touch the least thing, just as you have told me." But when they entered
the forest, it was so thick that it was almost impossible to win
through. She was as careful as she could be, and avoided the branches,
and thrust them aside with her hands; but the branches struck her in the
face each moment, and in spite of all her care a leaf did remain in her
hand.
"Alas, alas!" cried the bull. "What have you done! Now I must fight for
my very life, for the troll with six heads is twice as strong as the
first one; but see that you take care of the leaf and keep it
carefully!"
At once the troll came rushing up. "Who has touched my forest?" cried
he. "The forest is as much mine as yours!" cried the bull. "Oho, we'll
see if it is!" cried the troll. "That suits me!" said the bull, and
rushed on the troll, gored him, and thrust his horns right through him.
But the troll was just as strong, and it took three whole days before
the bull got the better of him. After that he was so weak and feeble
that he could scarcely move, and so full of wounds that his blood ran in
streams. Then he told the king's daughter to take the horn of ointment
that hung at the troll's girdle, and anoint him with the salve. She did
so, and he recovered again: yet they had to remain a time on the spot,
until he was once more able to go on.
At last they set out again; but the bull was still weak, and at first
they went slowly. The king's daughter wanted to spare him, and said she
was young and quick on her feet, and could walk very well; but this he
would not allow, and she had to sit on his back. Thus they wandered for
a long time, and through many lands, and the king's daughter had no idea
where they might be going; but at length they came to a golden forest.
It was very beautiful, and the gold dripped down from it, for the trees,
and branches and leaves and buds were all of purest gold. And here all
went as it had in the copper and silver forests. The bull told the
king's daughter that in no case was she to touch anything, since a
troll with nine heads lived here, to whom the forest belonged. And he
was much larger and stronger than the two others together, and he did
not believe he could hold his own against him. Yes, said she, she would
be sure to pay attention and positively would not touch a thing. But
when they entered the forest, it was even thicker than the silver
forest, and the further they went the worse it became. The forest
grew thicker and denser, and at last it seemed as though it would be
impossible to push on at all. She was much afraid of tearing off
anything, and wound and twisted and bent herself in every direction, in
order to avoid the branches, and thrust them aside with her hands. But
each moment they struck her in the face, so that she could not see where
she was reaching, and before she had a chance to think, she held a
golden apple in her hand. Then she was terribly frightened, and began to
cry, and wanted to throw it away. But the bull told her to keep it, and
hide it carefully, and consoled her as best he could. Yet he thought
that the battle would be a hard one, and was in doubt as to whether it
would end well.
But now the troll with the nine heads came rushing up, and he was so
frightful that the king's daughter could scarcely bear to look at him.
"Who has touched my forest?" he shouted. "The forest is as much mine as
yours!" cried the bull. "We'll see if it is!" cried the troll. "That
suits me!" said the bull, and with this they rushed on each other, so
that it was a fearsome sight, and the king's daughter nearly fainted.
The bull gored the troll through and through with his horns; but the
troll was as strong as he, and as soon as the bull killed one of his
heads, the others breathed fresh life into it, and it took a full week
before the bull got the better of him. But then he was so wretched and
so weak that he could not move a bit. His whole body was covered with
wounds; and he could not even tell the king's daughter to take the horn
of ointment from the troll's girdle and anoint him with the salve. But
she did so of her own accord, and then he recovered again. Yet they had
to stay where they were for three whole weeks, until he was able to go
on again.
At last they once more went slowly on their way; for the bull said they
still had a little further to go, and they went over many great hills
and through thick forests. After a time they came to a rock. "Do you see
anything?" asked the bull. "No, I see only the sky and the rock," said
the king's daughter. But when they went on up the hills were more level,
so that they had a broader outlook. "Do you see something now?" asked
the bull. "Yes, I see a small castle, far, far in the distance," said
the princess. "And yet it is not so small," said the bull. At length
they came to a great mountain with a steep, rocky face. "Do you see
something now?" asked the bull. "Yes, now I see the castle close by, and
it is much, much larger," said the king's daughter. "That is where you
must go!" said the bull. "Just below the castle is a pig-sty, and if you
go into it you will find a wooden coat. You must put it on, and go with
it into the castle, and say your name is Kari Woodencoat, and ask for a
place. But now take your little knife and cut off my head; then draw off
my skin, roll it up and lay it at the foot of the rock. But in it you
must place the copper leaf, and the silver leaf, and the golden apple.
