Prevod
Once upon a time there was a queen who went out for a drive one winter when fresh snow had fallen. When she had gone a little way along the road, her nose began to bleed, and she had to get out of the sleigh. As she stood beside the fence, looking at the red blood and the white snow, she began to think of her twelve sons and how she had no daughter, and she said to herself, “If I had a daughter as white as snow and as red as blood, I should not mind what became of my sons.” Scarcely had she spoken when a witch appeared before her. “A daughter you shall have,” she said, “and she shall be as white as snow and as red as blood, and your sons shall be mine. But you may keep them with you until the child is christened.” When the time came, the queen gave birth to a daughter, and she was as white as snow and as red as blood, just as the old witch had promised, so they named her Snow-white and Rose-red. There was great rejoicing at the palace, and the queen was happy beyond measure; but when she remembered what she had promised the witch, she had a silversmith make twelve silver spoons, one for each prince, and then she had him make one more, which she gave to Snow-white and Rose-red. No sooner had the princess been christened than the princes were changed into twelve wild ducks and flew away. No one saw any more of them; they were gone, and gone they remained. The princess grew up tall and beautiful, but she was often so strange and sorrowful that no one could understand what ailed her. Then one evening, when the queen too was feeling sorrowful—for many strange thoughts must have troubled her when she thought of her sons—she said to Snow-white and Rose-red, “Why are you so sad, my daughter? If there is anything you lack, tell me! If there is anything you wish for, you shall have it.” “Oh, it seems so lonely here,” said Snow-white and Rose-red. “Everyone else has brothers and sisters, but I am all alone; I have none. That is what makes me sad.” “You once had brothers too, my daughter,” said the queen. “I had twelve sons, who were your brothers, but I gave them all away so that I might have you,” she said, and then she told her the whole story.
When the princess heard this, she could find no peace. However much the queen wept and lamented, it was no use: she would go, and go she must, to search for her brothers, for she felt that it was all her fault. At last she left the palace. She walked and walked, so far out into the wide world that you would never have believed so delicate a maiden could have managed to go such a distance.
Once, after she had been walking for a long time through a great, great forest, she grew tired and sat down on a hummock, where she fell asleep. Then she dreamed that she went farther into the forest to a little log cabin, and there were her brothers. At that very moment she awoke, and right before her she saw a well-trodden path through the green moss, leading deeper into the forest. She followed it, and at long last she came to just such a little log house as she had seen in her dream.
When she went inside, there was no one there, but there were twelve beds and twelve chairs and twelve spoons, and twelve of everything else in the house. At the sight of this she felt happier than she had been for many years, for she knew at once that her brothers lived there, and that the beds and chairs and spoons belonged to them. She set about building up the fire, sweeping the floor, making the beds, cooking food, and putting everything in order as best she could. When she had cooked and prepared a meal for them all, she ate something herself, but forgot her spoon on the table. Then she crept beneath her youngest brother’s bed and lay down there.
Scarcely had she lain down when she heard a rushing and whistling in the air, and all twelve wild ducks came flying in; but the moment they crossed the threshold, they turned into princes.
“Oh, how warm and comfortable it is in here!” they said. “God bless whoever built up the fire and cooked such good food for us!” Then each took his silver spoon and was about to eat.
But when each had taken his own, there was still one left, and it was so like the others that they could not tell it apart from them. They looked at one another in wonder. “That is our sister’s spoon,” they said, “and if her spoon is here, she cannot be far away.” “If it is our sister’s spoon, and she is here, she must be killed, for she is to blame for all the misery we suffer,” said the eldest prince, and she lay beneath the bed listening. “No,” said the youngest, “it would be a sin to kill her for that. She cannot help our suffering. If anyone is to blame, it must be our own mother.” Then they began to search for her high and low, and at last they looked beneath all the beds as well. When they came to the youngest prince’s bed, they found her and pulled her out.
