Chapter VII: Introduction (5)

"And say how much thou wilt give unto me,"
Time with me goes slow.--
"That herself may into the hill come to thee?"
But that grief is heavy I know.

"Thee will I give the ruddiest gold,"
Time with me goes slow.--
"And thy chests full of money as they can hold,"
But that grief is heavy I know.

One Sunday morning it fell out so,
Time with me goes slow.--
Proud Margaret unto the church should go,
But that grief is heavy I know.

And all as she goes, and all as she stays,
Time with me goes slow.--
All the nearer she comes where the high hill lay,
But that grief is heavy I know.

So she goeth around the hill compassing,
Time with me goes slow.--
So there openeth a door, and thereat goes she in,
But that grief is heavy I know.

Proud Margaret stept in at the door of the hill,
Time with me goes slow.--
And the hill-king salutes her with eyes joyfúl,
But that grief is heavy I know.

So he took the maiden upon his knee,
Time with me goes slow.--
And took the gold rings and therewith her wed he,
But that grief is heavy I know.

So he took the maiden his arms between,
Time with me goes slow.--
He gave her a gold crown and the name of queen,
But that grief is heavy I know.

So she was in the hill for eight round years,
Time with me goes slow.--
There bare she two sons and a daughter so fair,
But that grief is heavy I know.

When she had been full eight years there,
Time with me goes slow.--
She wished to go home to her mother so dear,
But that grief is heavy I know.

And the hill-king spake to his footpages twain,
Time with me goes slow.--
"Put ye the gray paeers now unto the wain,"[167]
But that grief is heavy I know.

And Margaret out at the hill-door stept,
Time with me goes slow.--
And her little children they thereat wept,
But that grief is heavy I know.

And the hill-king her in his arms has ta'en.
Time with me goes slow.--
So he lifteth her into the gilded wain,
But that grief is heavy I know.

"And hear now thou footpage what I unto thee say,"
Time with me goes slow.--
"Thou now shalt drive her to her mother's straightway,"
But that grief is heavy I know.

Proud Margaret stept in o'er the door-sill,
Time with me goes slow.--
And her mother saluteth her with eyes joyfúl,
But that grief is heavy I know.

"And where hast thou so long stayed?"
Time with me goes slow.--
"I have been in the flowery meads,"
But that grief is heavy I know.

"What veil is that thou wearest on thy hair?"
Time with me goes slow.--
"Such as women and mothers use to wear,"
But that grief is heavy I know.

"Well may I wear a veil on my head,"
Time with me goes slow.--
"Me hath the hill-king both wooed and wed,"
But that grief is heavy I know.

"In the hill have I been these eight round years,"
Time with me goes slow.--
"There have I two sons and a daughter so fair,"
But that grief is heavy I know.

"There have I two sons and a daughter so fair,"
Time with me goes slow.--
"The loveliest maiden the world doth bear,"
But that grief is heavy I know.

"And hear thou, proud Margaret, what I say unto thee,"
Time with me goes slow.--
"Can I go with thee home thy children to see?"
But that grief is heavy I know.

And the hill-king stept now in at the door,
Time with me goes slow.--
And Margaret thereat fell down on the floor,
But that grief is heavy I know.

"And stayest thou now here complaining of me,"
Time with me goes slow.--
"Camest thou not of thyself into the hill to me?"
But that grief is heavy I know.

"And stayest thou now here and thy fate dost deplore?"
Time with me goes slow.--
"Camest thou not of thyself in at my door?"
But that grief is heavy I know.

The hill-king struck her on the cheek rosie,
Time with me goes slow.--
"And pack to the hill to thy children wee,"
But that grief is heavy I know.

The hill-king struck her with a twisted root,
Time with me goes slow.--
"And pack to the hill without any dispute,"
But that grief is heavy I know.

And the hill-king her in his arms has ta'en,
Time with me goes slow.--
And lifted her into the gilded wain,
But that grief is heavy I know.

"And hear thou my footpage what I unto thee say,"
Time with me goes slow.--
"Thou now shalt drive her to my dwelling straightway,"
But that grief is heavy I know.

Proud Margaret stept in at the hill door,
Time with me goes slow.--
And her little children rejoiced therefòre,
But that grief is heavy I know.

"It is not worth while rejoicing for me,"
Time with me goes slow.--
"Christ grant that I never a mother had been,"
But that grief is heavy I know.

The one brought out a gilded chair,
Time with me goes slow.--
"O rest you, my sorrow-bound mother, there,"
But that grief is heavy I know.

The one brought out a filled up horn,
Time with me goes slow.--
The other put therein a gilded corn,
But that grief is heavy I know.

The first drink she drank out of the horn,
Time with me goes slow.--
She forgot straightway both heaven and earth,
But that grief is heavy I know.

The second drink she drank out of the horn,
Time with me goes slow.--
She forgot straightway both God and his word,
But that grief is heavy I know.

