move or speak. In spite of herself her eyes closed, and she sank softly
to the ground in a deep sleep.
As soon as the dwarf saw that his charm had worked he caused a dark
cloud to gather about him, which entirely hid him from view. Rising in
this cloud, he floated high above the iron walls and paused directly
over Prince Dobrotek. He drew his sword and made ready to slay the bold
Prince who had come against him.
Dobrotek looked up and wondered to see the dark cloud that had so
suddenly gathered above him.
“Beware!” cried the wild horse loudly. “It is the dwarf. He is about to
strike.”
Scarcely had he spoken when the darkness drew down about them. Through
this darkness shot a flash as bright as lightning. It was the dwarf’s
sword that had struck at the Prince. But swift as the stroke was, the
horse was no less swift. He sprang aside, and the sword drove so deep
into the earth that the dwarf was not able to draw it out again.
“Strike! Strike!” cried the horse to Dobrotek. “It is your chance!”
Dobrotek raised the Sword of Sharpness and struck into the cloud, and
his blow was so sharp and true that the dwarf’s head was cut from his
body and fell at the Prince’s feet.
Dobrotek alighted, and cutting off the dwarf’s beard, he wound it about
him like a glittering golden belt. Then, leaving the head where it lay,
he opened the gate and went into the garden.
He had not far to go in his search for Beautiful, for she was lying
asleep upon the grass close to the gate. Dobrotek was filled with joy
at the sight.
“Princess, awake! awake!” he cried. “It is I, Dobrotek. I have come to
rescue you.”
The Princess neither stirred nor woke. Her lashes rested on her cheeks,
and she breathed so gently that her breast scarcely moved.
“Master,” said the horse, “this is no natural sleep. It is some
enchantment. Take up that cap that lies beside her. Then fill your
flask at the fountain of the Water of Life and let us go. Do not try
to wake her now. When it is time, you can do so by sprinkling upon her
a few drops of the water. But first let us make haste to leave this
place, for it is still full of evil magic.”
Dobrotek was not slow to do as the horse bade him. He filled a flask
with the Water of Life and hid the Cap of Invisibility in his bosom.
Then, lifting the Princess in his arms, he mounted the horse and rode
back with her the way they had come.
It was not long before they reached the place where the Prince had
saved the hare from the owl in the forest. Here the Prince found his
own horse. It had not wandered away, but had stayed there, browsing on
the grass and leaves and drinking from a stream near by.
“And now, Prince,” said the wild steed, “it is time for us to part.
Light down and take the bridle from my head. Put it back again where
you found it, and cover it with the rock; but keep the whistle by you.
If ever you need me, blow upon it, and I will come to your aid.”
Dobrotek did as the steed bade him. He lighted down and took the bridle
from its head. He put it in the hole where he had found it and rolled
back the rock upon it. Then the horse bade him farewell, and tore away
through the forest, neighing as it went and breathing flames of fire.
After it had gone the Prince felt very weary. He had not yet awakened
the Princess, but had laid her, still asleep, upon the soft moss of the
forest. Now he stretched himself at her feet, and at once fell into a
deep slumber.
Now it so chanced that while he was asleep King Sarudine, the King of
the Black Country, came riding through the forest. He too had been a
suitor for the hand of the Princess, but he had been refused. When
he heard that she had been spirited away, and that Prince Dobrotek
had gone to seek for her, he also determined to set out on the same
mission. He hoped that he might be the first to find her and so win her
for his bride. For the King, her father, had sent out a proclamation
that whoever could find the Princess Beautiful and rescue her should
have her for his wife.
What was the amazement of Sarudine, as he came through the lonely wood,
suddenly to see the Princess lying there asleep, with Dobrotek at her
feet.
At first he drew his sword, thinking to kill the Prince; but after
a moment’s thought he put it back in its sheath. Then bending over
Beautiful he very quietly lifted her in his arms, mounted his horse,
and rode away with her.
Dobrotek was so wearied with his adventures that he slept on for some
time, not knowing that the Princess had again been stolen from him.
But when at last he woke and found her gone, he was like one mad, so
great was his despair. He rushed about hither and thither through the
forest, calling her name aloud, and seeking her everywhere, but nowhere
could he find her.
Suddenly he bethought him of his golden whistle, and putting it to his
lips he blew so loud and shrill that the forest echoed to the sound. At
once the great grey horse came galloping through the forest to him.
Dobrotek ran to meet it. “Tell me,” he cried, “you who know all things,
where is Beautiful? She has been stolen from me, and I cannot find her.”