Again the eldest prince insisted that she must be killed, but she wept and pleaded so earnestly for her life. “Oh, dear God, do not kill me,” she said. “I have spent many years wandering in search of you, and if I could save you, I would gladly give my life.” “Well, if you will save us,” they said, “you shall be allowed to live, for you could do it if you wished.” “Only tell me how it can be done, and I will do it, whatever it may be,” said the princess. “You must gather cotton-grass,” said the princes, “and card it and spin it and weave it into cloth. When you have done that, you must cut out and sew twelve caps, twelve shirts, and twelve kerchiefs, one for each of us, and while you are doing it you must neither speak nor laugh nor weep. If you can do that, we shall be saved.” “But where am I to find enough cotton-grass for so many kerchiefs and caps and shirts?” said Snow-white and Rose-red.
“We will show you,” said the princes, and they took her to a great, great marsh, so thick with cotton-grass nodding in the wind and glistening in the sunshine that its gleam could be seen a long way off. Never before had the princess seen so much cotton-grass, and at once she began plucking and gathering it as carefully and quickly as she could. When she came home in the evening, she set about carding it and spinning it into yarn.
And so things went well for a long time. She gathered cotton-grass and carded and spun, and in between she kept house for the princes, cooking their meals and making their beds. In the evening they came rushing and whirring home as wild ducks; at night they were princes, but in the morning they flew away again and were wild ducks all day.
But once, while she was on the marsh gathering cotton-grass—and unless I am mistaken, it was the very last time she needed to go there—the young king who ruled the country happened to be out hunting. He came riding to the marsh and caught sight of her. He stopped and wondered who this lovely maiden could be, walking about the marsh gathering cotton-grass, and he asked her who she was. When she gave no answer to his questions, he wondered all the more, and he was so taken with her that he wished to bring her home to his castle and marry her. So he ordered his servants to take her and set her on his horse. Snow-white and Rose-red wrung her hands and made signs to them, pointing to the sacks in which she kept all her work. When the king understood that she wanted to bring them along, he told his servants to load up the sacks as well. Once they had done that, the princess gradually grew calmer, for the king was both a good man and a handsome one, and he treated her as gently and kindly as a physician. But when they reached the palace and the old queen, who was his stepmother, saw Snow-white and Rose-red, she grew so angry and so jealous of her beauty that she said to the king, “Can you not see that this woman you have brought home and mean to marry is a witch? She neither speaks nor laughs nor weeps.” The king paid no heed to what she said, but celebrated his wedding and married Snow-white and Rose-red, and they lived in great joy and splendour;
but for all that, she did not forget to go on sewing the shirts. Before the year was out, Snow-white and Rose-red gave birth to a prince, and this made the old queen angrier and more jealous than ever. Late that night she stole into Snow-white and Rose-red’s room while she slept, took the child, and threw him into the snake pit. Then she cut the young queen’s finger, smeared the blood about her mouth, and went to the king. “Come and see,” she said, “what sort of woman you have made your queen. Now she has eaten her own child.” The king was so grieved that he was almost in tears, and he said, “Yes, it must be true, since I see it with my own eyes, but surely she will never do it again. This time I will spare her.” Before the year was out, she gave birth to another son, and exactly the same thing happened to him as to the first. The king’s stepmother grew angrier and more jealous still. She stole into the queen’s room at night while she slept, took the child and threw him into the snake pit, cut the queen’s finger and smeared the blood about her mouth, and then told the king that she had eaten her own child. The king was more sorrowful than you could ever imagine, and he said, “Yes, it must be true, since I see it with my own eyes, but surely she will never do it again. Even so, I will spare her once more.” Before another year was out, Snow-white and Rose-red gave birth to a daughter, and the old queen took her too and threw her into the snake pit while the young queen slept. She cut her finger, smeared the blood about her mouth, and went to the king, saying, “Now you may come and see whether I am not right in saying she is a witch, for now she has eaten her third child as well.” The king’s grief knew no bounds, for now he could spare her no longer, but had to order her to be burned alive on a pyre. When the pyre was blazing and she was about to be placed upon it, she made signs that they should bring twelve boards and lay them around the fire. On these she laid the kerchiefs and caps and shirts for her brothers, but the youngest brother’s shirt lacked its left sleeve, for she had not had time to finish it.
