Prevod
Once upon a time there was a man who was going to the forest for firewood. On the way he met a bear. “Give me your horse, or I shall kill all your sheep this summer,” said the bear.
“Oh, heaven help me!” said the man. “There isn’t a stick of firewood at home. You must let me take a load back first, or we shall freeze to death. I’ll come back with the horse for you tomorrow.” Yes, he might do that, and so they agreed; but if he did not return, he would lose all his sheep that summer, said the bear.
The man loaded the firewood onto his sledge and trudged homeward, but he was none too pleased with his bargain, as you may well imagine. Then he met a fox. “What makes you so downhearted?” asked the fox.
“Oh, I met a bear up here,” said the man, “and I had to promise him my horse at this time tomorrow, for he said that if he didn’t get it, he would tear all my sheep to pieces this summer.” “Pooh, is that all?” said the fox. “Give me your fattest ram, and I’ll get you out of that bargain.” Yes, he would, the man promised, and he would keep his word, too.
“When you come to the bear with your horse tomorrow,” said the fox, “I’ll shout from up among these rocks. When the bear asks what it is, tell him it’s Peer the Hunter, the best shot in the world. After that, you must fend for yourself.” The next day the man set out, and when he met the bear, someone began shouting up among the rocks.
“Hush! What’s that?” said the bear. “Oh, that’s Peer the Hunter, the best shot in the world,” said the man. “I know him by his voice.”
“Have you seen a bear about here, Erik?” came a shout from the forest. “Say no!” said the bear. “No, I haven’t seen a bear,” said Erik. “Then what’s that standing beside your sledge?” came the shout from the forest.
“Say it’s an old resinous pine log,” whispered the bear. “Oh, it’s only an old pine log,” said Erik. “Where I come from, we roll pine logs like that onto the sledge,” came the shout from the forest. “If you can’t manage it, I’ll come and help you.” “Say you can manage by yourself, and roll me onto the sledge,” said the bear.
“No, thank you, I can manage by myself,” said the man, and rolled the bear onto the sledge. “Where I come from, we lash pine logs like that down,” came the shout from the forest. “Do you want any help?”
“Say you can manage by yourself, and lash me down,” said the bear. “No, thank you, I can manage by myself,” said the man, and set about binding the bear with every rope he had, until it could not so much as stir a paw.
“Where I come from, we sink an axe into pine logs like that once we’ve lashed them down,” came the shout from the forest, “for then we can steer better down the steep hills.”
“Pretend to sink your axe into me,” whispered the bear. Then the man took his axe and split the bear’s skull, killing it on the spot. He and the fox were now the best of friends, but as they drew near the farm, the fox said:
“I don’t care to come home with you, for I don’t like your dogs. I’ll wait here, and you can bring me the ram. Mind you choose a good fat one.” The man promised he would, and thanked the fox for his help. When he had stabled the horse, he went over towards the sheepfold.
“Where are you going?” asked his wife. “Oh, I’m going to the sheepfold to fetch a fat ram for the clever fox who saved our horse,” said the man, “for I promised him one.” “The devil take that thieving fox before I’d give him a ram!” said his wife. “We’ve got the horse, and the bear into the bargain, and the fox has surely stolen more geese from us than the ram is worth. And if he hasn’t, he may yet.”
“No, put a couple of our fiercest dogs in your sack and let them loose on him. Perhaps we’ll be rid of the thief,” said his wife. The man thought this good advice, so he took two fierce red dogs, put them in the sack, and set off with them.
“Have you got the ram?” asked the fox. “Yes, come and get it,” said the man, untying the sack and letting the dogs loose on him. “Ugh!” said the fox, leaping aside. “The old saying is true: a good deed earns a bad reward. And now I see it’s true as well that one’s own kin are one’s worst enemies,” he said, as he saw the red dogs come racing after him.
Izvirnik
Der var en Gang en Mand, som skulde reise til Skovs efter Ved. Saa mødte han en Bjørn. „Kom med Hesten, ellers slaaer jeg ihjel alle Sauderne dine til Sommeren,“ sagde Bjørnen. „Aa, Gud hjælpe mig da,“ sagde Manden, der findes ikke Vedpinden hjemme; du faaer da lade mig kjøre hjem et Læs Ved, ellers fryse vi reent ihjel; jeg skal komme igjen med Hesten til dig i Morgen.“ Ja, det skulde han faae Lov til, det blev de forligte om, men hvis han ikke kom igjen, saa skulde han miste alle Sauderne sine til Sommeren, sagde Bjørnen.