The third drink she drank out of the horn,
Time with me goes slow.--
She forgot straightway both sister and brother,
But that grief is heavy I know.

She forgot straightway both sister and brother,
Time with me goes slow.--
But she never forgot her sorrow-bound mother,
But that grief is heavy I know.[168]

_The Troll Wife._

The grandfather of Reor, who dwelt at Fuglekärr (i.e. _Bird-marsh_), in the parish of Svartsborg (_Black-castle_), lived close to a hill, and one time, in the broad daylight, he saw sitting there on a stone a comely maiden. He wished to intercept her, and for this purpose _he threw steel_ between her and the hill; whereupon her father laughed within the hill, and opening the hill-door asked him if he would have his daughter. He replied in the affirmative and as she was _stark naked_ he took some of his own clothes and covered her with them, and he afterwards had her christened. As he was going away, her father said to him, "When you are going to have your wedding (_bröllup_) you must provide twelve barrels of beer and bake a heap of bread and the flesh of four oxen, and drive to the barrow or hill where I keep, and when the bridal gifts are to be bestowed, depend on it I will give mine." This also came to pass; for when others were giving he raised the cover of the cart and cast into it so large a bag of money that the body of it nearly broke, saying at the same time:--"This is _my_ gift!" He said, moreover, "When you want to have your wife's portion (_hemmagifta_),[169] you must drive to the hill with four horses, and get your share. When he came there afterwards at his desire he got copper-pots, the one larger than the other till the largest pot of all was filled with the smaller ones. He also gave him other things,[170] which were helmets, of that colour and fashion which are large and thick, and which are still remaining in the country, being preserved at the parsonage of Tanum. This man Reor's father surnamed I Foglekärsten, had a number of children by this wife of his, whom he fetched out of the hill, among whom was the aforesaid Reor. Olaf Stenson also in Stora Rijk, who died last year, was Reor's sister's son.[171]

_The Altar-Cup in Aagerup._

Between the villages of Marup and Aagerup in Zealand, there is said to have lain a great castle, the ruins of which are still to be seen near the strand. Tradition relates that a great treasure is concealed among them, and that a dragon there watches over three kings' ransoms.[172] Here, too, people frequently happen to get a sight of the underground folk, especially about festival-times, for then they have dancing and great jollity going on down on the strand.

One Christmas-eve, a farmer's servant in the village of Aagerup went to his master and asked him if he might take a horse and ride down to look at the Troll-meeting. The farmer not only gave him leave but desired him to take the best horse in the stable; so he mounted and rode away down to the strand. When he was come to the place he stopped his horse, and stood for some time looking at the company who were assembled in great numbers. And while he was wondering to see how well and how gaily the little dwarfs danced, up came a Troll to him, and invited him to dismount, and take a share in their dancing and merriment. Another Troll came jumping up, took his horse by the bridle, and held him while the man got off, and went down and danced away merrily with them the whole night long.

When it was drawing near day he returned them his very best thanks for his entertainment, and mounted his horse to return home to Aagerup. They now gave him an invitation to come again on New-year's night, as they were then to have great festivity; and a maiden who held a gold cup in her hand invited him to drink the stirrup-cup. He took the cup; but, as he had some suspicion of them, he, while he made as if he was raising the cup to his mouth, threw the drink out over his shoulder, so that it fell on the horse's back, and it immediately singed off all the hair. He then clapped spurs to his horse's sides, and rode away with the cup in his hand over a ploughed field.

The Trolls instantly gave chase all in a body; but being hard set to get over the deep furrows, they shouted out, without ceasing,

"Ride on the lay,
And not on the clay."[173]

He, however, never minded them, but kept to the ploughed field. However, when he drew near the village he was forced to ride out on the level road, and the Trolls now gained on him every minute. In his distress he prayed unto God, and he made a vow that if he should be delivered he would bestow the cup on the church.

He was now riding along just by the wall of the church-yard, and he hastily flung the cup over it, that it at least might be secure. He then pushed on at full speed, and at last got into the village; and just as they were on the point of catching hold of the horse, he sprung in through the farmer's gate, and the man clapt to the wicket after him. He was now safe; but the Trolls were so enraged, that, taking up a huge great stone, they flung it with such force against the gate, that it knocked four planks out of it.

There are no traces now remaining of that house, but the stone is still lying in the middle of the village of Aagerup. The cup was presented to the church, and the man got in return the best farm-house on the lands of Eriksholm.[174]

_Origin of Tiis Lake._

A Troll had once taken up his abode near the village of Kund, in the high bank on which the church now stands; but when the people about there had become pious, and went constantly to church, the Troll was dreadfully annoyed by their almost incessant ringing of bells in the steeple of the church. He was at last obliged, in consequence of it, to take his departure; for nothing has more contributed to the emigration of the Troll-folk out of the country than the increasing piety of the people, and their taking to bell-ringing. The Troll of Kund accordingly quitted the country, and went over to Funen, where he lived for some time in peace and quiet.

