ONCE on a time there was a king who had seven sons, and he loved them so
much that he could never bear to be without them all at once, but one
must always be with him. Now, when they were grown up, six were to set
off to woo, but as for the youngest, his father kept him at home, and
the others were to bring back a princess for him to the palace. So the
king gave the six the finest clothes you ever set eyes on, so fine that
the light gleamed from them a long way off, and each had his horse,
which cost many, many hundred dollars, and so they set off. Now, when
they had been to many palaces, and seen many princesses, at last they
came to a king who had six daughters; such lovely king’s daughters they
had never seen, and so they fell to wooing them, each one, and when they
had got them for sweethearts, they set off home again, but they quite
forgot that they were to bring back with them a sweetheart for Boots,
their brother, who stayed at home, for they were over head and ears in
love with their own sweethearts.
But when they had gone a good bit on their way, they passed close by a
steep hill-side, like a wall, where the giant’s house was, and there the
giant came out, and set his eyes upon them, and turned them all into
stone, princes and princesses and all. Now, the king waited and waited
for his six sons, but the more he waited, the longer they stayed away;
so he fell into great trouble, and said he should never know what it was
to be glad again.
“And if I had not you left,” he said to Boots, “I would live no longer,
so full of sorrow am I for the loss of your brothers.”
“Well, but now I’ve been thinking to ask your leave to set out and find
them again; that’s what I’m thinking of,” said Boots.
“Nay, nay!” said his father; “that leave you shall never get, for then
you would stay away too.”
But Boots had set his heart upon it; go he would; and he begged and
prayed so long that the king was forced to let him go. Now, you must
know the king had no other horse to give Boots but an old broken-down
jade, for his six other sons and their train had carried off all his
horses; but Boots did not care a pin for that, he sprang up on his sorry
old steed.
“Farewell, father,” said he; “I’ll come back, never fear, and like
enough I shall bring my six brothers back with me;” and with that he
rode off.
So when he had ridden a while he came to a Raven, which lay in the road
and flapped its wings, and was not able to get out of the way, it was so
starved.
“Oh, dear friend,” said the Raven, “give me a little food, and I’ll help
you again at your utmost need.”
“I haven’t much food,” said the Prince, “and I don’t see how you’ll ever
be able to help me much; but still I can spare you a little. I see you
want it.”
So he gave the Raven some of the food he had brought with him.
Now, when he had gone a bit further, he came to a brook, and in the
brook lay a great Salmon, which had got upon a dry place and dashed
itself about, and could not get into the water again.
“Oh, dear friend,” said the Salmon to the Prince, “shove me out into the
water again, and I’ll help you again at your utmost need.”
“Well!” said the Prince, “the help you’ll give me will not be great, I
daresay, but it’s a pity you should lie there and choke;” and with that
he shot the fish out into the stream again.
After that he went a long, long way, and there met him a Wolf, which was
so famished that it lay and crawled along the road on its belly.
“Dear friend, do let me have your horse,” said the Wolf; “I’m so hungry
the wind whistles through my ribs; I’ve had nothing to eat these two
years.”
“No,” said Boots, “this will never do; first I came to a Raven, and I
was forced to give him my food; next I came to a Salmon, and him I had
to help into the water again; and now you will have my horse. It can’t
be done, that it can’t, for then I should have nothing to ride on.”
“Nay, dear friend, but you can help me,” said Greylegs the wolf; “you
can ride upon my back, and I’ll help you again in your utmost need.”
“Well! the help I shall get from you will not be great, I’ll be bound,”
said the Prince; “but you may take my horse, since you are in such
need.”
So when the wolf had eaten the horse, Boots took the bit and put it into
the Wolf’s jaw, and laid the saddle on his back; and now the Wolf was so
strong, after what he had got inside, that he set off with the Prince
like nothing. So fast he had never ridden before.
“When we have gone a bit farther,” said Greylegs; “I’ll shew you the
Giant’s house.”
So after a while they came to it.
“See here is the Giant’s house,” said the Wolf; “and see, here are your
six brothers, whom the Giant has turned into stone; and see here are
their six brides, and away yonder is the door, and in at that door you
must go.”
“Nay, but I daren’t go in,” said the Prince; “he’ll take my life.”
“No! no!” said the Wolf; “when you get in you’ll find a Princess, and
she’ll tell you what to do to make an end of the Giant. Only mind and do
as she bids you.”
Well! Boots went in, but, truth to say, he was very much afraid. When he
came in the Giant was away, but in one of the rooms sat the Princess,
just as the wolf had said, and so lovely a princess Boots had never yet
set eyes on.