“She is no longer here in the forest,” answered the horse. “She has
been carried away by King Sarudine. He has taken her back to her
father’s castle, and now he claims her as his bride, for he says that
he is the one who found and rescued her. But she still sleeps her
enchanted sleep, and none can waken her. You alone can do this, for
you have the Waters of Life. Hasten back to the castle, therefore,
but before you go to waken her, put on the Cap of Invisibility. King
Sarudine fears you, and he has set guards about the castle with orders
to slay you if you attempt to enter. All their watchfulness will be in
vain, however, if you wear the cap upon your head.”
The advice was wise, and Dobrotek at once did as the horse told him.
He drew out the cap and put it upon his head. So he became invisible.
Then he rode away in the direction of the country of the Silver
Mountains.
He rode on and on, and after a while he came to where the first line
of guards was set. They heard the galloping of a horse, and looked all
about them, but they could see no one, so he passed in safety. Not long
after he came to a second line of soldiers, and he went by them unseen
also. Then he passed a third line of guards, and after that he was at
the palace.
The Prince entered in, and went from one room to another, and presently
he came to the great audience hall. There sat the King upon a golden
throne. At his right hand sat King Sarudine, and at his left the
Princess lay upon a golden couch, and so beautiful she looked as she
lay asleep that the Prince’s heart melted within him for love. He
lifted the cap from his head, and there they all saw him standing
before them.
The King of the Black Mountains turned pale and trembled at the sight
of him, but the old King gave a loud cry of surprise. He had thought
that Prince Dobrotek had met his death long ago, or that if he lived
he would be afraid to return to the Silver Mountain Country without
bringing the Princess with him.
“Rash Prince!” he cried; “what are you doing here? Do you not fear to
appear before me, having failed in your search?”
“I did not fail,” answered the Prince, “there lies the Princess, and
were it not for me she would still be a prisoner in the castle of the
Dwarf of the Golden Beard.”
“How is that?” asked the King.
Then Dobrotek told them his story. He told of how he had become master
of the wild horse in the forest, of how he had gained possession of the
Sword of Sharpness, and then of how he had ridden to the dwarf’s castle
and slain him in battle. He also told how he had brought the Princess
away with him, how he had fallen asleep in the forest, and of how the
King of the Black Country had stolen Beautiful from him while he slept.
The old King listened attentively to all that Dobrotek told him. When
the Prince had made an end to his story the old King turned to King
Sarudine beside him.
“And what have you to say to this?” he asked. “Is this story true?”
“Much of it is true,” answered Sarudine, hardily, “but still more of it
is false. It is true that it was the dwarf who carried Beautiful away.
It is true that he kept her a prisoner, and that he was slain by the
Sword of Sharpness. But it was I who won the sword and slew the dwarf,
and it was I who rescued the Princess. What better proof of this is
needed than that it was I who brought her here?”
“That is only proof that you stole her from me,” cried the Prince. “The
proof that I can offer is better still. If you slew the dwarf, where is
his beard?”
To this the King of the Black Country could answer nothing, for he did
not know where the beard was.
“Then I can tell you,” cried the Prince. With these words he threw
aside his mantle, and there, wound about him like a glittering girdle,
was the golden beard of the dwarf.
When the old King saw the beard he could doubt no longer as to which of
the two had slain the dwarf and rescued the Princess. He turned such a
terrible look upon Sarudine that the young King trembled.
“So you would have deceived me!” he cried. “You thought to win the
Princess by a trick. Away! Away with you! Let me never see your face
again; and if ever again you venture into my country, you shall be
thrown into a dungeon and remain there as long as you live.”
Then, as Sarudine was hurried away by the guards, the old King turned
again to the Prince. “You have indeed rescued the Princess,” he said,
“but your task is still only half completed. She sleeps, and none can
wake her. Until that is done, no man can have her for wife.”
“That is not such a hard matter, either,” said the Prince. With that
he drew from his bosom the flask that held the Waters of Life and
scattered a few drops upon the Princess.
At once she drew a deep breath and slowly opened her eyes. As soon as
she saw the Prince she sprang to her feet and threw herself into his
arms. The enchantment was broken, and she had awakened at last.
Then throughout the palace there was the greatest happiness and
rejoicing. There never had been anything like the favours the old King
heaped upon Dobrotek. The marriage between him and the Princess was
again prepared for, and this time all went well. Nothing happened to
interfere with the wedding, and the Prince and Beautiful were made man
and wife. They loved each other all the more tenderly for the dangers
they had shared, and from that time on they lived in all the happiness
that true love brings.