Now it chanced that a man who had lately settled in the town of Kund, coming to Funen on business, met on the road with this same Troll: "Where do you live?" said the Troll to him. Now there was nothing whatever about the Troll unlike a man, so he answered him, as was the truth, "I am from the town of Kund." "So?" said the Troll. "I don't know you, then! And yet I think I know every man in Kund. Will you, however," continued he, "just be so kind to take a letter from me back with you to Kund?" The man said, of course, he had no objection. The Troll then thrust the letter into his pocket, and charged him strictly not to take it out till he came to Kund church, and then to throw it over the churchyard wall, and the person for whom it was intended would get it.

The Troll then went away in great haste, and with him the letter went entirely out of the man's mind. But when he was come back to Zealand he sat down by the meadow where Tiis Lake now is, and suddenly recollected the Troll's letter. He felt a great desire to look at it at least. So he took it out of his pocket, and sat a while with it in his hands, when suddenly there began to dribble a little water out of the seal. The letter now unfolded itself, and the water came out faster and faster, and it was with the utmost difficulty that the poor man was enabled to save his life; for the malicious Troll had enclosed an entire lake in the letter. The Troll, it is plain, had thought to avenge himself on Kund church by destroying it in this manner; but God ordered it so that the lake chanced to run out in the great meadow where it now flows.[175]

_A Farmer tricks a Troll._

A farmer, on whose ground there was a little hill, resolved not to let it lie idle, so he began at one end to plough it up. The hill-man, who lived in it, came to him and asked him how he dared to plough on the roof of his house. The farmer assured him that he did not know that it was the roof of his house, but at the same time represented to him that it was at present equally unprofitable to them both to let such a piece of land lie idle. He therefore took the opportunity of proposing to him that he should plough, sow, and reap it every year on these terms: that they should take it year and year about, and the hill-man to have one year what grew over the ground, and the farmer what grew in the ground; and the next year the farmer to have what was over, and the hill-man what was under.

The agreement was made accordingly; but the crafty farmer took care to sow carrots and corn year and year about, and he gave the hill-man the tops of the carrots and the roots of the corn for his share, with which he was well content. They thus lived for a long time on extremely good terms with each other.[176]

_Skotte in the Fire._

Near Gudmanstrup, in the district of Odd, is a hill called Hjulehöi (_Hollow-hill_). The hill-folk that dwell in this mount are well known in all the villages round, and no one ever omits making a cross on his beer-barrels, for the Trolls are in the habit of slipping down from Hjulehöi to steal beer.

One evening late a farmer was passing by the hill, and he saw that it was raised up on red pillars, and that underneath there was music and dancing and a splendid Troll banquet. The man stood a long time gazing on their festivity; but while he was standing there, deeply absorbed in admiration of what he saw, all of a sudden the dancing stopped, and the music ceased, and he heard a Troll cry out, in a tone of the utmost anguish, "Skotte is fallen into the fire! Come and help him up!" The hill then sank, and all the merriment was at an end.

Meanwhile the farmer's wife was at home all alone, and while she was sitting and spinning her tow, she never noticed a Troll who had crept through the window into the next room, and was at the beer-barrel drawing off the liquor into his copper kettle. The room-door was standing open, and the Troll kept a steady eye on the woman. The husband now came into the house full of wonder at what he had seen and heard. "Hark ye, dame," he began, "listen now till I tell you what has happened to me!" The Troll redoubled his attention. "As I came just now by Hjulehöi," continued he, "I saw a great Troll-banquet there, but while they were in the very middle of their glee they shouted out within in the hill, 'Skotte is fallen into the fire; come and help him up!'"

At hearing this, the Troll, who was standing beside the beer-barrel, was so frightened, that he let the tap run and the kettle of beer fall on the ground, and tumbled himself out of the window as quickly as might be. The people of the house hearing all this noise instantly guessed what had been going on inside; and when they went in they saw the beer all running about, and found the copper kettle lying on the floor. This they seized, and kept in lieu of the beer that had been spilled; and the same kettle is said to have been a long time to be seen in the villages round about there.[177]

_The Legend of Bodedys._

There is a hill called Bodedys close to the road in the neighbourhood of Lynge, that is near Soröe. Not far from it lived an old farmer, whose only son was used to take long journeys on business. His father had for a long time heard no tidings of him, and the old man became convinced that his son was dead. This caused him much affliction, as was natural for an old man like him, and thus some time passed over.

One evening as he was coming with a loaded cart by Bodedys, the hill opened, and the Troll came out and desired him to drive his cart into it. The poor man was, to be sure, greatly amazed at this, but well knowing how little it would avail him to refuse to comply with the Troll's request, he turned about his horses, and drove his cart straight into the hill. The Troll now began to deal with him for his goods, and finally bought and paid him honestly for his entire cargo. When he had finished the unloading of his vehicle, and was about to drive again out of the hill, the Troll said to him, "If you will now only keep a silent tongue in your head about all that has happened to you, I shall from this time out have an eye to your interest; and if you come here again to-morrow morning, it may be you shall get your son." The farmer did not well know at first what to say to all this; but as he was, however, of opinion that the Troll was able to perform what he had promised, he was greatly rejoiced, and failed not to come at the appointed time to Bodedys.