Outside, against the hill, is a stick, and if you want anything of me,
all you need do is to knock at the mountain-side." At first the princess
could not at all make up her mind to do this; but when the bull told her
that this was the only reward he wanted for all the good he had done
her, she could not refuse. It made her heart ache, yet in spite of it,
she took her knife and cut until she had cut off the head of the great
beast, and had drawn off his skin, and then she laid the latter at the
foot of the rock, and in it she placed the copper leaf, and the silver
leaf, and the golden apple.
When she had done this she went to the pig-sty, but she wept a great
deal and felt sad. Then she put on the wooden coat, and went to the
king's castle in it. She asked for a place in the kitchen, and said her
name was Kari Woodencoat. Yes, said the cook, she might have a place if
she cared to wash up, for the girl who had formerly attended to it had
run away. "And after you have been here a while, no doubt you will have
enough of it, and run away from us, too," said he. No, indeed, she would
not do so.
She was most industrious at her washing up. On Sunday they expected
company at the king's castle; and Kari asked permission to take up
water to wash in to the prince. But the others laughed at her and cried;
"What do you want to do there? Do you think the prince will have
anything to do with you, homely as you are?" But she kept on asking, and
at length received permission.
And then, as she ran up the stairs, her wooden coat clattered so loudly
that the prince came out and asked: "And who are you?" "I came to bring
you water to wash in," said Kari. "Do you think I want the water you are
bringing me?" cried the prince, and poured the water out over her head.
So she had to go off; but she asked permission to go to church. And she
received permission, for the church was close by. But first she went to
the rock and knocked at it with a stick, as the bull had told her. And a
man came out at once and asked what she wanted. The king's daughter said
that she had permission to go to church and hear the sermon, but that
she had no dress to wear. Then the man gave her a dress that shone like
the copper forest, and a horse and a saddle as well. When she came to
church she looked so beautiful that all the people wondered who she
might be, and none of them listened to the sermon, because they were all
looking at her. She even pleased the prince so much that he could not
keep from looking at her.
When she left the church, the prince came after her, and closed the
church door behind her, and kept one of the gloves she wore in his hand.
And then when she wanted to mount her horse, the prince came again, and
asked her where she came from. "From Washwaterland!" said Kari, and
while the prince pulled out the glove and wanted to give it to her, she
said:
"Be there light before me, and darkness behind,
That the place I ride to the prince may not find!"
The prince had never yet seen such a handsome glove, and he traveled
far, looking for the native land of the noble lady who had abandoned her
glove, but no one could tell him where it might be.
The following Sunday some one had to go up to the prince, and bring him
a towel. "Cannot I go up?" begged Kari. "Is that all you want?" said the
rest in the kitchen. "You saw yourself what happened to you the last
time!" But Kari kept on asking, and finally she received permission,
after all, and ran up the stairs so that her wooden coat fairly
clattered. The prince at once thrust his head out of the door, and when
he saw that it was Kari, he tore the towel out of her hand and flung it
at her head. "Off with you, you horrid creature!" cried he. "Do you
think I want a towel that you have touched with your dirty fingers?"
After that the prince went to church, and Kari also begged permission to
go. The people asked her why she wanted to go to church, since she had
nothing to wear but her ugly, black wooden coat. But Kari said the
pastor preached so beautifully that she loved to listen to him, and
finally they allowed her to go. She went to the wall of rock and
knocked, and the man came out and gave her a dress that was far
handsomer than the first; it was embroidered all over with silver, and
gleamed like the silver forest; and she also received a splendid horse,
with housings embroidered with silver, and a silver bridle. When the
king's daughter came to the church, the people were still standing
before the church door. In their astonishment they all asked each other
who she might be, and the prince came running up at once, and wanted to
hold her horse while she dismounted. But she jumped right down, and said
it would not be necessary, since the horse was so tame that it would
stand still when she commanded, and come to her if she wished. Then
every one went into the church. But hardly any one paid any attention
to the sermon; for they were all looking at Kari, and the prince fell
deeper in love with her than he had the first time. When the sermon was
over, and she left the church and was about to mount her horse, the
prince again came, and asked where she came from. "From Towelland!" said
she, and let fall her riding-whip. And when the prince stooped to pick
it up, she said:
"Be there light before me, and darkness behind,
That the place I ride to the prince may not find!"
