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Popular Tales from the Norse

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So Boots got the Princess and half the kingdom--the other half he was
to have when the king died; and so everything went smooth and well;
but as for his brothers, who had always been so bad to him, he packed
them off to the Beggars' island.

'There', said Boots, 'perhaps they may find out which is best off,
the man who has his pockets full of money, or the man whom all women
fall in love with.'

Nor, to tell you the truth, do I think it would help them much to
wander about upon the Beggars' island pulling pieces of money out of
their pockets; and so, if Boots hasn't taken them off the island,
there they are still walking about to this very day, eating cheese-
parings and the scrapings of the porridge-pots.




THE THREE BILLY-GOATS GRUFF

Once on a time there were three Billy-goats, who were to go up to the
hill-side to make themselves fat, and the name of all three was
'Gruff'.

On the way up was a bridge over a burn they had to cross; and under
the bridge lived a great ugly Troll, with eyes as big as saucers, and
a nose as long as a poker.

So first of all came the youngest billy-goat Gruff to cross the
bridge.

'Trip, trap; trip, trap!' went the bridge.

'WHO'S THAT tripping over my bridge?' roared the Troll.

'Oh! it is only I, the tiniest billy-goat Gruff; and I'm going up to
the hill-side to make myself fat', said the billy-goat, with such a
small voice.

'Now, I'm coming to gobble you up', said the Troll.

'Oh, no! pray don't take me. I'm too little, that I am', said the
billy-goat; 'wait a bit till the second billy-goat Gruff comes, he's
much bigger.'

'Well! be off with you', said the Troll.

A little while after came the second billy-goat Gruff to cross the
bridge.

'TRIP, TRAP! TRIP, TRAP! TRIP, TRAP!' went the bridge.

'WHO'S THAT tripping over my bridge?' roared the Troll.

'Oh! it's the second billy-goat Gruff, and I'm going up to the hill-
side to make myself fat', said the billy-goat, who hadn't such a
small voice.

'Now, I'm coming to gobble you up', said the Troll.

'Oh, no! don't take me, wait a little till the big billy-goat Gruff
comes, he's much bigger.'

'Very well! be off with you', said the Troll.

But just then up came the big billy-goat Gruff.

'TRIP, TRAP! TRIP, TRAP! TRIP, TRAP!' went the bridge, for the billy-
goat was so heavy that the bridge creaked and groaned under him.

'WHO'S THAT tramping over my bridge?' roared the Troll.

'IT'S I! THE BIG BILLY-GOAT GRUFF', said the billy-goat, who had an
ugly hoarse voice of his own.

'Now, I'm coming to gobble you up', roared the Troll.

Well, come along! I've got two spears,
And I'll poke your eyeballs out at your ears;
I've got besides two curling-stones,
And I'll crush you to bits, body and bones.

That was what the big billy-goat said; and so he flew at the Troll
and poked his eyes out with his horns, and crushed him to bits, body
and bones, and tossed him out into the burn, and after that he went
up to the hill-side. There the billy-goats got so fat they were
scarce able to walk home again; and if the fat hasn't fallen off
them, why they're still fat; and so:

Snip, snap, snout,
This tale's told out.




WELL DONE AND ILL PAID

Once on a time there was a man, who had to drive his sledge to the
wood for fuel. So a Bear met him.

'Out with your horse', said the Bear, 'or I'll strike all your sheep
dead by summer.'

'Oh! heaven help me then', said the man; 'there's not a stick of
firewood in the house; you must let me drive home a load of fuel,
else we shall be frozen to death. I'll bring the horse to you to-
morrow morning.'

Yes! on those terms he might drive the wood home, that was a bargain;
but Bruin said, 'if he didn't come back, he should lose all his sheep
by summer'.

So the man got the wood on the sledge and rattled homewards, but he
wasn't over pleased at the bargain you may fancy. So just then a Fox
met him.

'Why, what's the matter?' said the Fox; 'why are you so down in the
mouth?'

'Oh, if you want to know', said the man; 'I met a Bear up yonder in
the wood, and I had to give my word to him to bring Dobbin back to-
morrow, at this very hour; for if he didn't get him, he said he would
tear all my sheep to death by summer.'

'Stuff, nothing worse than that', said the Fox; 'if you'll give me
your fattest wether, I'll soon set you free; see if I don't.'

Yes! the man gave his word, and swore he would keep it too.