He sat there waiting a long time, and at last he fell asleep, and when he awoke from his slumber, behold! there was his son lying by his side. Both father and son found it difficult to explain how this had come to pass. The son related how he had been thrown into prison, and had there suffered great hardship and distress; but that one night, while he was lying asleep in his cell, there came a man to him, who said, "Do you still love your father?" And when he had answered that he surely did, his chains fell off and the wall burst open. While he was telling this he chanced to put his hand up to his neck, and he found that he had brought a piece of the iron chain away with him. They both were for some time mute through excess of wonder; and they then arose and went straightway to Lynge, where they hung up the piece of the chain in the church, as a memorial of the wonderful event that had occurred.[178]

_Kallundborg Church._

When Esbern Snare was about building a church in Kallundborg, he saw clearly that his means were not fully adequate to the task. But a Troll came to him and offered his services; and Esbern Snare made an agreement with him on these conditions, that he should be able to tell the Troll's name when the church was finished; or in case he could not, that he should give him his heart and his eyes.

The work now went on rapidly, and the Troll set the church on stone pillars; but when all was nearly done, and there was only half a pillar wanting in the church, Esbern began to get frightened, for the name of the Troll was yet unknown to him.

One day he was going about the fields all alone, and in great anxiety on account of the perilous state he was in; when, tired, and depressed, by reason of his exceeding grief and affliction, he laid him down on Ulshöi bank to rest himself a while. While he was lying there, he heard a Troll-woman within the hill saying these words:--

"Lie still, baby mine!
To-morrow cometh Fin,
Father thine,
And giveth thee Esbern Snare's eyes and heart to play with."[179]

When Esbern heard this, he recovered his spirits, and went back to the church. The Troll was just then coming with the half-pillar that was wanting for the church; but when Esbern saw him, he hailed him by his name, and called him "Fin." The Troll was so enraged at this, that he went off with the half-pillar through the air, and this is the reason that the church has but three pillars and a half.[180]

* * * * *

The same is told of a far greater than Esbern Snare. As St. Olaf, the royal apostle of the North, was one day going over hill and dale, thinking how he could contrive to build a splendid church without distressing his people by taxation, he was met by a man of a strange appearance, who asking him what he was thinking about, Olaf told him, and the Troll, or rather Giant (_Jätte_), for such he was, undertook to do it within a certain time, stipulating, for his reward, the sun and moon, or else St. Olaf himself. Olaf agreed, but gave such a plan for the church as it seemed to be impossible ever could be executed. It was to be so large that seven priests could preach in it at the same time without disturbing each other; the columns and other ornaments both within and without should be of hard flintstone, and so forth. It soon, however, was finished, all but the roof and pinnacle. Olaf, now grown uneasy, rambled once more over hill and dale, when he chanced to hear a child crying within a hill, and a giantess, its mother, saying to it, "Hush, hush! Thy father, Wind-and-Weather, will come home in the morning, and bring with him the sun and moon, or else St. Olaf himself." Olaf was overjoyed, for the power of evil beings ceases when their name is known. He returned home, where he saw every thing completed--pinnacle and all. He immediately cried out, "Wind-and-Weather, you've set the pinnacle crooked!"[181] Instantly the Giant fell with a great crash from the ridge of the roof, and broke into a thousand pieces, which were all flintstone.[182]

_The Hill-Man invited to the Christening._

The hill-people are excessively frightened during thunder. When, therefore, they see bad weather coming on, they lose no time in getting to the shelter of their hills. This terror is also the cause of their not being able to endure the beating of a drum, as they take it to be the rolling of thunder. It is therefore a good receipt for banishing them to beat a drum every day in the neighbourhood of their hills; for they immediately pack up and depart to some more quiet residence.

A farmer lived once in great friendship and unanimity with a hill-man, whose hill was on his lands. One time when his wife was lying-in, it gave him some degree of perplexity to think that he could not well avoid inviting the hill-man to the christening, which might not improbably bring him into bad repute with the priest and the other people of the village. He was going about pondering deeply, but in vain, how he might get out of this dilemma, when it came into his head to ask the advice of the boy that kept his pigs, who was a great head-piece, and had often helped him before. The pig-boy instantly undertook to arrange the matter with the hill-man in such a manner that he should not only stay away without being offended, but moreover give a good christening-present.

Accordingly, when it was night he took a sack on his shoulder, went to the hill-man's hill, knocked, and was admitted. He delivered his message, giving his master's compliments, and requesting the honour of his company at the christening. The hill-man thanked him, and said, "I think it is but right that I should give you a christening-gift." With these words he opened his money-chests, bidding the boy to hold up his sack while he poured money into it. "Is there enough now?" said he, when he had put a good quantity into it. "Many give more, few give less," replied the boy.

