ONCE on a time there was a poor man who had three sons. When he died,
the two elder set off into the world to try their luck, but the youngest
they wouldn’t have with them at any price.
“As for you,” they said, “you’re fit for nothing but to sit and poke
about in the ashes.”
So the two went off and got places at a palace—the one under the
coachman, and the other under the gardener. But Boots, he set off too,
and took with him a great kneading-trough, which was the only thing his
parents left behind them, but which the other two would not bother
themselves with. It was heavy to carry, but he did not like to leave it
behind, and so, after he had trudged a bit, he too came to the palace,
and asked for a place. So they told him they did not want him, but he
begged so prettily that at last he got leave to be in the kitchen, and
carry in wood and water for the kitchen-maid. He was quick and ready,
and in a little while every one liked him; but the two others were dull,
and so they got more kicks than halfpence, and grew quite envious of
Boots, when they saw how much better he got on.
Just opposite the Palace, across a lake, lived a Troll, who had seven
silver ducks which swam on the lake, so that they could be seen from the
palace. These the king had often longed for; and so the two elder
brothers told the coachman,—
“If our brother only chose, he has said he could easily get the king
those seven silver ducks.”
You may fancy it wasn’t long before the coachman told this to the king;
and the king called Boots before him, and said,—
“Your brothers say you can get me the silver ducks; so now go and fetch
them.”
“I’m sure I never thought or said anything of the kind,” said the lad.
“You did say so, and you shall fetch them,” said the king, who would
hold his own.
“Well! well!” said the lad; “needs must, I suppose; but give me a bushel
of rye, and a bushel of wheat, and I’ll try what I can do.”
So he got the rye and the wheat, and put them into the kneading trough
he had brought with him from home, got in, and rowed across the lake.
When he reached the other side he began to walk along the shore, and to
sprinkle and strew the grain, and at last he coaxed the ducks into his
kneading-trough, and rowed back as fast as ever he could.
When he got half over, the Troll came out of his house, and set eyes on
him.
“HALLOA!” roared out the Troll; “is it you that has gone off with my
seven silver ducks?”
“AYE! AYE!” said the lad.
“Shall you be back soon?” asked the Troll.
“Very likely,” said the lad.
So when he got back to the king, with the seven silver ducks, he was
more liked than ever, and even the king was pleased to say, “Well done!”
But at this his brothers grew more and more spiteful and envious; and so
they went and told the coachman that their brother had said, if he
chose, he was man enough to get the king the Troll’s bed-quilt, which
had a gold patch and a silver patch, and a silver patch and a gold
patch; and this time, too, the coachman was not slow in telling all this
to the king. So the king said to the lad, how his brothers had said he
was good to steal the Troll’s bed-quilt, with gold and silver patches;
so now he must go and do it, or lose his life.
Boots answered, he had never thought or said any such thing; but when he
found there was no help for it, he begged for three days to think over
the matter.
So when the three days were gone, he rowed over in his kneading-trough,
and went spying about. At last he saw those in the Troll’s cave come out
and hang the quilt out to air, and as soon as ever they had gone back
into the face of the rock, Boots pulled the quilt down, and rowed away
with it as fast as he could.
And when he was half across, out came the Troll and set eyes on him, and
roared out,—
“HALLOA! It is you who took my seven silver ducks?”
“AYE! AYE!” said the lad.
“And now, have you taken my bed-quilt, with silver patches and gold
patches, and gold patches and silver patches?”
“Aye! aye!” said the lad.
“Shall you come back again?”
“Very likely,” said the lad.
But when he got back with the gold and silver patch-work quilt, every
one was fonder of him than ever, and he was made the king’s
body-servant.
At this, the other two were still more vexed, and to be revenged they
went and told the coachman,—
“Now, our brother has said, he is man enough to get the king the gold
harp which the Troll has, and that harp is of such a kind, that all who
listen when it is played grow glad, however sad they may be.”