Prevod

One evening a young drummer was walking all alone in the fields when he came to a lake, where he saw three little pieces of white linen lying on the shore. “What fine linen,” he said, and put one of them in his pocket. He went home, thought no more of his find, and lay down in bed. Just as he was about to fall asleep, he thought he heard someone calling his name. He listened and heard a soft voice calling, “Drummer, drummer, wake up!” It was a pitch-dark night, and he could see no one, but he had the feeling that a figure was hovering up and down before his bed. “What do you want?” he asked. “Give me back my little shift,” the voice replied, “the one you took from me by the lake yesterday evening.” “You shall have it back,” said the drummer, “if you tell me who you are.” “Alas,” answered the voice, “I am the daughter of a mighty king, but I have fallen into a witch’s power and am held captive on the Glass Mountain. Every day I must bathe in the lake with my two sisters, but without my little shift I cannot fly away again. My sisters have gone, but I have had to stay behind. Please, give me back my shift.” “Do not fret, poor child,” said the drummer. “I will gladly give it back.” He took it out of his pocket and held it out to her in the darkness. She seized it eagerly and was about to leave. “Wait a moment,” he said. “Perhaps I can help you.” “You can only help me if you climb the Glass Mountain and free me from the witch’s power. But you will never reach the Glass Mountain, and even if you came right to its foot, you could not climb it.” “What I set my mind to, I can do,” said the drummer. “I feel for you, and I am afraid of nothing. But I do not know the way to the Glass Mountain.” “The way leads through the great forest where the man-eaters live,” she replied. “I may tell you no more.” Then he heard her whirring away.

At daybreak the drummer set out, slung his drum over his shoulder, and walked fearlessly straight into the forest. When he had gone a little way without seeing a giant, he thought, “I must wake these late sleepers.” He swung his drum round in front of him and beat such a roll that the birds flew shrieking from the trees. Before long a giant who had been lying asleep in the grass rose up, as tall as a fir tree. “You little wretch!” he shouted. “Why are you drumming here and waking me from my soundest sleep?” “I am drumming,” he answered, “because many thousands are coming behind me, and I must show them the way.” “What do they want in my forest?” asked the giant. “They mean to put an end to you and rid the forest of a monster like you.” “Oh,” said the giant, “I shall tread you all to death like ants.” “Do you think you can do anything against them?” said the drummer. “When you bend down to catch one, he will leap away and hide; but when you lie down and go to sleep, they will come out of every thicket and crawl all over you. Each has a steel hammer tucked into his belt, and with those they will beat in your skull.” The giant grew uneasy and thought, “If I meddle with these crafty people, it may turn out badly for me after all. I can wring the necks of wolves and bears, but I cannot defend myself against these earthworms.” “Listen, little fellow,” he said, “go back again. I promise to leave you and your companions in peace from now on, and if there is anything else you wish for, tell me. I am willing to do you a good turn.” “You have long legs,” said the drummer, “and can walk faster than I can. Carry me to the Glass Mountain, and I will signal my men to retreat, and this time they shall leave you in peace.” “Come here, worm,” said the giant. “Sit on my shoulder, and I will carry you wherever you wish.” The giant lifted him up, and the drummer began beating a roll to his heart’s content. The giant thought, “That must be the signal for the others to turn back.” After a while they found a second giant standing beside the path. He took the drummer from the first and tucked him into his buttonhole. The drummer caught hold of the button, which was as big as a bowl, clung to it, and looked merrily about him. Then they came to a third giant, who took him out of the buttonhole and set him on the brim of his hat. Up there the drummer walked back and forth, looking out over the trees, and when he caught sight of a mountain in the blue distance, he thought, “That must be the Glass Mountain,” and so it was. The giant took a few more steps, and they reached the foot of the mountain, where he set the drummer down. The drummer asked him to carry him to the summit as well, but the giant shook his head, muttered something into his beard, and went back into the forest.