The hill-man then fell again to filling the sack, and again asked, "Is there enough now?" The boy lifted up the sack a little off the ground to try if he was able to carry any more, and then answered, "It is about what most people give." Upon this the hill-man emptied the whole chest into the bag, and once more asked, "Is there enough now?" The guardian of the pigs saw that there was as much in it now as ever he was able to carry, so he made answer, "No one gives more, most people give less."

"Come, now," said the hill-man, "let us hear who else is to be at the christening?" "Ah," said the boy, "we are to have a great parcel of strangers and great people. First and foremost, we are to have three priests and a bishop!" "Hem!" muttered the hill-man; "however, these gentlemen usually look only after the eating and drinking: they will never take any notice of me. Well, who else?" "Then we have asked St. Peter and St. Paul." "Hem! hem! however, there will be a by-place for me behind the stove. Well, and then?" "Then our Lady herself is coming!" "Hem! hem! hem! however, guests of such high rank come late and go away early. But tell me, my lad, what sort of music is it you are to have?" "Music!" said the boy, "why, we are to have drums." "Drums!" repeated he, quite terrified; "no, no, thank you, I shall stay at home in that case. Give my best respects to your master, and I thank him for the invitation, but I cannot come. I did but once go out to take a little walk, and some people beginning to beat a drum, I hurried home, and was just got to my door when they flung the drum-stick after me and broke one of my shins. I have been lame of that leg ever since, and I shall take good care in future to avoid that sort of music." So saying, he helped the boy to put the sack on his back, once more charging him to give his best respects to the farmer.[183]

_The Troll turned Cat._

About a quarter of a mile from Soröe lies Pedersborg, and a little farther on is the town of Lyng. Just between these towns is a hill called Bröndhöi (_Spring-hill_), said to be inhabited by the Troll-people.

There goes a story that there was once among these Troll-people of Bröndhöi an old crossgrained curmudgeon of a Troll, whom the rest nick-named Knurremurre (_Rumble-grumble_), because he was evermore the cause of noise and uproar within the hill. This Knurremurre having discovered what he thought to be too great a degree of intimacy between his young wife and a young Troll of the society, took this in such ill part, that he vowed vengeance, swearing he would have the life of the young one. The latter, accordingly, thought it would be his best course to be off out of the hill till better times; so, turning himself into a noble tortoiseshell tom-cat, he one fine morning quitted his old residence, and journeyed down to the neighbouring town of Lyng, where he established himself in the house of an honest poor man named Plat.

Here he lived for a long time comfortable and easy, with nothing to annoy him, and was as happy as any tom-cat or Troll crossed in love well could be. He got every day plenty of milk and good groute[184] to eat, and lay the whole day long at his ease in a warm arm-chair behind the stove.

Plat happened one evening to come home rather late, and as he entered the room the cat was sitting in his usual place, scraping meal-groute out of a pot, and licking the pot itself carefully. "Harkye, dame," said Plat, as he came in at the door, "till I tell you what happened to me on the road. Just as I was coming past Bröndhöi, there came out a Troll, and he called out to me, and said,

"Harkye Plat,
Tell your cat,
That Knurremurre is dead."[185]

The moment the cat heard these words, he tumbled the pot down on the floor, sprang out of the chair, and stood up on his hind-legs. Then, as he hurried out of the door, he cried out with exultation, "What! is Knurremurre dead? Then I may go home as fast as I please." And so saying he scampered off to the hill, to the amazement of honest Plat; and it is likely lost no time in making his advances to the young widow.[186]

_Kirsten's-Hill._

There is a hill on the lands of Skjelverod, near Ringsted, called Kirsten's-hill (_Kirstens Bjerg_). In it there lived a Hill-troll whose name was Skynd, who had from time to time stolen no less than three wives from a man in the village of Englerup.

It was late one evening when this man was riding home from Ringsted, and his way lay by the hill. When he came there he saw a great crowd of Hill-folk who were dancing round it, and had great merriment among them. But on looking a little closer, what should he recognise but all his three wives among them! Now as Kirsten, the second of them, had been his favourite, and dearer to him than either of the others, he called out to her, and named her name. Troll Skynd then came up to the man, and asked him why he presumed to call Kirsten. The man told him briefly how she had been his favourite and best beloved wife, and entreated of him, with many tears and much lamentation, to let him have her home with him again. The Troll consented at last to grant the husband's request, with, however, the condition, that he should never hurry (_skynde_) her.