THE GREAT WHITE BEAR AND THE TROLLS
A STORY FROM THE NORSE
THERE was once a man in Finmark named Halvor, who had a great white
bear, and this great white bear knew many tricks. One day the man
thought to himself, “This bear is very wonderful. I will take it as a
present to the King of Denmark, and perhaps he will give me in return a
whole bag of money.” So he set out along the road to Denmark, leading
the bear behind him.
He journeyed on and journeyed on, and after a while he came to a deep,
dark forest. There was no house in sight, and as it was almost night
Halvor began to be afraid he would have to sleep on the ground, with
only the trees overhead for a shelter.
Presently, however, he heard the sound of a woodcutter’s axe. He
followed the sound, and soon he came to an opening in the forest.
There, sure enough, was a man hard at work cutting down trees. “And
wherever there’s a man,” thought Halvor to himself, “there must be a
house for him to live in.”
“Good day,” said Halvor.
“Good day!” answered the man, staring with all his eyes at the great
white bear.
“Will you give us shelter for the night, my bear and me?” asked Halvor.
“And will you give us a bit of food too? I will pay you well if you
will.”
“Gladly would I give you both food and shelter,” answered the man, “but
to-night, of all nights in the year, no one may stop in my home except
at the risk of his life.”
“How is that?” asked Halvor; and he was very much surprised.
“Why, it is this way. This is the eve of St John, and on every St
John’s Eve all the trolls in the forest come to my house. I am obliged
to spread a feast for them, and there they stay all night, eating and
drinking. If they found anyone in the house at that time, they would
surely tear him to pieces. Even I and my wife dare not stay. We are
obliged to spend the night in the forest.”
“This is a strange business,” said Halvor. “Nevertheless, I have a mind
to stop there and see what these same trolls look like. As to their
hurting me, as long as I have my bear with me there is nothing in the
world that I am afraid of.”
The woodcutter was alarmed at these words. “No, no; do not risk it, I
beg of you!” he cried. “Do you spend the night with us out under the
trees, and to-morrow we can safely return to our home.”
But Halvor would not listen to this. He was determined to sleep in a
house that night, and, moreover, he had a great curiosity to see what
trolls looked like.
“Very well,” said the woodcutter at last, “since you are determined to
risk your life, do you follow yonder path, and it will soon bring you
to my house.”
Halvor thanked him and went on his way, and it was not long before he
and his bear reached the woodcutter’s home. He opened the door and went
in, and when he saw the feast the woodcutter had spread for the trolls
his mouth fairly watered to taste of it. There were sausages and ale
and fish and cakes and rice porridge and all sorts of good things. He
tasted a bit here and there and gave his bear some, and then he sat
down to wait for the coming of the trolls. As for the bear, he lay down
beside his master and went to sleep.
They had not been there long when a great noise arose in the forest
outside. It was a sound of moaning and groaning and whistling and
shrieking. So loud and terrible it grew that Halvor was frightened in
spite of himself. The cold crept up and down his back and the hair
rose on his head. The sound came nearer and nearer, and by the time
it reached the door Halvor was so frightened that he could bear it no
longer. He jumped up and ran to the stove. Quickly he opened the oven
door and hid himself inside, pulling the door to behind him. The great
white bear paid no attention, however, but only snored in his sleep.
Scarcely was Halvor inside the oven when the door of the house was
burst open and all the trolls of the forest came pouring into the room.
There were big trolls and little trolls, fat trolls and thin. Some
had long tails and some had short tails and some had no tails at all.
Some had two eyes and some had three, and some had only one set in the
middle of the forehead. One there was, and the others called him Long
Nose, who had a nose as long and as thin as a poker.
The trolls banged the door behind them, and then they gathered round
the table where the feast was spread.
“What is this?” cried the biggest troll in a terrible voice (and
Halvor’s heart trembled within him). “Some one has been here before us.
The food has been tasted and ale has been spilled.”
At once Long Nose began snuffing about. “Whoever has been here is here
still,” he cried. “Let us find him and tear him to pieces.”
“Here is his pussy-cat, anyway,” cried the smallest troll of all,
pointing to the white bear. “Oh, what a pretty cat it is! Pussy! Pussy!
Pussy!” And the little troll put a piece of sausage on a fork and stuck
it against the white bear’s nose.
