the dual nature of the monster. A dragon was as terrible a creature as
one could imagine; a troll was also as terrible a creature as one could
imagine. But the saga-man has introduced into his story a being that
combines the characteristics of both. Hott knew that the monster
possessed this dual nature, for it is from him that the author lets the
statement proceed, "That is no beast, it is rather the greatest troll."
This makes it still more natural for him to display ridiculous fear. It
also explains the king's fear of the monster, and removes the odium that
might seem to attach to the king and his warriors in withdrawing from a
combat with such a creature and allowing it, unopposed, to perform its
Yule-tide depredations and depart. The saga-man did not intend to
be-little Hrolf Kraki; he intended to magnify Bjarki by introducing a
monster for him to overcome that it was no shame for other mortals to
avoid. Nor is it accidental that the reader is informed of the
troll-nature of the dragon in a statement made by Hott to Bjarki. It
serves to make it plain that Bjarki also knew what kind of monster the
dragon was. This places in the strongest relief his courage in
undertaking voluntarily, nay against the express command of the king, to
attack the beast, and his prowess in felling it without difficulty. What
single feat could he have performed, or in what manner could he have
performed it, to reflect greater credit on himself? The cowardly Hott he
had to have with him also, in order that the blood-drinking episode
might be introduced; but Hott's childish actions encumbered him at a
time when they would be very provoking and it might be necessary for
Bjarki to have command of all his resources to gain a victory.
In the scene that follows the slaying of the dragon, it seems at first
sight that an incongruous element has been introduced. That Hott is
compelled to eat some of the dragon's heart is good saga-material, as is
evident from the similar episode in the _Volsungasaga_ (i.e., Sigurd's
eating some of Favnir's heart); but the dragon is also a troll, and
there is no sanction in saga-literature for eating a troll's heart and
drinking a troll's blood to gain strength and courage. Trolls have
always been regarded as detestable beings; and in drinking the blood of
a troll, it might seem that one would acquire detestable qualities. But,
on the one hand, the difficulty, if indeed story-tellers of the time
regarded the matter as presenting a difficulty, was unavoidable without
a reconstruction of the whole story; on the other hand, so far as the
monster was a dragon, no difficulty would be involved, and so far as the
monster had the nature of a troll, the heart-eating and blood-drinking
would certainly be regarded as imparting strength. In such scenes as
this it is never the intention that one who eats the heart of a dragon
or drinks an animal's blood shall acquire all the characteristics of the
animal; every scene of this kind would then be ridiculous from any point
of view. The eating and drinking are done to gain strength and courage,
as is the case here; and it is not proper to subject this scene to a
more critical judgment than similar scenes in other sagas. The strength
of a troll was certainly not to be despised; and we find this particular
episode sanctioned in a way in the _Bjarkarímur_, where it is said that
after Hjalti had drunk of the blood of the wolf, he became, not as
strong as a wolf, but "as strong as a troll." In view of the fact that
the troll is a troll-dragon, that the eating of its heart associates the
episode very closely with the similar episode in the _Volsungasaga_, and
that the _rímur_ magnify Hjalti's strength by saying that it is equal to
that of a troll, it is hypercritical to say that the saga here contains
an incongruous element. And however insistent one may be in maintaining
that the author has introduced an element that is not recognized
saga-material, it must be admitted that he has so skillfully fused it
with good saga-material that it is not probable, as the _rímur_ show,
that contemporary readers found any fault with the episode.
But does such a monster as a troll-dragon have any sanction in
folk-lore? Yes, it does. It is characteristic of Norse folk-lore to
ascribe troll-like qualities to beings about which there seems to be
something supernatural, such as invulnerability. In one of Asbjörnsen's
tales, there is a story about a troll-bird, told by a man named Per
Sandaker, who "was supposed to be strong in stories about troll-birds."
In the story referred to, there is a woodgrouse (tiur) which has become
known as a fabulous animal (fabeldyr) throughout the whole neighborhood.
