“Yes, Squire Per is better off than I, there’s no use denying it,” he said, and then he wanted to take his leave. But Per bade him stay and eat supper with him, and that the king did, but he was sour and grumpy the whole time.
While they were sitting at the table, the Troll, who owned the castle, came and knocked on the gate.
“Who’s in here eating my food and drinking my mead like swine?” shouted the Troll.
As soon as the cat heard him, she ran out to the gate.
“Wait a bit, and I’ll tell you what the farmer does with his winter rye,” said the cat. “First the farmer ploughs his field, then he spreads out manure, and then he ploughs it again!”
Just then the sun rose.
“Look around and you’ll see a gloriously beautiful maiden behind you!” said the cat to the Troll.
So the Troll turned, and when he caught sight of the sun he burst!
“Now everything here is yours,” said the cat to Squire Per, “and you must chop off my head at once! That’s the only thing I demand for what I’ve done for you.”
“No!” said Squire Per, “I just won’t do it!”
“Yes!” said the cat. “If you don’t, I’ll scratch out your eyes!”
Well, then Squire Per had to do it. Unwilling though he was, he chopped off the cat’s head.
But at the same moment she turned into the loveliest Princess anyone could wish to set eyes on, and Squire Per fell head over heels in love with her.
“Yes, all this was mine before,” said the princess, “but the Troll there bewitched me, so I had to be a cat at your parent’s hut. Now you must do whatever you wish, whether you want me as your queen or not. For now you are king over the whole realm,” said the princess.
Oh yes, it just could be that Squire Per wanted her as his queen. So there was a wedding and a feast which lasted eight days, and then I wasn’t with Squire Per and his queen any longer, that’s the truth.
“There’s the key,” he said.
THE KEY IN THE DISTAFF
There was once a rich farmer’s lad, and he was going out wooing. He had heard tell of a maiden who was both comely and fair, excellent at keeping house, and a great hand at cooking. So he made his way there, for such a wife he wanted to have. It was plain enough to the folk at the farm on what errand he had come, so they invited him in to sit down on the bench, and chatted with him, as is the custom; and in addition they offered him a drink to stay his thirst while they got something ready to eat. They went in and out, so the suitor had time to have a look around in the parlor. Over in a corner he saw a spinning wheel, and the distaff was full of flax.
“Who is it who spins on that wheel?” asked the lad.
“Oh, that would be our daughter now, it would,” said the old woman of the house.
“That’s a mighty large bundle of flax,” said the lad. “She certainly must take more than a day to spin that off,” he said.
“Nothing of the kind!” said the old woman. “She does it easily in one, and maybe in less than that!”
A maiden who was both comely and fair, excellent at keeping house, and a great hand at cooking.
That was more than he had bargained for, that anyone could spin in so short a time, thought the lad.
But when they were to carry in the food, they all went out together, and he was left in the parlor alone. Then he caught sight of a big, old key lying on the window sill. He took it and thrust it up inside the distaff, working it well into the flax. Then they ate and drank, and were on good terms; and when he felt he had been there long enough, he thanked them and went his way. They bade him come again soon, and that he promised, too. But he did not state his business, even though he thought pretty well of the girl.
After a while he came to the farm again; this time they received him even better than the first time. But when they had started talking, the old woman said, “Since the last time you were here something really strange happened! Our larder key has disappeared so completely that we haven’t been able to find it again!”
The lad went over to the spinning wheel, which was standing there in the corner with the bundle of flax just as big as the last time, and reached up inside the distaff.
“There’s the key,” he said. “There’s little to win on what you spin, when the spinning-day lasts from Michaelmas to Easter!”
Then he thanked them, and didn’t state his business this time either.
THE BOY WITH THE BEER KEG
There was once a boy who had long served a man up north of the Dovre Mountains. This man was a master at brewing beer; it was so fantastically good that the like of it was nowhere to be found. When the time came for the boy to leave, and the man was to pay him the wages he had earned, he would have nothing but a keg of the Christmas beer.
Well, he got it and set out with it, and he carried it both far and long. But the longer he carried the keg, the heavier it grew; so he started looking about to see if anyone was coming that he could drink with, so that there could be less beer in it and the keg would grow lighter.
After a while he met an old man with a great beard.
“Good day,” said the man.
“Good day yourself,” said the boy.
“Where are you off to?” said the man.
“I’m looking for someone to drink with so I can make my keg lighter,” said the boy.
“Can’t you just as well drink with me as with another?” said the man. “I’ve travelled far and wide, so I’m both tired and thirsty.”
“Why yes, so I can,” said the boy, “but where do you come from, and what sort of a man are you?” he asked.
“I am Providence, and I come from above, I do,” said the man.
“I won’t drink with you!” said the boy. “For you make such a distinction between folk here in the world, and dole out justice so unequally, that some become rich and some unreasonably poor. No, I won’t drink with you!” he said and trudged off again with his keg.
When he had gone a bit farther, the keg again became so heavy that he didn’t think he could go on carrying it any longer unless someone came that he could drink with, so that there would be less beer in it.
Well, then he met an ugly, skinny man who came rushing along at a fast clip.