At that the great white bear gave a roar and rose to its feet. It gave
the troll a blow with its paw that sent him spinning across the room.
He of the long nose had it almost broken off, and the big troll’s ears
rang with the box he got. This way and that the trolls were knocked and
beaten by the bear, until at last they tore the door open and fled away
into the forest, howling.
When they had all gone Halvor crawled out and closed the door, and then
he and the white bear sat down and feasted to their hearts’ content.
After that the two of them lay down and slept quietly for the rest of
the night.
In the morning the woodcutter and his family stole back to the house
and peeped in at the window. What was their surprise to see Halvor and
his bear sitting there and eating their breakfasts as though nothing in
the world had happened to them.
“How is this?” cried the woodcutter. “Did the trolls not come?”
“Oh, yes, they came,” answered Halvor, “but we drove them away, and I
do not think they will trouble you again.” He then told the woodcutter
all that had happened in the night. “After the beating they received,
they will be in no hurry to visit you again,” he said.
The woodcutter was filled with joy and gratitude when he heard this.
He and his wife entreated Halvor to stay there in the forest and
make his home with them, but this he refused to do. He was on his
way to Denmark to sell his bear to the King, and to Denmark he would
go. So off he set, after saying good-bye, and the good wishes of the
woodcutter and his wife went with him.
Now the very next year, on St John’s Eve, the woodcutter was out in the
forest cutting wood, when a great ugly troll stuck his head out of a
tree near by.
“Woodcutter! Woodcutter!” he cried.
“Well,” said the woodcutter, “what is it?”
“Tell me, have you that great white cat with you still?”
“Yes, I have; and, moreover, now she has five kittens, and each one of
them is larger and stronger than she is.”
“Is that so?” cried the troll, in a great fright. “Then good-bye,
woodcutter, for we will never come to your house again.”
Then he drew in his head and the tree closed together, and that was the
last the woodcutter heard or saw of the trolls. After that he and his
family lived undisturbed and unafraid.
As for Halvor, he had already reached Denmark, and the King had been so
pleased with the bear that he paid a whole bag of money for it, just as
Halvor had hoped, and with that bag of money Halvor set up in trade so
successfully that he became one of the richest men in Denmark.
THE STORY OF THE THREE BILLY GOAT GRUFFS
A STORY FROM THE NORSE
THERE were once three Billy Goats who lived in a meadow at the foot of
a mountain, and their last name was Gruff. There was the Big Billy Goat
Gruff, and the Middle-sized Billy Goat Gruff, and the Little Billy Goat
Gruff. They all three jumped about among the rocks in the meadow and
ate what grass they could find, but it wasn’t very much.
One day the Littlest Billy Goat Gruff looked up at the high mountain
overhead, and he thought to himself, “It looks as though there were a
great deal of fine grass up on the mountain. I believe I’ll just run up
there all by myself, without telling anyone, and eat so much grass
and eat so much grass that I’ll grow to be as big as anybody.”
So off the Little Billy Goat Gruff started without telling his brothers
a word about it. He ran along, tip-tap, tip-tap, tip-tap, until at last
he came to a wide river, with a bridge over it.
Now the Little Billy Goat did not know it, but this bridge belonged
to a great, terrible Troll, and the little goat had not gone more than
half-way across when he heard the Troll shouting from under the bridge.
“Who’s that going across my bridge?” shouted the Troll in his great
loud voice.
“It’s me, the Littlest Billy Goat Gruff!” answered the Little Billy
Goat in his little bit of voice.
“Oh! it’s the Littlest Billy Goat Gruff, is it? Well, you won’t go much
farther, for I’m the Troll that owns this bridge, and now I’m coming
to eat you up.” And with that the Troll looked up over the edge of the
bridge.
When the Little Billy Goat Gruff saw him, he was very much frightened.
“Oh, dear, good Mr Troll, please don’t eat me up,” he cried. “I’m such
a very little goat that I would scarcely be a mouthful for you. I have
a brother who is a great deal bigger than I am; wait till he comes, for
he’d make a much better meal for you than I would.”
“But if he’s much bigger than you are he may be tough.”
“Oh, no, he’s just as tender as I am.”
“And a great deal bigger?”
“Oh, yes, a great deal bigger.”
“Very well then, I’ll wait for him. Run along!”
So the little goat ran on, tip-tap! tip-tap! tip-tap! across the
bridge, and on up the mountain to where he was safe. And glad enough he
was to be out of that scrape, I can tell you.