No sooner had she done this than they heard a rushing and whirring in the air, and twelve wild ducks came flying over the forest. Each took his clothing in his beak and flew away with it. “Do you see now?” said the wicked queen to the king. “Now you can plainly see that she is a witch. Hurry and burn her before the wood burns away.” “Oh,” said the king, “we have wood enough. I will wait a little longer, for I should like to see how this ends.” Just then the twelve princes came riding up, as handsome and well-grown as any you could wish to see; but the youngest prince had a wild duck’s wing in place of his left arm. “What is happening here?” asked the princes. “My queen is to be burned because she is a witch and has eaten her own children,” replied the king.
“She has not eaten her children,” said the princes. “Speak now, sister. You have saved us; now save yourself.” Then Snow-white and Rose-red spoke and told how it had all happened: how, each time she had given birth, the old queen, the king’s stepmother, had stolen into her room at night, taken her child away, cut her finger, and smeared the blood about her mouth. The princes took the king and led him to the snake pit, where the three children lay playing with snakes and toads, and lovelier children you could never have seen. The king took them up and carried them to his stepmother, and asked her what punishment she thought someone deserved who could have the heart to betray an innocent queen and three such blessed children. “Such a person deserves to be fastened between twelve untamed horses, so that each tears away a piece,” said the old queen. “You have pronounced the sentence yourself, and you shall suffer it yourself,” said the king. And so the wicked old queen was fastened between twelve untamed horses, and each tore away a piece of her. But Snow-white and Rose-red took the king and her children and the twelve princes, and together they travelled home to her parents and told them all that had happened. And now there was great rejoicing throughout the kingdom, because the princess had been saved and had saved her twelve brothers too.
Izvirnik
Der var engang en Dronning, som var ude og kjørte, da der var faldt Nysnee om Vinteren, da hun var kommen et Stykke paa Veien begyndte hun at bløde Næseblod og maatte gaae ud af Slæden. Medens hun nu stod op ved Gjerdet og saa paa det røde Blod og den hvide Snee, kom hun til at tænke paa at hun havde tolv Sønner og ingen Datter, og saa sagde hun ved sig selv: „Havde jeg en Datter saa hvid som Snee og rød som Blod, saa kunde det gjerne være det samme med Sønnerne mine.“ Det var næsten ikke sagt, førend der kom en Troldhex til hende. „En Datter skal du faae,“ sagde hun, „og hun skal være saa hvid som Snee og saa rød som Blod, og saa skal Sønnerne dine være mine; men du kan faae have dem hos dig
til Barnet er døbt.“ Da Tiden kom, fødte Dronningen en Datter, og hun var saa hvid som Snee og saa rød som Blod, saaledes som Troldkjærringen havde lovet, og derfor kaldte de hende ogsaa Sneehvid og Rosenrød. Der blev nu stor Glæde i Kongsgaarden og Dronningen var saa glad at det ikke var nogen Maade paa det, men da hun kom i Hu det, hun havde lovet Troldhexen, lod hun en Sølvsmed gjøre tolv Sølvskeer, een til hver Prinds og saa lod hun ham endda gjøre een til og den gav hun Sneehvid og Rosenrød. Bedst som Prindsessen var døbt, bleve Prindserne omskabte til tolv Vildænder og fløi sin Vei, og de saae ikke mere til dem; de vare borte og de bleve borte. Prindsessen
voxte til, og hun blev baade stor og vakker, men hun var ofte saa underlig og sørgmodig, og der var Ingen, som kunde forstaae hvad det var, som feilede hende. Men saa var det en Aften, Dronningen ogsaa var saa sørgmodig, for hun havde vel mange underlige Tanker, naar hun tænkte paa Sønnerne sine, saa sagde hun til Sneehvid og Rosenrød: „Hvorfor er du saa sørgmodig min Datter? er det Noget som mangler dig, saa sig frem! er det Noget, du vil have, skal du faae det.“ „Aa jeg synes det er saa ødt,“ sagde Sneehvid og Rosenrød; „Alle Andre have Sødskende, men jeg er saa alene, jeg har ingen; det er det, som jeg sørger for.“ „Du har ogsaa havt Sødskende, min Datter,“ sagde Dronningen, „jeg har havt tolv Sønner, som vare Brødrene dine, men alle dem gav jeg bort for at faae dig,“
sagde hun, og saa fortalte hun hele Sammenhængen. Da Prindsessen hørte det, havde hun ingen Ro paa sig; Alt det Dronningen græd og bar sig, saa hjalp det ikke, hun vilde afsted og hun maatte afsted, for at lede op Brødrene sine, for hun syntes at hun var Skyld i det Altsammen, og tilsidst saa gik hun da ogsaa fra Kongsgaarden. Hun gik og hun gik saa langt ud i den vide Verden, at du ikke skulde troe, at saa fiin en Jomfru havde orket at gaae saa langt.
