Norwegian Folktales

by Peter Christen Asbjornsen

  He walked on until it was late in the day, and he began to be hungry. So he sold the rooster for twelve shillings, and bought himself something to eat with the money. “It’s better to save a life than to have a rooster,” thought Gudbrand of the Hillside. Then he continued on his way home until he came to the farm of his nearest neighbor. There he went in.

  “Well, how did you make out in town today?” asked the people.

  “Oh, so-so,” said Gudbrand of the Hillside. “I can’t exactly brag about my luck, but neither can I complain about it.” And with that he told his story from beginning to end.

  “Well, you will have a hot reception when you get home to your wife,” said the farmer. “Heaven help you! I wouldn’t want to be in your place.”

  “I think it could have turned out worse,” said Gudbrand of the Hillside. “But whether it’s turned out well or badly, my old woman is so kind-hearted that she never says anything, no matter what I do.”

  “Well, to be sure that’s what I hear, not that I believe it,” said the neighbor.

  “Are you willing to make a bet with me about it?” asked Gudbrand of the Hillside. “I have a hundred dalers stored away at the bottom of the chest at home. Do you dare to put up an equal amount as a bet?”

  Well, they made the bet, and then Gudbrand stayed at his neighbor’s until evening. After dark they pottered off together to Gudbrand’s farm. There the neighbor stayed outside the door to listen, while Gudbrand went inside by himself to his old woman.

  “Good evening,” said Gudbrand of the Hillside when he came in.

  “Good evening,” said the wife. “Oh, God be praised! Is that you?”

  Yes, that it was.

  Then the wife asked how he had made out in town.

  “Oh, so-so,” answered Gudbrand. “Not much to brag about. When I got to town there was no one who wanted to buy the cow, so I swapped it for a horse, I did.”

  “Well, you shall really have thanks for that,” said the wife. “We’re good enough people to drive to church like other folks. And as long as we can afford to have a horse, we may just as well get used to one. Go down and let in the horse, children!”

  “Well,” said Gudbrand, “I don’t have the horse any more. When I had gone a bit on the way I swapped it for a pig.”

  “And thanks to you for that!” said the wife.

  “Nay! Nay!” cried the wife. “That’s just what I would have done! You deserve a thousand thanks. Now we can have pork in the house, and something to set before people when they look in on us, we too! What would we need a horse for? People would only say we had become so high and mighty that we could no longer walk to church as before. Go down and let in the pig, children!”

  “But I don’t have the pig, either,” said Gudbrand. “When I came a bit farther, I swapped it for a goat.”

  “Oh nay! Oh nay! How well you do everything!” cried the wife. “When I really think of it, what should I do with a pig? People would only have said, ‘over there they eat up everything they have’. Nay, with a goat I’ll get both milk and cheese, and still keep the goat. Let in the goat, children!”

  “But I haven’t got the goat anymore, either,” said Gudbrand. “When I came a bit farther, I swapped the goat and got a strapping sheep instead.”

  “Nay!” cried the wife. “You’ve done everything exactly as I should have wished; exactly as if I should have been along myself. What should we do with a goat? I would have had to scramble up and down hill and dale, and get it down again in the evening. No, if I have a sheep, I can get wool and clothing in the house, and food, too. Go down and let in the sheep, children!”

  “But now I haven’t got the sheep any longer,” said Gudbrand, “for when I had gone on a bit, I swapped it for a goose!”

  “And thanks to you for that!” said the wife. “And many thanks too! What should I do with a sheep? Why, I have neither spinning wheel nor spindle, nor do I care about toiling, and cutting, and making clothes, either. We can buy clothes now as before. Now I’ll have a roast goose, which I’ve been wanting for such a long time, and I can have down for my little pillow. Go down and let in the goose, children!”

  “But now I have no goose, either,” said Gudbrand. “When I had come a bit farther on the way, I swapped it for a rooster.”

  “I don’t know how you’ve hit upon everything,” cried the wife. “It’s all just as I would have done it myself. A rooster! That’s the same as if you had bought an eight-day clock. For every morning the rooster crows at four o’clock, so we can get up at the right time, too. What, indeed, should we do with the goose? I don’t know how to roast it, and my pillow I can fill with grass. Go out and let in the rooster, children!”

  “But I don’t have the rooster, either,” said Gudbrand. “When I had gone still farther, I became as hungry as a wolf, and so I had to sell the rooster for twelve shillings to save my life.”

  “Nay! Praise God that you did!” cried the wife. “How you do take care of yourself. You do everything just as I could have wished. What should we do with the rooster? Why, we are our own masters, we can lie in bed in the morning as long as we wish, thank heaven. As long as I have you back again, who manages everything so well, I need neither rooster nor goose, neither pig nor cow.”

  Then Gudbrand opened the door.

  “Have I won those hundred dalers now?” he said, and the neighbor had to admit that he had.