Now it was not very long after this that the Middle-sized Billy Goat
Gruff began to think he’d like to go up on the mountain too. He did not
say anything about it to the Great Big Billy Goat Gruff, but off he
set, all by himself—trap-trap! trap-trap! trap-trap! After a while he
came to the bridge, where the Troll lived, and he stepped out upon it,
trap-trap! trap-trap! trap-trap!
He’d barely reached the middle of it when the Troll began shouting at
him in his great, terrible voice:
“Who’s that going across my bridge?”
“It’s me, the Middle-sized Billy Goat Gruff,” answered the Middle-sized
Billy Goat in his middle-sized voice.
“Oh, it is, is it? Then you’re the very one I’ve been waiting for. I’m
the Troll that owns this bridge, and now I’m coming to eat you up.”
At that the Middle-sized Billy Goat Gruff was in a great fright. “Oh,
dear Mr Troll, good Mr Troll, please don’t eat me up! I have a brother
that’s a great deal bigger than I am. Just wait till he comes along,
for he’d make a much better meal for you than I would.”
“A great deal bigger?”
“Yes, a great deal bigger.”
“Very well then, run along and I’ll wait till he comes. Only the
biggest goat there is is fit to make a meal for me.”
The Middle-sized Billy Goat was not slow to run along as the Troll
bade him. He hurried across the river and up the mountain as fast as
he could go, trappity-trap! trappity-trap! trappity-trap! And just
weren’t he and his little brother glad to see each other again, and to
be safely over the Troll’s bridge, and up where the good grass was!
And now it was the turn of the Big Billy Goat Gruff to begin to think
he’d like to go up on the mountain too. “I believe that’s where the
Little Billy Goat Gruff and the Middle-sized Billy Goat Gruff have
gone,” said he to himself. “If I don’t look out they’ll be growing so
fat up there that they’ll be as big as I am. I think I’d better go and
eat the long green mountain grass too.” So the next morning off he set
in the pleasant sunshine. Klumph-klumph! klumph-klumph! He was so big
you could hear his hoofs pounding on the stones while he was still a
mile away.
After a while he came to the bridge where the Troll lived, and out he
stepped on it, klumph-klumph! klumph-klumph! and the bridge shook and
bent under his weight as he walked. Then the Troll that lived under
it was in a fearful rage. “Who’s that going across my bridge?” he
bellowed, and his voice was so terrible that all the little fish in the
river swam away and hid under the rocks at the sound of it.
But the Big Billy Goat was not one bit frightened.
“It’s me, the Biggest Billy Goat Gruff,” he answered, in a voice as big
as the Troll’s own.
“Oh, it is, is it? Then just stop a bit—for you’re the one I’ve been
waiting for. I’m the Troll that owns this bridge, and now I’m coming to
eat you up!” and with that the great grey Troll poked his head up over
the bridge, and his eyes looked like two great mill-wheels, and they
were going round and round in his head with rage. But still the Big
Billy Goat was not one bit frightened.
“So you’re a Troll, are you! And you own this bridge, do you? And now
you’re going to eat me up? We’ll just see about that:
“I have a forehead as hard as stone,
And I’ll mash you all up, body and bone!”
When the Troll heard the Big Billy Goat talk to him that way he
bellowed so that the Middle-sized Billy Goat and the Little Billy Goat
heard him all the way up on the mountain where they were. He jumped up
on the bridge and put down his big, bushy head and ran at the Billy
Goat, and the Big Billy Goat put down his head and ran at the Troll,
and they met in the middle of the bridge. But the Billy Goat’s head
was harder than the Troll’s, so he knocked him down and thumped him
about, and then he took him up on his horns and threw him over the edge
of the bridge into the river below, and the Troll sank like a piece of
lead and never was seen or heard of again.
But the Big Billy Goat went on up the mountain; and you may believe
that his two brothers were glad to see him again, and to hear that the
great wicked Troll was gone from under the bridge.
And after that they all stayed up on the mountain together, and the
smaller goats ate so much grass and grew so fat and big that after a
while no one could have told one Billy Goat from the other.
THE STONES OF PLOUVINEC
A TALE FROM BRITTANY
IN the little village of Plouvinec there once lived a poor stone-cutter
named Bernet.
Bernet was an honest and industrious young man, and yet he never seemed
to succeed in the world. Work as he might, he was always poor. This was
a great grief to him, for he was in love with the beautiful Madeleine
Pornec, and she was the daughter of the richest man in Plouvinec.