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Poštenjak in Nepoštenjak
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Poštenjak in Nepoštenjak
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- 048 Tro og Utro
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
Poštenjak in Nepoštenjak
Once upon a time there were two brothers, one named Tro and the other Utro. Tro was always honest and kind to everyone, but Utro was wicked and full of lies, so no one could ever trust a word he said. Their mother was a widow with little to live on, and when her sons were grown, she had to send them away to earn their own bread in the world. She gave each of them a little knapsack of food, and off they went.
When they had walked until evening, they sat down on a fallen tree in the forest and took out their knapsacks, for they were hungry after walking all day and thought a bite to eat would taste good now. “If you agree, we’ll eat from your knapsack first, as long as there’s anything left in it, and then we can start on mine,” said Utro. Tro was quite content with that, and they began to eat; but Utro made sure to swallow all the best bits himself, while Tro got nothing but crusts, burnt pieces of flatbread, and pork rinds. In the morning they ate Tro’s food again, and at midday too; but then his knapsack was empty. When they had walked until late that evening and were ready for another meal, Tro wanted to eat from his brother’s knapsack. But Utro said no: the food was his, he said, and there was no more than he needed for himself. “But you ate from my knapsack as long as there was anything in it,” said Tro. “Well, if you’re fool enough to let other people eat up your food, you must take the consequences,” said Utro. “Now you can sit there and drool!” “Ah yes, Utro is your name, and faithless is your nature, and so it has been all your life,” said Tro. When Utro heard this, he flew into a rage, sprang at his brother, and put out both his eyes. “Now you can see whether people are faithful or faithless, you blind fool!” he said, and with that he ran off and left him.
Poor Tro groped his way through the thick forest. He was blind and alone, and had no idea what to do. But at last he found a great, stout lime tree, and thought he had better climb up into it and spend the night there, safe from the wild beasts. When the birds begin to sing, it will be day, he thought, and then I must try to feel my way farther on. So he climbed up into the lime tree. After he had been sitting there a while, he heard someone come along and begin cooking and bustling about beneath the tree. Soon others arrived, and as they greeted one another, he heard that they were the Bear, the Wolf, the Fox, and the Hare, who had come to celebrate Midsummer Eve. They set about eating and drinking and making merry, and when they had finished, they sat down to talk. Then the Fox said, “Shall we each tell a little story while we’re sitting here?” The others liked that idea very much; it would be good fun, they said. So the Bear began, for he was the grandest among them. “The King of England has such poor eyes,” said the Bear, “that he can scarcely see a yard in front of him. But if he climbed into this lime tree in the morning, while the dew was still on the leaves, and rubbed some of it on his eyes, he would see as well as ever he did.” “Yes,” said the Wolf, “and the King of England has a daughter who can neither hear nor speak. But if he knew what I know, he would soon find a cure for her. Last year, when she went to Communion, she spat out the bread, and a great toad came and swallowed it. But if they only dug beneath the church floor, they would find the toad sitting directly under the altar rail, with the bread still lodged in its throat. If they cut the toad open, took out the bread, and gave it to the princess, she would hear and speak like other people again.” “Yes, yes,” said the Fox, “if the King of England knew what I know, he would have no shortage of water at his palace. Beneath the great stone in the middle of his courtyard is the clearest spring water anyone could wish for—if only he knew to dig there!” “Yes,” said the Hare, “the King of England has the finest orchard in all the land, but it does not bear so much as one unripe apple, because a great gold chain lies three times around it underground. If he had it dug up, his orchard would become the finest in his whole kingdom.” “But now it is late at night, and we had better be going home,” said the Fox, and off they all went.