For a long time the husband strictly kept the condition; but one day, when the woman was above in the loft, getting something, and it happened that she delayed a long time, he called out, Make haste, Kirsten, make haste, (_Skynde dig Kirsten_); and scarcely had he spoken the words, when the woman was gone, compelled to return to the hill, which has ever since been called Kirsten's Bjerg.[187]

_The Troll-Labour._

"In the year 1660, when I and my wife had gone to my farm (_fäboderne_), which is three quarters of a mile from Ragunda parsonage, and we were sitting there and talking a while, late in the evening, there came a little man in at the door, who begged of my wife to go and aid his wife, who was just then in the pains of labour. The fellow was of small size, of a dark complexion, and dressed in old grey clothes. My wife and I sat a while, and wondered at the man; for we were aware that he was a Troll, and we had heard tell that such like, called by the peasantry Vettar (_spirits_), always used to keep in the farmhouses, when people left them in harvest-time. But when he had urged his request four or five times, and we thought on what evil the country folk say that they have at times suffered from the Vettar, when they have chanced to swear at them, or with uncivil words bid them go to hell, I took the resolution to read some prayers over my wife, and to bless her, and bid her in God's name go with him. She took in haste some old linen with her, and went along with him, and I remained sitting there. When she returned, she told me, that when she went with the man out at the gate, it seemed to her as if she was carried for a time along in the wind, and so she came to a room, on one side of which was a little dark chamber, in which his wife lay in bed in great agony. My wife went up to her, and, after a little while, aided her till she brought forth the child after the same manner as other human beings. The man then offered her food, and when she refused it, he thanked her, and accompanied her out, and then she was carried along, in the same way in the wind, and after a while came again to the gate, just at ten o'clock. Meanwhile, a quantity of old pieces and clippings of silver were laid on a shelf, in the sitting-room, and my wife found them next day, when she was putting the room in order. It is to be supposed that they were laid there by the _Vettr_. That it in truth so happened, I witness, by inscribing my name. Ragunda, the 12th of April, 1671.

"PET. RAHM."[188]

_The Hill-Smith._

Biörn Martinsson went out shooting, one day, with a gamekeeper, on the wooded hill of Ormkulla. They there found a hill-smith (_bergsmed_) lying fast asleep. Biörn directed the gamekeeper to secure him, but he refused, saying "Pray to God to protect you! The hill-smith will fling you down to the bottom of the hill." He was, however, bold and determined, and he went up and seized the sleeping hill-smith, who gave a cry, and implored him to let him go, as he had a wife and seven little children. He said he would also do any iron work that should be required; it would only be necessary to leave iron and steel on the side of the hill, and the work would be found lying finished in the same place. Biörn asked him for whom he worked; he replied, "For my companions." When Biörn would not let him go, he said, "If I had my mist-cap (_uddehat_) you should not carry me away. But if you do not let me go, not one of your posterity will attain to the importance which you possess, but continually decline;" which certainly came to pass. Biörn would not, however, let him go, but brought him captive to Bahus. On the third day, however, he effected his escape out of the place in which he was confined.[189]

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The following legend is related in Denmark:--

On the lands of Nyegaard lie three large hills, one of which is the abode of a Troll, who is by trade a blacksmith. If any one is passing that hill by night, he will see the fire issuing from the top, and going in again at the side. Should you wish to have any piece of iron-work executed in a masterly manner, you have only to go to the hill, and saying aloud what you want to have made, leave there the iron and a silver shilling. On revisiting the hill next morning, you will find the shilling gone, and the required piece of work lying there finished, and ready for use.[190]

_The Girl at the Troll-Dance._

A girl, belonging to a village in the isle of Funen, went out, one evening, into the fields, and as she was passing by a small hill, she saw that it was raised upon red pillars, and a Troll-banquet going on beneath it. She was invited in, and such was the gaiety and festivity that prevailed, that she never perceived the flight of time. At length, however, she took her departure, after having spent, as she thought, a few hours among the joyous hill-people. But when she came to the village she no longer found it the place she had left. All was changed; and when she entered the house in which she had lived with her family, she learned that her father and mother had long been dead, and the house had come into the hands of strangers. She now perceived that for every hour that she had been among the Trolls, a year had elapsed in the external world. The effect on her mind was such that she lost her reason, which she never after recovered.[191]

_The Changeling._

There lived once, near Tiis lake, two lonely people, who were sadly plagued with a changeling, given them by the underground-people instead of their own child, which had not been baptised in time. This changeling behaved in a very strange and uncommon manner, for when there was no one in the place, he was in great spirits, ran up the walls like a cat, sat under the roof, and shouted and bawled away lustily; but sat dozing at the end of the table when any one was in the room with him. He was able to eat as much as any four, and never cared what it was that was set before him; but though he regarded not the quality of his food, in quantity he was never satisfied, and gave excessive annoyance to every one in the house.

When they had tried for a long time in vain how they could best get rid of him, since there was no living in the house with him, a smart girl pledged herself that she would banish him from the house. She accordingly, while he was out in the fields, took a pig and killed it, and put it, hide, hair, and all, into a black pudding, and set it before him when he came home. He began, as was his custom, to gobble it up, but when he had eaten for some time, he began to relax a little in his efforts, and at last he sat quite still, with his knife in his hand, looking at the pudding.