“Oh! heaven help you! whence have you come?” said the Princess, as she
saw him; “it will surely be your death. No one can make an end of the
Giant who lives here, for he has no heart in his body.”
“Well! well!” said Boots; “but now that I am here, I may as well try
what I can do with him; and I will see if I can’t free my brothers, who
are standing turned to stone out of doors; and you, too, I will try to
save, that I will.”
“Well, if you must, you must,” said the Princess; “and so let us see if
we can’t hit on a plan. Just creep under the bed yonder, and mind and
listen to what he and I talk about. But, pray, do lie as still as a
mouse.”
So he crept under the bed, and he had scarce got well underneath it,
before the Giant came.
“Ha!” roared the Giant, “what a smell of Christian blood there is in the
house!”
“Yes, I know there is,” said the Princess, “for there came a magpie
flying with a man’s bone, and let it fall down the chimney. I made all
the haste I could to get it out, but all one can do, the smell doesn’t
go off so soon.”
So the Giant said no more about it, and when night came, they went to
bed. After they had lain a while, the Princess said,—
“There is one thing I’d be so glad to ask you about, if I only dared.”
“What thing is that?” asked the Giant.
“Only where it is you keep your heart, since you don’t carry it about
you,” said the Princess.
“Ah! that’s a thing you’ve no business to ask about; but if you must
know, it lies under the door-sill,” said the Giant.
“Ho! ho!” said Boots to himself under the bed, “then we’ll soon see if
we can’t find it.”
Next morning the Giant got up cruelly early, and strode off to the wood;
but he was hardly out of the house before Boots and the Princess set to
work to look under the door-sill for his heart; but the more they dug,
and the more they hunted, the more they couldn’t find it.
“He has baulked us this time,” said the Princess, “but we’ll try him
once more.”
So she picked all the prettiest flowers she could find, and strewed them
over the door-sill which they had laid in its right place again; and
when the time came for the Giant to come home again, Boots crept under
the bed. Just as he was well under, back came the Giant.
Snuff—snuff, went the Giant’s nose. “My eyes and limbs, what a smell of
Christian blood there is in here,” said he.
“I know there is,” said the Princess, “for there came a magpie flying
with a man’s bone in his bill, and let it fall down the chimney. I made
as much haste as I could to get it out, but I daresay it’s that you
smell.”
So the Giant held his peace, and said no more about it. A little while
after, he asked who it was that had strewed flowers about the door-sill.
“Oh, I, of course,” said the Princess.
“And, pray, what’s the meaning of all this,” said the Giant.
“Ah!” said the Princess, “I’m so fond of you that I couldn’t help
strewing them, when I knew that your heart lay under there.”
“You don’t say so,” said the Giant; “but after all it doesn’t lie there
at all.”
So when they went to bed again in the evening, the Princess asked the
Giant again where his heart was, for she said she would so like to know.
“Well,” said the Giant, “if you must know, it lies away yonder in the
cupboard against the wall.”
“So, so!” thought Boots and the Princess; “then we’ll soon try to find
it.”
Next morning the Giant was away early, and strode off to the wood, and
so soon as he was gone Boots and the Princess were in the cupboard
hunting for his heart, but the more they sought for it the less they
found it.
“Well,” said the Princess, “we’ll just try him once more.”
So she decked out the cupboard with flowers and garlands, and when the
time came for the Giant to come home, Boots crept under the bed again.
Then back came the Giant.
Snuff—snuff! “My eyes and limbs, what a smell of Christian blood there
is in here!”
“I know there is,” said the Princess; “for a little while since there
came a magpie flying with a man’s bone in his bill, and let it fall down
the chimney. I made all the haste I could to get it out of the house
again; but after all my pains, I dare say it’s that you smell.”
When the Giant heard that he said no more about it; but a little while
after, he saw how the cupboard was all decked about with flowers, and
garlands; so he asked who it was that had done that? Who could it be but
the Princess.
“And, pray, what’s the meaning of all this tomfoolery?” asked the Giant.
“Oh, I’m so fond of you, I couldn’t help doing it when I knew that your
heart lay there,” said the Princess.
“How can you be so silly as to believe any such thing?” said the Giant.
“Oh yes; how can I help believing it, when you say it,” said the
Princess.
“You’re a goose,” said the Giant; “where my heart is, you will never
come.”
“Well,” said the Princess; “but for all that, ’twould be such a pleasure
to know where it really lies.”