“Well, take the pig then!” said the bailiff.
“Do you think she’s making me a present of the pork?” asked the Devil. “What would she have for her Sunday dinners in winter? No, that didn’t come from the heart!”
So they walked on until they came to another cottage. Here the little child had been up to some mischief. “Right now I’ve had enough of you!” said the mother. “I do nothing else but wash and wipe and tidy up after this nasty brat! Devil take you!” she said.
“Well, take the child then!” said the bailiff.
“Oh, it doesn’t come from the heart when a mother curses her child,” said the Devil.
So they walked a bit farther. Then they met two farmers.
“There’s that bailiff of ours,” said one.
“Devil take that farmer-fleecer alive!” said the other.
“That came from the heart, it did!” said the Devil. “So come with me!”
And that time neither praying nor pleading helped.
THE ASH LAD AND THE GOOD HELPERS
There was once a king, and that king had heard tell of a ship that went just as fast on land as on water. So he too wanted to have such a ship, and to the one who could build it he promised his daughter and half the kingdom. And this he had proclaimed in all the churches throughout the land. There were many who tried, you might know, for surely half the kingdom would be good to have, they thought, and the king’s daughter would be fine to have in the bargain. But all of them fared badly.
Now there were three brothers living in a parish away in the woods; the eldest was called Per, the next one Paul, and the youngest was called Espen Ash Lad, because he always sat, and poked and raked in the ashes. But on the Sunday when the proclamation was made about the ship the king wanted, it just happened that he was at church — he too. When he came home and told the others about it, Per, who was the eldest, asked his mother for provisions, for now he wanted to set out and see if he couldn’t build the ship, and win the king’s daughter and half the kingdom.
When he had got the knapsack of provisions on his back, he strode off. On the way he met a bent and wizzened old man.
“Where are you off to?” said the man.
“I’m going off to the woods to make a trough for my father. He doesn’t like to eat with the rest of us,” said Per.
“Trough it’ll be!” said the man. “What’ve you got in your knapsack?”
The ship that went just as well on land as on water.
“Manure!” said Per.
“Manure it’ll be!” said the man.
So Per strode over to the oak grove and chopped and built for all he was worth; but for all he chopped, and for all he built, all he turned out was troughs and more troughs. When it was getting on to lunch time, and he was going to have something to eat, he opened the knapsack. But it wasn’t food that was in the sack. And as he now had nothing to eat, and he fared no better with the building, he got tired of the work, put the axe and the knapsack on his back, and went off home to his mother again.
Then Paul wanted to set out, and try his hand at building the ship and winning the king’s daughter and half the kingdom. He asked his mother for provisions, and when he had got them, he put the knapsack on his back and set out for the woods. On the way he met a bent and wizened old man.
“Where are you off to?” said the man.
“Oh, I’m going off to the woods to make a pig-trough for that little piglet of ours,” said Paul.
“Pig-trough it’ll be!” said the man. “What have you got in your sack?” asked the man.
“Manure!” said Paul.
“Manure it’ll be!” said the man.
So Paul strode off to the woods, and started chopping and building for all he was worth. But no matter how he chopped, and no matter how he put the wood together, he turned out nothing but trough-shapes and pig-troughs. He didn’t give up, though, but kept at it until late in the afternoon before he thought of having a little to eat. Then he was so hungry, all at once, that he had to get out his knapsack. But when he took it up, there wasn’t a crumb of food in it. Paul was so angry that he wrung the sack inside out and dashed it against a stump, and took the axe and strode out of the woods, and made for home straightaway.
When Paul had come home, the Ash Lad wanted to set out, and asked his mother for provisions. “Maybe I could manage to get the ship built, and win the king’s daughter and half the kingdom,” he said.
“Yes, that’d be likely!” said his mother. “You, who never do anything but root and rake in the ashes! No! You’ll get no provisions!” said the old woman.
The Ash Lad didn’t give up for that. He pleaded so long that at last he was allowed to go. He got no provisions, not likely! But he sneaked along a couple of oatcakes and a drop of stale beer, and set out on his way.