Now the poor drummer stood before the mountain, which was as high as three mountains piled one on top of another, and as smooth as a mirror, and had no idea how to get up it. He began to climb, but in vain: he kept slipping down again. “If only I were a bird,” he thought. But what good was wishing? No wings grew from his shoulders. As he stood there, at a loss what to do, he noticed two men not far away, quarrelling violently. He went over to them and saw that they were arguing over a saddle lying on the ground before them, which each wanted for himself. “What fools you are,” he said, “quarrelling over a saddle when you have no horse to put it on.” “This saddle is worth quarrelling over,” one of the men replied. “Whoever sits on it and wishes himself somewhere, even to the ends of the earth, will be there the instant he has spoken his wish. The saddle belongs to us both. It is my turn to ride it, but the other fellow will not let me.” “I shall soon settle your quarrel,” said the drummer. He walked some distance away and stuck a white staff into the ground. Then he returned and said, “Now race to that marker. Whoever gets there first shall ride first.” Both men set off at a run, but scarcely had they gone a few paces when the drummer swung himself onto the saddle and wished himself to the top of the Glass Mountain. In the twinkling of an eye, he was there. At the summit lay a level stretch of ground with an old stone house upon it. In front of the house was a large fishpond, and behind it a dark forest. He saw neither people nor animals. All was still, save for the wind rustling in the trees, and the clouds drifted just above his head. He went to the door and knocked. At the third knock, an old woman with a brown face and red eyes opened the door. She wore spectacles on her long nose and looked at him sharply before asking what he wanted. “Shelter, food, and a bed for the night,” replied the drummer. “You shall have them,” said the old woman, “if you will do three tasks in return.” “Why not?” he answered. “I am not afraid of work, however hard it may be.” The old woman let him in, gave him food, and that evening showed him to a comfortable bed. In the morning, when he had slept his fill, she took a thimble from her bony finger, handed it to him, and said, “Now go to work and empty the pond outside with this thimble. You must be finished before nightfall, and all the fish in the water must be sorted by kind and size and laid side by side.” “That is a strange task,” said the drummer, but he went to the pond and began bailing. He bailed all morning, but what can anyone do to a great body of water with a thimble, even in a thousand years? At noon he thought, “It is all in vain. It makes no difference whether I work or not.” He stopped and sat down. Then a maiden came out of the house, set a little basket of food before him, and said, “You sit there looking so sad. What is the matter?” He looked up at her and saw that she was wonderfully beautiful. “Alas,” he said, “I cannot finish the first task. How shall I manage the others? I set out to find a king’s daughter who is supposed to live here, but I have not found her. I shall go on my way.” “Stay here,” said the maiden. “I will help you out of your trouble. You are tired. Lay your head in my lap and sleep. When you wake, the work will be done.” The drummer did not need to be told twice. As soon as his eyes closed, she turned a wishing ring and said, “Water, rise; fish, come out.” At once the water rose like a white mist and drifted away with the other clouds, while the fish flicked their tails, leapt onto the bank, and lay side by side, each according to its size and kind. When the drummer awoke, he saw to his astonishment that everything was done. But the maiden said, “One fish is not lying with the others of its kind, but all by itself. When the old woman comes this evening and sees that everything she asked for has been done, she will ask, ‘Why is this fish lying alone?’ Then throw it in her face and say, ‘That one is for you, you old witch.’” That evening the old woman came, and when she asked the question, he threw the fish in her face. She pretended not to notice and said nothing, but looked at him with wicked eyes. The next morning she said, “You had too easy a time yesterday. I must give you harder work. Today you must cut down the whole forest, split the wood into logs, and stack it in cords. It must all be finished by evening.” She gave him an axe, a mallet, and two wedges. But the axe was made of lead, and the mallet and wedges of tin. When he began to chop, the axe bent, and the mallet and wedges crumpled. He did not know what to do, but at noon the maiden came again with his food and comforted him. “Lay your head in my lap,” she said, “and sleep. When you wake, the work will be done.” She turned her wishing ring, and in that instant the whole forest fell with a crash. The wood split itself and piled itself into cords, just as though invisible giants were doing the work. When he awoke, the maiden said, “See, the wood is measured and stacked. Only a single branch remains. When the old woman comes this evening and asks what it is for, strike her with it and say, ‘That is for you, you witch.’” The old woman came. “You see,” she said, “how easy the work was. But who is that branch lying there for?” “For you, you witch,” he answered, and struck her with it. But she acted as though she did not feel it, laughed scornfully, and said, “Tomorrow morning you must put all the wood in one heap, set fire to it, and burn it.” He rose at daybreak and began bringing the wood together, but how can one man gather up an entire forest? The work made no headway. Yet the maiden did not forsake him in his need. At noon she brought him his food, and when he had eaten, he laid his head in her lap and fell asleep. When he awoke, the whole pile of wood was blazing in one tremendous flame, its tongues reaching up to the sky. “Listen to me,” said the maiden. “When the witch comes, she will give you all sorts of orders. If you do what she asks without fear, she can do you no harm. But if you are afraid, the fire will seize you and consume you. At last, when you have done everything, seize her with both hands and throw her into the heart of the blaze.” The maiden went away, and the old woman came creeping up. “Brr! I am cold,” she said. “But that is a fine fire, that will warm my old bones. How pleasant it feels! But there is a log over there that will not burn. Fetch it out for me. Once you have done that, you will be free and may go wherever you please. In you go, now!” The drummer did not hesitate long. He leapt into the flames, but they did him no harm and could not even singe his hair. He carried out the log and set it down. Scarcely had the wood touched the ground when it changed, and before him stood the beautiful maiden who had helped him in his need. From her silken clothes, gleaming with gold, he knew at once that she was the king’s daughter. But the old woman laughed venomously and said, “You think you have her, but she is not yours yet.” She was just about to rush at the maiden and drag her away when he seized the old woman with both hands, lifted her up, and threw her into the jaws of the flames, which closed over her as though delighted to have a witch to devour.

