ONCE on a time there was a man up in Finnmark who had caught a great
white bear, which he was going to take to the king of Denmark. Now, it
so fell out, that he came to the Dovrefell just about Christmas Eve, and
there he turned into a cottage where a man lived, whose name was Halvor,
and asked the man if he could get house-room there, for his bear and
himself.
“Heaven never help me, if what I say isn’t true!” said the man; “but we
can’t give any one house-room just now, for every Christmas Eve such a
pack of Trolls come down upon us, that we are forced to flit, and
haven’t so much as a house over our own heads, to say nothing of lending
one to any one else.”
“Oh!” said the man, “if that’s all, you can very well lend me your
house; my bear can lie under the stove yonder, and I can sleep in the
side-room.”
[Illustration:
THE CAT ON THE DOVREFELL.
]
Well, he begged so hard, that at last he got leave to stay there; so the
people of the house flitted out, and before they went, everything was
got ready for the Trolls; the tables were laid, and there was rice
porridge, and fish boiled in lye, and sausages, and all else that was
good, just as for any other grand feast.
So, when everything was ready, down came the Trolls. Some were great and
some were small; some had long tails and some had no tails at all; some,
too, had long, long noses; and they ate and drank, and tasted every
thing. Just then, one of the little Trolls caught sight of the white
bear, who lay under the stove; so he took a piece of sausage and stuck
it on a fork, and went and poked it up against the bear’s nose,
screaming out—
“Pussy, will you have some sausage?”
Then the white bear rose up and growled, and hunted the whole pack of
them out of doors, both great and small.
Next year Halvor was out in the wood, on the afternoon of Christmas Eve,
cutting wood before the holidays, for he thought the Trolls would come
again; and just as he was hard at work, he heard a voice in the wood
calling out,—
“Halvor, Halvor!”
“Well,” said Halvor, “here I am.”
“Have you got your big cat with you still?”
“Yes, that I have,” said Halvor; “she’s lying at home under the stove,
and what’s more, she has now got seven kittens, far bigger and fiercer
than she is herself.”
“Oh, then, we’ll never come to see you again,” bawled out the Troll away
in the wood, and he kept his word; for since that time the Trolls have
never eaten their Christmas brose with Halvor on the Dovrefell.
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