THE HOME COMING
Long were the speeches, lengthy were the songs, and many were the
stories to which the people listened and the patient bride and
bridegroom hearkened. Then, as the day was breaking, all was ended. The
guests rose and made ready to depart. The last good-byes were spoken,
the last words of counsel were delivered.
The hero’s steed was led from the stable, it was harnessed to the magic
sledge while the cuckoos called loudly and the bluebirds sang sweetly
as before.
“Farewell, farewell, to all my friends and kindred,” then murmured the
Bride of Beauty. “I must now go far, far away from the home I love so
dearly. I must leave my mother’s dwelling, leave the farmyard, fields,
and meadows where as a maiden I was happy. Farewell, dear house;
farewell, my mountain-ash tree; farewell, roads and pathways; farewell,
sweet hills and forests. Who now will answer the cuckoos when they
call? Who now will welcome the bluebirds in the springtime? Who will
milk my pet reindeer? Who will care for my lambs? Farewell, farewell to
all! Farewell, farewell!”
Then Ilmarinen, noble hero, lifted her into the sledge; he tucked the
robes of fur about her; he wrapped her feet in soft, warm blankets. The
serving-man handed him the reins and the whip. One word to the steed,
and they were away; the low-roofed dwelling, the village, the friends
at Pohyola, all were quickly left behind. And the happy, triumphant
Ilmarinen, shouted back his farewells.
“Good-bye, good-bye, to all the people! Good-bye to the seashore and
the creeks and inlets! Good-bye to the house with smoke-browned
rafters! Good-bye to the grasses in the meadows, to the lonely marshes,
to the willow bushes, and the lone pine woods where my smithy stands!
Good-bye to all! Good-bye, good-bye!”
Onward, with gliding feet, the swift steed flew. The magic sledge
scarcely touched the ground, its birchwood runners seemed to skim
through the air, so rapid was its motion. Across the broad meadows,
over the hills, through dark ravines, along the sandy shore the hero
pursued his course, never pausing, never doubting. The whip-lash
whistled in the air, the copper rings on the horse’s harness made merry
music.
All day, all night, yes, through a second day and then a third, the
joyful journey continued. With one hand the hero guided the horse, with
one arm he supported his bride. The North Wind gently drove him along,
the South Wind beckoned him forward. At length, just as the sun was
setting, he saw his own fair dwelling nestling among the trees of
Wainola. The smoke was rising from the roof-hole, Dame Lokka was
preparing the evening meal, the good sister, Anniki, was watching at
the door.
“Welcome, welcome, bridegroom and brother! Long have we watched for
you, long have we waited!” shouted the glad maid of the morning.
“O Ilmarinen, my son, my joy!” cried the mother and matron. “Welcome
home with thy birdling, thy fair one!”
Then quickly all the village people came running to greet their
neighbor Ilmarinen and his beautiful young bride. They led the noble
pair into the house, the men and women singing joyously, the children
dancing before them. A feast was soon provided—meats the tenderest and
most delicious, loaves of the whitest flour, yellow cakes both light
and sweet, lumps of fresh butter just from the churn, broiled salmon
smoking hot. All these they brought in great abundance, heaped up on
Dame Lokka’s pretty dishes. And the villagers shouted:
“Welcome, Bride of Beauty, to this Land of Heroes! Welcome to this
lovely village! Hail to the hero, our friend and neighbor! Hail to all
within this dwelling! Blessed be this home-coming. Blessed be the
bridal pair, and may their lives be long and their love lasting!”
Thus did Ilmarinen win his bride and thus did he bring her in triumph
to his home in Wainola.