Many, many years ago there lived, in Ellenholm Castle, a knight, who,
wishing to attend Christmas matins at Morrum’s Church, with a long
journey before him, and anxious to be present if possible at first
matins, set out from the castle, accompanied by his groom, immediately
after midnight. Some distance on the way, feeling sleepy, he instructed
the groom to ride on while he dismounted and sat down by the roadside,
at the foot of a mountain, to take a nap and refresh himself.
He had been sitting only a few minutes when a monster giantess came and
bade him follow her into the mountain, which he did, and was conducted
to the presence of her giant husband. Here all kinds of tempting viands
were set before him, but the Knight, who knew well into what kind of
company he had fallen, declined to partake of the food.
Offended at this, the woman drew forth a knife and addressed the
Knight:
“Do you recognize this? It is the one with which you chopped me in the
thigh when, one time, I was gathering hay for my calves. Father, what
do you think we ought to do with him?”
“Let him go,” said the Giant. “We can do nothing to him for he invokes
the Great Master too much.”
“So be it,” said the Giantess, “but he shall have something to remember
me by.” Whereupon she broke the Knight’s little finger.
He soon discovered himself in the open air again, and the groom who had
returned to search for his master found him in the place where he had
left him, but with a little finger broken—a warning to every one not to
sleep on the way to church.