Wonder Tales from Many Lands 4

Wonder Tales from Many Lands 4

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.