The king’s daughter looked at the drummer, and when she saw what a handsome young man he was, and considered how he had risked his life to deliver her, she gave him her hand and said, “You have dared everything for me, and I too will do everything for you. Promise to be faithful to me, and you shall be my husband. We shall not lack riches, for there is more than enough in what the witch has gathered here.” She led him into the house, where chests and coffers stood filled with her treasures. They left the gold and silver behind and took only the precious stones. She did not wish to stay any longer on the Glass Mountain, so he said, “Sit beside me on my saddle, and we shall fly down like birds.” “I do not care for that old saddle,” she said. “I need only turn my wishing ring, and we shall be home.” “Very well,” replied the drummer, “then wish us to the town gate.” In an instant they were there, but the drummer said, “First I must go to my parents and tell them the news. Wait here for me in the field. I shall soon return.” “Oh,” said the king’s daughter, “please take care: when you arrive, do not kiss your parents on the right cheek, or you will forget everything, and I shall be left here in the field, alone and forsaken.” “How could I forget you?” he said, and clasped her hand, promising to return very soon. When he entered his father’s house, no one knew who he was, so greatly had he changed, for the three days he had spent on the Glass Mountain had been three long years. Then he made himself known, and his parents threw their arms round his neck for joy. He was so deeply moved that he kissed them on both cheeks without remembering the maiden’s warning. But the moment he kissed them on the right cheek, every thought of the king’s daughter vanished from his mind. He emptied his pockets and laid handfuls of the largest precious stones on the table. His parents scarcely knew what to do with such riches. His father had a splendid palace built, surrounded by gardens, woods, and meadows, as though a prince were to live there. When it was finished, his mother said, “I have chosen a girl for you. The wedding shall be in three days.” The son was content with everything his parents wished.

The poor king’s daughter had waited a long time outside the town for the young man to return. When evening came, she said, “He must have kissed his parents on the right cheek and forgotten me.” Her heart full of sorrow, she wished herself to a lonely cottage in the forest, for she did not want to return to her father’s court. Every evening she went into town and passed his house. Sometimes he saw her, but he no longer knew her. At last she heard people saying, “Tomorrow his wedding celebrations begin.” Then she said, “I will try to win his heart again.” On the first day of the wedding feast, she turned her wishing ring and said, “A dress as radiant as the sun.” At once the dress lay before her, shining as though woven entirely of sunbeams. When all the guests had gathered, she entered the hall. Everyone marvelled at the beautiful dress, most of all the bride, whose greatest delight was fine clothes. She went to the stranger and asked whether she would sell it to her. “Not for money,” she replied, “but if I may spend the first night outside the door of the room where the bridegroom sleeps, I will give it to you.” The bride could not master her desire and agreed, but she mixed a sleeping draught into the bridegroom’s evening wine, which sent him into a deep sleep. When all was quiet, the king’s daughter crouched outside the bedchamber door, opened it a little, and called inside:

“Drummer, drummer, hear my plea! Have you quite forgotten me? On the Glass Mountain, did you not sit by my side? Did I not save your life from the witch when you were tried?

Did you not take my hand and pledge your faith to me? Drummer, drummer, hear my plea!” But it was all in vain. The drummer did not wake, and at daybreak the king’s daughter had to leave with nothing accomplished. On the second evening she turned her wishing ring and said, “A dress as silvery as the moon.” When she appeared at the feast in the dress, which was as delicate as moonlight, she again aroused the bride’s longing and gave it to her in return for permission to spend the second night outside the bedchamber door. There, in the stillness of the night, she called:

“Drummer, drummer, hear my plea! Have you quite forgotten me? On the Glass Mountain, did you not sit by my side? Did I not save your life from the witch when you were tried?

Did you not take my hand and pledge your faith to me? Drummer, drummer, hear my plea!” But the drummer, stupefied by the sleeping draught, could not be woken. In the morning she went sadly back to her cottage in the forest. The people in the house, however, had heard the strange maiden’s lament and told the bridegroom about it. They also told him that he could not possibly have heard anything, since a sleeping draught had been poured into his wine. On the third evening the king’s daughter turned her wishing ring and said, “A dress glittering like stars.” When she appeared at the feast wearing it, the bride was quite beside herself at the splendour of the dress, which far surpassed the others, and said, “I must and shall have it.” As before, the maiden gave it to her in return for permission to spend the night outside the bridegroom’s door. But the bridegroom did not drink the wine brought to him before bed. Instead, he poured it out behind the bed. And when all was quiet in the house, he heard a gentle voice calling to him:

“Drummer, drummer, hear my plea! Have you quite forgotten me? On the Glass Mountain, did you not sit by my side? Did I not save your life from the witch when you were tried?

Did you not take my hand and pledge your faith to me? Drummer, drummer, hear my plea!” Suddenly his memory returned. “Oh,” he cried, “how could I have been so faithless? But it was the kiss I gave my parents on the right cheek in the joy of my heart—that was to blame, that was what befuddled me.” He sprang up, took the king’s daughter by the hand, and led her to his parents’ bedside. “This is my true bride,” he said. “If I marry the other, I shall be doing a great wrong.” When his parents heard how everything had happened, they gave their consent. The lights in the hall were lit again, drums and trumpets were brought, friends and relations were invited to return, and the true wedding was celebrated with great rejoicing. The first bride kept the beautiful dresses by way of compensation and was content.