Off she was, and the prince did not know what had become of her. He
wandered about in the world, far and wide, looking for her native land.
But no one could tell him where it might be, and with that the prince
finally had to content himself.
The following Sunday some one was to go up to the prince, and bring him
a comb. Kari begged that they would let her go, but the others reminded
her of what had happened the last time, and scolded her for showing
herself to the prince, ugly and black as she was, and in her wooden
coat. But she kept on asking, and finally they let her go with the comb.
When she once more came clattering up the stairs, the prince thrust his
head out of the door, tore the comb from her hand, and shouted at her to
be off. Then the prince went to church, and Kari wanted to go as well.
The rest again asked her why she wanted to go to church, black and ugly
as she was, since she did not even have clothes fit to appear in before
other people. The prince, or some one else might happen to see her, and
that would mean unhappiness for herself and others. But Kari said that
the people would have other things to look at besides herself, and
finally they let her go.
Then everything happened exactly as on the other two occasions. She went
to the wall of rock, and knocked with the stick, and then the man came
out, and gave her a dress that was far more beautiful than both of the
others. It was all pure gold and diamonds, and she also received a
beautiful horse, with housings embroidered with gold, and a golden
bridle.
When the king's daughter came to the church, the pastor and all the
congregation were still standing before the church door, waiting for
her. The prince came running up at once, and wanted to hold her horse,
but she jumped down and said: "No, thanks, it is not necessary, for my
horse is so tame that he will remain standing when I tell him to do so."
So they all went into the church, and the pastor mounted the pulpit. But
not a soul listened to the sermon, because all the people were looking
at the princess, and wondering where she came from, and the prince fell
still more deeply in love than he had on the two other occasions. He
paid no attention to anything, and looked only at her.
When the sermon was over, and the king's daughter left the church, the
prince had poured tar on the floor of the vestibule, so that he might
have a chance to help the king's daughter across. But she paid no
attention to it, stepped right into the middle of the tar, and leaped
over. But one of her golden shoes stuck fast, and when she had mounted
her horse, the prince came running out of the church and asked her
whence she came. "From Combland!" she answered. But when the prince
wanted to hand her the golden shoe, she said:
"Be there light before me, and darkness behind,
That the place I ride to the prince may not find!"
And again the prince did not know where she had gone, and he wandered
about the world a long time, looking for Combland; but since no one
could tell him where it might be, he let it be known that he would marry
the girl whose foot the golden shoe fitted. Then the handsome and the
homely came scurrying up from the ends of the earth; but none of them
had a foot so small that they could put on the golden shoe. At last
Kari's evil stepmother and her daughter also came, and the shoe fitted
the latter. But she was very homely, and looked so unsatisfactory
that the prince kept his promise most unwillingly. Notwithstanding,
preparations were made for the wedding, and she was adorned with her
bridal finery, but when they rode to church, a little bird sat in a tree
and sang:
"A bit of the heel,
And a bit of the toe,
Kari Woodencoat's shoe
Is filled with blood, I know!"
And when they looked, the bird had told the truth, for blood was
dripping from the shoe. Then all the maids and all the women who were at
the castle had to try on the shoe, but it would fit none of them. "But
where is Kari Woodencoat?" asked the prince, for he had understood the
song of the bird, and remembered it well. "O she!" said the others. "It
is not worth while having her come, for she has feet like a horse." "Be
that as it may," said the prince. "But all the rest have tried it on, so
she shall try it on as well. Kari!" he called out through the door, and
Kari came clattering up the stairs so that everything shook, just as
though a whole regiment of dragoons had arrived. "Now you shall try on
the golden shoe, and be a princess!" said the others, and made fun of
her. But Kari took the shoe, put her foot into it without a bit of
trouble, cast off her wooden coat, and stood there in her golden dress,
so that she was all a-sparkle, and on her other foot she had the golden
shoe's mate. The prince recognized her at once, put his arm around her,
and kissed her. And she told him that she was a king's daughter, which
made him still more happy, and then they celebrated their wedding.