'Well, when you come with Dobbin to-morrow for the bear', said the
Fox, 'I'll make a clatter up in that heap of stones yonder, and so
when the bear asks what that noise is, you must say 'tis Peter the
Marksman, who is the best shot in the world; and after that you must
help yourself.'

Next day off set the man, and when he met the Bear, something began
to make a clatter up in the heap of stones.

'Hist! what's that?' said the Bear.

'Oh! that's Peter the Marksman, to be sure', said the than; 'he's the
best shot in the world. I know him by his voice.'

'Have you seen any bears about here, Eric?' shouted out a voice in
the wood.

'Say, no!' said the Bear.

'No, I haven't seen any', said Eric.

'What's that then, that stands alongside your sledge?' bawled out the
voice in the wood.

'Say it's an old fir-stump', said the Bear.

'Oh, it's only an old fir-stump', said the man.

'Such fir-stumps we take in our country and roll them on our
sledges', bawled out the voice; 'if you can't do it yourself, I'll
come and help you.'

'Say you can help yourself, and roll me up on the sledge', said the
Bear.

'No, thank ye, I can help myself well enough', said the man, and
rolled the Bear on to the sledge.

'Such fir-stumps we always bind fast on our sledges in our part of
the world', bawled out the voice; 'shall I come and help you?'

'Say you can help yourself, and bind me fast, do', said the Bear.

'No, thanks, I can help myself well enough', said the man, who set to
binding Bruin fast with all the ropes he had, so that at last the
bear couldn't stir a paw.

'Such fir-stumps we always drive our axes into, in our part of the
world', bawled out the voice; 'for then we guide them better going
down the steep pitches.'

'Pretend to drive your axe into me, do now', said the bear. Then the
man took up his axe, and at one blow split the bear's skull, so that
Bruin lay dead in a trice, and so the man and the Fox were great
friends, and on the best terms. But when they came near the farm, the
Fox said:

'I've no mind to go right home with you, for I can't say I like your
tykes; so I'll just wait here, and you can bring the wether to me,
but mind and pick out one nice and fat.'

Yes! the man would be sure to do that, and thanked the Fox much for
his help. So when he had put up Dobbin, he went across to the sheep-
stall.

'Whither away, now?' asked his old dame.

'Oh!' said the man, 'I'm only going to the sheep-stall to fetch a fat
wether for that cunning Fox, who set our Dobbin free. I gave him my
word I would.'

'Whither, indeed', said the old dame; 'never a one shall that thief of
a Fox get. Haven't we got Dobbin safe, and the bear into the bargain;
and as for the Fox, I'll be bound he's stolen more of our geese than
the wether is worth; and even if he hasn't stolen them, he will. No,
no; take a brace of your swiftest hounds in a sack, and slip them
loose after him; and then, perhaps, we shall be rid of this robbing
Reynard.'

Well, the man thought that good advice; so he took two fleet red
hounds, put them into a sack, and set off with them.

'Have you brought the wether?' said the Fox.

'Yes, come and take it', said the man, as he untied the sack and let
slip the hounds.

'HUF', said the Fox, and gave a great spring; 'true it is what the
old saw says, "Well done is often ill paid"; and now, too, I see the
truth of another saying, "The worst foes are those of one's own
house."' That was what the Fox said as he ran off, and saw the red
foxy hounds at his heels.




THE HUSBAND WHO WAS TO MIND THE HOUSE

Once on a time there was a man, so surly and cross, he never thought
his wife did anything right in the house. So, one evening, in hay-
making time, he came home, scolding and swearing, and showing his
teeth and making a dust.

'Dear love, don't be so angry; there's a good man', said his goody;
'to-morrow let's change our work. I'll go out with the mowers and
mow, and you shall mind the house at home.'

Yes! the husband thought that would do very well. He was quite
willing, he said.

So, early next morning, his goody took a scythe over her neck, and
went out into the hay-field with the mowers, and began to mow; but
the man was to mind the house, and do the work at home.

First of all, he wanted to churn the butter; but when he had churned
a while, he got thirsty, and went down to the cellar to tap a barrel
of ale. So, just when he had knocked in the bung, and was putting the
tap into the cask, he heard overhead the pig come into the kitchen.
Then off he ran up the cellar steps, with the tap in his hand, as
fast as he could, to look after the pig, lest it should upset the
churn; but when he got up, and saw the pig had already knocked the
churn over, and stood there, routing and grunting amongst the cream
which was running all over the floor, he got so wild with rage that
he quite forgot the ale-barrel, and ran at the pig as hard as he
could. He caught it, too, just as it ran out of doors, and gave it
such a kick, that piggy lay for dead on the spot.