“Good day,” said the man.
“Good day yourself,” said the boy.
“Where are you off to?” said the man.
“Oh, I’m looking for someone to drink with so I can lighten my keg,” said the boy.
“Can’t you just as well drink with me as with another?” said the man.
“Can’t you just as well drink with me as with another?” said the man. “I’ve travelled both far and wide, and a drop of beer would do good in an old carcass,” he said.
“Why yes, so I can,” said the boy. “But what sort of a fellow are you, and where do you come from?” he asked.
“Me? I’m known well enough. I’m the Devil and I come from below, I do,” said the man.
“Nay,” said the boy, “you only plague and torment folk, and wherever there’s any misery afoot, they always say it’s your fault. Nay, I won’t drink with you!” said the boy.
So he walked far, and farther than far again, until his beer keg had grown so heavy that he could not go on carrying it any longer. He started looking around again to see if anyone was coming that he could drink with, so the keg would grow lighter.
Well, after a long time, another man came along, and he was so dried up and skinny that it was an out-and-out miracle that he hung together.
“Good day,” said the man.
“Good day yourself,” said the boy.
“Where are you off to?” asked the man.
“I was going to see if I could find someone to drink with, so my keg will be a bit lighter. It’s getting so heavy to carry,” said the boy.
“Can’t you just as well drink with me as with another?” said the man.
“Why yes, so I can,” said the boy. “But what sort of a fello
w are you?” he asked.
“They call me Death,” said the man.
“I’ll drink with you,” said the boy, and put down the keg and started tapping beer into the mug. “You’re a worthy man, for you make everyone alike, both rich and poor!”
So he drank with him, and Death thought it was a glorious drink; and, as the boy liked him well, they took turns drinking, so the beer went down and the keg grew lighter.
At last Death said, “I’ve never known a drink that tasted better or did me so much good as the beer you’ve just given me. I feel as if I’d been made like new and I don’t know what I’m going to do to thank you for it.”
But after pondering for a while, he said that the keg would never become empty, no matter how much they drank from it. And the beer that was in it should turn into a magic medicine so that the boy could make the sick well again, better than any doctor. And then he said that, when he came in to one who was sick, Death would always be there, and appear to him; and, as a sure sign, when Death sat by the foot of the bed, he could save the sick with a health-giving drink from the keg. But when he sat by the head of the bed, then neither advice nor medicine would keep Death at bay.
She was so dangerously ill that no doctor believed he could save her.
The boy was soon renowned, and he was summoned from far and wide; and he helped multitudes back to health for whom there had been no hope. When he came in and saw where Death was sitting, he foretold either life or death, and he always prophesied correctly. He became both rich and powerful, and at last he was summoned to a king’s daughter in a land far away. She was so dangerously ill that no doctor believed he could save her, and so he was promised everything that he could wish and ask for, if only he could cure her. When he came into the room where the king’s daughter lay, Death was sitting by the head of the bed, but he was dozing and nodding, and while he did she felt better.
“This is a question of life or death,” said the doctor, “and indeed, there is no hope of recovery, if I see correctly,” he said. But they said he must save her, even if it should cost both land and kingdom. So he looked at Death, and as he dozed off again, he signalled to the servants to turn the bed around in a hurry, so that Death was sitting by the foot, and as soon as this was done, he gave her the healing drink, so she was saved.
“Now you’ve cheated me!” said Death. “And now we’re quits!”
“I had to if I was to win land and kingdom,” said the boy.
“That won’t help you much,” said Death. “Your time is up, for now you belong to me.”
“Well, if it has to be, then so let it be,” said the boy. “But surely you’ll let me say the Lord’s Prayer first,” he said.
Yes, that he could do, but he took good care not to say the Lord’s Prayer. He said everything else, but “Our Father —” never came to his lips, and at last he thought he had cheated Death once and for all.
But when Death thought it had dragged out long enough, he went in one night and hung up a large board, with the Lord’s Prayer on it, over the boy’s bed. When the boy woke up, he started saying it, and didn’t really come to his senses until he came to “Amen”. But then it was too late.
“Now you’ve cheated me!” said Death.
THE COCK AND THE FOX
Once upon a time there was a Cock who stood on a dunghill, crowing and flapping his wings. Then the Fox came along.
“Good day!” said the Fox. “I heard you crowing, all right. But can you stand on one leg and crow with your eyes closed as your father could?” he asked.
“That I can, both loud and long,” said the Cock, and he stood on one leg. But he closed only one eye, and when he had done that, he preened himself and flapped his wings as though he had done something big. “That was pretty,” said the Fox. “It’s almost as pretty as when the priest sings Mass in the church. But can you also stand on one leg and crow, and close both eyes at the same time? I hardly believe you can do that.” said the Fox. “But your father, now — he was a fine fellow!”
“Oh, I can do that too!” said the Cock, and he stood on one leg and closed both eyes and crowed. Like a flash the Fox jumped on him, seized him by the neck, and slung him on his back, so he didn’t finish crowing before he was being whisked off to the woods as fast as the Fox could run.