When they had gone, Tro fell asleep where he sat in the lime tree. But when the birds began to sing in the morning, he woke again and took dew from the leaves and rubbed it on his eyes. Then he could see just as well as before Utro had put them out. Now he went straight to the King of England’s palace and asked for work, which he was given at once. One day the king came out into the courtyard, and after walking about for a while, he wanted a drink from his pump, for the day was hot and he had grown very thirsty. But when they drew the water for him, it was cloudy and thick and foul. This vexed the king greatly. “I do not believe there is a man in my whole kingdom who has such bad water in his courtyard, and yet I have to bring it all this way over hill and dale!” he said. “Well, if you would give me some men to lift the great stone lying here in the middle of your courtyard, you should have plenty of good water,” said Tro. The king was quite willing, and scarcely had they lifted the stone and dug a little while before a jet of water shot straight into the air, as clear and strong as if it were pouring from the bunghole of a barrel;
and clearer water was not to be found in all England. Some time later, the king was out in the courtyard again one day when a great hawk came swooping after his chickens, and everyone began clapping and shouting, “There it goes! There it goes!” The king seized his gun to shoot it, but he could hardly see it. Then he grew very downhearted. “God grant that someone could tell me a cure for my eyes! I fear I shall soon be quite blind,” said the king. “I can tell you that,” said Tro, and he explained what he had done. That very evening the king set off for the lime tree, as you may well imagine, and as soon as he rubbed his eyes with the dew on the leaves in the morning, he was cured. From that day on, there was no one the king prized so highly as Tro. He had to accompany him everywhere, whether at home or abroad.
One day they were walking together in the orchard. “I cannot understand it,” said the king. “There is not a man in England who spends so much on his orchard as I do, and yet I cannot get a single tree to bear so much as an unripe apple.” “Well, well,” said Tro, “if I may have what lies three times around your orchard, and some men to dig it up, then your trees shall bear fruit.” The king gladly agreed. Tro was given the men and set them to digging, and at last he brought the whole gold chain out of the ground. Now Tro was a very wealthy man, far, far richer than the king himself. But the king was well pleased all the same, for now the orchard bore so heavily that the branches hung right down to the ground, and no one had ever tasted such sweet apples and pears.
Another day, Tro and the king were walking and talking together when the princess passed by, and the king grew very sad at the sight of her. “Is it not a pity that so lovely a princess as my daughter should be unable to hear or speak?” he said to Tro. “Yes, but there is a cure for that,” said Tro. When the king heard this, he was so delighted that he promised Tro the princess’s hand in marriage and half the kingdom if he could make her well again. So Tro took a couple of men with him to the church and dug out the toad that sat beneath the altar rail. He cut it open, took out the bread, and gave it to the princess—and that very instant she could speak like other people again.
Now Tro was to marry the princess, and preparations were made for a wedding that would be heard of and talked about throughout the kingdom. While they were dancing at the wedding, a poor lad came begging for a bite to eat. He looked so ragged and wretched that everyone crossed themselves at the sight of him, but Tro recognized him at once: it was his brother Utro. “Do you know me again?” asked Tro. “Oh, where would I ever have seen so grand a gentleman?” said Utro. “You have seen me all the same,” said Tro. “I am the one whose eyes you put out a year ago today. Utro is your name, and faithless is your nature: I said it then, and I say it still. But you are my brother for all that, so you shall have a little food, and then you can go to the lime tree where I sat last year. If you hear anything that will make your fortune, so much the better for you.” Utro did not need telling twice. If sitting in that lime tree has done Tro so much good that he has become king of half of England since last year, then—he thought, and set off at once. When he reached the lime tree, he climbed up into it. He had not been sitting there long before all the animals came and ate and drank and celebrated Midsummer Eve beneath the tree again. When they had eaten their fill, the Fox suggested they should tell stories, and you may be sure Utro pricked up his ears till they all but fell off.
But the Bear was angry, and growled, “Someone has been telling tales about what we said last year, so this time we shall keep what we know to ourselves.” Then the animals said goodnight and went their separate ways, and Utro was none the wiser. And that was because Utro was his name, and faithless was his nature.
Izvirnik
048 Tro og Utro
Naslednje strani prikazujejo izvirno besedilo za primerjavo.
Der var en Gang to Brødre, den ene hed Tro og den anden Utro. Tro var altid oprigtig og god mod Alle, men Utro var slem og fuld af Løgn, saa de aldrig kunde lide paa det, han sagde. Moderen var Enke og havde ikke Stort at leve af, og da Sønnerne vare blevne voxne, maatte hun have dem fra sig, for at de selv kunde tjene sit Brød i Verden. Hver af dem gav hun en liden Skræppe med Mad i, og saa skulde de i Veien.