When he had gone a short distance, he met the same bent and wizzened old fellow, who was so feeble.
“Where are you off to?” said the man.
“Oh, I was going to the woods, as it happens, to build a ship which goes just as well on land as on water,” said the Ash Lad. “For the king has proclaimed that the one who can build such a ship will get the king’s daughter and half the kingdom,” he said.
“What do you have in your sack?” asked the man.
“Oh, it’s not much to speak of. It’s meant to be provisions,” replied the Ash Lad.
“If you’ll give me a little of your provisions, I shall help you,” said the man.
“Gladly,” said the Ash Lad, “but it’s nothing more than a couple of oatcakes and a drop of stale beer.”
It did not matter to the old man what it was; if only he got it, he would help him all right.
When they came to the old oak in the woods, the man said, “Now you’re to cut out a chip and put it in again where it came from. And, when you’ve done that, you can lie down and go to sleep.”
Well, the Ash Lad did as the old man said: he lay down to sleep, and in his sleep it seemed to him that he heard chopping, and hammering, and building, and sawing, and joining; but he could not wake up before the man woke him. There stood the ship, completely finished, alongside the oak.
“Now you’re to climb aboard, and you’re to take everyone you meet with you,” said the fellow. Well, Espen Ash Lad thanked him for the ship, and sailed away, and said he would do as the man told him.
When he had sailed a little way, he came to a long, skinny knave who lay on a hillside eating rubble.
“What sort of a fellow are you to be lying here eating rubble?” asked the Ash Lad.
The knave said he was so hungry for meat that he could never got his fill. That was why he had to eat rubble. And then he asked if he could come along on the ship.
“If you want to come along, just climb in,” said the Ash Lad.
Yes, that he’d like of course, and so he took some rubble with him for provisions.
When they had sailed a bit farther, they met a fellow who was lying on a sunny hillside sucking a barrel tap.
… he came to a long, skinny knave who lay on a hillside eating rubble.
“What sort of a fellow are you?” said Espen Ash Lad. “And what’s the good of lying sucking that barrel tap?”
“Oh, when one hasn’t got the barrel, one must make do with the tap,” said the man. “I’m always so thirsty that I can never drink my fill of beer or wine,” he said, and then he asked if he could come along on the ship.
“If you want to come along, just climb in,” said the Ash Lad.
Yes, that he’d like, so he climbed aboard, and took the tap with him for the sake of his thirst.
When they had sailed a bit farther, they met a man who was lying with one ear to the ground, listening.
“What sort of fellow are you, and what’s the good of lying on the ground listening?” said Espen Ash Lad.
“I’m listening to the grass, for my hearing is so good that I can hear it grow,” he said, and then he asked if he could come along on the shi
p.
There was no refusing him. “If you want to come along, just climb in,” said the Ash Lad.
Yes, that he’d like, and so he climbed aboard — he too!
When they had sailed a bit farther, they came to a man who was standing and aiming a gun.
“What sort of fellow are you, and what’s the good of standing and aiming like that?” said the Ash Lad.
“My sight is so keen,” he said, “that without difficulty I can shoot straight to the world’s end.” Then he asked if he could come along on the ship.
“If you want to come along, just climb in,” said the Ash Lad.
Yes, that he’d like, and climbed up.
When they had sailed a bit farther, they came to a man hopping about on one foot, and on the other he had seven hundred-weights.
“What sort of a fellow are you, and what’s the good of hopping about on one foot, with seven hundred-weights on the other?”
“I’m so fleet-footed,” he said, “that if I walked on both feet, I’d come to the end of the world in less than five minutes.” Then he asked if he could come along on the ship.
“If you want to come along, just climb in,” said the Ash Lad.
Yes, that he’d like, and so he climbed up in the ship to join the Ash Lad and his companions.
When they had sailed a bit farther, they met a man who stood holding his hand over his mouth.
“What sort of a fellow are you,” said the Ash Lad, “and what’s the good of standing like that and holding your hand over your mouth?” he said.