Then all at once he remembered he had the tap in his hand; but when
he got down to the cellar, every drop of ale had run out of the cask.

Then he went into the dairy and found enough cream left to fill the
churn again, and so he began to churn, for butter they must have at
dinner. When he had churned a bit, he remembered that their milking
cow was still shut up in the byre, and hadn't had a bit to eat or a
drop to drink all the morning, though the sun was high. Then all at
once he thought 'twas too far to take her down to the meadow, so he'd
just get her up on the house top-for the house, you must know, was
thatched with sods, and a fine crop of grass was growing there. Now
their house lay close up against a steep down, and he thought if he
laid a plank across to the thatch at the back he'd easily get the cow
up.

But still he couldn't leave the churn, for there was his little babe
crawling about on the floor, and 'if I leave it', he thought, 'the
child is safe to upset it'. So he took the churn on his back, and
went out with it; but then he thought he'd better first water the cow
before he turned her out on the thatch; so he took up a bucket to
draw water out of the well; but, as he stooped down at the well's
brink, all the cream ran out of the churn over his shoulders, and so
down into the well.

Now it was near dinner-time, and he hadn't even got the butter yet;
so he thought he'd best boil the porridge, and filled the pot with
water, and hung it over the fire. When he had done that, he thought
the cow might perhaps fall off the thatch and break her legs or her
neck. So he got up on the house to tie her up. One end of the rope he
made fast to the cow's neck and the other he slipped down the chimney
and tied round his own thigh; and he had to make haste, for the water
now began to boil in the pot, and he had still to grind the oatmeal.

So he began to grind away; but while he was hard at it, down fell the
cow off the house-top after all, and as she fell, she dragged the man
up the chimney by the rope. There he stuck fast; and as for the cow,
she hung half-way down the wall, swinging between heaven and earth,
for she could neither get down nor up.

And now the goody had waited seven lengths and seven breadths for her
husband to come and call them home to dinner; but never a call they
had. At last she thought she'd waited long enough, and went home. But
when she got there and saw the cow hanging in such an ugly place, she
ran up and cut the rope in two with her scythe. But as she did this,
down came her husband out of the chimney; and so when his old dame
came inside the kitchen, there she found him standing on his head in
the porridge pot.




DAPPLEGRIM

Once on a time there was a rich couple who had twelve sons; but the
youngest when he was grown up, said he wouldn't stay any longer at
home, but be off into the world to try his luck. His father and
mother said he did very well at home, and had better stay where he
was. But no, he couldn't rest; away he must and would go. So at last
they gave him leave. And when he had walked a good bit, he came to a
king's palace, where he asked for a place, and got it.

Now the daughter of the king of that land had been carried off into
the hill by a Troll, and the king had no other children; so he and
all his land were in great grief and sorrow, and the king gave his
word that any one who could set her free should have the Princess and
half the kingdom. But there was no one who could do it, though many
tried.

So when the lad had been there a year or so, he longed to go home
again and see his father and mother, and back he went, but when he
got home his father and mother were dead, and his brothers had shared
all that the old people owned between them, and so there was nothing
left for the lad.

'Shan't I have anything at all, then, out of father's and mother's
goods?' said the lad.

'Who could tell you were still alive, when you went gadding and
wandering about so long?' said his brothers. 'But all the same; there
are twelve mares up on the hill which we haven't yet shared among us;
if you choose to take them for your share, you're quite welcome.'

Yes! the lad was quite content; so he thanked his brothers, and went
at once up on the hill, where the twelve mares were out at grass. And
when he got up there and found them, each of them had a foal at her
side, and one of them had besides, along with her, a big dapple-gray
foal, which was so sleek that the sun shone from its coat.

'A fine fellow you are, my little foal', said the lad.

'Yes', said the foal; 'but if you'll only kill all the other foals,
so that I may run and suck all the mares one year more, you'll see
how big and sleek I'll be then.'

Yes! the lad was ready to do that; so he killed all those twelve
foals, and went home again.

So when he came back the next year to look after his foal and mares,
the foal was so fat and sleek, that the sun shone from its coat, and
it had grown so big, the lad had hard work to mount it. As for the
mares, they had each of them another foal.

'Well, it's quite plain I lost nothing by letting you suck all my
twelve mares', said the lad to the yearling, 'but now you're big
enough to come along with me.'

