XVI

ANENT THE GIANT WHO DID NOT HAVE HIS HEART ABOUT HIM

Once upon a time there was a king who had seven sons, and he was so fond of them that he never could bear to have them all away from him at once, and one of them always had to stay with him. When they had grown up, six of them were to go forth and look for wives; but the youngest the king wanted to keep at home, and the others were to bring along a bride for him. The king gave the six the handsomest clothes that had ever been seen, clothes that glittered from afar, and each received a horse that had cost many hundred dollars, and so they set forth. And after they had been at the courts of many kings, and had seen many princesses, they at last came to a king who had six daughters. Such beautiful princesses they had not as yet met with, and so each of them paid court to one of them, and when each had won his sweetheart, they rode back home again. But they were so deeply in love with their brides that they altogether forgot they were also to bring back a princess for their young brother who had stayed at home.

Now when they had already covered a good bit of the homeward road, they passed close to a steep cliff-side where the giants dwelt. And a giant came out, looked at them, and turned them all to stone, princes and princesses. The king waited and waited for his six sons; but though he waited and yearned, they did not come. Then he grew very sad, and said that he would never really be happy again. “If I did not have you,” he told his youngest, “I would not keep on living, so sad am I at having lost your brothers.” “But I had already been thinking of asking your permission to set out and find my brothers again,” said the youngest. “No, that I will not allow under any circumstances,” answered the father, “otherwise you will be lost to me into the bargain.” But the youth’s mind was set on going, and he pleaded so long that finally the king had to let him have his way. Now the king had only a wretched old nag for him, since the six other princes and their suite had been given all the good horses; but that did not worry the youngest. He mounted the shabby old nag, and “Farewell, father!” he said to the king. “I will surely return, and perhaps I will bring my six brothers back with me.” And with that he rode off.

Now when he had ridden a while he met a raven, who was lying in the road beating his wings, and unable to move from the spot because he was so starved. “O, dear friend, if you will give me a bite to eat, then I’ll help you in your hour of direst need!” cried the raven. “I have not much food, nor are you likely to be able to help me much,” said the king’s son, “but still I can give you a little, for it is easy to see you need it.” And with that he gave the raven some of the provisions he had with him. And when he had ridden a while longer, he came to a brook, and there lay a great salmon who had gotten on dry land, and was threshing about, and could not get back into the water. “O, dear friend, help me back into the water,” said the salmon to the king’s son, “and I will help you, too, in your hour of greatest need!” “The help you will be able to give me will probably not amount to much,” said the prince, “but it would be a pity if you had to lie there and pine away.” And with that he pushed the fish back into the water. Then he rode on a long, long way, and met a wolf; and the wolf was so starved that he lay in the middle of the road, and writhed with hunger. “Dear friend, let me eat your horse,” said the wolf. “My hunger is so great that my very inwards rattle, because I have had nothing to eat for the past two years!” “No,” said the prince, “I cannot do that: first I met a raven, and had to give him my provisions; then I met a salmon and had to help him back into the water; and now you want my horse. That will not do, for what shall I ride on then?” “Well, my dear friend, you must help me,” was the wolf’s reply. “You can ride on me. I will help you in turn in your hour of greatest need.” “The help you might give me would probably not amount to much; but I will let you eat the horse, since you are in such sorry case,” returned the prince. And when the wolf had eaten the horse, the prince took the bit and put it in the wolf’s mouth, and fastened the saddle on his back, and his meal had made the wolf so strong that he trotted off with the king’s son as fast as he could. He had never ridden so swiftly before. “When we have gone a little further I will show you the place where the giants live,” said the wolf; and in a short time they were there. “Well, this is where the giants live,” said the wolf. “There you see your six brothers, whom the giant turned into stone, and yonder are their six brides; and up there is the door through which you must pass.” “No, I would not dare do that,” said the king’s son. “He would murder me.” “O no,” was the wolf’s reply, “when you go in you will find a princess, and she will tell you how to set about getting rid of the giant. You need only do as she says.” And the prince went in, though he was afraid. When he entered the house the giant was not there; but in one of the rooms sat a princess, just as the wolf had said, and such a beautiful maiden the youth had never seen. “Now may God help you, how did you get in here?” cried the princess, when she saw him. “It is certain death for you. No one can kill the giant who lives here, for he hasn’t his heart about him.”

