So one Thursday evening, late in the autumn, when there was terrible weather and it was dreadfully dark out of doors, and it rained and blew as well till the wall creaked, they were all sitting by the hearth busy with something or other. All at once some one knocked three times on the window-pane. The goodman went out to see what was the matter; when he came outside he saw a great big white bear.
“Good evening!” said the white bear.—“Good evening!” said the man.—“Will you give me your youngest daughter, and I will make you as rich as you now are poor,” said the bear.—Yes; the man thought it would be very nice to be so rich, but he must speak with his daughter first; so he went in and told her that a great white bear was outside, who promised that he would make them rich if he could only get her. She said “No,” and would not agree to any such arrangement; so the man went out and arranged with the white bear that he should come again next Thursday evening for an answer. In the meantime they talked her round, and told her of all the riches they would come in possession of, and how fine she herself would have it in her new home; so at last she gave in to their entreaties and began washing and mending her few rags and made herself look as well as she could, and was at last ready for the journey. Her baggage, of course, was not much to speak of.
Next Thursday evening the white bear came to fetch her; she got up on his back with her bundle, and away they went. When they had gone some distance the white bear said: “Are you afraid?”—No, she wasn’t afraid.—“Well, only hold tight by my coat and there’s no danger,” said the bear.
And so she rode far, far away, and came at last to a big mountain. The white bear knocked at it and a gate was opened, and they came into a castle where there were a great many rooms all lit up and gleaming with silver and gold, and amongst these was a great hall, where a table stood ready laid; in fact, all was so grand and splendid that you would not believe it unless you saw it. So the white bear gave her a silver bell, which she was to ring when-ever there was anything she wanted, and her wishes would be attended to at once.
Well, when she had eaten, it was getting late in the evening, and she became sleepy after the journey, so she thought she would like to go to bed. She rang the bell, and had scarcely touched it, before she was in a room, where she found such a beautiful bed as any one could wish for, with silken pillows and curtains, and gold fringes; everything else in the room was made of gold and silver. But when she had gone to bed and put out the light, she heard some one coming into the room and sitting down in the big arm-chair near the bed. It was the white bear, who at night could throw off his shape, and she could hear by his snoring as he sat in the chair that he was now in the shape of a man; but she never saw him, because he always came after she had put out the light, and in the morning before the day dawned he was gone.
Well, for a while everything went on happily, but then she began to be silent and sorrowful, for she went about all day alone, and no wonder she longed to be home with her parents and her sisters and brothers again. When the white bear asked what ailed her, she said she was so lonely there, she walked about all alone, and longed for her home and her parents and brothers and sisters, and that was the reason she was so sad.
“But you may visit them, if you like,” said the white bear, “if you will only promise me one thing. You must never talk alone with your mother, but only when there are others in the room. She will take you by the hand and try to lead you into a room to speak with you all by yourself; but you must not do this by any means, or you will make us both unhappy, and bring misfortune over us.”
One Sunday the white bear came and told her that they were now going to see her parents. Away they went, she sitting on his back, and they travelled far and long; at last they came to a grand white farmhouse, where her sisters and brothers were running about. Everything was so pretty that it was a pleasure to see it.
“Your parents are living there,” said the bear; “but mind you don’t forget what I have said, or you will make us both unhappy.” No, she would not forget it. When they came to the farm, the bear turned round and went away.
There was such a joy when she came in to her parents that there was no end to it. They said they did not know how to thank her fully for what she had done for them. They had everything they wanted, and everybody asked after her and wanted to know how she was getting on, and where she was living. She said that she was very comfortable and had everything she wished for; but what she otherwise answered I don’t know, but I believe they did not get much out of her.
But one day after dinner it happened exactly as the white bear had said; her mother wanted to speak with her alone in her chamber. But she recollected what the bear had told her, and would not go with her. “What we have got to talk about, we can do at some other time,” she said. But somehow or other her mother talked her round at last, and so she had to tell her everything. She told her how a man came into her room every night as soon as she had put out the light, and how she never saw him, for he was always gone before the day dawned. She was sorrowful at this, for she thought she would so like to see him; and in the daytime she walked about there all alone and felt very lonely and sad.
“Oh, dear me!” said her mother, “it may be a troll for all we know! But I will tell you how you can get a sight of him. You shall have a piece of a candle from me, and this you must take with you home in your bosom. When he is asleep, light that candle, but take care not to drop any of the tallow on him.”—Yes, she took the candle and hid it in her bosom, and in the evening the white bear came and fetched her.
When they had gone some distance of the way the bear asked her if everything hadn’t happened as he had said. Yes, she couldn’t deny that.—“Well, if you have listened to your mother’s advice you will make us both unhappy, and all will be over between us,” said the bear.—No, that she hadn’t!
When she came home and had gone to bed, the same thing occurred as before. Some one came into the room and sat in the arm-chair by her bedside, but in the middle of the night when she heard that he was asleep, she got up and struck a light, lit the candle, and let the light fall on him. She then saw that he was the loveliest prince any one could wish to see, and she fell at once in love with him; she thought that if she could not kiss him there and then she would not be able to live. And so she did, but she dropped three hot drops of tallow on him, and he woke up.