"One might just as well shoot at a stone,' said Per, with the greatest
conviction"; for he had shot at the bird and made the feathers fly,
without being able to injure it. Later, on the hunting-trip on which Per
was telling about the bird, he and a companion came across it. "Now he
is out again, the old fellow," said Per; "there is no use in the wide
world to shoot at him, one might just as well shoot at the clouds." The
men maneuvered for a position; and Per's companion, who is telling the
story, says, "My gun was raised, and the mighty bird tumbled down head
first." Per picked it up and examined it and declared that it was the
troll-bird; he could tell it by the beak. On the same trip stories were
told about troll-hares that for a time had escaped uninjured but had
finally been killed.[64]
Panzer[65] and others have called attention to the discrepancy between
the statement that the monster in the saga is said to be invulnerable,
and that it is nevertheless killed. In the story from Asbjörnsen's tales
we have the explanation. The troll-animal seems to be invulnerable until
some one appears who has the requisite skill or strength, or a
combination of both, to dispatch it; and it might be observed that
Bjarki paid no more attention to Hott's statement about the
invulnerability of the troll-dragon than Per's companion paid to Per's
statement about the invulnerability of the troll-bird.
Finnur Jónsson calls the dragon a hall-attacking monster;[66] but this
appellation is hardly correct. The only thing in the saga might fairly
suggest it is Bjarki's statement, "The hall isn't so well defended as I
thought, if a beast can destroy the domain and property of the king."
But Hott has not said that the monster had attached the hall; and if it
be insisted that it is the author who has presented Bjarki as making the
statement and has not paused to weigh nicely the dramatic proprieties,
the reply may be made that Bjarki thinks of how weakly the king's hall
is defended when a monster can regularly defy his men and come off
without injury. He does not imply that the hall has been attacked; he
refers to the destruction of "the domain and property of the king." In
any event, the saga does not represent the monster as attacking the
hall. To continue immediately after the statement just quoted: Hott
answered, 'That is no beast, it is rather the greatest troll.' Now came
the Yule-even; and the king said, 'Now I desire that all the men be
still and quiet in the night, and I forbid them all to run any risk on
account of the beast; let the cattle fare as fate wills; my men I do not
wish to lose'. The king expects the cattle to fare ill, but wishes to
run no risk of losing his men; however, if they remain in the hall in
the night, there will be no risk of losing them, because (such is the
necessary conclusion) the hall and the men in the hall will not be
attacked. Hence, the monster cannot be called a hall-attacking monster;
it is a cattle-attacking monster. Again, Bjarki did not expect the
monster to attack the hall. If he had, he would probably have done as
Beowulf did under similar circumstances--awaited its arrival. And the
king's men did not expect the monster to attack the hall, for they seem
to have gone to sleep; this is implied in the statement telling about
Bjarki's and Hott's return to the hall, "Then they went in and were
quiet; no one knew what they had done." If the men had been on guard for
the monster, which was the only rational thing for them to do if they
expected the hall to be attacked, the opportunity for Bjarki and Hott to
sneak out, remain some length of time, and return, all unobserved, would
have been cut off. Later, after Bjarki had crept out at night and killed
the dragon, compelling Hott to go with him, etc., the saga continues,
"The king asked in the morning whether they knew anything of the beast;
whether it had showed itself anywhere in the night; they told him the
cattle were all safe and sound in the folds." From this it follows that
the dragon might have appeared and killed all the cattle, so far as the
king knew; he had paid no attention to the matter in the night; he had
apparently been asleep. The question was not whether the monster had
attacked the hall; it was not expected to attack the hall; and the fact
that it had not attacked the hall signified nothing as to whether it had
made its appearance. The question was whether the cattle had suffered;
and when the king asked if the beast "had showed itself anywhere in the
night," the answer was that "the cattle were all safe and sound in the
folds." The extreme danger to which the cattle were exposed, and the
entire safety of the men if they remained in the hall during the night,
show again that this was no hall-attacking monster, but "et kongsgården
hjemsögende uhyre," a troll that destroyed cattle and did not endanger
the men unless they left the hall in the night and exposed themselves to
attack.