Da de nu havde gaaet til om Aftenen, satte de sig paa et Vindfæld i Skoven og tog frem Skræpperne sine, for sultne vare de efter det de havde gaaet hele Dagen og saa syntes de, at nu skulde en Bid smage godt. „Vil du som jeg, saa skal vi først spise af din Skræppe, saalænge der er Noget i den, saa kan vi siden tage paa min,“ sagde Utro. Ja, det var Tro fornøiet med, og saa begyndte de da at spise; men alt det Bedste saa Utro til og fik puttet i sig, og Tro fik bare Skorperne og de brændte Levsestykkerne og Fleskesværdene han. Om Morgenen spiste de atter af Maden hans Tro og om Middagen ogsaa; men saa var der ikke mere i Skræppen hans. Da de saa havde gaaet til seent om Kvelden og skulde til at faae sig Mad igjen, vilde Tro spise af
Broderens Skræppe; men Utro sagde Nei og meente at den Maden var hans, og at han ikke havde Mere end han selv godt kunde behøve. „Ja, men du fik jo spise af min Skræppe, saalænge der var Noget i den,“ sagde Tro. „Ja, naar du er slig en Nar og lader Andre æde op for dig, faaer du have det saa godt,“ meente Utro; „nu kan du sidde der og sikle nu!“ sagde han. „Aa ja, Utro hedder du og utro er du, og det har du været al din Tid ogsaa,“ sagde Tro. Da Utro hørte det, slog han sig sindt og røg lige paa Broderen og stak begge Øinene ud paa ham; „nu kan du see om Folk er tro eller utro nu, din Blindebuk,“ sagde han, og dermed fløi han fra ham.
Tro Stakkel, han gik nu der og trevlede sig frem midt i tykke Skoven; blind og alene var han og ikke vidste han, hvad han skulde tage sig til. Men saa fik han Tag i et stort tykt Lindetræ, og saa tænkte han, at det fik han klyve op i og sætte sig der Natten over for de vilde Dyr. Naar Fuglene begynde at synge, saa er det Dag, da faaer jeg vel prøve at trevle mig videre frem, tænkte han, og saa krøb han op i Linden. Da han havde siddet der en Stund, hørte han at der kom Nogen og begyndte at koge og stelle nede under Træet, og strax efter kom der Flere, og da de nu hilste paa hverandre, hørte han, at det var Bjørnen, Graabenen, Ræven og Haren, som kom og skulde holde St. Hansleg der. De gave sig til at spise og drikke og
leve godt, og da de vare færdige med det, satte de sig til at snakke sammen. Saa sagde Ræven: „Skal vi nu ikke fortælle en liden Historie hver, mens vi sidde her?“ Jo, det syntes de Andre godt om, det vilde være morsomt, sagde de, og saa begyndte Bjørnen — for han var nu den fornemste, —: Kongen af England har saa daarlige Øine,“ sagde Bamse, „han kan næsten ikke see en Alen fra sig; men dersom han kom op i denne Linden om Morgenen, medens der var Dug paa Bladene, og han tog af Duggen og smurte paa Øinene sine, saa fik han sit Syn igjen, saa godt som han nogen Gang har havt det.“ — „Ja,“ sagde Graabenen, „Kongen af England har en døvstum Datter ogsaa; men vidste han det jeg veed, saa fandt han snart paa Raad for hende. I Fjor
da hun gik til Alters, saa spyttede hun ud igjen Brødet, og det kom en stor Padde og slugte; men naar de bare grov under Gulvet, saa fandt de Padden, den sidder beent under Knæfaldet, og Brødet sidder endnu i Halsen paa den. Naar de saa skar Padden op, tog det og gav Prindsessen, saa blev hun som andre Folk igjen baade til at høre og tale.“ — „Ja, ja,“ sagde Ræven, „naar Kongen af England vidste det jeg veed, saa havde han ikke ondt for Vand i Kongsgaarden sin; under den store Stenen midt i Gaarden hans er det klareste Kildevand, Nogen vilde ønske sig — bare han vidste at grave der!“ — „Ja,“ sagde Haren, „Kongen af England har den peneste Frugthave i hele Landet, men den bærer ikke saa Meget som en Æblekart en Gang, for der ligger en