“Well, since I do happen to be here, I will at least make the attempt,” said the prince. “And I want to try to deliver my brothers, who stand outside, turned to stone, and I would like to save you as well.” “Well, if you insist upon it, we must see what we can do,” replied the princess. “Now you must crawl under the bed here, and must listen carefully when I talk to the giant. But you must not make a sound.” The prince slipped under the bed, and no sooner was he there than the giant came home. “Hu, it smells like the flesh of a Christian here!” he cried. “Yes,” said the princess, “a jackdaw flew by with a human bone, and let it fall down the chimney. I threw it out again at once, but the odor does not disappear so quickly.” Then the giant said no more about it. Toward evening he went to bed, but after he had lain there a while, the princess, who sat looking out of the window, said: “There is something I would have asked you about long ago, if only I had dared.” “And what may that be?” inquired the giant. “I would like to know where you keep your heart, since you do not have it about you?” said the princess. “O, that is something you need not ask about; at any rate, it lies under the threshold of the door,” was the giant’s reply. “Aha,” thought the prince under the bed, “that is where we will find it!”

The next morning the giant got up very early, and went into the forest, and no sooner had he gone than the prince and the king’s daughter set about looking for the heart under the threshold of the door. Yet no matter how much they dug and searched—they found nothing. “This time he has fooled us,” said the princess. “We’ll have to try again.” And she picked the loveliest flowers she could find and strewed them over the threshold—which they had put to rights again—and when the time drew near for the giant’s return, the king’s son crept under the bed once more. When he was beneath it, the giant came. “Hu hu, I smell human flesh!” he cried. “Yes,” said the princess. “A jackdaw flew by with a human bone in her beak, and she let it fall down the chimney. I threw it out at once, but I suppose one can still smell it.” Then the giant held his tongue, and said no more about it. After a time he asked who had strewn the flowers over the threshold. “O, I did that,” said the princess. “What does it mean?” the giant then asked. “O, I am so fond of you that I had to do it, because I know that is where your heart lies.” “Yes, of course,” said the giant, “but it does not happen to lie there at all.”

When he had gone to bed, the princess sat looking out of the window, and again asked the giant where he kept his heart, for she was so fond of him, said she, that she wanted to know above all things. “O, it is in the wardrobe there by the wall,” said the giant. “Aha,” thought the king’s son under the bed, “that is where we will find it!”

The next morning the giant got up early, and went into the forest, and no sooner had he gone than the prince and the king’s daughter set about looking for his heart in the wardrobe. Yet no matter how much they looked, they did not find it. “Well, well,” said the princess, “we will have to try once more.” Then she adorned the wardrobe with flowers and wreaths, and toward evening the king’s youngest son again crawled under the bed. Then the giant came: “Hu hu, it smells of human flesh here!” he cried. “Yes,” said the princess. “A jackdaw just this moment flew by with a human bone in her beak, and she let it fall down the chimney. I threw it out again at once, but it may be that you can still smell it.” When the giant heard this, he had nothing further to say about it. But not long afterward he noticed that the wardrobe was adorned with flowers and wreaths, and asked who had done it. “I,” said the princess. “What do you mean by such tomfoolery?” asked the giant. “O, I am so fond of you that I had to do it, since I know that is where your heart lies,” was the reply of the princess. “Are you really so stupid as to believe that?” cried the giant. “Yes, surely, I must believe it,” said the princess, “when you tell me so.” “How silly you are,” said the giant, “you could never reach the place where I keep my heart.” “But still I would like to know where it is,” answered the princess. Then the giant could no longer resist, and at last had to tell her the truth. “Far, far away, in a lake there lies an island,” said he, “and on the island stands a church, and in the church there is a well, and in the well floats a duck, and in the duck there is an egg, and in the egg—is my heart!”

The next morning, before dawn, the giant went to the forest again. “Well, now I must get under way,” said the prince, “and it is a way I wish I could find.” So he said farewell to the princess for the time being, and when he stepped out of the door, the wolf was standing there waiting for him. He told him what had happened at the giant’s, and said that now he would go to the well in the church, if only he knew the way. The wolf told him to climb on his back. He would manage to find the way, said he. And then they were off as though they had wings, over rock and wood, over hill and dale. After they had been underway for many, many days, they at last reached the lake. Then the king’s son did not know how they were to get across. But the wolf told him not to worry, and swam across with the prince to the island. Then they came to the church. But the church-key hung high up in the tower, and at first the king’s son did not at all know how they were to get it down. “You must call the raven,” said the wolf, and that is what the king’s son did. And the raven came at once, and flew right down with the key, and now the prince could enter the church. Then, when he came to the well, there was the duck, sure enough, swimming about as the giant had said. He stood by the well and called the duck, and at last he lured her near him, and seized her. But at the moment he grasped her and lifted her out of the water, she let the egg fall into the well, and now the prince again did not know how he was to get hold of it. “Well, you must call the salmon,” said the wolf. That is what the king’s son did, and the salmon came at once, and brought up the egg from the bottom of the well. Then the wolf told him to squeeze the egg a little. And when the prince squeezed, the giant cried out. “Squeeze it again!” said the wolf, and when the prince did so, the giant cried out far more dolefully, and fearfully and tearfully begged for his life. He would do all the king’s son asked him to, said he, if only he would not squeeze his heart in two. “Tell him to give back their original form to your six brothers, whom he turned to stone, and to their brides, as well; and that then you will spare his life,” said the wolf, and the prince did so. The troll at once agreed, and changed the six brothers into princes, and their brides into kings’ daughters. “Now squash the egg!” cried the wolf. Then the prince squeezed the egg in two, and the giant burst into pieces.

