Fairy Tales

by Ганс Христиан Андерсен

  Naturally his sweetheart was also a crow, for birds of a feather flock together, and so crows pick crows.

  “The newspapers came out right away with a border of hearts and the princess’s signature. You could read that any young man who was attractive was welcome to come up to the castle and talk to the princess, and the one who talked well about what he knew, and spoke the best, would be the one the princess would marry!—Well, well,” said the crow, “Believe you me, as sure as I’m sitting here, people came streaming to the castle. There was a rustling and bustling, but it was of no use, neither the first day nor the next. They could all speak well enough when they were out on the street, but when they entered the castle gates and saw the sentries in silver and lackeys in gold livery up the steps, and the big lighted rooms, they became disconcerted. And when they stood in front of the throne, where the princess sat, they couldn’t say a thing except repeat what she had just said, and she didn’t care to hear that again. It was as if people in there had eaten snuff and had fallen into a trance until they were out on the street where they could talk again. There was a row of them all the way from the city gates to the castle. I myself went in to have a look!” said the crow, “They were both hungry and thirsty, but they didn’t even get a glass of lukewarm water from the castle. Some of the smarter ones had taken some sandwiches along, but they didn’t share with their neighbors. They were thinking: ‘Let him look hungry, then the princess won’t pick him.’”

  “But Kai? little Kai?” asked Gerda. “When did he come? Was he among the many?”

  “Just wait, just wait. We’ll get to him in a moment. It was on the third day, and a little person arrived without a horse or a wagon, quite confidently marching right up to the castle. His eyes shone like yours. He had lovely long hair, but his clothes were poor!”

  “It was Kai!” rejoiced Gerda. “Oh, I have found him!” and she clapped her hands.

  “He had a little knapsack on his back,” said the crow.

  “No, that must have been his sled,” said Gerda, “because he went away with his sled.”

  “That could be,” said the crow. “I didn’t pay such close attention. But I have it from my tame sweetheart that when he came through the castle gates and saw the sentries in silver and the lackeys in gold up the steps, he wasn’t the least bit dispirited. He nodded at them and said, ‘It must be boring standing on the steps; I’ll go inside.’ Inside the rooms were shining with lights, and Privy Councilors and Excellencies walked in bare feet bearing gold platters—there was reason enough to feel solemn. His boots were creaking terribly loudly, but he still didn’t become afraid!”

  “It’s certainly Kai,” said Gerda. “I know he had new boots. I heard them creaking in grandmother’s parlor.”

  “Well, they certainly creaked!” said the crow, “and he went dauntlessly in to present himself to the princess, who was sitting on a pearl as big as a spinning wheel. All the ladies-in-waiting with their maids and maids’ maids and all the cavaliers with their servants and servants’ servants, with their pages, were standing all around. And the closer they stood to the door, the prouder they were. The servants’ servants’ page, who always wears slippers, stood so proudly by the door that you almost couldn’t look at him.”

  “That must be awful,” said little Gerda, “but Kai actually got the princess?!”

  “If I weren’t a crow, I would have taken her, even though I am engaged. He is to have spoken as well as I do when I speak Crocawish, according to my tame sweetheart. He was confident and lovely. He had not come to propose, just to hear the wisdom of the princess, and he approved of it, and she approved of him too.”

  “Yes, of course it was Kai,” said Gerda. “He’s so smart he can even do math with fractions in his head. Oh—won’t you take me to the castle?”

  “He’s so smart he can even do math with fractions in his head. ”

  “That’s easier said than done,” said the crow. “How would we do that? I’ll talk to my tame sweetheart about it. She’ll give us advice, but I must tell you that a little girl like you will never be allowed in there.”

  “Oh yes, I will,” said Gerda. “When Kai hears I’m here, he’ll come right out and get me.”

  “Wait for me by those steps over the fence,” said the crow, who cocked his head and flew away.