Manden fik Veden paa og ruslede hjemover, men han var ikke meget glad i det Forliget, det kan En nok vide. Saa mødte han en Ræv. „Hvad er det, du er saa bedrøvet for?“ spurgte Ræven. „Aa, jeg mødte en Bjørn oppe i her,“ sagde Manden, „og ham maatte jeg love, han skulde faae Hesten min i Morgen ved dette Leite, for hvis han ikke fik den, sagde han, saa vilde han rive ihjel alle Sauderne mine til Sommeren.“ „Pyt, ikke værre!“ sagde Ræven. „Vil du give mig den fedeste Bukken din, skal jeg nok frie dig for det, jeg.“ Ja, det lovede han, og det skulde han holde ogsaa, sagde Manden.
„Naar du kommer til Bjørnen med Hesten i Morgen,“ sagde Ræven, „saa skal jeg kaue oppe i Uren her jeg, og naar saa Bjørnen spørger hvad det er, skal du sige, det er Peer Skytter, som er den bedste Skytter i Verden, og siden faaer du hjælpe dig selv.“ Den næste Dagen reiste Manden ud, og da han traf Bjørnen, begyndte det at kaue oppe i Uren. „Sju, hvad er det?“ sagde Bjørnen.
„Aa, det er han Peer Skytter, som er den bedste Skytter i Verden,“ sagde Manden, „jeg kjender ham paa Maalet,“ sagde han. „Har du seet nogen Bjørn her, Erik?“ raabte det borte i Skoven. „Sig nei!“ sagde Bjørnen. „Nei, jeg har ikke seet nogen Bjørn,“ sagde Erik. „Hvad er det som staaer ved Slæden din da?“ raabte det borte i Skoven. „Sig, det er en gammel Tyrilaag,“ hviskede Bjørnen.
„Aa, det er bare en gammel Tyrilaag,“ sagde Erik. „Slige Tyristubber pleie vi tage og vælte paa Slæden hos os,“ raabte det borte i Skoven; „orker du ikke, skal jeg komme og hjælpe dig.“ „Sig, du hjælper dig selv, og vælt mig paa Slæden,“ sagde Bjørnen. „Nei Tak, jeg hjælper mig nok selv, jeg,“ sagde Manden, og væltede Bjørnen paa Slæden. „Slige Tyristubber pleie vi gjørde paa hos os,“ raabte det borte i Skoven. „Vil du have Hjælp?“ spurgte det.
„Sig du hjælper dig selv, og gjørd mig fast du,“ sagde Bjørnen. „Nei Tak, jeg hjælper mig nok selv,“ sagde Manden, og gav sig til at gjørde Bjørnen fast med alle de Reb han havde, saa at den ikke kunde lede paa en Lab engang. „Slige Tyristubber pleie vi hugge Øxen i hos os, naar vi have gjørdet dem fast,“ raabte det borte i Skoven, „for saa styre vi bedre i de store Bakkerne,“ sagde det.
„Lad, som du hugger Øxen i mig du,“ hviskede Bjørnen. Da tog Manden Øxen og kløvede Skallen paa Bjørnen, saa den laa død med det samme, og han og Ræven vare Venner og vel forligte, men da de kom bort imod Gaarden, sagde Ræven: „Jeg har ikke Lyst til at følge med dig hjem, for jeg liker ikke Bikjerne dine, men jeg skal bie her, saa kan du komme hid med Bukken til mig; men tag en som er brav fed.“ Ja det lovede Manden og takkede til for Hjælpen. Da han havde sat Hesten ind, gik han bortover til Saudehuset.
„Hvor skal du hen?“ sagde Kjærringen hans. „Aa, jeg skal bort i Saudehuset og hente en fed Buk til den snilde Ræven, som frelste Hesten vor,“ sagde Manden, „for jeg har lovet ham det.“ „Det skulde Pokkeren give den Tyveræven nogen Buk,“ sagde Kjærringen. „Hesten har vi jo og Bjørnen atpaa, og Ræven har vist stjaalet flere Gjæs fra os end Bukken er værd, og dersom han ikke har gjort det, saa kan han gjøre det,“ sagde hun.
„Nei, tag et Par af de sindteste Bikjerne i Sækken din og slip efter ham, du, saa blive vi kanskee kvit den Tyveradden,“ sagde Kjærringen. Det syntes Manden var et godt Raad og tog to sindte, røde Hunde, puttede dem i Sækken og drog afsted med. „Har du Bukken?“ sagde Ræven. „Ja, kom og tag den,“ sagde Manden, løste Sækkebaandet op og slap Hundene paa den. „Huf!“ sagde Ræven, og gjorde et Hop; „det er sandt, som de sige for et gammelt Ord, at velgjort bliver ilde lønnet, og nu seer jeg det er sandt ogsaa, at Frænde er Frænde værst,“ sagde den, da den saa, at de røde Hunde satte efter den.