When they came to the shade of a shaggy old fir tree, the Fox hurled the Cock to the ground, put his foot on his breast, and was just going to take a good bite.
“You’re not as devout as your father was,” said the Cock. “He crossed himself and blessed his food, he did.”
Well, the Fox wanted to be devout too. So he let go his hold, and was going to fold his paws and pray. And pop! the Cock flew up into a tree!
“You certainly won’t get away with that!” said the Fox to himself. Then he went away and came back with a couple of chips left by the woodcutters. The Cock peered and peered to see what that could be.
“What have you got there?” he said.
“They’re letters I’ve received from the Pope in Rome,” said the Fox. “Won’t you help me read them, for I don’t know how to myself.”
“I’d be more than glad to, but I dare not now,” said the Cock. “For there comes a hunter; I can see him behind a tree. I see ’im! I see ’im!” he cried.
When the Fox heard what the Cock was cackling about the hunter, he took to his heels and ran off as fast as he could go.
This time it was the Cock who turned the tables on the Fox.
NOT DRIVING AND NOT RIDING
There was once a king’s son who had wooed a maiden. But when they had come to an understanding and were on good terms, he lost all interest in the girl. Now he didn’t want to marry her because she wasn’t good enough for him. And so he thought he would try to be quit of her. But he said he would take her all the same, if she could come to him
not driving
and not riding,
not walking
and not sliding,
not hungry
and not full,
not naked
and not clad,
not by day,
and not by night.
For he believed she could never manage that.
She took three barleycorns and bit them in two, so she was not full, but she was not fasting either. And then she draped a net over herself, so she was
not naked
and not clad.
She then took a ram and seated herself on its back, so her feet dragged along the ground. Thus she shuffled forward, and then she was
not driving
and not riding,
not walking
and not sliding.
And it was in the twilight between night and day.
When she reached the guards, she asked to be allowed to talk with the prince, but they would not let her in because she looked such a sight. But the prince was awakened by all the commotion, and came to the window. She shuffled across and wrung off one of the ram’s horns; and she took it and, standing up on the ram’s back, she knocked on the window with it. So they had to open up and make her into a princess.
THE GOLDEN CASTLE THAT HUNG IN THE AIR
There was once a man who had three sons. When he died, the two eldest decided to go out into the world to try their luck; but they wouldn’t take the youngest with them at any price.
“You, now,” they said, “you’re no good for anything but sitting and holding the pine torches, poking in the ashes and blowing on the coals!”
“Well, well, I’ll just have to go by myself, I will,” said the Ash Lad. “Then I won’t be at odds with my company, either!”
The two set out, and after travelling for some days, they came to a great forest. There they sat down to rest and eat some of the food they had brought with them, for they were both tired and hungry. As they sat there, an old hag came up through a tuft of grass and begged for a little food. She was so old and feeble that her mouth twitched and her head quivered, and she had to support herself on
a staff. She hadn’t had a crumb of bread in her mouth in a hundred years, she said; but the boys only laughed and went on eating, and said that as long as she’d kept body and soul together for so long, as like as not she’d be able to hold out without eating up their crumbs. Besides, they had little to share and nothing to spare.
When they had eaten their fill and rested, they set out again, and at last they came to the king’s manor; there they were given jobs as serving-men — both of them.
A short while after they had left home, the Ash Lad gathered together the crumbs his brothers had cast aside, and put them in his little knapsack; and he took the old musket which had no bolt, for he thought it would come in handy on the way. Then he set out. When he had walked for some days, he too came to the thick forest through which his brothers had travelled, and when he was tired and hungry, he sat down under a tree to rest and have a little to eat. But he had his eyes open, and as he took up his knapsack he caught sight of a picture hanging on a tree, and on it was painted a young maiden, or princess, who was so lovely that he could not take his eyes off her. He forgot both food and knapsack, and took down the picture, and sat staring intently at it. All of a sudden the old hag came up through the tuft of grass, her mouth twitching and her head quivering, and supporting herself on a staff, and she begged him for a little food, for she hadn’t had a crumb of bread in her mouth in a hundred years, she said.
“Then it’s time you had a little, Old Mother,” said the boy, and he gave her some bread crumbs. The old hag said that no one had called her ‘Mother’ in a hundred years, and she was certainly going to do him a favor in return. She gave him a ball of grey wool, which he only had to roll along in front of him and he would come to any place he wanted to. But he mustn’t bother with the picture, she said, it would only get him into trouble. The Ash Lad thought this was all very well, but he couldn’t leave the painting behind, so he took it under his arm, and rolled the ball of yarn ahead of him, and it wasn’t long before he came to the king’s manor where his brothers were serving. There he too begged for a serving-job. They replied that they had no work for him, as they had recently taken on two serving-boys, but he begged so hard that at last he was allowed to help the stablemaster, and be trained to groom the horses. This the Ash Lad was most willing to do, for he was fond of horses; and as he was both quick and clever, he soon learned to tend and take care of them, and it wasn’t long before everyone in the king’s manor grew fond of him. But every spare moment he would be up looking at the picture, for he had hung it in a corner of the hayloft.
Norwegian Folktales Page 13