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- 052 Smørbuk
O izvirniku
Norske Folkeeventyr
Norveške ljudske pravljice o gozdu, gorah, prebrisanih junakih in nevarnih bitjih. Bralni jezik je English, izvirnik pa prihaja iz vira Norske Folkeeventyr v jeziku Norsk.
Besedilo
Maslenček
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.
Izvirnik
052 Smørbuk
Naslednje strani prikazujejo izvirno besedilo za primerjavo.
Der var engang en Kjærring, som sad og bagede. Hun havde en liden Gut, der var saa tyk og fed og gjerne vilde have god Mad, og derfor kaldte hun ham Smørbuk; og saa havde hun en Hund, de kaldte Guldtand. Ret som det var, begyndte Hunden at gjøe. „Spring ud, du Smørbukken min,“ sagde Kjærringen, „og se efter, hvem det er Guldtand gjøer paa.“ Saa sprang Gutten ud og kom ind igjen og sagde: „Aa, Gud hjælpe mig, der kommer en stor, lang Haugkjærring, med Hovedet under Armen og en Sæk paa Ryggen.“ „Spring under Bagstefjælen og gjem dig!“ sagde Moder hans.
Saa kom det store Troldet ind. „God Dag,“ sagde det. „Gud signe dig,“ sagde Moder til Smørbuk. „Er ikke Smørbuk hjemme i Dag?“ spurgte Troldet. „Nei, han er i Skoven med Fa’er sin og veider Ryper,“ svarede Kjærringen. „Det var Trold, det da,“ sagde Haugkjærringen, „jeg har saadan en fiin liden Sølvkniv, som jeg vilde give ham.“ „Pip, pip, her er jeg!“ sagde Smørbuk under Bagstefjælen, og kom frem.
„Jeg er saa gammel og stiv i Ryggen,“ sagde Troldet; „du faaer smætte ned i Sækken og tage den op selv.“ Da Smørbuk vel var kommen ned i Sækken, kastede Troldet den paa Ryggen og strøg ud. Men da de vare komne et Stykke paa Veien, blev Troldet træt, og spurgte: „hvor langt er det bort at sove?“ „En halv Fjerding,“ svarede Smørbuk. Saa satte Troldet Sækken ned ved Veien og reiste bort igjennem Smaaskoven for sig selv og lagde sig til at sove. Imens passede Smørbuk sig, tog Kniven sin, sprættede Hul paa Sækken og smat ud, lagde saa en stor Tyrirod i Stedet og strøg hjem til Moder sin. Da Troldet kom hjem og fik see hvad det havde
i Sækken, blev det fælt sindt. Dagen efter sad Kjærringen og bagede igjen. Ret som det var, begyndte Hunden at gjøe. „Spring ud, du Smaørbukken min,“ sagde hun, „og se efter, hvad det er Guldtand gjøer paa.“ „Aa nei, aa nei, det stygge Bæstet da!“? sagde Smørbnk, „nu kommer det igjen med Hovedet under Armen og en stor Sæk paa Ryggen.“ Spring under Bagstefjælen og gjem dig,“ sagde Moder hans.
„God Dag,“ sagde Troldet; „er Smørbuk hjemme idag?“ „Neimen er han ikke,“ sagde Moderen, „han er ude i Skoven med Fa’er sin og veider Ryper.“ „Det var Trold det,“ sagde Haugkjærringen, „for jeg har en vakker liden Sølvgaffel, jeg vilde give ham.“ „Pip, pip, her er jeg!“ sagde Smørbuk, og kom frem. „Jeg er saa stiv i Ryggen,“ sagde Troldet, „du faaer smætte ned i Sækken selv og tage den.“ Da Smørbuk vel var kommen i Sækken, slængte Troldet den paa Ryggen og lagde af Gaarde.