"Spin, span, spun,
Now our tale is done!"
NOTE
"Kari Woodencoat" (Asbjoernsen and Moe, N.F.E., p. 79, No. 19)
proves how arbitrarily the motives of a fairy-tale are sometimes
handled. The blue bull helps the maiden out of her difficulties,
and we expect that he will turn out to be a handsome prince, or a
guardian spirit sent by the deceased mother. Instead of which he
disappears from the story with hardly a trace, and Kari marries a
foreign prince. The last part of the tale has an independent
existence in a Russian fairy-story, "The Czar's Daughter in the
Underground Kingdom."
XX
OLA STORBAEKKJEN
Once upon a time there lived a man in the forest of Dovre whose name was
Ola Storbaekkjen. He was of giant build, powerful and fearless. During
the winter he did not work, but traveled from one fair to another,
hunting up quarrels and brawls. From Christiansmarkt he went to Branaes
and Konigsberg, and thence to Grundsaet, and wherever he came squabbles
and brawls broke out, and in every brawl he was the victor. In the
summer he dealt in cattle at Valders and the fjords, and fought with the
fjord-folk and the hill people of Halling and Valders, and always had
the best of it. But sometimes they scratched him a bit with the knife,
did those folk.
Now once, at the time of the hay harvest, he was home at Baekkjen, and
had lain down to take a little after-dinner nap under the penthouse. And
he was taken into the hill, which happened in the following way: A man
with a pair of gilded goat's horns came along and butted Ola, but Ola
fell upon him so that the man had to duck back, again and again. But the
stranger stood up once more, and began to butt again, and finally he
took Ola under his arm like a glove, and then both of them flew straight
off into the hill.
In the place to which they came all was adorned with silver plates and
dishes, and with ornaments of silver, and Ola thought that the king
himself had nothing finer. They offered him mead, which he drank; but
eat he would not, for the food did not seem to him to be appetizing.
Suddenly the man with the gilded goat's horns came in, and gave Ola a
shove before he knew it; but Ola came back at him as before, and so they
beat and pulled each other through all the rooms, and along all the
walls. Ola was of the opinion that they had been at it all night long;
but by that time the scuffle had lasted over fourteen days, and they had
already tolled the church bells for him on three successive Thursday
evenings. On the third Thursday evening he was in ill ease, for the
people in the hill had in mind to thrust him forth. When the bells
stopped ringing, he sat at a crack in the hill, with his head looking
out. Had not a man come by and happened to spy him, and told the people
to keep on ringing the church-bells, the hill would have closed over him
again, and he would probably still be inside. But when he came out he
had been so badly beaten, and was so miserable, that it passed all
measure. The lumps on his head were each bigger than the other, his
whole body was black and blue, and he was quite out of his mind. And
from time to time he would leap up, run off and try to get back into the
hill to take up his quarrel again, and fight for the gilded goat's
horns. For those he wanted to break from the giant's forehead.
NOTE
A primitive enjoyment of brawling and pummeling is betrayed in the
story of "Ola Storbaekkjen" (Asbjoernsen, _Huldreeventyr_, II,
p. 73. From the vicinity of Osterdalen, told by a
reindeer-hunter).
XXI
THE CAT WHO COULD EAT SO MUCH
Once upon a time there was a man who had a cat, and she ate so very
much that he did not want to keep her any longer. So he decided to tie
a stone around her neck, and throw her into the river; but before he
did so she was to have something to eat just once more. The woman
offered her a dish of mush and a little potful of fat. These she
swallowed, and then jumped out of the window. There stood the man on
the threshing-floor.
"Good-day, man in the house," said the cat.
"Good-day, cat," said the man. "Have you had anything to eat yet
to-day?"
"O, only a little, but my fast has hardly been broken," said the cat. "I
have had no more than a dish of mush and a little potful of fat, and I
am thinking over whether I ought not to eat you as well," said she, and
she seized the man and ate him up. Then she went into the stable. There
sat the woman, milking.
"Good-day, woman in the stable," said the cat.
"Good-day, cat, is that you?" said the woman. "Have you eaten your
food?" she asked.
"O, only a little to-day. My fast has hardly been broken," said the cat.
