Old Tales from the North
Old Tales from the NorthEAST OF THE SUN AND WEST OF THE MOONTHE BLUE BELTPRINCE LINDWORMTHE LASSIE AND HER GODMOTHERTHE HUSBAND WHO WAS TO MIND THE HOUSETHE LAD WHO WENT TO THE NORTH WINDTHE THREE PRINCESSES OF WHITELANDSORIA MORIA CASTLETHE GIANT WHO HAD NO HEART IN HIS BODYTHE PRINCESS ON THE GLASS HILLTHE THREE PRINCESSES IN THE BLUE MOUNTAINCopyright
Old Tales from the North
Peter Christen Asbjørnsen
EAST OF THE SUN AND WEST OF THE MOON
Once on a time there was a poor husbandman who had so many children
that he hadn’t much of either food or clothing to give them. Pretty
children they all were, but the prettiest was the youngest
daughter, who was so lovely there was no end to her
loveliness.
So one day, ’twas on a Thursday evening late at the fall of the
year, the weather was so wild and rough outside, and it was so
cruelly dark, and rain fell and wind blew, till the walls of the
cottage shook again. There they all sat round the fire, busy with
this thing and that. But just then, all at once something gave
three taps on the window-pane. Then the father went out to see what
was the matter; and, when he got out of doors, what should he see
but a great big White Bear.
“Good-evening to you!” said the White Bear.
“The same to you!” said the man.
“Will you give me your youngest daughter? If you will, I’ll make
you as rich as you are now poor,” said the Bear.
Well, the man would not be at all sorry to be so rich; but still he
thought he must have a bit of a talk with his daughter first; so he
went in and told them how there was a great White Bear waiting
outside, who had given his word to make them so rich if he could
only have the youngest daughter.
The lassie said “No!” outright. Nothing could get her to say
anything else; so the man went out and settled it with the White
Bear that he should come again the next Thursday evening and get an
answer. Meantime he talked his daughter over, and kept on telling
her of all the riches they would get, and how well off she would be
herself; and so at last she thought better of it, and washed and
mended her rags, made herself as smart as she could, and was ready
to start. I can’t say her packing gave her much trouble.
“Well, mind and hold tight by my shaggy coat, and then there’s
nothing to fear,” said the Bear, so she rode a long, long
way.
Next Thursday evening came the White Bear to fetch her, and she got
upon his back with her bundle, and off they went. So, when they had
gone a bit of the way, the White Bear said:
“Are you afraid?”
“No,” she wasn’t.
“Well! mind and hold tight by my shaggy coat, and then there’s
nothing to fear,” said the Bear.
So she rode a long, long way, till they came to a great steep hill.
There, on the face of it, the White Bear gave a knock, and a door
opened, and they came into a castle where there were many rooms all
lit up; rooms gleaming with silver and gold; and there, too, was a
table ready laid, and it was all as grand as grand could be. Then
the White Bear gave her a silver bell; and when she wanted
anything, she was only to ring it, and she would get it at
once.
Well, after she had eaten and drunk, and evening wore on, she got
sleepy after her journey, and thought she would like to go to bed,
so she rang the bell; and she had scarce taken hold of it before
she came into a chamber where there was a bed made, as fair and
white as any one would wish to sleep in, with silken pillows and
curtains and gold fringe. All that was in the room was gold or
silver; but when she had gone to bed and put out the light, a man
came and laid himself alongside her. That was the White Bear, who
threw off his beast shape at night; but she never saw him, for he
always came after she had put out the light, and before the day
dawned he was up and off again. So things went on happily for a
while, but at last she began to get silent and sorrowful; for there
she went about all day alone, and she longed to go home to see her
father and mother and brothers and sisters. So one day, when the
White Bear asked what it was that she lacked, she said it was so
dull and lonely there, and how she longed to go home to see her
father and mother and brothers and sisters, and that was why she
was so sad and sorrowful, because she couldn’t get to them.
“Well, well!” said the Bear, “perhaps there’s a cure for all this;
but you must promise me one thing, not to talk alone with your
mother, but only when the rest are by to hear; for she’ll take you
by the hand and try to lead you into a room alone to talk; but you
must mind and not do that, else you’ll bring bad luck on both of
us.”
So one Sunday the White Bear came and said, now they could set off
to see her father and mother. Well, off they started, she sitting
on his back; and they went far and long. At last they came to a
grand house, and there her brothers and sisters were running about
out of doors at play, and everything was so pretty, ’twas a joy to
see.
“This is where your father and mother live now,” said the White
Bear; “but don’t forget what I told you, else you’ll make us both
unlucky.”
“No! bless her, she’d not forget;”—and when she had reached the
house, the White Bear turned right about and left her.
Then, when she went in to see her father and mother, there was such
joy, there was no end to it. None of them thought they could thank
her enough for all she had done for them. Now, they had everything
they wished, as good as good could be, and they all wanted to know
how she got on where she lived.