'No', said the colt, 'I must bide here a year longer; and now kill
all the twelve foals, that I may suck all the mares this year too,
and you'll see how big and sleek I'll be by summer.'

Yes! the lad did that; and next year when he went up on the hill to
look after his colt and the mares, each mare had her foal, but the
dapple colt was so tall the lad couldn't reach up to his crest when
he wanted to feel how fat he was; and so sleek he was too, that his
coat glistened in the sunshine.

'Big and beautiful you were last year, my colt', said the lad, 'but
this year you're far grander. There's no such horse in the king's
stable. But now you must come along with me.'

'No', said Dapple again, 'I must stay here one year more. Kill the
twelve foals as before, that I may suck the mares the whole year, and
then just come and look at me when the summer comes.'

Yes! the lad did that; he killed the foals, and went away home.

But when he went up next year to look after Dapple and the mares, he
was quite astonished. So tall, and stout, and sturdy, he never
thought a horse could be; for Dapple had to lie down on all fours
before the lad could bestride him, and it was hard work to get up
even then, although he lay flat; and his coat was so smooth and
sleek, the sunbeams shone from it as from a looking-glass.

This time Dapple was willing enough to follow the lad, so he jumped
up on his back, and when he came riding home to his brothers, they
all clapped their hands and crossed themselves, for such a horse they
had never heard of nor seen before.

'If you will only get me the best shoes you can for my horse, and the
grandest saddle and bridle that are to be found', said the lad, 'you
may have my twelve mares that graze up on the hill yonder, and their
twelve foals into the bargain.' For you must know that this year too
every mare had her foal.

Yes, his brothers were ready to do that, and so the lad got such
strong shoes under his horse, that the stones flew high aloft as he
rode away across the hills; and he had a golden saddle and a golden
bridle, which gleamed and glistened a long way off.

'Now we're off to the king's palace', said Dapplegrim--that was his
name; 'but mind you ask the king for a good stable and good fodder
for me.'

Yes! the lad said he would mind; he'd be sure not to forget; and when
he rode off from his brothers' house, you may be sure it wasn't long,
with such a horse under him, before he got to the king's palace.

When he came there the king was standing on the steps, and stared and
stared at the man who came riding along.

'Nay, nay!', said he, 'such a man and such a horse I never yet saw in
all my life.'

But when the lad asked if he could get a place in the king's
household, the king was so glad he was ready to jump and dance as he
stood on the steps.

Well, they said, perhaps he might get a place there.

'Aye', said the lad, 'but I must have good stable-room for my horse,
and fodder that one can trust.'

Yes! he should have meadow-hay and oats, as much as Dapple could
cram, and all the other knights had to lead their horses out of the
stable that Dapplegrim might stand alone, and have it all to himself.

But it wasn't long before all the others in the king's household
began to be jealous of the lad, and there was no end to the bad
things they would have done to him, if they had only dared. At last
they thought of telling the king he had said he was man enough to set
the king's daughter free--whom the Troll had long since carried away
into the hill--if he only chose. The king called the lad before him,
and said he had heard the lad said he was good to do so and so; so
now he must go and do it. If he did it, he knew how the king had
promised his daughter and half the kingdom, and that promise would be
faithfully kept; if he didn't, he should be killed.

The lad kept on saying he never said any such thing; but it was no
good--the king wouldn't even listen to him; and so the end of it was
he was forced to say he'd go and try.

So he went into the stable, down in the mouth and heavy-hearted, and
then Dapplegrim asked him at once why he was in such dumps.

Then the lad told him all, and how he couldn't tell which way to
turn:

'For as for setting the Princess free, that's downright stuff.'

'Oh! but it might be done, perhaps', said Dapplegrim. 'I'll help you
through; but you must first have me well shod. You must go and ask
for ten pound of iron and twelve pound of steel for the shoes, and
one smith to hammer and another to hold.'

Yes, the lad did that, and got for answer 'Yes!' He got both the iron
and the steel, and the smiths, and so Dapplegrim was shod both strong
and well, and off went the lad from the court-yard in a cloud of
dust.

But when he came to the hill into which the Princess had been
carried, the pinch was how to get up the steep wall of rock where the
Troll's cave was, in which the Princess had been hid. For you must
know the hill stood straight up and down right on end, as upright as
a house-wall, and as smooth as a sheet of glass.

The first time the lad went at it he got a little way up; but then
Dapple's fore-legs slipped, and down they went again, with a sound
like thunder on the hill.

The second time he rode at it he got some way further up; but then
one fore-leg slipped, and down they went with a crash like a
landslip.