Engang havde hun gaaet i lang Tid i en stor, stor Skov, saa var det en Dag hun var bleven træt, og satte sig ned paa en Tue og der søvnede hun. Da drømte hun at hun gik længre ind i Skoven til en liden tømret Hytte, og der var hendes Brødre; med det samme vaagnede hun, og lige foran sig saa hun en opgaaet Sti i den grønne Mose, og den Stien gik dybere ind i Skoven. Den fulgte hun, og langt om længe kom hun ogsaa til saadant et lidet tømret Huus, som hun havde drømt om.
Da hun kom ind i Stuen, var der Ingen inde, men der stod tolv Senge og tolv Stole og tolv Skeer, og tolv Ting af Alt, som fandtes. Da hun fik see det, blev hun saa glad, at hun ikke havde været saa glad paa mange Aar, for hun kunde strax skjønne, hendes Brødre boede der, og at det var dem, der eiede Sengene og Stolene og Skeerne. Hun til at lægge paa Varmen, og feie og rede op Sengene og koge Mad og stelle og pynte det bedste hun kunde, og da hun havde kogt og lavet til dem Alle, saa spiste hun selv, men Skeen sin glemte hun paa Bordet, og saa krøb hun ind under den yngste Broderens Seng og lagde sig der.
Ikke før havde hun lagt sig, saa hørte hun det suste og hvinede i Luften, og saa kom alle tolv Vildænderne farende ind, men idet samme, de vare over Tærskelen, bleve de strax til Prindser. „Ak, hvor godt og varmt her er da,“ sagde de. „Gud signe den, som har lagt paa Varmen og kogt saadan god Mad til os!“ og saa tog de hver sin Sølvskee og skulde til at spise. Men da hver havde taget sin, blev der endda en liggende igjen, og den var saa lig de øvrige, at de ikke kunde skjelne den fra dem. Saa saae de paa hverandre og forundrede sig; „det er Skeen til Søster vor,“ sagde de, „og er Skeen her, kan hun heller ikke være langt borte.“ „Er det vor Søsters Skee, og findes hun her, saa skal hun
dræbes, for hun er Skyld i alt det Onde, vi lide,“ sagde den ældste af Prindserne, og det laa hun under Sengen og hørte paa. „Nei,“ sagde den yngste, „det var Synd at dræbe hende for det; hun kan ikke gjøre for, at vi lide Ondt; skulde Nogen være Skyld i det, maatte det være vor egen Moder.“ De gav sig da til at lede efter hende baade høit og lavt og tilsidst ledte de ogsaa under alle Sengene, og da de kom til den yngste Prindsens Seng, fandt de hende og trak hende frem.
