THE UNEXPECTED JOURNEY
In his smoky smithy Ilmarinen was toiling alone, fashioning crude bits
of metal into forms most delicate and beautiful. His face and arms were
begrimed with sweat and black soot, his eyebrows were gray with ashes,
his shoulders and head were besprinkled with dust and flaky cinders.
Like a weird elf, or some uncanny dweller in the underworld, he stood
in the lurid light of his forge and deftly wielded his heavy hammer.
His bellows roared and his anvil tinkled sweet music, and a song burst
from his lips as he welded and wrought and gave shape to wonderful
things.
So busy, indeed, was the master Smith that he heard nothing, saw
nothing, thought of nothing, save the work which he had in hand;
therefore, when his sister Anniki came suddenly to the outer door and
called to him, he did not hear her.
“Ilmarinen, dearest brother!” she repeated. But the Smith, invisible in
the midst of the smoke, did not hear her. He kept on singing and
hammering and blowing his bellows, altogether forgetful of everything
save the work in hand.
Anniki called a third time, a fourth, “Ilmarinen! O Ilmarinen!” But the
hammer continued to strike, the anvil kept on singing, the fire in the
forge flamed higher, and there was no pause in the Smith’s sweet
singing. His thoughts were centred on the trinket he was forging and
shaping, but his song was of a maiden in a far-away land.
Anniki called a fifth time. Then, losing patience, she ran through the
thick of the smoke and seized her brother’s arm just as he was taking a
fresh bit of glowing metal from the fire.
“Ho! little sister of the morning!” he cried in surprise. “What now?
Have you finished your washing? Have you brought me something from the
shore?”
“Yes, yes, dear brother!” she answered, still breathless from running
and excitement. “I’ve brought you a great secret. What’ll you give me
for it? It’s about Wainamoinen and the Maid of Beauty. Would you like
me to tell it to you?”
“Well, if it’s anything important I will listen,” said Ilmarinen. “So,
out with it quickly, before this piece of metal gets cold. Tell me your
wonderful secret.”
“Oh, but it is too important to give away,” said his sister. “It
concerns you, and the Maid of Beauty, and the Frozen Land, and the
Sampo, and, and—Well, wouldn’t you like to know what it is?”
“Tell me all about it, Anniki.”
“What will you give me if I do?”
“A kiss, dear sister.”
“Bah! kisses are for lovers. Will you make me a finger ring?”
“I will make you a dozen.”
“Of gold?”
“No, of iron.”
“Fie, fie! None of your jesting;” and Anniki stamped her foot angrily,
while she gave her brother a look which told him more plainly than
words that this was no unimportant matter. “I tell you that the Maid of
Beauty is in great danger. Now, if you wish to know more you must make
me a gold ring—yes, six gold rings to grace my pretty fingers.”
Pouting and haughty, she turned as if going away; but Ilmarinen held
her by the hand.
“You shall have the six gold rings, my sister,” he said—“yes, I will
make you seven this very day.”
“And four or five pretty girdles inlaid with silver?”
“Oh, certainly, Anniki—anything that you wish. But make haste and tell
me the secret.”
“Will you make me a pair of gold earrings with blue stones in them?”
“If your secret is worth so much.”
“And a brooch of woven silver?”
“I will make it.”
“And a golden comb for my hair?”
“I promise it.”
“Then, if you will surely keep your promise, I will tell you all that I
know, and tell you truly. Is it a bargain?”
Ilmarinen looked down into his sister’s dark eyes and answered, “If
what you tell me is worth anything I will give you all that you have
asked for—finger rings, earrings, brooch, comb, and five or six
beautiful girdles. If you are fooling me, you shall have no trinket nor
ring nor precious jewel—for I will teach you not to hinder me with
trifles.”
“I bring you no trifles,” said Anniki; “and I shall hold you to your
promise.”
Then, in a few words plainly spoken, she told her brother all that she
had seen and heard that morning. She told him of the Minstrel’s magic
boat, and of the voyage which he had planned, and of his cunning scheme
to gain possession of the Maid of Beauty. “And now, brother,” she
added, “why do you toil here in the smoke and the heat while your false
friend is hurrying northward to rob you of the treasure that ought to
be your own?”
“He shall not rob me,” said the Smith coolly, earnestly. Then he heaped
more fuel upon his fire and blew his bellows till the flames leaped up
to the roof of his smithy. “Anniki, your news is worth the price. I
will fashion the pretty girdles for you, I will make the rings and the
earrings and the brooch and the comb, and I will bring them all to you
before the sun goes down.”
“That’s a good brother!” cried the maiden. “I knew you would do it. Now
I am sure that a great resolve is in your heart, and you will do
something worthy of your name and fame. How can I help you?”
“Hasten home and heat the bath house for me,” answered Ilmarinen. “Heap
the wood around the big bath-stones; put plenty of dry kindlings
underneath, then lay hot coals around and make a roaring fire. Fetch
water and fill the pails and the tubs, for I shall need not a little of
it. Make a handful of soap, for nothing else will cleanse my smoky,
grimy visage. Get everything ready, and tell mother that I am going on
a long journey.”
“Yes, brother,” said Anniki. “I know what is in your mind, and
everything shall be done as you desire;” and then with hasty steps,
smiling and proud, she ran out of the smithy and hurried to her
mother’s house in the village.
“Mother!” she cried, “Ilmarinen is coming home early to-day. I think he
must be going on a journey, for he wishes to take a bath.”
“Well then, my daughter,” said good Dame Lokka, “it is for you to make
the bath house ready. Put plenty of wood around the bath-stones and
build a roaring fire. See that the water is ready, and put everything
needful in the right place. And you should see that his clothes are
mended and brushed and fit for him to wear.”
“Yes, mother!” answered the dutiful maiden.