“What have you done?” he said, “you have now made us both unhappy forever, for if you had only held out one year I should have been saved. I have a stepmother who has bewitched me, and I am now a white bear by day and a man by night. But now all is over between us, and I must leave you and go back to her; she lives in a castle which lies east of the sun and west of the moon, and in the same castle there is a princess with a nose two yards long, and now I must marry her.”
She wept and cried, but there was no help for it; he must go and leave her. So she asked him if she might not go with him. No, that was impossible!—“But if you will tell me the way, I will try and find you,” she said. “I suppose I may have leave to do that!”—Yes, she could do that, he said, but there was no road to that place; it lay east of the sun and west of the moon, and she could never find her way there.
Next morning when she awoke, both the prince and the castle were gone; she lay on a little green field far in the middle of the dark thick forest, and by her side lay the same bundle with her old rags which she had brought with her from home. When she had rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and wept till she was tired, she set out on her way and walked for many, many a day, till she at last came to a big mountain.
Close to it an old woman sat and played with a golden apple. She asked her if she knew the way to the prince who lived with his stepmother in a castle that lay east of the sun and west of the moon, and who was going to marry a princess with a nose two yards long.—“How do you know him?” asked the old woman, “perhaps it was you who should have had him?”—Yes, it was she. “Ah, indeed! is that you?” said the woman; “well, a
ll I know is that he lives in that castle which lies east of the sun and west of the moon, and thither you will come late or never, but I will lend you my horse, and on him you can ride to my neighbour, an old friend of mine; perhaps she can tell you. When you have got there, just give my horse a blow with your whip under the left ear and ask him to go home again;—and you had better take this golden apple with you.”
So she got up on the horse and rode a long, long time till she at last came to a mountain, where an old woman was sitting with a golden carding-comb. She asked her if she knew the way to the castle which lay east of the sun and west of the moon. She answered like the first old woman, that she didn’t know anything about it, but it was sure to be east of the sun and west of the moon, “and thither you will come, early or late, but I will lend you my horse as far as my neighbour; perhaps she can tell you. When you have got there, just give my horse a blow under the left ear and ask him to go home again.” And the old woman gave her the golden carding-comb, which might come in useful for her.
The young girl got up on the horse and rode for a long, long weary time, and came at last to a large mountain, where an old woman was sitting and spinning on a golden spinning-wheel. She asked her if she knew the way to the prince, and where the castle was that lay east of the sun and west of the moon. And so came the same question: “Perhaps it is you who should have had the prince?”—Yes, it was! But the old woman knew the way no better than the other two. It was east of the sun and west of the moon,—she knew that,—“and thither you will come, early or late,” she said, “but I will lend you my horse, and then I think you had better ride to the east wind and ask him. Perhaps he is known about those parts and can blow you there. When you have got there, just touch the horse under the ear and he’ll go home again.” And so she gave her the golden spinning-wheel. “You might find use for it,” said the old woman.
She rode on many days for a long weary time before she got to the east wind, but after a long time she did reach it, and so she asked him if he could tell her the way to the prince, who lived east of the sun and west of the moon. Yes, he had heard tell of that prince, said the east wind, and of the castle too, but he didn’t know the way thither, for he had never blown so far. “But if you like, I’ll go with you to my brother, the west wind. Perhaps he may know it, for he is much stronger. Just get up on my back and I’ll carry you thither.”
Yes, she did so, and away they went at a great speed. When they got to the west wind, they went in to him, and the east wind told him that his companion was the one who should have had the prince who lived in the castle, which lay east of the sun and west of the moon; she was now on her way to find him again, and so he had gone with her to hear if the west wind knew where that castle was.—“No, I have never blown so far,” said the west wind, “but if you like I’ll go with you to the south wind, for he is much stronger than any of us, and he has been far and wide; perhaps he may tell you. You had better sit up on my back and I’ll carry you thither.”
Well, she got on his back, and off they started for the south wind; they weren’t long on the way, I can tell you! When they got there, the west wind asked his brother if he could tell him the way to that castle which lay east of the sun and west of the moon. His companion was the one who should have had the prince who lived there.—“Oh, indeed!” said the south wind, “is that she? Well, I have been to many a nook and corner in my time, but so far I have never blown. But if you like, I’ll go with you to my brother, the north wind; he is the oldest and strongest of all of us, and if he doesn’t know where it is you will never be able to find any one who can tell you. Just get up on my back and I’ll carry you thither.”
Yes, she sat up on his back, and away they went at such a rate, that the way didn’t seem to be very long.
