyed a good distance farther, they came to a castle. First there was a gate of brass, then one of silver, and then one of gold. The castle itself was of silver, and so splendid that it hurt the eyes, for the sun was shining full on it when they arrived. They went in, and the cat told Per to say he lived here. Inside, the castle was even more splendid than outside: everything was of gold — chairs, tables and benches. And when the king had gone about and looked at everything, both upstairs and down, he was quite ashamed.

  The king asked the shepherd boy whom the red and white and black horses belonged to. “Why, they’re Squire Per’s,” said the boy.