  THE TWELVE WILD DUCKS

  Once upon a time there was a queen who went out driving. It was winter and the snow was fresh on the ground. When she had gone only a little way, her nose started to bleed, and she had to get out of the sleigh. As she stood up by the fence and looked at the red blood on the white snow, she came to think that she had twelve sons and no daughter, and so she said to herself, “If I had a daughter as white as snow and as red as blood, it wouldn’t matter at all about my sons.”

  She had scarcely uttered these words, when a Troll-hag stood before her and said, “You shall have a daughter, and she shall be as white as snow and as red as blood, and then your sons shall belong to me. But you may keep them with you until the child has been christened.”

  When the time came, the queen gave birth to a daughter, and she was as white as snow and as red as blood, just as the Troll-hag had promised, and so they called her ‘Snow-White-Rose-Red’. There was great rejoicing at the king’s court, and the queen was so happy that there was no limit to it. But when she remembered what she had promised the Troll-hag, she had a silversmith make twelve silver spoons, one for each prince, and then she had him make one more, and she gave it to Snow-White-Rose-Red.

  As soon as the princess had been christened, the princes were transformed into twelve wild ducks and flew their way, and they were never seen again; gone they were and gone they stayed. The princess grew up, and became both tall and beautiful, but she was often so strange and sad that no one could understand what was the matter with her.

  One evening the queen, too, was sad, for she must have had many strange thoughts when she remembered her sons, and so she asked Snow-White-Rose-Red, “Why are you so sad, my child? If there is anything wrong, then say so! If there is anything you wish, you shall have it!”

  “Oh, I find it so lonely here,” said Snow-White-Rose-Red. “Everyone else has brothers and sisters, but I am so alone, I have none. That is why I am so sad.”

  “You, too, have brothers, my child. I had twelve sons who were your brothers, but I gave them away to have you.” And then the queen told her the whole story.

  When the princess heard that, she had no more peace of mind; and no matter how much the queen cried and carried on, it was no use. She wanted to go away, as she felt that she was to blame for everything; and at last she left the king’s palace. She walked and she walked — so far out in the wide world that you wouldn’t believe so fine a maiden could walk so far.

  One day, when she had been walking a long time in a deep, deep forest, she got tired and sat down on a mound, and there she fell asleep
. Then she dreamed that she walked farther into the forest until she came to a small log cabin, and there she found her brothers. All at once she woke up, and right in front of her she saw a well-trodden path in the green moss, and that path led deeper into the forest. She followed it, and after a long walk she came to a little log cabin exactly like the one she had seen in her dream. When she went inside, there was nobody there, but there stood twelve beds, and twelve chairs and twelve spoons, and there were twelve of everything else in the cabin. When she saw this, she became happier than she had been for many a year, for she knew at once that her brothers lived there, and they were the ones who owned the beds, and the chairs and the spoons. And right away she made a fire, swept the floor, made the beds, and tidied up as best she could; and when she had cooked a meal for them all, she sat down to eat. But she forgot her spoon on the table. Then she crept under the youngest brother’s bed and lay down there.

  She had lain there only a moment, when she heard a whistling and a whirring in the air, and the next instant all the twelve ducks came rushing in; but as soon as they crossed the threshold they turned into princes.

  “Oh, how nice and warm it is in here,” they said. “God bless whoever has made the fire and cooked such good food for us!” And each one took his silver spoon and was going to eat.

  But when each one had taken his own, there was still a spoon on the table, and it was so like the others that they could not tell it apart from them. They looked at each other in bewilderment.

  “That is our sister’s spoon,” they said, “and if the spoon is here, she cannot be so far away either.”

  “If that is our sister’s spoon, and she is to be found here, she shall be killed, for she is the cause of all our misery,” said the eldest brother. All this the sister heard where she was hiding under the bed.

  There was a whistling and a whirring in the air, and then twelve wild ducks came flying.

  “No,” said the youngest of the princes, “it would be a sin to kill her for that; it is not her fault that we suffer. If anyone is to blame, it must be our own mother.”

  They started searching, both high and low, and at last they looked under all the beds, too; and when they came to the bed of the youngest prince, they found her and dragged her out.

  The eldest prince still wanted her to be killed, but she cried and pleaded so pitiably, “Oh, please, please don’t kill me. I have been wandering for many years trying to find you, and if I could only save you, I would gladly give my own life.”

  “Well, if you will free us,” they said, “you shall live; for if you want to, then you can well enough.”

  “Yes, just tell me how it can be done, and I will do it, whatever it may be,” said the princess.

  “You must gather thistledown,” said the princes, “and that you must card, and spin, and weave into cloth. And when you have done that, you must cut and sew twelve caps, twelve shirts, and twelve scarves, one for each of us. And while you are doing that, you must neither speak, nor laugh, nor cry. If you can do it, we are freed.”

  “But where will I find thistledown enough for so many scarves and caps and shirts?” said Snow-White-Rose-Red.

  “We will show you, all right,” they said, and led her down to a large bog which was so full of thistledown waving in the wind and glittering in the sun that it shone like snow a long way off.

