Prevod

Once upon a time there was an old woman who was busy baking. She had a little boy who was so plump and fat, and so fond of good food, that she called him Smørbuk; and she also had a dog they called Guldtand. All at once the dog began to bark.

“Run outside, my little Smørbuk,” said the old woman, “and see who Guldtand is barking at.” So the boy ran out, then came back in and said:

“Oh, heaven help me! Here comes a great tall troll-woman, with her head under her arm and a sack on her back.” “Quick, hide under the baking board!” said his mother.

Then the great troll came in. “Good day,” she said. “God bless you,” said Smørbuk’s mother. “Isn’t Smørbuk at home today?” asked the troll.

“No, he’s in the woods with his father, hunting grouse,” answered the old woman. “Oh, what a pity,” said the troll-woman. “I have such a fine little silver knife I wanted to give him.” “Peep, peep, here I am!” said Smørbuk from under the baking board, and out he came.

“I’m so old, and my back is so stiff,” said the troll. “You’ll have to slip into the sack and fetch it yourself.” As soon as Smørbuk was inside the sack, the troll threw it onto her back and hurried away. But when they had gone some way down the road, the troll grew tired and asked, “How far is it to a place where I can sleep?” “An eighth of a Norwegian mile,” answered Smørbuk.

So the troll set the sack down beside the road, went off by herself through the scrub, and lay down to sleep. Meanwhile, Smørbuk seized his chance, took his knife, slit a hole in the sack, and slipped out. Then he put a great resinous pine root in his place and hurried home to his mother. When the troll reached home and saw what she had in the sack, she was terribly angry.

The next day the old woman was baking again. All at once the dog began to bark. “Run outside, my little Smørbuk,” she said, “and see what Guldtand is barking at.” “Oh no, oh no, that horrid beast!” said Smørbuk. “Here she comes again, with her head under her arm and a great sack on her back.” “Quick, hide under the baking board!” said his mother.

“Good day,” said the troll. “Is Smørbuk at home today?” “No, indeed he isn’t,” said his mother. “He’s out in the woods with his father, hunting grouse.” “Oh, what a pity,” said the troll-woman, “for I have a pretty little silver fork I wanted to give him.” “Peep, peep, here I am!” said Smørbuk, and out he came.

“My back is so stiff,” said the troll. “You’ll have to slip into the sack and fetch it yourself.” As soon as Smørbuk was inside the sack, the troll slung it onto her back and set off.

When they had gone a good way down the road, the troll grew tired and asked, “How far is it to a place where I can sleep?” “Half a Norwegian mile,” answered Smørbuk. So the troll set the sack down beside the road, went up into the woods, and lay down to sleep. While she was doing that, Smørbuk made a hole in the sack, and when he had climbed out, he put a great stone in his place. When the troll reached home, she built a great fire in the hearth, put an enormous pot over it, and made ready to boil Smørbuk. But when she picked up the sack, thinking to tip Smørbuk into the pot, the stone fell out and knocked a hole in the bottom, so that the water poured out and quenched the fire. Then the troll grew angry and said, “However heavy he makes himself next time, I’ll outwit him all the same.” The third time, things went just as they had the other two times. Guldtand began to bark, and Smørbuk’s mother said to him:

“Run outside, my little Smørbuk, and see who Guldtand is barking at.” So Smørbuk ran out, then came back in and said, “Oh, heaven help and comfort me! Here comes the troll again, with her head under her arm and a sack on her back.” “Quick, hide under the baking board!” said his mother.

“Good day,” said the troll, stepping through the doorway. “Is Smørbuk at home today?” “No, indeed he isn’t,” said his mother. “He’s out in the woods with his father, hunting grouse.” “Oh, what a pity,” said the troll-woman, “for I have a pretty little silver spoon I wanted to give him.” “Peep, peep, here I am!” said Smørbuk, and out he came from under the baking board.

“My back is so stiff,” said the troll-woman. “You’ll have to slip into the sack and fetch it yourself.” As soon as Smørbuk was inside the sack, the troll slung it onto her back and set off. This time she did not go off by herself to sleep, but hurried straight home with Smørbuk in the sack, and it was Sunday when they arrived. Then the troll said to her daughter:

“Now take Smørbuk and butcher him, and make soup of him before I come back, for I’m going to church to invite some guests.” When the grown-ups had left, the daughter was to take Smørbuk and butcher him, but she did not quite know how to go about it.

“Wait, I’ll show you how it’s done,” said Smørbuk. “Just lay your head down on the stool, and you’ll see.” The poor thing did as he said, and Smørbuk took the axe and chopped off her head as though she had been a chicken.

Then he put her head in the bed and her body in the pot, and made soup of the daughter. When he had done that, he climbed up above the door, taking the pine root and the stone with him, and set one above the doorway and the other on top of the troll’s chimney.

When the household came home from church and saw the head in the bed, they thought the daughter was asleep; then they went over to taste the soup. “Tasty soup, Smørbuk soup!” said the troll-wife.

“Tasty soup, daughter soup!” said Smørbuk. But they paid no heed. Then the troll-husband took the spoon to have a taste. “Tasty soup, Smørbuk soup!” he said.

“Tasty soup, daughter soup!” said Smørbuk from the chimney. Then they began to wonder who was speaking, and went outside to look. But as they came through the doorway, Smørbuk hurled the pine root and the stone down onto their heads and killed them. Then he took all the gold and silver in the house, and that made him very rich indeed; and off he went home to his mother.