Den ældste Prindsen vilde igjen, hun skulde dræbes, men hun græd og bad saa vakkert for sig: „Aa, Herre Gud, dræb mig ikke,“ sagde hun, „jeg har gaaet i mange Aar og ledt efter Eder, og hvis jeg kunde frelse Eder, skulde jeg gjerne lade mit Liv.“ „Ja vil du frelse os,“ sagde de, „saa skal du faae leve, for naar du vilde, saa kunde du nok.“ „Ja siig mig bare, hvorledes det kan skee, saa skal jeg gjøre hvad det saa er,“ sagde Prindsessen. „Du skal sanke Myrduun,“ sagde Prindserne, „og den skal du karde og spinde og væve en Væv af, og naar du har gjort det, saa skal du klippe og sye tolv Huer, tolv Skjorter og tolv Klude af den, een til hver af os, og mens du gjør det skal du hverken tale eller lee eller græde; kan du det, saa er vi
frelste.“ „Men hvor skal jeg faae Myrduun til saa mange Klude og Huer og Skjorter fra?“ sagde Sneehvid og Rosenrød. „Det skal vi nok vise dig,“ sagde Prindserne, og saa toge de hende med sig hen paa en stor, stor Myr, hvor der stod saa fuldt af Myrduun og nikkede i Vinden og glindsede i Solskinnet, saa det skinnede lang Vei af den. Aldrig havde Prindsessen seet saa megen Myrduun før, og hun strax til at plukke og sanke, det bedste og forteste hun kunde, og naar hun kom hjem om Kvelden, saa til at karde og spinde Garn af Myrdunen.
Saaledes gik det nu baade godt og længe, hun sankede Myrduun og kardede og spandt, og alt imellem stelte hun for Prindserne; hun kogte og hun redte op Sengene til dem; om Aftenen kom de susende og brusende hjem som Vildænder, om Natten var de Prindser, men saa om Morgenen fløi de afsted igjen og var Vildænder hele Dagen. Men saa hændte det en Gang hun var paa Myren og skulde sanke Myrduun — og tager jeg ikke Feil, saa var det nok den sidste Gangen hun skulde did — at den unge Kongen, som styrede Riget, var ude paa Jagt, og kom ridende hen til Myren og fik see hende. Han standsede og undrede sig over hvem den deilige Jomfru kunde være, som gik i Myren og sankede Myrduun, og han spurgte hende om det ogsaa, og da han ikke
fik noget Svar paa det, han spurgte om, blev han endda mere forundret, og han syntes saa vel om hende, at han vilde tage hende med sig hjem til Slottet og gifte sig med hende. Saa befalede han Tjenerne sine, at de skulde tage hende og sætte hende op paa Hesten hans. Sneehvid og Rosenrød hun vred sine Hænder og gjorde Miner til dem og pegte paa Sækkene, hun havde alt Arbeidet sit i, og da Kongen skjønte, at hun vilde have dem med, sagde han til sine Tjenere, at de ogsaa skulde tage og læsse Sækkene paa. Da de havde gjort det, gav Prindsessen sig til Taals lidt efter lidt, for Kongen var baade en snild Mand og en vakker Mand og han var saa blid og venlig mod hende som en Lege. Men da de kom hjem til
Kongsgaarden og den gamle Dronning, som var Stedmoderen hans, fik see Sneehvid og Rosenrød, blev hun saa ond og saa avindsyg over det at hun var saa deilig, at hun sagde til Kongen: „Kan du ikke skjønne det, at denne, du har taget med dig, som du vil gifte dig med, er en Hex; hun hverken taler eller leer eller græder?“ Kongen brød sig ikke om hvad hun sagde, men han holdt Bryllup og giftede sig med Sneehvid og Rosenrød, og de levede i stor Glæde og Herlighed; men hun glemte ikke at sye paa Skjorterne over det.