  Not until it was dark did the crow come back: “Caw caw,” he said. “I bring many greetings from her, and here’s a little bread for you. She took it from the kitchen. There’s plenty there, and you must be hungry—it’s not possible for you to enter the castle because you’re barefoot. The sentries in silver and lackeys in gold would never allow it, but don’t cry. You’ll get up there anyway. My sweetheart knows a little back stairway that leads to the bedroom, and she knows where to take the key.”

  And they went into the garden, into a big avenue, where one leaf after another fell, and when the lights in the castle started going out, one after another, the crow led little Gerda to a back door that was standing ajar.

  Oh, how Gerda’s heart was pounding from fear and longing ! She felt as if she were going to do something wicked, but she only wanted to know if it was little Kai. Oh yes, it had to be him! She could so vividly see his wise eyes, his long hair. She could really see how he smiled just like he had when they sat at home under the roses. He would surely be glad to see her and hear what a long way she had come for his sake, and know how sad they all were at home when he didn’t come back. Oh, such fear and joy!

  Then they were on the steps. There was a little lamp burning on a cupboard. In the middle of the floor stood the tame crow and cocked its head from side to side and observed Gerda, who curtsied as her grandmother had taught her.

  “My fiance has spoken very well of you, my little miss,” said the tame crow. “Your vita, as it’s called, is also very touching— if you’ll take the lamp, I’ll lead the way. We’ll go straight there. Then we won’t meet anyone.”

  “I think there’s someone coming behind us,” said Gerda, and something roared past her. There were shadows on the walls, horses with flying manes and slender legs, hunters, and men and women riding.

  “That’s only the dreams,” said the crow. “They come and take their Highnesses’ thoughts along hunting. That’s good because then you can see them better in bed. But be sure, if you get honor and favor, to show a thankful heart!”

  “Well, that’s nothing to talk about!” said the crow from the woods.

  Then they entered the first room. There were pink satin walls with artificial flowers. Here the dreams were flying past them, but they went so fast that Gerda didn’t see their Highnesses. One room was more magnificent than the next. You really could be stupefied! And then they were in the bedroom. The ceiling in there looked like a big palm with fronds of glass, expensive glass, and in the middle of the floor hung two beds on a thick stalk, and they looked like lilies. One was white, and in it lay the princess. The second was red, and that’s where Gerda looked for little Kai. She bent one of the red leaves to the side and saw a brown neck.—Oh, it was Kai!—She called his name quite loudly, and held the lamp up to him—the dreams roared by on horses back to the hall again—he awoke, turned his head and—it was not little Kai.

  The prince only resembled him in the neck, but he was young and handsome. And the princess peered out from the white lily bed and asked what was happening. Then little Gerda started crying and told her whole story, and everything that the crows had done for her.

  “You poor little thing,” said the prince and princess, and they praised the crows and said they weren’t angry with them at all, but they shouldn’t do it again. However, they would get a reward.

  “Do you want to fly free?” asked the princess, “or do you want permanent positions as Court Crows with all the scraps in the kitchen?”

  And both crows bowed and asked to have permanent positions because they were thinking of their old age and said, “It’s better to have a bird in the hand than two in the bush,” as they p
ut it.

  The prince got up from his bed and let Gerda sleep there, and he couldn’t do more than that. She folded her small hands and thought, “How good people and animals are,” and then she closed her eyes and slept so peacefully. All the dreams came flying in again, and they looked like God’s angels, and they pulled a little sled, and Kai was sitting on it nodding; but it was all only dreams, and so it was all gone as soon as she awoke.

  The next day she was dressed from top to toe in silk and velvet. She was invited to stay at the castle and have a good future, but she only asked for a little carriage with a horse and a pair of little boots. Then she would drive out in the wide world again to find Kai.