XVII

THE THREE PRINCESSES IN WHITELAND

Once upon a time there was a fisherman, who lived near the king’s castle, and caught fish for the king’s table. One day when he had gone fishing, he could not catch a thing. Try as he might, no matter how he baited or flung, not the tiniest fish would bite; but when this had gone on for a while, a head rose from the water and said: “If you will give me the first new thing that has come into your house, you shall catch fish a-plenty!” Then the man agreed quickly, for he could think of no new thing that might have come into the house. So he caught fish all day long, and as many as he could wish for, as may well be imagined. But when he got home, he found that heaven had sent him a little son, the first new thing to come into the house since he had made his promise. And when he told his wife about it, she began to weep and wail, and pray to God because of the vow her husband had made. And the woman’s grief was reported at the castle, and when it came to the king’s ears, and he learned the reason, he promised to take the boy and see if he could not save him. And so the king took him and brought him up as though he were his own son, until he was grown. Then one day the boy asked whether he might not go out fishing with his father, he wanted to so very much, said he. The king would not hear of it; but at last he was given permission, so he went to his father, and everything went well all day long, until they came home in the evening. Then the son found he had forgotten his handkerchief, and went down to the boat to get it. But no sooner was he in the boat than it moved off with a rush, and no matter how hard the youth worked against it with the oars, it was all in vain. The boat drove on and on, all night long, and at last he came to a white strand, far, far away. He stepped ashore, and after he had gone a while he met an old man with a great, white beard. “What is this country called?” asked the youth. “Whiteland,” was the man’s answer, and he asked the youth where he came from, and what he wanted, and the latter told him. “If you keep right on along the shore,” said the man, “you will come to three princesses, buried in the earth so that only their heads show. Then the first will call you—and she is the oldest—and beg you very hard to come to her and help her; and the next will do the same; but you must go to neither of them; walk quickly past them, and act as though you neither saw nor heard them. But go up to the third, and do what she asks of you, for then you will make your fortune.”

When the youth came to the first princess, she called out to him, and begged him most earnestly to come to her; but he went on as though he had not seen her. And he passed the next one in the same manner; but went over to the third. “If you will do what I tell you to, you shall have whichever one of us you want,” said she. Yes, he would do what she wanted. So she told him that three trolls had wished them into the earth where they were; but that formerly they had dwelt in the castle he saw on the edge of the forest.

“Now you must go to the castle, and let the trolls whip you one night through for each one of us,” said she, “and if you can hold out, you will have delivered us.” “Yes,” said the youth, he could manage that. “When you go in,” added the princess, “you will find two lions standing by the door; but if you pass directly between them, they will do you no harm. Go on into a dark little room and lie down, and then the troll will come and beat you; but after that you must take the bottle that hangs on the wall, and anoint yourself where he has beaten you, and you will be whole again. And take the sword that hangs beside the bottle, and kill the troll with it.” He did as the princess had told him, passed between the lions as though he did not see them, and right into the little room, where he lay down. The first night a troll with three heads and three whips came, and beat the youth badly; but he held out, and when the troll had finished, he took the bottle and anointed himself, grasped the sword and killed the troll. When he came out in the morning the princesses were out of the ground up to their waists. The next night it was the same; but the troll who came this time had six heads and six whips, and beat him worse than the first one. But when he came out in the morning, the princesses were out of the ground up to their ankles. The third night came a troll who had nine heads and nine whips, and he beat and whipped the youth so severely that at last he fainted. Then the troll took him and flung him against the wall, and as he did so the bottle fell down, and its whole contents poured over the youth, and he was at once sound and whole again. Then he did not delay, but grasped the sword, killed the troll, and when he came out in the morning, the princesses were entirely out of the ground. So he chose the youngest of them to be his queen, and lived long with her in peace and happiness.

But at last he was minded to travel home, and see how his parents fared. This did not suit his queen; but since he wanted to go so badly, and finally was on the point of departure, she said to him: “One thing you must promise me, that you will only do what your father tells you to do, but not what your mother tells you to do.” And this he promised. Then she gave him a ring which had the power of granting two wishes to the one who wore it. So he wished himself home, and his parents could not get over their surprise at seeing how fine and handsome he had become.