Inden Aaret var omme kom Sneehvid og Rosenrød med en Prinds til Verden, og det blev den gamle Dronningen endnu mere ond og avindsyg over, og da det led ud paa Natten, listede hun sig ind til Sneehvid og Rosenrød, medens hun sov, tog Barnet og kastede det i Ormegaarden; siden skar hun hende i Fingeren og smurte Blodet om Munden paa hende og gik saa til Kongen. „Kom nu og see,“ sagde hun, „hvad det er for En, du har taget til Dronning; nu har hun ædt op sit eget Barn.“ Da blev Kongen saa bedrøvet at han næsten var grædefærdig og sagde: „Ja, det maa vel være sandt, siden jeg seer det for mine Øine, men hun gjør det vist ikke oftere; for denne Gang vil jeg spare hende.“ Inden Aaret var omme, fødte hun en Søn igjen, og med
denne gik det akkurat ligesom med den første; Kongens Stedmoder blev endnu mere ond og avindsyg; saa listede hun sig ind til Dronningen om Natten medens hun sov, tog Barnet og kastede i Ormegaarden, skar Dronningen i Fingeren og smurte Blodet om Munden paa hende, og saa sagde hun til Kongen, at hun havde ædt op sit eget Barn. Da blev Kongen saa bedrøvet at du aldrig kan tro det, og saa sagde han: „Ja det maa vel være sandt, siden jeg seer det for mine Øine, men hun vil vist ikke gjøre det oftere; ligevel vil jeg spare hende een Gang endnu.“ Inden Aaret var omme igjen, fødte Sneehvid og Rosenrød en Datter til Verden, og hende tog nu ogsaa den gamle Dronningen og kastede i Ormegaarden, medens den unge Dronning
sov, skar hun hende i Fingeren, smurte Blodet om Munden paa hende og gik saa til Kongen og sagde: „Nu kan du komme og see om det ikke er som jeg siger, at hun er en Troldhex, for nu har hun ædt op det tredie Barnet sit ogsaa.“ Da blev Kongen saa bedrøvet, at der ikke var nogen Maade paa det for da kunde han ikke spare hende længer, men maatte befale at hun skulde brændes levende paa et Baal. Da Baalet stod i Brand og hun skulde sættes paa det, gjorde hun Miner til dem, at de skulde tage tolv Fjæle og lægge dem rundt om Baalet, og paa disse lagde hun Kludene og Huerne og Skjortene til Brødrene sine, men i den yngste Broderens Skjorte manglede den venstre Arm, den havde hun ikke kunnet række at faae færdig.
Aldrig før havde hun gjort dette, saa hørte de en Susen og Brusen i Luften, og saa kom der flyvende tolv Vildænder over Skoven, og hver af dem tog sin Klædning i Næbbet og fløi afsted med. „Seer du nu,“ sagde den slemme Dronningen til Kongen, „nu kan du da rigtig see at hun er en Hex, skynd dig nu og brænd hende førend Veden brænder op.“ „Aa,“ sagde Kongen, „Ved har vi nok af; jeg vil endda bie lidt, for jeg havde Lyst til at see, hvad Ende der bliver paa dette.“ I det samme kom de tolv Prindser ridende, saa deilige og velvoxne som man kunde see; men den yngste Prindsen havde en Vildandvinge istedetfor den venstre Armen. „Hvad er her paa Færde?“ spurgte Prindserne. „Min Dronning skal brændes, fordi
hun er en Hex og har opædt sine egne Børn,“ svarede Kongen. „Hun har ikke opædt Børnene sine,“ sagde Prindserne. „Tal nu Søster, nu har du frelst os, frels nu dig selv.“ Da talte Sneehvid og Rosenrød og fortalte, hvorledes Alt var gaaet til, at hvergang hun var falden i Barselseng havde den gamle Dronning, Stedmoderen til Kongen, listet sig ind til hende om Natten, taget Barnet fra hende og skaaret hende i Fingeren og smurt Blodet om Munden paa hende, og Prindserne toge Kongen og førte ham hen til Ormegaarden, der laae de tre Børn og legede med Orme og Padder, og deiligere Børn kunde du ikke see for dine Øine. Dem tog Kongen med sig og bar dem hen til sin Stedmoder og spurgte hende hvad Straf hun syntes den fortjente, som kunde have Sind til at forraade en uskyldig
Dronning og tre saa velsignede Børn. „Den fortjente at spændes mellem tolv utæmte Heste, saa de hver tog sit Stykke,“ sagde den gamle Dronningen. „Du har selv sagt Dommen og selv skal du faae lide den med,“ sagde Kongen, og saa blev den gamle slemme Dronningen spændt mellem tolv utæmte Heste, som hver tog sit Stykke af hende. Men Sneehvid og Rosenrød tog Kongen og Børnene sine og de tolv Prindserne, og saa reiste de hjem til sine Forældre og fortalte, hvad der var hændt dem, og nu blev der stor Fryd og Glæde over hele Kongeriget, fordi at Prindsessen var frelst og havde frelst sine tolv Brødre ogsaa.