Among the Icelandic legends collected by Jón Arnason is a story which,
in certain important particulars, is very much like the story about
Bjarki's fight with the troll-dragon. A portion of it is as follows:--
"A man named Gudmundur lived once upon a time at a farm called
Silfrúnarstadir, in the bay of Skagafjördur. He was very rich in
flocks, and looked upon by his neighbours as a man of high esteem
and respectability. He was married, but had no children.
"It happened one Christmas Eve, at Silfrúnarstadir, that the
herdsman did not return home at night, and, as he was not found at
the sheep-pens, the farmer caused a diligent search to be made for
him all over the country, but quite in vain.
"Next spring Gudmundur hired another shepherd, named Grímur, who
was tall and strong, and boasted of being able to resist anybody.
But the farmer, in spite of the man's boldness and strength, warned
him to be careful how he ran risks, and on Christmas Eve bade him
drive the sheep early into the pens, and come home to the farm
while it was still daylight. But in the evening Grímur did not
come, and though search was made far and near for him, was never
found. People made all sorts of guesses about the cause of his
disappearance, but the farmer was full of grief, and after this
could not get any one to act as shepherd for him.
"At this time there lived a poor widow at Sjávarborg, who had
several children, of whom the eldest, aged fourteen years, was
named Sigurdur.
"To this woman the farmer at last applied, and offered her a large
sum of money if she would allow her son to act as shepherd for him.
Sigurdur was very anxious that his mother should have all this
money, and declared himself most willing to undertake the office;
so he went with the farmer, and during the summer was most
successful in his new situation, and never lost a sheep.
"At the end of a certain time the farmer gave Sigurdur a wether, a
ewe, and a lamb as a present, with which the youth was much
pleased.
"Gudmundur became much attached to him, and on Christmas Eve begged
him to come home from his sheep before sunset.
"All day long the boy watched the sheep, and when evening
approached, he heard the sound of heavy footsteps on the mountains
Turning around he saw coming towards him a gigantic and terrible
troll.
"She addressed him, saying, 'Good evening, my Sigurdur. I am come
to put you into my bag.'
"Sigurdur answered, 'Are you cracked? Do you not see how thin I am?
Surely I am not worth your notice. But I have a sheep and fat lamb
here which I will give you for your pot this evening.'
"So he gave her the sheep and the lamb, which she threw on her
shoulder, and carried off up the mountain again. Then Sigurdur went
home, and right glad was the farmer to see him safe, and asked him
whether he had seen anything.
"'Nothing whatever, out of the common,' replied the boy.
"After New Year's day the farmer visited the flock, and, on looking
them over, missed the sheep and lamb which he had given the youth,
and asked him what had become of them. The boy answered that a fox
had killed the lamb, and that the wether had fallen into a bog;
adding, 'I fancy I shall not be very lucky with _my_ sheep.'
"When he heard this, the farmer gave him one ewe and two wethers,
and asked him to remain another year in his service. Sigurdur
consented to do so.
"Next Christmas Eve, Gudmundur begged Sigurdur to be cautious, and
not run any risks, for he loved him as his own son.
"But the boy answered, 'You need not fear, there are no risks to
run.'"
The troll appeared again, and Sigurdur gave her two old and two young
sheep. When he returned to the farm he declared that he had seen nothing
unusual. Next year the troll appeared as usual, and took four sheep,
which Sigurdur offered her, and himself besides. When she arrived at her
cave, she bade Sigurdur kill them, and then bade him sharpen an axe, for
she was going kill him. He did so, but she spared him.
From this point, the story becomes more of a common fairy tale. By
following the troll's advice, Sigurdur won Margaret, the dean's
daughter.[67]
This is another story about a troll that comes on Christmas Eve and
harms people only when they expose themselves after sunset. Particularly
noteworthy are the statements: "Gudmundur became attached to him, and on
Christmas Eve begged him to come home from his sheep before
sunset";--"Next Christmas Eve, Gudmundur begged Sigurdur to be cautious,
and not run any risks, for he loved him as his own son";--and, "The
farmer ... asked him whether he had seen anything. 'Nothing whatever,
out of the common,' replied the boy." They bear a striking resemblance
to the corresponding statements in the _Hrólfssaga_: "The king said,
'Now I desire that all the men be still and quiet in the night, and I
forbid them all to run any risk on account of the beast; let the cattle
fare as fate wills; my men I do not wish to lose'";--and, "The king
asked in the morning whether they knew anything of the beast; whether it
had showed itself anywhere in the night; they told him the cattle were
all safe and sound in the folds."