At length, after sitting for some time in this manner, he began--"A pudding with hide!--and a pudding with hair! a pudding with eyes!--and a pudding with legs in it! Well, three times have I seen a young wood by Tiis lake, but never yet did I see such a pudding! The devil himself may stay here now for me!" So saying, he ran off with himself, and never more came back again.[192]

* * * * *

Another changeling was got rid of in the following manner. The mother, suspecting it to be such from its refusing food, and being so ill-thriven, heated the oven as hot as possible. The maid, as instructed, asked her why she did it. "To burn my child in it to death," was the reply. When the question had been put and answered three times, she placed the child on the peel, and was shoving it into the oven, when the Troll-woman came in a great fright with the real child, and took away her own, saying. "There's your child for you. I have treated it better than you treated mine," and in truth it was fat and hearty.

_The Tile-Stove jumping over the Brook._

Near Hellested, in Zealand, lived a man, who from time to time remarked that he was continually plundered. All his suspicions fell on the Troll-folk, who lived in the neighbouring hill of Ildshöi (_Fire-hill_), and once hid himself to try and get a sight of the thief. He had waited there but a very short time when he saw, as he thought, his tile-stove jumping across the brook. The good farmer was all astonishment at this strange sight, and he shouted out "Hurra! there's a jump for a tile-stove!" At this exclamation the Troll, who was wading through the water with the stove on his head, was so frightened that he threw it down, and ran off as hard as he could to Ildshöi. But in the place where the stove fell, the ground got the shape of it, and the place is called Krogbek (_Hook-brook_), and it was this that gave rise to the common saying, "That was a jump for a tile-stove!" "_Det var et Spring af en Leerovn!_"[193]

_Departure of the Trolls from Vendsyssel._

One evening, after sunset, there came a strange man to the ferry of Sund. He engaged all the ferry-boats there to go backwards and forwards the whole night long between that place and Vendsyssel, without the people's knowing what lading they had. He told them that they should take their freight on board half a mile to the east of Sund, near the alehouse at the bridge of Lange.

At the appointed time the man was at that place, and the ferrymen, though unable to see anything, perceived very clearly that the boats sunk deeper and deeper, so that they easily concluded that they had gotten a very heavy freight on board. The ferry-boats passed in this manner to and fro the whole night long; and though they got every trip a fresh cargo, the strange man never left them, but staid to have everything regulated by his directions.

When morning was breaking they received the payment they had agreed for, and they then ventured to inquire what it was they had been bringing over, but on that head their employer would give them no satisfaction.

But there happened to be among the ferrymen a smart fellow who knew more about these matters than the others. He jumped on shore, took the clay from under his right foot, and put it into his cap, and when he had set it on his head he perceived that all the sand-hills east of Aalborg were completely covered with little Troll-people, who had all pointed red caps on their heads. Ever since that time there have been no Dwarfs seen in Vendsyssel.[194]

_Svend Faelling._

Svend Fælling was a valiant champion. He was born in Fælling, and was a long time at service in Aakjær house, Aarhuus, and as the roads were at that time greatly infested by Trolls and underground-people, who bore great enmity to all Christians, Svend undertook the office of letter-carrier.

As he was one time going along the road, he saw approaching him the Troll of Jels-hill, on the lands of Holm. The Troll came up to him, begging him to stand his friend in a combat with the Troll of Borum-es-hill. When Svend Fælling had promised to do so, saying that he thought himself strong and active enough for the encounter, the Troll reached him a heavy iron bar, and bade him show his strength on that. But not all Svend's efforts availed to lift it: whereupon the Troll handed him a horn, telling him to drink out of it. No sooner had he drunk a little out of it than his strength increased. He was now able to lift the bar, which, when he had drunk again, became still lighter; but when again renewing his draught he emptied the horn, he was able to swing the bar with ease, and he then learned from the Troll that he had now gotten the strength of twelve men. He then promised to prepare himself for combat with the Troll of Bergmond. As a token he was told that he should meet on the road a black ox and a red ox, and that he should fall with all his might on the black ox, and drive him from the red one.

This all came to pass just as he was told, and he found, after his work was done, that the black ox was the Troll from Borum-es-hill, and the red ox was the Troll himself of Jels-hill, who, as a reward for the assistance he had given him, allowed him to retain for his own use the twelve men's strength with which he had endowed him. This grant was, however, on this condition--that if ever he should reveal the secret of his strength, he should be punished by getting the appetite of twelve.