Anniki ran into the forest and gathered armloads of pine-knots, dry and
resinous and impatient to be burned. She carried them into the bath
house and heaped them up on the big hearth; she brought hot coals from
the kitchen and made a roaring fire. She filled the pails and the great
kettles with water. She placed the bath-stones where they would heat
the quickest. She dipped some sprigs of white birches in wild honey and
threw them into the water. Then she ran again to the kitchen and
brought a handful of reindeer fat. She mixed this with milk and ashes,
and thus made a magic soap that was pure and white and cleansing.
“My brother will have a good bath when he comes home,” she said. “It
will not be my fault if he doesn’t come out of it clean.”
Meanwhile the master Smith was toiling steadily at his forge, making
the ornaments which he had promised to give to his sister. First, he
hammered out the finger rings of gold and the precious earrings. Then
he made six girdles of rare and most wonderful beauty; nor did he
forget the comb and the brooch and some golden pins which he knew would
please Anniki’s fancy. He finished all these quickly, skilfully. Then
he raked the coals from his forge; he laid his hammer down in its place
beside the anvil; he took off his leather apron and hung it on a peg;
he went out of his smithy and closed the door behind him. With long,
impatient strides he hurried home and laid the precious gifts in his
sister’s hands.
“Here are your wages, Anniki,” he said.
“Oh, brother, I thank you,” she answered. “They are even more beautiful
than I expected. Now make haste and take your bath. The bath-stones are
hot, and the fire burns low; your soap, your brushes, your combs—all
are ready. And your best clothes, they are hanging on the pegs, close
by the bath-kettle.”
Ilmarinen surely needed a washing. Grimy with soot and gray with ashes,
he quickly obeyed his sister. He stepped into the bath house. Out of
doors the sun was shining; by the window a cuckoo was calling; in the
air sweet voices were sounding. He looked, he listened, his heart
throbbed with joy as he disrobed himself and poured the water slowly
upon the red-hot bath-stones. Soon the house was filled with a mighty
steam; the Smith was lost to view in the dense hot vapor.
An hour passed by, the sun went down, and at length the Smith came
forth from his bathing. Who would have known him? Who would have
thought that a bath could work such wonders? His hair was a golden
yellow; his cheeks were as ruddy as cranberries in the late days of
autumn; his eyes sparkled like two full moons when the sky is clear and
the winds are at rest.
And he was clothed, oh, so beautifully! His coat was of linen, dyed
yellow and beautifully embroidered by his mother. His trousers were of
soft flannel, scarlet-colored. His vest was of crimson silk. His
stockings, too, were silken and very long. His shoes were made of
softest leather—leather tanned from the skin of a reindeer. Over his
shoulders he wore a sky-blue shawl, thick and soft. Around his waist
was a magic girdle fastened with gold buckles. His hands were incased
in reindeer gloves of wondrous warmth and beauty; and on his head was
the finest cap that had ever been seen—a cap which his father and
grandfather had worn in their youth when they went wooing.
Anniki clapped her hands for joy when she saw her brother thus arrayed,
and Lokka, his mother, threw her arms around his neck and wept for very
pride and happiness.
“O my beautiful boy!” she cried. “Never was your father more handsomely
dressed. Never was any bridegroom more fitly arrayed. Good luck to you!
Good luck to you!”
Ilmarinen put her off gently, kissing her on the cheek and thanking her
for her words of praise. “Now bring me the horse,” he said. “Harness my
trusty steed and hitch him to my enchanted sledge. I am going to the
North Country, to the Frozen Land and the dreary shores of Pohyola.
Long will it be ere I again return to home and country.”
“Which steed shall it be?” asked the serving-man. “There are seven
racers in your stables, all trusty and true—seven fleet-footed steeds
of rare strength and mettle. Which shall it be?”
“The gray is the best,” answered Ilmarinen. “Hitch the gray steed to my
enchanted sledge. Put in food and feed for seven days’ journey—yes, for
eight days of wintry weather. Remember, too, the big bearskin and the
soft fur robes to be wrapped about me, for in the North Country the air
is always chilly and the winds are always cold.”
“Everything shall be done as you wish, my master,” said the
serving-man.
Very soon the fleet-footed gray steed and the enchanted sledge were
brought to the door. The soft fur robes, the skins of two great bears,
blankets in plenty were put in their proper places; a jar of reindeer
meat, a string of smoked herring, food for many days, were stowed
beneath the seat; everything was done to speed the traveller on his
way.
The hero had bidden his mother good-bye, he had kissed Anniki’s lips
and whispered a word of magic in her ear, and he had sent messages of
love to all his friends. Now he stepped out of the door, clad in his
beautiful garments, princely in form and bearing. He climbed quickly
into the sledge and sat down upon the great bearskins. They wrapped the
warm robes around him and put the long reins in his hands. The last
good-byes were spoken. The hero cracked his whip, and the gray racer
bounded forward and sped swiftly away. Like the wind he flew through
the woods and the marshes and along the pebbly shores of the sea; and
the heart of the brave Smith was cheered with courage and hope.
Then in the dim evening twilight the hero perceived six cuckoos perched
on the dashboard before him, and beside them seven small bluebirds were
sitting. They had been placed there by the trusty serving-man, and now
they all began twittering and singing, and the faster they travelled
the louder was their sweet music.
“They are omens of good fortune!” cried Ilmarinen. “’Tis thus that the
merry springtime journeys to the Frozen Land! Good luck, good luck,
good luck!”
Then he cracked his whip again and shouted loudly, joyfully. The gray
racer neighed shrilly and flew onward with redoubled speed. The waves
of the sea rippled with joy upon the sands, and the very stars in the
sky twinkled and danced as the enchanted sledge glided like a swift
meteor toward the frozen North Country.