The purpose of calling attention to the story in Arnason's collection is
that it may aid in showing what kind of story the dragon story in the
saga really is. That the most terrible kind of troll attacks the
cattle[68] of the famous King Hrolf Kraki and is dispatched by the noted
hero Bothvar Bjarki does not alter the nature of the story.
A possible objection remains, which should be removed. When the warders
in the morning saw the dead propped-up dragon, they said "that the beast
was advancing rapidly to attack the town." And "the king bade his men be
courageous, [and said] each one should help, according as he had courage
for it, and proceed against the monster." But it is plain that, since
the beast was apparently coming in the morning, in broad daylight,
instead of at night, it seemed to have changed its tactics, and no one
could tell what it intended to do. It was the part of wisdom to prepare
for the worst. Besides, the men would have better prospects of success,
or at least of avoiding injury, in an encounter with it in daylight
when its maneuvers could be watched and guarded against. That the
warders in a state of excitement said that "the beast was advancing
rapidly to attack the town," is of no significance. They merely
expressed the thought that came to their minds; and they were palpably
wrong when they said that it "was advancing rapidly." But it is an
exquisite touch on the part of the saga-man to have the warders utter
these words. They got one view of the monster and hastened back. Of
course, the beast was advancing and advancing rapidly; it would never
occur to them, unless they had paused to take note of it, which they did
not do, that the monster was standing still.
It may seem that too much attention is devoted to this feature of the
story. But it is important to establish, if possible, the type of story
we have before us in this much discussed tale about Bjarki and the
troll-dragon. Regardless of where the author got the idea of the dragon,
he has made use of the popular story about the troll that comes
Christmas Eve and attacks those who venture out into the open after
dark. And when the saga-man transformed the story into one of this type,
he did it with the conscious purpose of providing a story that would
enable him to let Bjarki take Hott out secretly at night, kill the
dragon, compel Hott to eat of its heart and drink of its blood, put
Hott's newly acquired strength to the test, prop the dead dragon up in a
living posture, thus paving the way for further developments, and then
return to the hall--all unseen and without arousing a breath of
suspicion. The type of story is adapted precisely to the requirements of
the author's plan. That the propping-up of an animal that has been slain
is good saga-material, or has the sanction of earlier usage, is
admitted, and need not be dwelt upon here.
The type to which the dragon story belongs has a bearing on its
relationship to the Grendel story. Grendel is a hall-attacking monster;
the troll-dragon is not a hall-attacking monster. If the dragon story in
the saga is a modification of the Grendel story in _Beowulf_, or if it
is a modification even of the story about the fire-spewing dragon, there
has been a change, not only in the details of the story and the nature
of the monster, but it has been transferred from one well-defined type
of story to another. There is, indeed, a type of troll story in which
the troll comes Christmas Eve and attacks the inmates of the house, not
the cattle in the stable or in the folds. To this type belongs the
story in the _Grettissaga_ in which the troll-wife attacks the man of
the house[69] and which is often compared with the Grendel story.
Another story of the same type is that about Per Gynt, who, having been
informed that a certain house is invaded by trolls every Christmas Eve
so that the inmates must seek refuge elsewhere, decides to ask for
lodging there overnight next Christmas Eve in order that he may put an
end to the depredations of the trolls. The trolls make their appearance
as usual, and with the aid of a tame polar bear Per Gynt puts them to
flight.[70] But these stories must be sharply differentiated from the
Bjarki story and others of its type; so that while the Grettir story and
the Grendel story are essentially of the same type, the story about the
winged monster in the _Hrólfssaga_ and the Grendel story are not of the
same type.