Da de vare komne et godt Stykke paa Veien, blev Troldet træt og spurgte: „Hvor langt er det bort at sove?“ „En halv Miil,“ svarede Smørbuk. Saa satte Troldet Sækken ned ved Veien og gik op gjennem Skoven og lagde sig til at sove. Medens Troldet gjorde det, fik Smørbuk Hul paa Sækken, og da han var kommen ud, lagde han en stor Steen istedet. Da saa Troldet kom hjem, gjorde det op en stor Ild paa Peisen, satte over en diger Kjedel og skulde til at koge Smørbuk. Men da det saa tog Sækken og troede det skulde slippe Smørbuk i Kjedelen, faldt Stenen ud, og slog Hul i Bunden paa den, saa at Vandet randt ud og slukkede Varmen. Da blev Troldet sindt og sagde: „Om han nu
gjør sig aldrig saa tung, skal jeg lure ham ligevel.“ Den tredie Gang gik det akkurat ligesom de to andre, Guldtand begyndte at gjøe, og saa sagde Moderen til Smørbuk: „Spring ud, du Smørbukken min, og se efter, hvem det er, Guldtand gjøer paa.“ Saa sprang Smørbuk ud og kom ind igjen og sagde: „Aa Gud hjælpe og trøste mig! Det er Troldet, som kommer igjen, med Hovedet under Armen og en Sæk paa Ryggen.“ „Spring under Bagstefjælen og gjem dig!“ sagde Moder hans.
„God Dag,“ sagde Troldet og steg ind igjennem Døren; „er Smørbuk hjemme i Dag?“ „Neimen er han ikke,“ sagde Moderen, „han er ude i Skoven med Faer sin og veider Ryper.“ „Det var Trold det, da,“ sagde Haugkjærringen, „for jeg har en vakker liden Sølvske, jeg vildt give ham.“ „Pip pip, her er jeg!“ sagde Smørbuk, og kom frem under Bagstefjælen. „Jeg er saa stiv i Ryggen,“ sagde Haugkjærringen, „du faaer smætte ned i Sækken selv og tage den.“ Da Smørbuk vel var kommen ned i Sækken, slængte Troldet den paa Ryggen og lagde af Gaarde. Den Gang reiste Troldet ikke bort for sig selv og
lagde sig til at sove, men det strøg lige hjem med Smørbuk i Sækken, og da de kom hjem, var det en Søndag. Saa sagde Troldet til Datter sin: „Nu skal du tage Smørbuk og slagte ham og koge Sod paa ham, til jeg kommer igjen, for nu reiser jeg til Kirken og beder Fremmede.“ Da selve Folkene vare reiste, skulde Datteren tage Smørbuk og slagte ham, men saa vidste hun ikke rigtig, hvorledes hun skulde gjøre det.
„Bi, saa skal jeg vise dig, hvorledes du skal bære dig ad, jeg“ sagde Smørbuk, „læg Hovedet dit ned paa Krakken, skal du see.“ Hun gjorde saa, hun Stakkel, og Smørbuk tog Øxen og hakkede Hovedet af hende, som om det havde været en Kylling. Saa lagde han Hovedet i Sengen, og Skrotten i Gryden og kogte Sod paa Datteren, og da han havde gjort det, krabbede han op over Døren og drog med sig Tyriroden og Stenen og lagde den ene over Døren og den anden op paa Peispiben til Troldet.
Da Folkene kom hjem fra Kirken og saae Hovedet i Sengen, tænkte de at Datteren laa og sov; men saa skulde de bort at snege paa Suppen. „Smager godt, Smørbukjod!“ sagde Troldkjærringen. „Smager godt, Dattersod!“ sagde Smørbuk. Men det lydede de ikke efter. Saa tog Troldmanden Skeen og skulde til at smage. „Smager godt Smørbuksod!“ sagde han. „Smager godt Dattersod!“ sagde Smørbuk paa Peispiben.
Da begyndte de at forundre sig over, hvem det var som snakkede, og vilde ud af see efter. Men da de kom ud i Døren, kastede Smørbuk Tyriroden og Stenen i Hovedet paa dem og slog dem ihjel. Saa tog han alt det Guld og Sølv, som var i Huset; og da blev han vel rig, og saa reiste han hjem til Moder sin.
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