"I have had no more than a dish of mush and a little potful of fat and
the man in the house, and I'm thinking over whether I ought not to eat
you as well," said she, and she seized the woman and ate her up.
"Good-day, cow at the manger," said the cat to the bell-cow.
"Good-day, cat," said the bell-cow. "Have you had anything to eat yet
to-day?" "O, only a little. My fast has hardly been broken," said the
cat. "I have had no more than a dish of mush and a little potful of fat
and the man in the house and the woman in the stable, and I'm thinking
over whether I ought not to eat you as well," said the cat, and seized
the bell-cow and ate her up. Then she went up to the orchard, and there
stood a man who was sweeping up leaves.
"Good-day, leaf-sweeper in the orchard," said the cat.
"Good-day, cat," said the man. "Have you had anything to eat yet
to-day?"
"O, only a little. My fast has hardly been broken," said the cat. "I
have had no more than a dish of mush and a little potful of fat and the
man in the house and the woman in the stable and the bell-cow at the
manger, and I'm thinking over whether I ought not to eat you up as
well," said she, and seized the leaf-sweeper and ate him up.
Then she came to a stone-pile. There stood the weasel, looking about
him.
"Good-day, weasel on the stone-pile," said the cat.
"Good-day, cat," said the weasel. "Have you had anything to eat yet
to-day?"
"O, only a little. My fast has hardly been broken," said the cat. "I
have had no more than a dish of mush and a little potful of fat and the
man in the house and the woman in the stable and the bell-cow at the
manger and the leaf-sweeper in the orchard, and I'm thinking over
whether I ought not to eat you as well," said the cat, and seized the
weasel and ate him up.
After she had gone a while, she came to a hazel-bush. There sat the
squirrel, gathering nuts.
"Good-day, squirrel in the bush," said the cat.
"Good-day, cat! Have you already had anything to eat yet to-day?" said
the squirrel.
"O, only a little. My fast has hardly been broken," said the cat. "I
have had no more than a dish of mush and a little potful of fat and the
man in the house and the woman in the stable and the bell-cow at the
manger and the leaf-sweeper in the orchard and the weasel on the
stone-pile, and I'm thinking over whether I ought not to eat you up as
well," said she, and seized the squirrel and ate him up.
After she had gone a little while longer, she met Reynard the fox, who
was peeping out of the edge of the forest.
"Good-day, fox, you sly-boots," said the cat.
"Good-day, cat! Have you had anything to eat yet to-day?" said the fox.
"O, only a little. My fast has hardly been broken," said the cat. "I
have had no more than a dish of mush and a little potful of fat and the
man in the house and the woman in the stable and the bell-cow at the
manger and the leaf-sweeper in the orchard and the weasel on the
stone-pile and the squirrel in the hazel-bush, and I'm thinking over
whether I ought not to eat you as well," said she, and seized the fox
and ate him up too.
When she had gone a little further, she met a hare.
"Good-day, you hopping hare," said the cat.
"Good-day, cat! Have you had anything to eat yet to-day?" said the hare.
"O, only a little. My fast has hardly been broken," said the cat. "I
have had no more than a dish of mush and a little potful of fat and the
man in the house and the woman in the stable and the bell-cow at the
manger and the leaf-sweeper in the orchard and the weasel on the
stone-pile and the squirrel in the hazel-bush and the fox, the
sly-boots, and I'm thinking over whether I ought not to eat you up as
well," said she, and seized the hare and ate him up.
When she had gone a little further, she met a wolf.
"Good-day, you wild wolf," said the cat.
"Good-day, cat! Have you had anything to eat yet to-day?" said the wolf.
"O, only a little. My fast has hardly been broken," said the cat. "I
have had no more than a dish of mush and a little potful of fat and the
man in the house and the woman in the stable and the bell-cow at the
manger and the leaf-sweeper in the orchard and the weasel on the
stone-pile and the squirrel in the hazel-bush and the fox, the
sly-boots, and the hopping hare, and I'm thinking over whether I ought
not to eat you up as well," said she, and seized the wolf and ate him
up, too.
Then she went into the wood, and when she had gone far and farther than
far, over hill and dale, she met a young bear.
"Good-day, little bear brown-coat," said the cat.