When he had been home a few days, his mother wanted him to go up to the castle and show the king what a man he had grown to be. His father said: “No, he had better not do that, for we will have to do without him in the meantime.” But there was no help for it, the mother begged and pleaded until he went. When he got there he was more splendidly dressed and fitted out than the other king. This did not suit the latter, and he said: “You can see what my queen looks like, but I cannot see yours; and I do not believe yours is as beautiful as mine.” “God grant she were standing here, then you would see soon enough!” said the young king, and there she stood that very minute. But she was very sad, and said to him: “Why did you not follow my advice and listen to your father? Now I must go straight home, and you have used up both of your wishes.” With that she bound a ring with her name on it in his hair, and wished herself home.

Then the young king grew very sad, and went about day in, day out, with no other thought than getting back to his queen. “I must try and see whether I cannot find out where Whiteland is,” thought he, and wandered forth into the wide world. After he had gone a while he came to a hill; and there he met one who was the lord of all the beasts of the forest—for they came when he blew his horn—and him the king asked where Whiteland was. “That I do not know,” said he, “but I will ask my beasts.” Then he called them up with his horn, and asked whether any of them knew where Whiteland might be; but none of them knew anything about it.

Then the man gave him a pair of snowshoes. “If you stand in them,” said he, “you will come to my brother, who lives a hundred miles further on. He is the lord of the birds of the air. Ask him. When you have found him, turn the snowshoes around so that they point this way, and they will come back home of their own accord.” When the king got there, he turned the snowshoes around, as the lord of the beasts had told him, and they ran home again. He asked about Whiteland, and the man called up all the birds with his horn, and asked whether any of them knew where Whiteland might be. But none of them knew. Long after the rest an old eagle came along; and he had been out for some ten years, but did not know either.

“Well,” said the man, “I will lend you a pair of snowshoes. When you stand in them you will come to my brother, who lives a hundred miles further on. He is the lord of all the fishes in the sea. Ask him. But do not forget to turn the snowshoes around again.” The king thanked him, stepped into the snowshoes, and when he came to the one who was lord of all the fishes in the sea, he turned them around, and they ran back like the others. There he once more asked about Whiteland.

The man called up his fishes with his horn, but none of them knew anything about it. At last there came an old, old carp, whom he had called with his horn only at the cost of much trouble. When he asked him, he said: “Yes, I know it well, for I was cook there for fully ten years. To-morrow I have to go back again, because our queen, whose king has not come home again, is going to marry some one else.” “If such be the case,” said the man, “I’ll give you a bit of advice. Out there by the wall three brothers have been standing for the last hundred years, fighting with each other about a hat, a cloak and a pair of boots. Any one who has these three things can make himself invisible, and wish himself away as far as ever he will. You might say that you would test their possessions, and then decide their quarrel for them.” Then the king thanked him, and did as he said. “Why do you stand there fighting till the end of time?” said he to the brothers. “Let me test your possessions if I am to decide your quarrel.” That suited them; but when he had hat, cloak and boots, he told them: “I will give you my decision the next time we meet!” and with that he wished himself far away. While he was flying through the air he happened to meet the North Wind. “And where are you going?” asked the North Wind. “To Whiteland,” said the king, and then he told him what had happened to him. “Well,” said the North Wind, “you are traveling a little quicker than I am; for I must sweep and blow out every corner. But when you come to your journey’s end, stand on the steps beside the door, and then I’ll come roaring up as though I were going to tear down the whole castle. And when the prince who is to have the queen comes and looks out to see what it all means, I’ll just take him along with me.”

The king did as the North Wind told him. He stationed himself on the steps; and when the North Wind came roaring and rushing up, and laid hold of the castle walls till they fairly shook, the prince came out to see what it was all about. But that very moment the king seized him by the collar, and threw him out, and the North Wind took him and carried him off. When he had borne him away, the king went into the castle. At first the queen did not recognize him, for he had grown thin and pale because he had wandered so long in his great distress; but when he showed her the ring, she grew glad at heart, and then they had a wedding which was such a wedding that the news of it spread far and wide.

XVIII

TROUBLE AND CARE

Far, far from here there once lived a king, who had three beautiful daughters. But he had no sons, and therefore he grew so fond of the three princesses that he granted their every wish. But in time the enemy invaded the country, and the king had to go to war. When he set out, the oldest princess begged him to buy her a ring that would prevent her dying as long as she wore it. The second princess asked him for a wreath that would make her happy whenever she looked at it, no matter how sad and troubled her heart might be. “Buy me trouble and care!” said the youngest. And the king promised everything.

When he had driven the enemy out of his own land, and out of the neighboring land as well, and was about to set out for home, he remembered what he had promised the three princesses. The ring and the wreath were easy enough to obtain; but trouble and care were to be had neither in one place nor in another, for all the people were so happy that the enemy had been driven out, that there was no sorrow nor care to be found in the entire kingdom. And since he could not buy it, it was not to be had at all, and he had to travel home without it, loathe as he was to do so.

