There was once a man named Alf, who had raised great expectations among
his fellow-parishioners because he excelled most of them both in the
work he accomplished and in the advice he gave. Now, when this man was
thirty years old, he went to live up the mountain, and cleared a piece
of land for farming, about fourteen miles from any settlement. Many
people wondered how he could endure thus depending on himself for
companionship, but they were still more astonished when, a few years
later, a young girl from the valley, and one, too, who had been the
gayest of the gay at all the social gatherings and dances of the parish,
was willing to share his solitude.
This couple were called "the people in the wood," and the man was known
by the name of "Alf in the wood." People viewed him with inquisitive
eyes when they met him at church or at work, because they did not
understand him; but neither did he take the trouble to give them any
explanation of his conduct. His wife was only seen in the parish twice,
and on one of these occasions it was to present a child for baptism.
This child was a son, and he was called Thrond. When he grew larger his
parents often talked about needing help, and, as they could not afford
to take a full-grown servant, they hired what they called "a half:" they
brought into their house a girl of fourteen, who took care of the boy
while the father and mother were busy in the field.
This girl was not the brightest person in the world, and the boy soon
observed that his mother's words were easy to comprehend, but that it
was hard to get at the meaning of what Ragnhild said. He never talked
much with his father, and he was rather afraid of him, for the house had
to be kept very quiet when he was home. One Christmas Eve--they were
burning two candles on the table, and the father was drinking from a
white flask--the father took the boy up in his arms and set him on his
lap, looked him sternly in the eyes, and exclaimed,--
"Ugh, boy!" Then he added more gently,--"Why, you are not so much
afraid. Would you have the courage to listen to a story?"
The boy made no reply, but he looked full in his father's face. His
father then told him about a man from Vaage, whose name was Blessom.
This man was in Copenhagen for the purpose of getting the king's verdict
in a law-suit he was engaged in, and he was detained so long that
Christmas eve overtook him there. Blessom was greatly annoyed at this,
and, as he was sauntering about the streets fancying himself at home, he
saw a very large man, in a white, short coat, walking in front of him.
"How fast you are walking!" said Blessom.
"I have a long distance to go in order to get home this evening,"
replied the man.
"Where are you going?"
"To Vaage," answered the man, and walked on.
"Why, that is very nice," said Blessom, "for that is where I am going,
too."
"Well, then, you may ride with me, if you will stand on the runners of
my sledge," answered the man, and turned into a side street where his
horse was standing.
He mounted his seat and looked over his shoulder at Blessom, who was
just getting on the runners.
"You had better hold fast," said the stranger.
Blessom did as he was told, and it was well he did, for their journey
was evidently not by land.
"It seems to me that you are driving on the water," cried Blessom.
"I am," said the man, and the spray whirled about them.
But after a while it seemed to Blessom their course no longer lay on the
water.
"It seems to me we are moving through the air," said he.
"Yes, so we are," replied the stranger.
But when they had gone still farther, Blessom thought he recognized the
parish they were driving through.
"Is not this Vaage?" cried he.
"Yes, now we are there," replied the stranger, and it seemed to Blessom
that they had gone pretty fast.
"Thank you for the good ride," said he.
"Thanks to yourself," replied the man, and added, as he whipped up his
horse, "Now you had better not look after me."
"No, indeed," thought Blessom, and started over the hills for home.
But just then so loud and terrible a crash was heard behind him that it
seemed as if the whole mountain must be tumbling down, and a bright
light was shed over the surrounding landscape; he looked round and
beheld the stranger in the white coat driving through the crackling
flames into the open mountain, which was yawning wide to receive him,
like some huge gate. Blessom felt somewhat strange in regard to his
travelling companion; and thought he would look in another direction;
but as he had turned his head so it remained, and never more could
Blossom get it straight again.
The boy had never heard anything to equal this in all his life. He dared
not ask his father for more, but early the next morning he asked his
mother if she knew any stories. Yes, of course she did; but hers were
chiefly about princesses who were in captivity for seven years, until
the right prince came along. The boy believed that everything he heard
or read about took place close around him.
He was about eight years old when the first stranger entered their door
one winter evening. He had black hair, and this was something Thrond had
never seen before. The stranger saluted them with a short
"Good-evening!" and came forward. Thrond grew frightened and sat down on
a cricket by the hearth. The mother asked the man to take a seat on the
bench along the wall; he did so, and then the mother could examine his
face more closely.
"Dear me! is not this Knud the fiddler?" cried she.
"Yes, to be sure it is. It has been a long time since I played at your
wedding."
"Oh, yes; it is quite a while now. Have you been on a long journey?"
"I have been playing for Christmas on the other side of the mountain.
But half-way down the slope I began to feel very badly, and I was
obliged to come in here to rest."
The mother brought forward food for him; he sat down to the table, but
did not say "in the name of Jesus," as the boy had been accustomed to
hear. When he had finished eating, he got up from the table, and said,--
"Now I feel very comfortable; let me rest a little while."
And he was allowed to rest on Thrond's bed.
For Thrond a bed was made on the floor. As the boy lay there, he felt
cold on the side that was turned away from the fire, and that was the
left side. He discovered that it was because this side was exposed to
the chill night air; for he was lying out in the wood. How came he in
the wood? He got up and looked about him, and saw that there was fire
burning a long distance off, and that he was actually alone in the wood.
He longed to go home to the fire; but could not stir from the spot. Then
a great fear overcame him; for wild beasts might be roaming about,
trolls and ghosts might appear to him; he must get home to the fire; but
he could not stir from the spot. Then his terror grew, he strove with
all his might to gain self-control, and was at last able to cry,
"Mother," and then he awoke.
"Dear child, you have had bad dreams," said she, and took him up.
A shudder ran through him, and he glanced round. The stranger was gone,
and he dared not inquire after him.
His mother appeared in her black dress, and started for the parish. She
came home with two new strangers, who also had black hair and who wore
flat caps. They did not say "in the name of Jesus," when they ate, and
they talked in low tones with the father. Afterwards the latter and they
went into the barn, and came out again with a large box, which the men
carried between them. They placed it on a sled, and said farewell. Then
the mother said,--
"Wait a little, and take with you the smaller box he brought here with
him."