“Oh, I’ve got seven summers and fifteen winters inside my body!” he said. “So I’d better hold my mouth, for if I let them out all at once, they’d put an end to the world right away,” he said, and then he asked if he could come along.
“If you want to come along, just climb in,” said the Ash Lad.
Yes, he’d like to come along, so he climbed aboard the ship with the others.
When they had sailed a good while, they came to the king’s manor.
The Ash Lad strode right in to the king and said that the ship was standing ready in the yard, and now he wanted the king’s daughter, just as the king has promised.
The king wasn’t any too pleased about this, for the Ash Lad didn’t look as if he was worth very much. He was both black and sooty, and the king hardly wanted to give his daughter to such a tramp. So he said he’d have to wait a while. He couldn’t have the princess before he had emptied a storehouse of the king’s which had three hundred barrels of meat in it. “It’s all the same — if you can get it done by this time tomorrow, you shall have her,” said the king.
“I’ll have to try,” said the Ash Lad, “but I suppose I’ll be allowed to take one of my comrades along, won’t I?”
Yes, he could do that — he could even take all six with him, said the king, for he thought the task was out-and-out impossible.
The Ash Lad only took with him the man who ate rubble, and was always so hungry for meat. And no sooner had they unlocked the storehouse, than he had eaten it all up, so there was nothing left but six small shoulders of salt mutton, one for each of the others on board.
Then the Ash Lad strode in to the king and told him that the storehouse was empty, and now he must surely get the king’s daughter.
The king went out to the storehouse, and found it empty right enough. But the Ash Lad was still black and sooty, and the king thought it was really too bad that such a tramp should wed his daughter. So he said he had a cellar full of beer and old wine — three hundred barrels of each — which he wanted to have drunk up first. “And it’s a sure thing, if you’re man enough to drink them up by this time tomorrow, then you shall have her,” said the king.
“I’ll have to try,” said the Ash Lad. “But I suppose I’ll be allowed take one of my comrades along, won’t I?”
“Yes, certainly,” said the king. He felt he had so much beer and wine that they would be well taken care of — all seven!
The Ash Lad took with him the man who sucked the tap, and always thirsted after beer; and then the king locked them down in the cellar. There the man drank barrel after barrel, as long as there was anything left. But in the last one he left a drop, so there would be a couple of tankards apiece for each of his comrades.
In the morning the cellar was unlocked, and straightaway the Ash Lad strode in to the king and said he had dealt with the beer and wine, and now he surely must get the king’s daughter, just as he had been promised.
“Well, first I must go down to the cellar and see,” said the king, for he didn’t believe it. When he came down to the cellar, there were nothing but empty barrels. But the Ash Lad was still black and sooty, and the king felt it was unseemly to have such a son-in-law. Just the same, he said, if the boy could fetch water from the world’s end for the princess’s tea in ten minutes, then he should get both her and half the kingdom! For that was out-and-out impossible, he believed.
He took off the weights, got a pail, and set out — and gone he was in a flash.
“I’ll have to try,” said the Ash Lad.
So he got hold of the one who hopped on one foot and had seven hundred-weights on the other, and said he must kick off the weights and use both legs as fast as he could, for he had to have water from the world’s end for the princess’s tea in ten minutes!
The man took off the weights, got a pail, and set out — and gone he was in a flash. But time dragged on and on — seven long and seven broad — and he didn’t come back. At last there were only three minutes before the time was up, and the king was as delighted as if he had been given a shilling.
But then the Ash Lad shouted to the man who could hear the grass grow, and told him to listen to find out what had become of the other.
“He has fallen asleep beside the well,” he said. “I can hear him snoring, and the Troll is combing his hair.”
So the Ash Lad shouted to the one who could shoot straight to the world’s end, and bade him put a shot into the Troll. Yes, this he did! He shot him right in the eye. The Troll let out a roar, so that the man who was to fetch the tea-water woke up at once. And when he came to the king’s manor, there was still a minute of the ten left.