When he was not far from the castle, his way took him through a thick forest. And there sat a squirrel in a tree by the road. “Buy me! buy me! My name is trouble and care!” it said. Thought the king to himself, It is better to have a squirrel than two empty hands, so he brought it along for his youngest daughter. And she was quite as well pleased with her present as her two sisters were with the ring and the wreath. The squirrel played about in her room, sometimes it balanced itself on the bed-posts, at others it would sit on the top of the wardrobe, and it always had a great deal to chatter about.

But as soon as it grew dark, it turned into a man. And he told her how an evil and malicious giantess dwelt in the golden forest, who had turned him into a squirrel because he would not marry her. During the night she had no power over him; but every morning at daybreak he had to slip back into his squirrel form.

And in the course of time the princess actually wanted to marry Trouble and Care; but when they were betrothed, he begged her earnestly, and as best he knew how, never to light a light at night, and try to look at him, “for then both of us would be unhappy,” said he. No, said she, she would be quite sure not to do so.

And every evening, when the princess had lain down and blown out the light, she would hear a man go into Trouble and Care’s room; but when morning dawned, the squirrel sat on her bed-post and greeted her, and chattered and babbled about all sorts of things.

Once, when she thought Trouble and Care had gone to sleep, she could not help herself; but stood up quietly, lit a light and crept softly into his room and to his bed, and when the ray of light fell on him, she saw that he was far, far handsomer than the most handsome prince. He was so surpassingly handsome that she bent over him in order to see more clearly, and finally she could not help herself, but had to kiss him. And then, three drops of wax from the candle fell on his chest, and he awoke.

“But how could you have done this!” he cried, and was quite unhappy. “Had you only waited three days longer, I should have been free!” said he. “But now I must return to the evil giantess and marry her, and all is over between us.” “Can I not follow you there?” asked the princess. “No, that is something you could not do in all your days, for if you rest or even so much as bend your knees to sit down, you will go back during the night as far as you came forward during the day,” said he; leaped to the door, and disappeared.

Then the princess wept and wailed, and waited for him to return; but she heard and saw nothing more of him. After a few days she grew so restless and wretched that she could no longer remain at home, and implored her maid to go along with her to search for the golden forest. The girl finally allowed herself to be moved; but she would not agree to set out until she had gotten together a yard of drilling, a yard of ticking, and a yard of fine linen; and she got them at once, as you may imagine, for there was no shortage of such things in the castle.

So they set out and wandered far, and ever farther, until their feet ached, and their spirits fell. Toward evening they came into the middle of a thick, dark forest; and climbed up into a high tree. The princess was so tired that the maid had to hold her in her arms while she slept a little. But during the night the ground about the tree grew alive with wolves, in the most sinister fashion, and they howled and cried, so that the princess did not venture to close her eyes another moment. But when daylight appeared in the skies, it seemed as though the wolves had suddenly all been blown away.

The following day they wandered far and ever farther, until their feet ached more, and their spirits sank lower. Toward evening they again came to the middle of a thick, dark forest. And they once more climbed into a high, high tree; but the princess was so tired that the maid had to hold her in her arms while she slept a little. When it grew darker, a most alarming number of bears flocked together under the tree, and began to dance and turn in a circle, with alarming speed, and all at once they tried to climb the tree. So the princess and her maid had to stand up in the tree-top the whole night through, and could not close an eye; but when day came, it seemed as though the bears sank into the earth in a single moment.

The third day they wandered far and ever farther, and then a bit more. Toward evening they again came to a thick, dark forest. There they again climbed into a high, high tree; but no sooner were they up in the tree than the ground beneath the tree and the whole forest were alive with lions, and they all roared and howled together in such a gruesome way that the echoes came back from rock and woodland. Suddenly they began to dance and whirl around in such a terrible fashion that the earth trembled, and in between they would clutch the tree again, and try to shake and loosen it, as though they would pull it out root and branch. The princess and her maid had to stand up in the very tree-top, and though they were so tired they could have fallen down from time to time, neither of them dared think of sleeping. But the moment day dawned, the lions all suddenly disappeared from the face of the earth, where they were, walking and standing.

Then they stumbled along, this way and that, the whole day long, until their feet ached harder than hard, and their spirits sank lower than low. They lost path and direction, and though they hunted north and south and east and west, they could not find the way out of the great, dark forest.

At last the princess grew tired and sad beyond all measure, and wanted to sit down every moment, in order to rest a little; but the maid held her and dragged her forward, and never let her bend her knees for a moment to sit down, because then they would have gone back just as far as they had come that day; for you must know that the giantess in the golden forest had so arranged matters.

In the evening they came to an enormous, horrible rock. “I will knock here,” said the maid, and tapped and knocked. “O no,” said the princess, “please don’t knock here, you can see how ugly everything is here!” “Who is knocking there at my door?” cried the giantess in the rock, in a loud, harsh manner, opened the door, and stuck her nose—it was all of a yard long—out through the crack.