  And she was given both boots and a muff. She was dressed beautifully, and when she was ready to leave, there was a new coach of pure gold waiting by the door. The prince and princess’ coat of arms shone from it like a star. The coachman, servants, and outriders—for there were outriders too—were wearing gold crowns. The prince and princess helped her into the coach and wished her luck. The forest crow, who had gotten married, followed along the first three miles. He sat beside her because he couldn’t stand driving backwards. The other crow stood at the gate and flapped her wings. She didn’t come along because she suffered from a headache ever since she had gained a permanent position and too much to eat. Inside, the coach was lined with sugar pastries, and under the seats were fruits and peppernut cookies.

  “Farewell, farewell,” shouted the prince and princess, and little Gerda cried, and the crow cried—that’s how the first miles went. Then the crow said good bye too, and that was the hardest parting. He flew up in a tree and flapped his black wings as long as he could see the coach, which shone like clear sunshine.

  FIFTH STORY

  THE LITTLE ROBBER GIRL

  They drove through the dark forest, but the coach shone like a flame, and it blinded the robbers so they couldn’t stand it.

  “It’s gold! It’s gold!” they yelled, rushed forward, seized the horses, killed the little outriders, the driver, and servants, and pulled little Gerda from the coach.

  “She is plump. She is sweet. She’s been fed on nut meats,” said the old robber crone. She had a long, bristly beard and eyebrows that hung down over her eyes. “She’s as good as a fat little lamb! Oh, she’ll be tasty!” And then she pulled out her shiny knife that glittered so it was frightful.

  “Ouch!” cried the crone just then. She had been bitten in the ear by her little daughter, who hung on her back, and who was so wild and naughty that it was a delight to watch her. “You loathsome brat!” said her mother, who didn’t have time to butcher Gerda.

  “She’s going to play with me!” said the little robber girl. “She’ll give me her muff and her lovely dress, and she’ll sleep with me in my bed.” And then she bit again so the robber woman jumped in the air and spun around, and all the robbers laughed and said, “See how she dances with her kid!”

  “I want to get into the coach,” said the little robber girl, and she must and would have her own way because she was so spoiled and stubborn. She and Gerda sat inside, and then they drove over stubble and thorns deeper into the forest. The little robber girl was as big as Gerda, but she was stronger, more broad-shouldered, and dark-skinned. Her eyes were quite black and looked almost sad. She put her arm around Gerda’s waist and said, “They won’t slaughter you as long as I don’t get angry with you! I guess you’re a princess?”

  “No,” said little Gerda, and told her everything she had experienced, and how much she cared about little Kai.

  The robber girl looked quite seriously at her, nodded her head a little, and said, “They won’t kill you, even if I get angry with you. I’ll do it myself.” Then she dried Gerda’s eyes and put both her hands into the beautiful muff that was so soft and warm.

  “She is plump. She is sweet. She’s been fed on nut meats. ”

  The coach stopped. They were in the middle of the courtyard of a robber castle. It was cracked from top to bottom, and ravens and crows flew out of the open holes. Big vicious dogs that looked like they could each swallow a person leaped high in the air, but they didn’t bark because that was forbidden.

  In the big, old, sooty main room there was a great fire burning in the middle of the stone floor. The smoke drifted up under the ceiling and had to find its own way out. Soup was boiling in a big kettle, and both hares and rabbits were on the spit.

  “You’ll sleep here with me tonight with all my little pets,” said the robber girl. They had something to eat and drink and then went into a corner where straw and blankets were lying. Above them were almost a hundred pigeons, sitting on sticks and perches. They all seemed to be asleep, but they turned a bit when the little girls came.

  “They’re all mine!” said the little robber girl and quickly grabbed one of the closest birds. She held it by the legs and shook it so that it flapped its wings. “Kiss it!” she commanded and flapped it in Gerda’s face. “These are the wood rascals,” she continued and pointed behind a number of bars that were covering a hole high up on the wall. “They’re wood rascals, those two. They fly right away if they aren’t properly locked in. And here is my old sweetheart, Bae,” and she pulled the horn of a reindeer. He had a shiny copper ring around his neck and was tied up. “We have to keep him tied up too, or he would run away from us. Every single evening I tickle his throat with my sharp knife. He’s very afraid of it.” And the little girl pulled a long knife from a crack in the wall, and let it glide across the reindeer’s throat. The poor animal kicked his legs, and the robber girl laughed and pulled Gerda into the bed with her.