When they got to where the north wind lived he was so wild and unruly that cold gusts were felt a long way off. “What do you want?” he shouted from far away, but still it made them shiver all over.—“Oh, you needn’t be so very harsh,” said the south wind, “it’s I, your own brother; and then I have got her with me who should have had the prince who lives in that castle which lies east of the sun and west of the moon, and she wants to ask you if you have ever been there and if you can tell her the way. She is so very anxious to find him again.”—“Well, yes, I do know where it is,” said the north wind; “I once blew an aspen leaf thither, but I was so tired that I wasn’t able to blow for many days after. But if you really intend going there and you are not afraid to come with me, I will take you on my back and try if I can blow you so far.”—Yes, she was willing; she must go thither, if it were possible, one way or another, and she wasn’t a bit afraid, go how it would.
“Very well!” said the north wind, “you must stop here to-night then, for we must have a whole day before us and perhaps more, if we are to reach it.”
Early next morning the north wind called her, and then he blew himself out and made himself so big and strong that he was terrible to look at. Away they went, high up through the air at such a fearful speed, as if they were going to the end of the world. There was such a hurricane on land that trees and houses were blown down, and when they came out on the big sea ships were wrecked by hundreds. And onwards they swept, so far, far, that no one would believe how far they went, and still farther and farther out to sea, till the north wind got more and more tired and so knocked up that he was scarcely able to give another blow, and was sinking and going down more and more and at last they were so low that the tops of the billows touched their heels.
“Are you afraid?” said the north wind.—“No,” she said, she wasn’t a bit afraid. But they were not so very far from land either, and the north wind had just sufficient strength left to reach the shore and put her off just under the windows of the castle which lay east of the sun and west of the moon; but he was then so tired and worn out that he had to rest for many days before he could start on his way home again.
Next morning she sat down under the castle windows, and began playing with the golden apple, and the first one she saw was the princess with the long nose, whom the prince was going to marry.
“What do you want for that golden apple of yours?” she asked and opened the casement.—“It is not for sale, neither for gold nor money,” said the girl.—“If it isn’t for sale for gold or money, what do you want for it then?” said the princess; “I’ll give you what you ask!”—“Well, if I to-night may sit in the arm-chair by the bedside of the prince who lives here, you shall have it,” said the girl who came with the north wind.—Yes, she might do that, there would be no difficulty about that.
So the princess got the golden apple; but when the girl came up into the prince’s bedroom in the evening, he was fast asleep; she called him and shook him, and now and then she cried and wept; but no, she could not wake him up so that she might speak to him. Next morning, as soon as the day dawned, the princess with the long nose came and turned her out of the room.
Later in the day she sat down under the castle windows and began carding with her golden carding-comb, and then the same thing happened again. The princess asked her what she wanted for the carding-comb, and she told her that it wasn’t for sale neither for gold nor money, but if she might get leave to sit in the arm-chair by the prince’s bedside that night, she should have it. But when she came up into the bedroom she found him fast asleep again, and for all she cried and shook him, for all she wept, he slept so soundly that she could not get life into him; and when the day dawned in the early morning, in came the princess with the long nose and turned her out of the room again.
So as the day wore on, she sat down under the castle windows and began spinning on the spinning-wheel, and that the princess with the long nose wanted also to have. She opened the casement and asked the girl what she wanted for it. The girl told her, as she had done twice before, that it was not for sale either for gold or money, but if she might sit in the arm-chair by the prince’s bedside that night she should have it. Yes, she migh
t do that. But there were some Christian people who had been carried off and were imprisoned in the room next to the prince’s, and they had heard that some woman had been in his room and wept and cried and called his name two nights running, and this they told the prince.
In the evening, when the princess came and brought him his drink, he made appear as if he drank, but he threw it over his shoulder, for he felt sure she had put a sleeping draught in his drink.
So when the girl came into his room that night she found the prince wide awake, and then she told him how she had come there. “You have just come in time,” said the prince, “for to-morrow I was to be married to the princess; but I won’t have that Longnose, and you are the only one that can save me. I will say that I shall want to see what my bride can do, and if she is fit to be my wife; then I will ask her to wash the shirt with the three tallow stains on it. She will try, for she does not know that it is you who dropped the tallow on the shirt; but that can only be done by Christian folks, and not by a pack of trolls like we have in this place; and so I will say that I will not have anybody else for a bride except the one who can wash the shirt clean, and I know you can do that.” And they felt very glad and happy, and they went on talking all night about the joyful time in store for them.
The next day, when the wedding was to take place, the prince said: “I think I must see first what my bride can do!”—“Yes, quite so!” said the stepmother.—“I have got a very fine shirt, which I am going to use for my wedding shirt; but there are three tallow stains on it which I want washed out; and I have made a vow that I will not take any other woman for a wife than the one who is able to do that; if she cannot do that, she is not worth having,” said the prince. “Well, that was easy enough,” said the stepmother and agreed to this trial. Well, the princess with the long nose set to washing the best she could, but the more she washed the bigger grew the stains. “Why, you cannot wash,” said the old witch, her stepmother; “let me try!”—but no sooner did she take the shirt than it got still worse, and the more she washed and rubbed the bigger and blacker the stains grew.
Nordic Tales Page 2