Well, she said, it was very good to live where she did; she had all
she wished. What she said beside I don’t know, but I don’t think
any of them had the right end of the stick, or that they got much
out of her. But so, in the afternoon, after they had done dinner,
all happened as the White Bear had said. Her mother wanted to talk
with her alone in her bedroom; but she minded what the White Bear
had said, and wouldn’t go upstairs.
“Oh! what we have to talk about will keep!” she said, and put her
mother off. But, somehow or other, her mother got round her at
last, and she had to tell her the whole story. So she said, how
every night when she had gone to bed a man came and lay down beside
her as soon as she had put out the light; and how she never saw
him, because he was always up and away before the morning dawned;
and how she went about woeful and sorrowing, for she thought she
should so like to see him; and how all day long she walked about
there alone; and how dull and dreary and lonesome it was.
“My!” said her mother; “it may well be a Troll you slept with! But
now I’ll teach you a lesson how to set eyes on him. I’ll give you a
bit of candle, which you can carry home in your bosom; just light
that while he is asleep, but take care not to drop the tallow on
him.”
Yes! she took the candle and hid it in her bosom, and as night drew
on, the White Bear came and fetched her away.
But when they had gone a bit of the way, the White Bear asked if
all hadn’t happened as he had said.
“Well, she couldn’t say it hadn’t.”
“Now, mind,” said he, “if you have listened to your mother’s
advice, you have brought bad luck on us both, and then, all that
has passed between us will be as nothing.”
“No,” she said, “she hadn’t listened to her mother’s advice.”
So when she reached home, and had gone to bed, it was the old story
over again. There came a man and lay down beside her; but at dead
of night, when she heard he slept, she got up and struck a light,
lit the candle, and let the light shine on him, and so she saw that
he was the loveliest Prince one ever set eyes on, and she fell so
deep in love with him on the spot, that she thought she couldn’t
live if she didn’t give him a kiss there and then. And so she did;
but as she kissed him, she dropped three hot drops of tallow on his
shirt, and he woke up.
“What have you done?” he cried; “now you have made us both unlucky,
for had you held out only this one year, I had been freed. For I
have a step-mother who has bewitched me, so that I am a White Bear
by day, and a Man by night. But now all ties are snapt between us;
now I must set off from you to her. She lives in a Castle which
stands East of the Sun and West of the Moon, and there, too, is a
Princess, with a nose three ells long, and she’s the wife I must
have now.”
She wept and took it ill, but there was no help for it; go he
must.
Then she asked if she mightn’t go with him.
No, she mightn’t.
“Tell me the way, then,” she said, “and I’ll search you out; that
surely I may get leave to do.”
“Tell me the way, then,” she said, “and I’ll search you out.”
“Yes,” she might do that, he said; “but there was no way to that
place. It lay East of the Sun and West of the Moon, and thither
she’d never find her way.”
So next morning, when she woke up, both Prince and castle were
gone, and then she lay on a little green patch, in the midst of the
gloomy thick wood, and by her side lay the same bundle of rags she
had brought with her from her old home.
And then she lay on a little green patch in the midst of the gloomy
thick wood.
So when she had rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, and wept till she
was tired, she set out on her way, and walked many, many days, till
she came to a lofty crag. Under it sat an old hag, and played with
a gold apple which she tossed about. Here the lassie asked if she
knew the way to the Prince, who lived with his step-mother in the
Castle, that lay East of the Sun and West of the Moon, and who was
to marry the Princess with a nose three ells long.
“How did you come to know about him?” asked the old hag; “but maybe
you are the lassie who ought to have had him?”
Yes, she was.
“So, so; it’s you, is it?” said the old hag. “Well, all I know
about him is, that he lives in the castle that lies East of the Sun
and West of the Moon, and thither you’ll come, late or never; but
still you may have the loan of my horse, and on him you can ride to
my next neighbour. Maybe she’ll be able to tell you; and when you
get there, just give the horse a switch under the left ear, and beg
him to be off home; and, stay, this gold apple you may take with
you.”
So she got upon the horse, and rode a long, long time, till she
came to another crag, under which sat another old hag, with a gold
carding-comb. Here the lassie asked if she knew the way to the
castle that lay East of the Sun and West of the Moon, and she
answered, like the first old hag, that she knew nothing about it,
except it was east of the sun and west of the moon.
“And thither you’ll come, late or never, but you shall have the
loan of my horse to my next neighbour; maybe she’ll tell you all
about it; and when you get there, just switch the horse under the
left ear, and beg him to be off home.”
And this old hag gave her the golden carding-comb; it might be
she’d find some use for it, she said. So the lassie got up on the
horse, and rode a far, far way, and a weary time; and so at last
she came to another great crag, under which sat another old hag,
spinning with a golden spinning-wheel. Her, too, she asked if she
knew the way to the Prince, and where the castle was that lay East
of the Sun and West of the Moon. So it was the same thing over
again.
“Maybe it’s you who ought to have had the Prince?” said the old
hag.
Yes, it was.
But she, too, didn’t know the way a bit better than the other two.
“East of the sun and west of the moon it was,” she knew—that was
all.