“The youngest princess and her maid, they want to get to a prince in the golden forest, whose name is Trouble and Care,” was the maid’s reply.

“O, faugh!” cried the giantess, “that is so far to the north that one can neither sail nor row there. But what do you want of Trouble and Care? Is this, perhaps, the princess who wanted to marry him?” asked the giantess. Yes, this was the princess. “Well, she will never get him as long as she lives,” said the giantess, “for now he must marry the great giantess in the golden forest. You might just as well go back home now as later,” said she. No, they would not turn back for anything, and the maid asked whether it would not be possible for her to take them in for the darkest part of the night. “I can take you in easily enough,” said the giantess, “but when my husband comes home he will tear off your heads, and eat you up!” But there was no help for it, they could not go on in the middle of the night. Then the maid pulled out the yard of ticking, and gave it to the giantess for linen. “It can’t be true! It can’t be true!” cried she. “Here I have been married all of a hundred years, and have never yet had any ticking!” And she was so pleased that she invited the wanderers in, received them kindly, and took the best care of them. After a while, when they had strengthened themselves with food and drink, the giantess said to them: “Yes, he is a ferocious fellow, is my husband, and I will have to hide you in the anteroom. Perhaps he will not find you then.” And she prepared a bed for them, as soft and comfortable as a bed can be; but they did not care to lie down in it, nor sit in it; no, they could not even close their eyes, for they had to watch to see that their knees did not bend. So they stood the whole night through, and took turns holding each other up, for by now the maid was so weary and wretched that she was ready to give in.

Toward midnight it began to thunder and rumble in a terrible manner. This was the troll coming home; and no sooner had he thrust his first head in at the door than he cried out loudly and harshly: “Faugh! faugh! I smell Christian bodies!” and he rushed about in so wild and furious a manner that the sparks flew. “Yes,” said the giantess, “a bird flew past with a bone from a Christian, and he let it drop down the chimney. I threw it out again as quickly as I could, but perhaps one can smell it still,” said the giantess, and soothed him again. And he was satisfied with her explanation. But the next morning the giantess told him that the youngest princess and her maid had come in search of a prince named Trouble and Care, in the golden forest. “O faugh! that is so far to the north that one can neither sail nor row there!” the troll at once cried. “It is the princess who wanted to marry him, I know, but she will never get him as long as she lives, for he has to marry the great giantess in three days’ time. But the maidens shall not get away from me! Where are they, where are they?” he cried, and sniffed and snuffed about in every corner. “O no, you must not touch them,” said the giantess. “They have given me a yard of ticking, and here I have been married now for more than a hundred years, and have never owned any ticking. Therefore you must lend them your seven-mile waistcoat to the nearest neighbor,” said the giantess, and pleaded for the girls. And the troll was willing when he heard how kind they had been to his wife.

When they had eaten and were ready to travel, he put his seven-mile waistcoat on them: “And now you must repeat: ‘Forward over willow bush and pine-tree, over hill and dale, to the nearest neighbor,’” said he. “And when you get there you must say: ‘You are to be hung up this evening where you were put on this morning!’” The maidens did as he said, and were carried for miles, over hill and dale. In the evening, at dusk, they again came to a great, ugly rock. There they pulled off the seven-mile waistcoat and said: “You are to be hung up this evening where you were put on this morning,” and then the waistcoat ran home by itself.

“I will knock here,” said the maid, and knocked and thumped on the rock. “O no,” said the princess, “please do not knock here. You can see how sinister everything is here!” “Who is thumping at my door?” cried the giantess inside the rock, more loudly and harshly than the first one, and she opened the door and thrust her nose, that was all of two yards long, right through the crack. “Here stand the youngest princess and her maid, and they are looking for a prince named Trouble and Care, who lives in the golden forest,” answered the maid. And then this giantess also said it was so far north that one could neither sail nor row there, and wanted them to turn back by all means. “You might just as well turn back now as later,” said she. But this the maidens did not want to do at all, and the maid asked whether she would not, perhaps, take them in for the night, and if it were only the darkest part of the night. “Yes, I can take you in easily enough,” said the giantess, “but when my husband comes home to-night, he will tear off your heads and eat you up!” Then the maid pulled out a yard of drilling, and gave it to the giantess for linen. “It can’t be true! It can’t be true! here I have been married now for over two hundred years, and I have never yet had any drilling in the house,” cried the giantess, and she was so pleased that she invited them in, and received them kindly, and saw that they wanted for nothing. After a while, when they had strengthened themselves with food and drink, the giantess said: “Yes, he is a ferocious fellow, is my husband, and he eats up every Christian who comes here, root and branch. I’ll have to put you in the anteroom, perhaps he will not find you there,” and she prepared a bed for the maidens. But they did not dare either to lie down nor sit on it, not for a single moment, for they had to watch to see that they did not bend their knees. So they stood there the whole night through, and took turns holding each other up, while each snatched a little sleep.