But the third time Dapple said:

'Now we must show our mettle'; and went at it again till the stones
flew heaven-high about them, and so they got up.

Then the lad rode right into the cave at full speed, and caught up
the Princess, and threw her over his saddle-bow and out and down
again before the Troll had time even to get on his legs; and so the
Princess was freed.

When the lad came back to the palace, the king was both happy and
glad to get his daughter back; that you may well believe; but somehow
or other, though I don't know how, the others about the court had so
brought it about that the king was angry with the lad after all.

'Thanks you shall have for freeing my Princess', said he to the lad,
when he brought the Princess into the hall, and made his bow.

'She ought to be mine as well as yours; for you're a word-fast man, I
hope', said the lad.

'Aye, aye!' said the king, 'have her you shall, since I said it; but
first of all, you must make the sun shine into my palace hall.'

Now, you must know there was a high steep ridge of rock close outside
the windows, which threw such a shade over the hall that never a
sunbeam shone into it.

'That wasn't in our bargain', answered the lad; 'but I see this is
past praying against; I must e'en go and try my luck, for the
Princess I must and will have.'

So down he went to Dapple, and told him what the king wanted, and
Dapplegrim thought it might easily be done, but first of all he must
be new shod; and for that ten pound of iron, and twelve pound of
steel besides, were needed, and two smiths, one to hammer and the
other to hold, and then they'd soon get the sun to shine into the
palace hall.

So when the lad asked for all these things, he got them at once--the
king couldn't say nay for very shame; and so Dapplegrim got new
shoes, and such shoes! Then the lad jumped upon his back, and off
they went again; and for every leap that Dapplegrim gave, down sank
the ridge fifteen ells into the earth, and so they went on till there
was nothing left of the ridge for the king to see.

When the lad got back to the king's palace, he asked the king if the
Princess were not his now; for now no one could say that the sun
didn't shine into the hall. But then the others set the king's back
up again, and he answered the lad should have her of course, he had
never thought of anything else; but first of all he must get as grand
a horse for the bride to ride on to church as the bridegroom had
himself.

The lad said the king hadn't spoken a word about this before, and
that he thought he had now fairly earned the Princess; but the king
held to his own; and more, if the lad couldn't do that he should lose
his life; that was what the king said. So the lad went down to the
stable in doleful dumps, as you may well fancy, and there he told
Dapplegrim all about it; how the king had laid that task on him, to
find the bride as good a horse as the bridegroom had himself, else he
would lose his life.

'But that's not so easy', he said, 'for your match isn't to be found
in the wide world.'

'Oh yes, I have a match', said Dapplegrim; 'but 'tisn't so easy to
find him, for he abides in Hell. Still we'll try. And now you must go
up to the king and ask for new shoes for me, ten pound of iron, and
twelve pound of steel; and two smiths, one to hammer and one to hold;
and mind you see that the points and ends of these shoes are sharp;
and twelve sacks of rye, and twelve sacks of barley, and twelve
slaughtered oxen, we must have with us; and mind, we must have the
twelve ox-hides, with twelve hundred spikes driven into each; and,
let me see, a big tar-barrel--that's all we want.'

So the lad went up to the king and asked for all that Dapplegrim had
said, and the king again thought he couldn't say nay, for shame's
sake, and so the lad got all he wanted.

Well, he jumped up on Dapplegrim's back, and rode away from the
palace, and when he had ridden far far over hill and heath, Dapple
asked:

'Do you hear anything?'

'Yes, I hear an awful hissing and rustling up in the air,' said the
lad; 'I think I'm getting afraid.'

'That's all the wild birds that fly through the wood. They are sent
to stop us; but just cut a hole in the corn-sacks, and then they'll
have so much to do with the corn, they'll forget us quite.'

Yes! the lad did that; he cut holes in the corn-sacks, so that the
rye and barley ran out on all sides. Then all the wild birds that
were in the wood came flying round them so thick that the sunbeams
grew dark; but as soon as they saw the corn, they couldn't keep to
their purpose, but flew down and began to pick and scratch at the rye
and barley, and after that they began to fight among themselves. As
for Dapplegrim and the lad, they forgot all about them, and did them
no harm.

So the lad rode on and on--far far over mountain and dale, over sand-
hills and moor. Then Dapplegrim began to prick up his ears again, and
at last he asked the lad if he heard anything?

'Yes! now I hear such an ugly roaring and howling in the wood all
round, it makes me quite afraid.'

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