“And thither you’ll come, late or never; but I’ll lend you my
horse, and then I think you’d best ride to the East Wind and ask
him; maybe he knows those parts, and can blow you thither. But when
you get to him, you need only give the horse a switch under the
left ear, and he’ll trot home of himself.”
And so, too, she gave her the gold spinning-wheel. “Maybe you’ll
find a use for it,” said the old hag.
Then on she rode many many days, a weary time, before she got to
the East Wind’s house, but at last she did reach it, and then she
asked the East Wind if he could tell her the way to the Prince who
dwelt east of the sun and west of the moon. Yes, the East Wind had
often heard tell of it, the Prince and the castle, but he couldn’t
tell the way, for he had never blown so far.
“But, if you will, I’ll go with you to my brother the West Wind,
maybe he knows, for he’s much stronger. So, if you will just get on
my back, I’ll carry you thither.”
Yes, she got on his back, and I should just think they went briskly
along.
So when they got there, they went into the West Wind’s house, and
the East Wind said the lassie he had brought was the one who ought
to have had the Prince who lived in the castle East of the Sun and
West of the Moon; and so she had set out to seek him, and how he
had come with her, and would be glad to know if the West Wind knew
how to get to the castle.
“Nay,” said the West Wind, “so far I’ve never blown; but if you
will, I’ll go with you to our brother the South Wind, for he’s much
stronger than either of us, and he has flapped his wings far and
wide. Maybe he’ll tell you. You can get on my back, and I’ll carry
you to him.”
Yes! she got on his back, and so they travelled to the South Wind,
and weren’t so very long on the way, I should think.
When they got there, the West Wind asked him if he could tell her
the way to the castle that lay East of the Sun and West of the
Moon, for it was she who ought to have had the Prince who lived
there.
“You don’t say so! That’s she, is it?” said the South Wind.
“Well, I have blustered about in most places in my time, but so far
have I never blown; but if you will, I’ll take you to my brother
the North Wind; he is the oldest and strongest of the whole lot of
us, and if he don’t know where it is, you’ll never find any one in
the world to tell you. You can get on my back, and I’ll carry you
thither.”
Yes! she got on his back, and away he went from his house at a fine
rate. And this time, too, she wasn’t long on her way.
So when they got to the North Wind’s house, he was so wild and
cross, cold puffs came from him a long way off.
“Blast you both, what do you want?” he roared out to them ever so
far off, so that it struck them with an icy shiver.
“Well,” said the South Wind, “you needn’t be so foul-mouthed, for
here I am, your brother, the South Wind, and here is the lassie who
ought to have had the Prince who dwells in the castle that lies
East of the Sun and West of the Moon, and now she wants to ask you
if you ever were there, and can tell her the way, for she would be
so glad to find him again.”
“Yes, I know well enough where it is,” said the North Wind; “once
in my life I blew an aspen-leaf thither, but, I was so tired I
couldn’t blow a puff for ever so many days, after. But if you
really wish to go thither, and aren’t afraid to come along with me,
I’ll take you on my back and see if I can blow you thither.”
Yes! with all her heart; she must and would get thither if it were
possible in any way; and as for fear, however madly he went, she
wouldn’t be at all afraid.
“Very well, then,” said the North Wind, “but you must sleep here
to-night, for we must have the whole day before us, if we’re to get
thither at all.”
Early next morning the North Wind woke her, and puffed himself up,
and blew himself out, and made himself so stout and big, ’twas
gruesome to look at him; and so off they went high up through the
air, as if they would never stop till they got to the world’s
end.
Down here below there was such a storm; it threw down long tracts
of wood and many houses, and when it swept over the great sea,
ships foundered by hundreds.
So they tore on and on—no one can believe how far they went—and all
the while they still went over the sea, and the North Wind got more
and more weary, and so out of breath he could scarce bring out a
puff, and his wings drooped and drooped, till at last he sunk so
low that the crests of the waves dashed over his heels.
“Are you afraid?” said the North Wind.
“No!” she wasn’t.
But they weren’t very far from land; and the North Wind had still
so much strength left in him that he managed to throw her up on the
shore under the windows of the castle which lay East of the Sun and
West of the Moon; but then he was so weak and worn out, he had to
stay there and rest many days before he could get home again.
Next morning the lassie sat down under the castle window, and began
to play with the gold apple; and the first person she saw was the
Long-nose who was to have the Prince.
“What do you want for your gold apple, you lassie?” said the
Long-nose, and threw up the window.
“It’s not for sale, for gold or money,” said the lassie.
“If it’s not for sale for gold or money, what is it that you will
sell it for? You may name your own price,” said the Princess.
“Well! if I may get to the Prince, who lives here, and be with him
to-night, you shall have it,” said the lassie whom the North Wind
had brought.
Yes! she might; that could be done. So the Princess got the gold
apple; but when the lassie came up to the Prince’s bed-room at
night he was fast asleep; she called him and shook him, and between
whiles she wept sore; but all she could do she couldn’t wake him
up. Next morning, as soon as day broke, came the Princess with the
long nose, and drove her out again.