Toward midnight it began to rumble and thunder in such a terrible manner that they could feel the earth tremble beneath them. Then the troll came rushing in. “Faugh! faugh! I smell Christian bodies!” he cried out loudly and harshly, and thrashed about in such a furious way that the sparks flew from him as from a fire. “Yes,” said the giantess, “a bird flew by, and let a bone from a Christian fall through the chimney. I threw it out again as quickly as I could, but it may well be the case that the smell still lingers,” said she, and quieted her husband. And he was satisfied with her explanation. But when he got up in the morning, she told him that the youngest princess and her maid had come in search of a prince named Trouble and Care, in the golden forest. When the troll heard that, he also said that it was so far north that one could neither sail nor row there. “That is the princess who wanted to marry him. Yes, I know; but she will never get him as long as she lives, for he must marry the great giantess herself in two days’ time,” said the troll. “And where are they, these maidens? They shall not escape from me with their lives!” he shouted, and sniffed and snuffed about everywhere. “O no, you must not harm them!” said the giantess, and told him that they had given her a yard of drilling for linen. “Therefore you must lend them your seven-mile waistcoat to the nearest neighbor,” said she. And he was willing at once, when he heard how kind they had been to his giantess. When they had eaten in the morning, he put his seven-mile waistcoat on them. “When you reach your goal, you need only say: ‘Where you were put on this morning, there you are to hang again to-night!’ and then the seven-mile waistcoat will travel home by itself,” said the troll. Then they were carried for miles, over hill and dale, on and on. In the evening, at dusk, they again came to a great, ugly rock.

“I will knock here!” said the maid, and knocked and thumped on the rock. “O no,” said the princess, “please do not knock here, you can see how sinister everything looks here!” “Who is thumping at my door?” the giantess cried inside the rock, in a ruder and harsher manner than the other two giantesses, and she opened the door just far enough so that she could thrust her nose, which was all of three yards long, through the crack. “Here stand the youngest princess and her maid, in search of a prince named Trouble and Care, who lives in the golden forest,” was the maid’s reply. “O faugh!” cried the giantess, “that is so far to the north that one can neither sail nor row there. But what do you want of Trouble and Care? Is this, perhaps, the princess who wanted to marry him?” asked the giantess. Yes, this was the princess, was the maid’s reply. Then this giantess said in turn: “He must marry the great giantess in the golden forest, so you might just as well turn back home now as later!” But this the maidens did not want to do at all, and the maid asked whether, perhaps, she would not take them in for the night, and if it were only for the very darkest part of the night.

“Yes, I can take you in easily enough,” said the giantess, “but when my husband comes home to-night he will tear off your heads and eat you up!” But there was nothing else to do; they could not travel on through the wood and wilderness, in the very darkest part of the night. Then the maid pulled out the yard of linen and made the giantess a present of it. “It can’t be true! It can’t be true!” cried she. “Here I have been married now for more than three hundred years, and have never yet had a bit of linen!” And she was so pleased that she invited the maidens in, and received them kindly, and let them want for nothing. “He is a ferocious fellow, is my husband, and he does away with every Christian soul that strays here,” she said, when her guests had eaten. “But I will hide you in the anteroom. Perhaps he will not find you there.” Then she carefully made up a soft bed for them, as fine as the finest in the world. But now the princess was weary and wretched and sleepy beyond all measure. She could no longer stand up at all, and finally had to lie down and sleep a little, and even though it were but a tiny little while. The maid was also so weary and wretched that she fell asleep standing, and fell over from time to time. Yet she still managed to keep her wits about her to the extent of seizing the princess, and holding her up, so that she did not bend her knees. Toward midnight it began to rumble and thunder so that the whole house shook, and it seemed as though the roof and walls would fall in. This was the great troll, who was coming home. When he thrust his first nose in at the door, he at once cried out in a manner so wild and harsh that the like had never been heard before: “Faugh! faugh! I smell Christian bodies!” and he fell into a white rage, so that sparks and flame flew from him. “Yes, a bird flew by, and let a bone from a Christian fall through the chimney. I threw it out as quickly as ever I could; but it may be that the smell still persists!” said the giantess, and tried to pacify her troll. And he was satisfied with her explanation. But when he awoke in the morning, she told him that the youngest princess and her maid had come in search of a prince named Trouble and Care, who lived in the golden forest. “O faugh! That is so far north that one can neither sail nor row there!” cried the great troll, just as the smaller trolls had. “But she will never get him as long as she lives, for to-morrow he must marry the great giantess. Where are they, these maidens? Hm, hm, hm, they will make tasty eating!” he cried, and danced around everywhere, and sniffed and snuffed with all his nine noses at once. “O no, you must not harm them!” cried the giantess. “They have given me a yard of linen, and here I have been married for more than three hundred years, and have never had a bit of linen yet. Therefore you must lend them your seven-mile waistcoat to the nearest neighbor.” And when the super-troll heard that the maidens had been so kind, he was agreeable.