The Ash Lad strode in to the king and said that here was the water, and now he surely must get the king’s daughter, there was certainly no more to be said about that. But the king thought that he was as black and sooty as ever, and he didn’t like having him for a son-in-law. So the king said that he had three hundred cords of wood with which he was going to dry the grain in the bathhouse,” and it’s all the same, if you’re man enough to sit in there and burn it up, then you shall have her. There’s nothing more to be said about that,” he said.
“I’ll have to try,” said the Ash Lad, “but I suppose I can take one of my comrades along with me, can’t I?”
“Yes, all six if you like,” said the king, for he thought it would be hot enough for them all.
The Ash Lad took with him the man who had the fifteen winters and seven summers in his body, and strode into the bathhouse in the evening. But the king had got such a roaring fire going, that they could easily have cast stoves of iron. They could not get out, for no sooner were they in than the king barred the door and put on a couple of extra padlocks.
So the Ash Lad said; “You’ll have to let out six or seven winters so there’ll be a passable summer warmth.”
Then they managed to hold out in there, but as night was drawing on, it became quite chilly. So the Ash Lad told him to warm it up a bit with a couple of summers, and then they slept until well into the next day. But when they heard the king rummaging about outside, the Ash Lad said, “Now you must let out a couple more winters, but do it so that the last one goes right in his face!”
Yes, he did just that, and when the king opened up the bathhouse, thinking they were lying there burnt to a cinder, they sat shivering and freezing so their teeth were chattering, and the man with the fifteen winters in his body let go the last one rig
ht in the king’s face, so a big chilblain appeared.
“Do I get the king’s daughter now?” said the Ash Lad.
“Yes! Take her and keep her, and take the kingdom too!” said the king. He dared not say ‘No’ any longer.
So they held the wedding, and reveled and made merry, and fired off shots to scare away troll hags! And, as they were rushing about groping for a bullet wadding, they mistook me for one, and gave me porridge in a flask and milk in a basket, and shot me straight here so I could tell you how it all came about.
GUDBRAND OF THE HILLSIDE
Once upon a time there was a man whose name was Gudbrand; he had a farm which lay far up on a hillside, and so they called him ‘Gudbrand of the Hillside’. He and his wife lived so happily together, and were on such good terms, that whatever the husband did, the wife thought it so well done that it could never be done better. No matter how he went about anything, she was just as happy. They owned their farm, and had a hundred dalers laid up at the bottom of the chest, and two cows tethered in the barn.
But one day the wife said, “I think we should go to town with one of the cows and sell her, then we could have some pocket money. We’re such fine folk that we can just as well have some ready cash as other people do. We can’t dip into the hundred dalers lying at the bottom of the chest, but I don’t know what we need with more than one cow. And we’d gain a little by it too, in that I’d get off with caring for one instead of feeding and cleaning up after two.”
Well, Gudbrand thought this was both well and rightly said, so he took the cow and went to town to sell it. But when he came to the town, there was no one who wanted to buy his cow. “Well, well,” thought Gudbrand, “I can just go home again with the cow. I know I have both stall and tether for her, and the road back is no longer than the road here.” And with that he started dawdling home again.
But when he had gone a mile or two on the way, he met a man who had a horse he wanted to sell, and as Gudbrand thought it would be better to have a horse than a cow, he traded with the man. When he had gone a little farther, he met a man driving a fat pig before him, and now Gudbrand thought it would be better to have a fat pig than a horse, so he traded with the man. He went a little farther, and then he met a man with a goat. Gudbrand thought very likely it would be better to have a goat than a pig, so he traded with the man. Then he walked a long way until he met a man who had a sheep, and he traded with him too, for he thought: “It’s always better to have a sheep than a goat.” Now when he had gone another short distance he met a man who had a goose, so he swapped his sheep for the goose. And after he had gone a long way farther, he met a man with a rooster. Again he traded with the man, for he thought this way: “It’s always better to have a rooster than a goose.”
Norwegian Folktales Page 17