  Never had the princess seen so much thistledown before, and right away she started picking and gathering, as well and fast as she was able; and when she came home in the evening, she began to card and spin it into yarn. She kept at it for a long time; she gathered thistledown, and carded, and in between she cared for the princes, cooked their meals and made their beds.

  At dusk they returned home, rushing and roaring like wild ducks. During the night they were princes, but in the morning they flew away again, and were wild ducks the whole day.

  But then it happened that once when she was at the bog picking thistledown (and, if I’m not mistaken, it was the last time she was to go there) the young king who ruled the country was out hunting, and came riding over to the bog and caught sight of her. He stopped, and wondered who this lovely maiden could be, wandering about in the bog collecting thistledown, and he asked her, too. And when he got no answer to his question, he wondered even more, and he thought so well of her that he wanted to take her home with him to the castle and marry her. So he told his servants to lift her up on his horse. Snow-White-Rose-Red wrung her hands and made signs to them and pointed to the sacks she had worked so hard to fill with thistledown. When the king understood that she wanted to take them along, he told the servants to load the sacks, too. When they had done that, the princess calmed down, for the king was as kind as he was handsome, and he was gentle and friendly towards her.

  Never had the princess seen so much thistledown before.

  But when they came home to the king’s castle, and the old queen, who was his stepmother, caught sight of Snow-White-Rose-Red, she was so angry and envious, because the princess was so pretty, that she said to the king, “Don’t you understand that this girl you have brought home and want to marry is a witch? She neither speaks, nor laughs, nor cries.”

  The king paid no attention to what she said, but held a wedding and married Snow-White-Rose-Red, and they lived in great joy and splendor; but for all that, she never left off sewing the shirts.

  Before a year had gone, Snow-White-Rose-Red gave birth to a little prince, and that made the old queen even more angry and envious. And when it was getting on toward night, she stole into Snow-White-Rose-Red’s room while she slept, took the child, and threw it into the snake-pit. Then she cut the queen’s finger and smeared the blood on her mouth, and then went to the king.

  “Now come and see,” she said, “what sort of a queen you have married. She has eaten up her own child.”

  At this the king was so upset that he almost wept, and he said, “Yes, it must indeed be true, since I can see it with my own eyes. But I am sure she will never do it again. So I will spare her life this time.”

  Before the next year was over, she gave birth to another son, and with him it went just as with the first. The king’s stepmother became even more angry and jealous, so she stole into the queen’s room during the night while she slept, took the child and threw it into the snake-pit, cut the queen’s finger, and smeared the blood on her mouth; and told the king that the queen had eaten up this child, too. Then the king was so distressed that you never saw the like, and so he said, “Yes, it must indeed be true, since I see it with my own eyes, but I am sure she will never do it again, so I will spare her this time, too.”

  Before another year had passed, Snow-White-Rose-Red gave birth to a daughter, and this child, too, the old queen threw down into the snake-pit. While the young queen was asleep, she cut her finger, smeared the blood on her mouth, and then went to the king and said, “Now you can come and see if it isn’t just as I say, that she is a witch, for now she has eaten up her third child, too!”

  This time the young king was so grief-stricken that he could not be comforted, for now he could spare her no longer, but had to give orders that she should be burned alive. When the pyre was ablaze, and she was about to be placed on it, she made signs to take twelve boards and stand them around the fire, and on them she hung the caps, and the shirts and the scarves for her brothers. But the shirt for her youngest brother had the left sleeve missing as she had not had time to get it finished. Hardly had she done this than they heard a whistling and whirring in the air, and then twelve wild ducks came flying over the tree tops, and each one took his clothing in his bill and flew away with it.

  There lay the three children playing with snakes and toads.

  “Now you can see,” said the wicked queen to the king, “now you can really see that she is a witch. Hurry up and throw her into the fire before the logs burn up!”

  “Never mind,” said the young king. “We have logs enough, the whole forest is full of wood. I want to wait a while and see ho
w this all turns out.”

  At this moment the twelve princes came riding, as handsome and well-built as anyone could wish to see; but the youngest prince had a duck’s wing instead of his left arm.

  “What is going on here?” asked the princes.

  “My queen is to be burned because she is a witch, and has eaten up her own children,” replied the king.

  “She has not eaten her children,” said the princes. “Speak now, sister. Now that you have freed us, save yourself!”

  Then Snow-White-Rose-Red spoke, and told them all that had happened, that each time she had a child, the old queen, the king’s stepmother, had sneaked into her room during the night, taken the baby from her, and cut her finger and smeared the blood on her mouth. And the princes took the king and led him to the snake-pit; there lay the three children playing with snakes and toads, and lovelier children you could never see in a lifetime.

  The king took them back to his stepmother, and asked her what punishment she thought fit for one who could have the heart to betray an innocent queen and three such lovely children?

  “Anyone who did that should be tied to twelve wild horses and torn to bits,” said the old queen.

  “You have declared your own punishment,” said the young king, “and such shall be your fate.”