  “You take the knife to bed with you?” asked Gerda and looked a bit anxiously at it.

  “I always sleep with my knife,” said the little robber girl. “You never know what might happen. But now, tell me again what you said before about little Kai, and why you went out into the wide world.” And Gerda told the story from the beginning, and the wood pigeons cooed in their cage while the other pigeons slept. The little robber girl laid her arm across Gerda’s neck, held the knife in her other hand, and slept so that you could hear it. But Gerda couldn’t close her eyes at all. She didn’t know whether she would live or die. The robbers sat around the fire singing and drinking, and the robber woman turned somersaults. Oh, it was just awful for the little girl to see!

  Then the wood pigeons said, “Coo, coo! We’ve seen little Kai. A white hen was carrying his sled, and he was sitting in the Snow Queen’s coach. It flew low over the forest as we were lying in our nest. She blew at us young ones, and all died except us two—coo, coo!”

  “What’s that you’re saying up there?” called Gerda. “Where did the Snow Queen go? Do you know anything about that?”

  “She probably went to Lapland because there’s always snow and ice there. Ask the reindeer who’s tied up with the rope.”

  “There’s ice and snow there, and it’s a good and blessed place,” said the reindeer. “You can run freely around in the big bright valleys there. It’s where the Snow Queen has her summer tent, but her permanent castle is up by the North Pole on the island called Spitsbergen.”

  “Oh Kai! Little Kai!” sighed Gerda.

  “Lie quietly now,” said the robber girl, “or you’ll get the knife in your stomach!”

  In the morning, Gerda told her everything the wood pigeons had said, and the little robber girl looked very serious, but nodded her head and said, “It doesn’t matter. Never mind.—Do you know where Lapland is?” she asked the reindeer.

  “Who would know better than me?” said the animal, and his eyes sparkled. “I was born and bred there, and I have run all over the snowy fields of Lapland.”

  “Listen,” said the robber girl to Gerda, “you can see that all the men are gone. But mother is still here. She’ll stay, but sometime during the morning she’ll drink out of that big bottle and take a little nap. Then I’ll do something for you.” She jumped out of bed, threw her arms around her mother’s neck, pulled at
her beard, and said, “My own sweet billy goat, good morning!” And her mother pinched her nose so it turned red and blue, but all of it was done out of love.

  When her mother had drunk from her bottle and was taking a little nap, the robber girl went to the reindeer and said, “It would give me the greatest pleasure to continue to tickle you many more times with my sharp knife because you’re so much fun then, but it doesn’t matter. I’m going to loosen your rope and help you outside so that you can run to Lapland, but don’t let the grass grow under your feet. Take this little girl to the Snow Queen’s castle where her playmate is. You’ve certainly heard what she told me because she spoke loudly enough, and you eavesdrop.”

  The reindeer leaped up in joy. The robber girl lifted Gerda onto the reindeer and took care to tie her fast, and even gave her a little pillow to sit on. “Never mind,” she said, “here are your fleecy boots because it will be cold. But I’m keeping the muff. It’s way too beautiful! But you won’t freeze. Here are mother’s big mittens. They’ll reach all the way up to your elbows. Put them on!—Now your hands look just like my horrid mother’s.”

  And Gerda wept for joy.

  “I can’t stand that wailing,” said the little robber girl. “Now just be happy. And here are two breads and a ham for you, so you won’t starve.” Both of these were tied onto the reindeer’s back. The little robber girl opened the door and coaxed the big dogs inside. Then she cut the rope with her knife and said to the reindeer, “Now run! But take good care of the little girl.”