The fame of the prodigious strength of Svend soon spread through the country, as he distinguished himself by various exploits, such, for instance, as throwing a dairy-maid, who had offended him, up on the gable of the house, and similar feats. So when this report came to the ears of his master, he had Svend called before him, and inquired of him whence his great strength came. Svend recollected the words of his friend the Troll, so he told him if he would promise him as much food as would satisfy twelve men, he would tell him. The master promised, and Svend told his story; but the word of the Troll was accomplished, for from that day forth Svend ate and drank as much as any twelve.[195]

_The Dwarfs' Banquet._

A NORWEGIAN TALE.[196]

There lived in Norway, not far from the city of Drontheim, a powerful man, who was blessed with all the goods of fortune. A part of the surrounding country was his property; numerous herds fed on his pastures, and a great retinue and a crowd of servants adorned his mansion. He had an only daughter, called Aslog,[197] the fame of whose beauty spread far and wide. The greatest men of the country sought her, but all were alike unsuccessful in their suit, and he who had come full of confidence and joy, rode away home silent and melancholy. Her father, who thought his daughter delayed her choice only to select, forbore to interfere, and exulted in her prudence. But when, at length, the richest and noblest had tried their fortune with as little success as the rest, he grew angry, and called his daughter, and said to her, "Hitherto I have left you to your free choice, but since I see that you reject all without any distinction, and the very best of your suitors seem not good enough for you, I will keep measures no longer with you. What! shall my family be extinct, and my inheritance pass away into the hands of strangers? I will break your stubborn spirit. I give you now till the festival of the great Winter-night; make your choice by that time, or prepare to accept him whom I shall fix on."

Aslog loved a youth called Orm, handsome as he was brave and noble. She loved him with her whole soul, and she would sooner die than bestow her hand on another. But Orm was poor, and poverty compelled him to serve in the mansion of her father. Aslog's partiality for him was kept a secret; for her father's pride of power and wealth was such that he would never have given his consent to an union with so humble a man.

When Aslog saw the darkness of his countenance, and heard his angry words, she turned pale as death, for she knew his temper, and doubted not but that he would put his threats into execution. Without uttering a word in reply, she retired to her silent chamber, and thought deeply but in vain how to avert the dark storm that hung over her. The great festival approached nearer and nearer, and her anguish increased every day.

At last the lovers resolved on flight. "I know," says Orm, "a secure place where we may remain undiscovered until we find an opportunity of quitting the country." At night, when all were asleep, Orm led the trembling Aslog over the snow and ice-fields away to the mountains. The moon and the stars sparkling still brighter in the cold winter's night lighted them on their way. They had under their arms a few articles of dress and some skins of animals, which were all they could carry. They ascended the mountains the whole night long till they reached a lonely spot inclosed with lofty rocks. Here Orm conducted the weary Aslog into a cave, the low and narrow entrance to which was hardly perceptible, but it soon enlarged to a great hall, reaching deep into the mountain. He kindled a fire, and they now, reposing on their skins, sat in the deepest solitude far away from all the world.

Orm was the first who had discovered this cave, which is shown to this very day, and as no one knew any thing of it, they were safe from the pursuit of Aslog's father. They passed the whole winter in this retirement. Orm used to go a hunting, and Aslog stayed at home in the cave, minded the fire, and prepared the necessary food. Frequently did she mount the points of the rocks, but her eyes wandered as far as they could reach only over glittering snow-fields.

The spring now came on--the woods were green--the meads put on their various colours, and Aslog could but rarely and with circumspection venture to leave the cave. One evening Orm came in with the intelligence that he had recognised her father's servants in the distance, and that he could hardly have been unobserved by them, whose eyes were as good as his own. "They will surround this place," continued he, "and never rest till they have found us; we must quit our retreat, then, without a moment's delay."

They accordingly descended on the other side of the mountain, and reached the strand, where they fortunately found a boat. Orm shoved off, and the boat drove into the open sea. They had escaped their pursuers, but they were now exposed to dangers of another kind: whither should they turn themselves? They could not venture to land, for Aslog's father was lord of the whole coast, and they would infallibly fall into his hands. Nothing then remained for them but to commit their bark to the wind and waves. They drove along the entire night. At break of day the coast had disappeared, and they saw nothing but the sky above, the sea beneath, and the waves that rose and fell. They had not brought one morsel of food with them, and thirst and hunger began now to torment them. Three days did they toss about in this state of misery, and Aslog, faint and exhausted, saw nothing but certain death before her.

At length, on the evening of the third day, they discovered an island of tolerable magnitude, and surrounded by a number of smaller ones. Orm immediately steered for it, but just as he came near it there suddenly rose a violent wind, and the sea rolled every moment higher and higher against him. He turned about with a view of approaching it on another side, but with no better success; his vessel, as oft as it approached the island, was driven back as if by an invisible power. "Lord God!" cried he, and blessed himself and looked on poor Aslog, who seemed to be dying of weakness before his eyes. But scarcely had the exclamation passed his lips when the storm ceased, the waves subsided, and the vessel came to the shore, without encountering any hindrance. Orm jumped out on the beach; some mussels that he found on the strand strengthened and revived the exhausted Aslog, so that she was soon able to leave the boat.