The last episode in the story about Bjarki and the winged monster has
met with more criticism than any other portion of it. Olrik says that
the story should have given us a real test of Hjalti's manhood;[71]
Lawrence says, "The beast-propping episode spoils the courage-scene";[72]
and Panzer says that this part of the story is impossible, because
Hjalti is represented as killing a dead monster, and Hrolf, although he
perceives the deception that has been practiced, nevertheless gives the
swindler the heroic name Hjalti.[73] Panzer is also inclined to make
much of Hjalti's asking for, and receiving, the king's sword, as he
mentions the matter twice. Once he says, "Warum er des Königs Schwert
verlangt, gibt die Saga nicht an, er 'tötet' damit das (tote) Tier wie
in den _Rímur_";[74] and again, "Man sieht nicht, warum und wozu Hjalti
des Königs Schwert zu seiner Scheintat erbittet und erhält".[75]
Furthermore, Kluge, Sarrazin, Holthausen, Lawrence, and Panzer[76] would
identify "gylden hilt" in _Beowulf_ with Gullinhjalti in the saga.
In considering this portion of the story it should be observed that the
saga-man had a fourfold purpose in view. Bjarki must receive credit for
his great achievement in killing the troll-dragon; he must receive
credit for having made a brave man of the cow Hott; Hott must give proof
of his newly acquired courage; his change of name must also be made,
and, as is most appropriate, it must result, and result naturally, from
the deed by which his courage is displayed. But before proceeding to an
explanation of how the author manipulates the scene so as to accomplish
his purpose, let us see how he has prepared for it.
The monster is dead. Hott has partaken of its strength-giving blood and
heart. Bjarki and Hott have wrestled long, so that Bjarki has brought
Hott to a thorough realization of the strength he now possesses, for
that is the significance of the wrestling-match; and what better
assurance could Hott have that he is now very strong than that he is not
put to shame in wrestling with Bjarki who has overawed the king's
warriors and slain the terrible dragon? Finally, the dragon is propped
up and the two retire.
The morning comes and the monster is in view; but some of the terror
that its expected arrival in the darkness had inspired has disappeared
when it is seen in broad daylight. An effort ought really to be made to
destroy it, but the king will not command any one to take the risk
involved in attacking it. He calls for a volunteer, and the fact that no
one volunteers shows what the men think of it. Bjarki sees an
opportunity to continue what he has begun in the night, by having Hott
do what will win him the reputation and place among the king's men to
which, owing to the change that he has undergone, he is now entitled;
and he calls on Hott to show his strength and courage by attacking the
beast. Hott knows that the monster is dead, but this is not the reason
why he accedes to Bjarki's request. He realizes now that Bjarki's
friendship is beyond question and that everything that Bjarki has done
with regard to him, and asked him to do, has been for the best; and
though he feels that he is called upon to engage m a strange proceeding,
loyalty to his friend, who probably is equal to this occasion, as he has
been to every other, impels him to do as requested and assist in playing
the game to the end. So he says to the king, "Give me your sword
Gullinhjalti, which you are bearing, and I will kill the beast or die in
the attempt."
Whether Hott has a sword of his own the saga does not tell, and it is
quite immaterial. That such a coward as Hott has been has no business
carrying a sword, would be sufficient justification for his being
without one. But whether he has a weapon or no, if he is going to
attack the monster he ought to be armed with the best sword available;
and whose would that be but the king's sword? If the king expects any
one to run the risk of attacking the beast, he ought to be willing to do
what he can to assure success in the undertaking. He feels the force of
the argument implied in Hott's request, and hands him his sword; but he
says, "This sword can only be borne by a man who is both brave and
daring." Hott answers, "You shall be convinced that I am such a man." He
then goes up to the beast and knocks it over. But a beast that has shown
itself to be so terrible on former occasions cannot be alive and yet
stand stock still and allow itself to be killed and tumbled over in this
manner. It must have been killed before, and now the king strongly
suspects that the reason why Bjarki has urged Hott to attack it was that
Bjarki, having killed the monster himself, knew that it was dead; and
when he is charged with the deed he does not deny it. Thus Bjarki gets
the credit for his achievement.