When they had strengthened themselves in the morning, he put his seven-mile waistcoat on them. “And now you must repeat: ‘On, on! Over willow brush and pine tree, over hill and dale, to the nearest neighbor.’ And when you reach your goal, you need only say: ‘You must hang again to-night on the nail from which you were taken down this morning!’” said the great troll. They did as he had told them, and were carried farther and farther along, over hills and deep valleys.

At dusk they came to a large, large forest, where all the trees were black as coal. If one only so much as touched them, they made one look like a chimney-sweep. And in the middle of the forest was a clearing, and there stood a wretched hut, ready to fall apart; it was only held together by two beams, and looked more forlorn than the most wretched herdsman’s hut. And in front of the door lay a rubbish heap of old shoes, dirty rags and other ugly stuff. Here the maid took off the seven-mile waistcoat, and said: “You must hang again to-night from the nail from which you were taken down this morning!” and the waistcoat wandered home all by itself.

“I will knock here!” said the maid. “O no, O no,” wailed the princess, “please do not knock here, you can see how ugly everything is!” “If you do not do as I do, then it will be the worse for both of us!” said the maid; trampled through the rubbish-pile and knocked. An old, old troll-woman with a nose all of three yards long, looked out through the crack in the door. “If you girls want to come in, then come in, and if you do not want to, you can stay out!” said she, and made as though to close the door in their faces. “Yes, indeed, we want to come in,” replied the maid, and drew the princess in with her. “If you girls want to come through the door, then come through, but if you do not want to, you can stay out,” the woman said once more. “Yes, thanks, we want to come in,” said the maid, and tramped over the threshold through the dirt and rags. “Alas, alas!” wailed the princess, and tramped after her. All was black and ugly inside, and as grimy and dirty as a corn-loft. After a while the giantess went out, and fetched them some milk to drink. “If you girls want to drink, why, drink, and if you do not, why, do without!” said she, and was about to carry it out again. “Yes, thanks, we want to drink,” said the maid, and drank. “Alas, alas!” wailed the princess, when it came her turn, for the milk was in a pig-trough, and dirt and clots of hair were swimming in it. Then the giantess gave them something to eat. “If you girls want to eat, why, eat, and if you do not, why, do without,” said the giantess. “Yes, indeed, we will be glad to,” said the maid, before the ugly nosey could take the food away again. The bread was moldly, mice had been nibbling at the cheese, the meat was so old that one could smell it at a distance, and two dirty calves’ tails were draped about the butter. “Alas, alas!” wailed the princess, and was ready to cry; but she had to do what her maid did, and taste the horrible dishes. Then they had to say they were much obliged. An old man, whom thus far they had not seen, lay on a bed covered with a few old odds and ends of fur and other rags. When they went up to him to thank him, he stood up, and when the princess gave him her hand he kissed it; and at that very moment he turned into a prince handsome beyond all measure, and the princess saw that he was Trouble and Care, for whom she had so greatly longed. “Now you have delivered me!” he said. “Woe to whoever has delivered you!” cried the giantess, and rushed out of the door; but on the door-step she stood like a stone, for the forest was no longer black, and all the trees looked as though they had been gilded from root to crest, and glittered and sparkled more brightly than the sun at noon-day. The wretched, dirty hut had changed into a royal castle, immensely large and handsome. One might have thought that the roof and walls were made of the purest gold and silver, and so they were. “Now you may bend your knee again,” said the prince, “and if you have hitherto known nothing but sorrow and care, you shall henceforth know all the more happiness.”

The old giantess had brewed and baked, and prepared the whole wedding dinner. And when the next day dawned, the prince and the princess, and all the people in the castle, and in the whole country over which he was king, celebrated the wedding. And it lasted for four times fourteen days, so that the news spread through seven kingdoms, and reached the bride’s father and her two sisters. And they would have celebrated it with them, had they not been so far away. I was invited to the feast myself, and the bridegroom made me chief cook, and I had to speak the toast for the bride and groom. But on the last day of the feast, I had to draw mead from a large, large cask that lay at the farthest end of the cellar. Before I sent off the filled jug, I took a taste myself, and the mead was so strong that it suddenly went to my head, and I flew through the air like a bird, and there I was, floating between heaven and earth for full nine years, and then I fell down here in the village, in front of the house up there on the hill. And out came Bertha Friendly, with a letter for me from the prince, who had become king in the meantime, and the letter said that he and the young queen were doing well, and that they sent me their greetings, and that I was to greet you for them, and that you and your sisters were invited to the castle Sunday after Michaelmas, and then you should see a pair of dear little princes, the golden forest, and the old stone giantess, who stands before the door with her nose three yards long.