Prevod

There was once a poor man who had three sons. When he died, the two eldest were to go out into the world to seek their fortune, but they would not hear of taking the youngest with them.

“You!” they said. “You’re good for nothing but sitting and poking about in the ashes.” “Then I suppose I shall have to go alone,” said Askepot. The other two set off and came to the royal palace, where they found work, one with the master of the stables and the other with the gardener.

Askepot set off too, taking with him a great kneading trough, the only thing their parents had left behind, which neither of the other two had cared to have. It was heavy to carry, but he would not leave it behind. After he had walked for a while, he too came to the royal palace and asked for work. They told him they had no need of him, but he pleaded so earnestly and politely that at last they allowed him to stay in the kitchen and carry wood and water for the kitchen maid. He was hardworking and willing, and before long everyone had grown very fond of him. The other two, however, were lazy, and so they often received blows and little pay, and they grew jealous of Askepot when they saw how much better he was doing.

Opposite the palace, on the far side of a lake, lived a troll who had seven silver ducks. They swam about on the lake, where they could be seen from the palace.

The king had often wished he could have them, so the two brothers said to the master of the stables, “Our brother has boasted that he could get the king those seven silver ducks, if only he chose.” You may be sure it was not long before the master of the stables told the king. The king summoned Askepot and said:

“Your brothers tell me you can get me the silver ducks, and now you shall do it.” “I have never thought or said any such thing,” answered the lad. “You have said it,” the king insisted, “and you shall do it!” “Well, well!” said the lad. “If there is no help for it, give me a quarter-measure of rye and a quarter-measure of wheat, and I suppose I must try.” These were given to him, and he put them into the kneading trough he had brought from home and rowed across in it. When he reached the other side, he began walking along the shore, scattering grain as he went, until at last he coaxed the ducks into the trough. Then he rowed back as fast as he could.

When he was halfway across, the troll came out and caught sight of him. “Have you made off with my seven silver ducks?” he shouted. “Ye-es!” said the lad. “Will you be coming back again?” asked the troll. “I might,” said the lad. When he returned to the king with the seven silver ducks, he became still better liked at the palace, and the king himself said it was well done. But this only made his brothers angrier and more envious. So they took it into their heads to tell the master of the stables that Askepot had now boasted he could get the king the troll’s bedspread, with a silver square and a gold square, and a silver square and a gold square, if only he chose. This time, too, the master of the stables lost no time in telling the king. So the king told the lad that his brothers had said he claimed he could get the troll’s bedspread with the silver and gold squares, and now he must do it or lose his life. Askepot answered that he had never thought or said any such thing, but when that did no good, he asked for three days to think it over. When the three days were up, he rowed across again in the kneading trough and crept to and fro, keeping watch. At last he saw the folk inside the mountain hang out the bedspread to air, and once they were safely back inside, Askepot snatched it and rowed away as fast as he could. When he was halfway across, the troll came out and caught sight of him.

“Are you the one who took my seven silver ducks?” shouted the troll. “Ye-es!” said the lad. “And have you now taken my bedspread too, with a silver square and a gold square, and a silver square and a gold square?” “Ye-es!” said the lad. “Will you be coming back again?” “I might,” said the lad. When he returned with the gold and silver bedspread, everyone liked him even better than before, and he became the king’s own servant. This made the other two angrier still, and to revenge themselves they took it into their heads to tell the master of the stables, “Now our brother has boasted that he can get the king the troll’s golden harp, which makes everyone happy when they hear it played, however sorrowful they may be.” The master of the stables told the king at once, and the king said to the lad:

“If you have said it, you shall do it. If you succeed, you shall have the princess and half the kingdom, but if you fail, you shall lose your life.” “I have never thought or said any such thing,” answered the lad, “but I suppose there is no other way; I shall have to try.

But I must have six days to think it over.” Yes, he could have those, but when they were up, he had to set off. He put a nail, a birch twig, and a candle end into his pocket, rowed across, and crept to and fro outside the mountain.

When the troll came out, he caught sight of him. “Are you the one who took my seven silver ducks?” shouted the troll. “Ye-es!” answered the lad. “And you’re the one who took my bedspread with the silver and gold squares too, are you?” asked the troll.

“Ye-es!” said the lad. Then the troll seized him and carried him inside the mountain. “Now, daughter,” he said, “I have caught the fellow who took my silver ducks and my bedspread with the silver and gold squares. Put him in the fattening pen, and then we shall slaughter him and invite our friends to a feast.” She was quite willing and put him in the fattening pen, where he stayed for eight days, with as much as he wanted of all the best food and drink he could wish for.

When the eight days were over, the troll told his daughter to go down and cut the lad’s little finger, so they could see whether he was fat. The troll’s daughter went down at once. “Put out your little finger!” she said. But Askepot held out the nail, and that was what she cut into. “Oh, no! He’s still as hard as iron,” said the troll’s daughter when she came back to her father. “We can’t slaughter him yet!” Eight days later the same thing happened, except that this time Askepot held out the birch twig. “He’s a little better,” she said when she came back to the troll, “but he would still be as tough to chew as wood.” After another eight days, the troll again told his daughter to go down and see whether the lad was fat by now. “Put out your little finger!” said the troll’s daughter when she reached the fattening pen. This time Askepot held out the candle end. “He’ll do now!” she said. “Very well!” said the troll. “Then I shall go and invite the guests to the feast;

meanwhile, you must slaughter him, roast half, and boil the other half!” As soon as the troll had gone, his daughter began whetting a great long knife. “Is that what you mean to slaughter me with?” asked the lad. “Yes, indeed!” said the troll’s daughter. “But it isn’t sharp,” said the lad. “I had better whet it for you, so you can put me to death more easily.” She let him have the knife, and he began grinding and whetting it.

“Now let me try it on your braid,” said the lad. “I think it should be sharp enough.” She gave him leave, but the moment he seized her braid, he pulled her head back and cut it off. Then he boiled half of her and roasted the other half and set it all on the table. After that he put on her clothes and sat down in the corner. When the troll came home with the guests, he asked his daughter—for he thought it was she—to come and eat with them. “No,” answered the lad, “I don’t want any food. I feel so sad and downhearted.” “Oh, you know what to do about that,” said the troll. “Take the golden harp and play!” “Yes, but where is it?” asked the lad. “Surely you know—you were the last to use it. It’s hanging there over the door!” The lad did not need to be told twice. He took it and went in and out, playing; then, all at once, he pushed the kneading trough into the water and rowed away so fast that the water foamed about it. After a while the troll thought his daughter had been outside too long and went to see what was the matter with her. Then he saw the lad in the trough, far, far out on the lake. “Are you the one who took my seven silver ducks?” shouted the troll. “Yes,” said the lad. “And you’re the one who took my bedspread with a silver square and a gold square too?” “Yes,” said the lad. “And now have you taken my golden harp as well?” shrieked the troll. “Yes, indeed I have,” said the lad. “But haven’t I eaten you up?” “No, it was your daughter you ate!” answered the lad.

When the troll heard this, he flew into such a rage that he burst. Then Askepot rowed back and took away a great heap of gold and silver, as much as the trough could carry. When he returned to the palace with the golden harp, he was given the king’s daughter and half the kingdom, just as the king had promised. And he treated his brothers kindly, for he believed they had only meant to do him good by what they had said.