svær Guldkjæde tredobbelt rundt om Haven. Fik han gravet den op, saa blev det den gjæveste Have i hele hans Rige.“ „Men nu er det langt paa Natten, og vi faaer nok gaae hjem igjen nu,“ sagde Ræven, og saa gik de sin Vei Allesammen. Da de var gaaet, søvnede Tro der han sad oppe i Linden, men da Fuglene begyndte at synge om Morgenen, vaagnede han igjen, og saa tog han Dug af Bladene paa Træet og smurte Øinene sine med: da saa han lige saa godt som før Utro havde stukket dem ud paa ham. Nu gik han lige til Kongen af Englands Gaard og bad om Arbeide, og det fik han strax. En Dag kom Kongen ud i Gaarden, og da han havde gaaet der ude en Stund, vilde han drikke af Vandposten sin, for det var hedt om Dagen og Kongen var bleven meget tørst; men da de øste op Vandet
til ham, var det baade grumset og seigt og stygt. Derover blev Kongen ganske ærgerlig. „Jeg troer ikke der er en Mand i hele Riget mit, som har saa daarligt Vand i sin Gaard, og endda maa jeg lede det lang Vei over Bjerg og Dale!“ sagde Kongen. „Ja, men naar du vilde lade mig faae Folk til at bryde op den store Stenen, som ligger her midt i Gaarden din, skulde du nok faae baade meget og godt Vand,“ sagde Tro. Ja, Kongen var vel fornøiet med det, og aldrig før havde de faaet op Stenen og gravet en Stund, saa sprang Vandstraalen ende i Veiret saa klar og tyk som den skulde komme af en Tøndeture; og klarere Vand fandtes ikke i hele England. — En Tid efter var Kongen en Dag ude i Gaarden igjen; saa kom der en stor Høg
flyvende efter Hønsene hans, og Alle til at klappe i Hænderne og skrige: „der flyver den! der flyver den!“ Kongen greb Bøssen sin og skulde skyde den; men han kunde ikke see saa meget. Saa blev han reent bedrøvet. „Gud give, Nogen kunde sige mig Raad for Øinene mine! jeg mener snart jeg bliver reent blind,“ sagde Kongen. „Det skal nok jeg sige dig,“ sagde Tro, og saa fortalte han hvorledes han havde baaret sig ad, og Kongen reiste da til Linden, samme Aften, det kan du nok vide, og brav blev han, bare han havde smurt sig med Duggen, som sad paa Bladene om Morgenen. Siden den Tid var der Ingen, Kongen holdt saa gjæv som ham Tro; han maatte være med ham hvor han gik og stod, baade hjemme og borte.
Saa var det en Dag, de gik i Haven sammen. „Jeg skjønner ikke hvorledes det gaaer til jeg,“ sagde Kongen; der er ikke nogen Mand i England, som koster saa Meget paa Haven sin som jeg, og endda kan jeg ikke faae eet af Træerne til at bære saa Meget som en Kart.“ „Ja, ja,“ sagde Tro, „dersom jeg faaer det, som ligger tre Gange rundt om Haven din, og Folk til at grave det op, saa skal nok Haven bære.“ Ja, det vilde Kongen gjerne; Tro fik Folkene og til at grave, og saa fik han tilsidst op hele Guldkjæden. Nu var Tro en grundrig Mand, meget, meget rigere end Kongen selv; men Kongen var endda vel fornøiet, for nu bar Haven, saa Grenene paa Træerne hængte lige ned til Marken, og saa søde Æbler og Pærer havde aldrig
Nogen smagt. En Dag igjen gik Tro og Kongen og snakkede sammen; saa kom Prindsessen gaaende forbi dem, og Kongen blev ganske bedrøvet, da han saa hende. „Er det ikke Synd at saa deilig en Kongsdatter, som min er, skal mangle Maal og Mæle?“ sagde han til Tro. „Ja, men der er Raad for det,“ sagde Tro. Da Kongen fik det at høre, blev han saa glad at han lovede ham Prindsessen til Ægte og halve Riget, dersom han kunde faae hende brav igjen. Tro fik da et Par Mand med sig bort i Kirken og grov frem Padden som sad under Knæfaldet ved Alteret, skar den op og tog ud Brødet og gav Kongsdatteren det — saa blev hun som andre Folk igjen til at tale strax paa Timen.
Nu skulde da Tro have Prindsessen og der blev lavet til Bryllup, for det skulde holdes saa det baade kunde høres og spørges over hele Riget. Mens de saa holdt paa at dandse i Brylluppet, kom der en Fattiggut og bad om en Madbid, og han var saa fillet og elendig at see paa, at Alle forkorsede sig over ham, men Tro kjendte ham strax, og saa at det var Utro, Broder sin. „Kjender du mig igjen?“ sagde Tro. „Aa hvor skulde jeg have seet saa stor en Herre, jeg da?“ sagde Utro. „Seet mig har du nok ligevel,“ sagde Tro; „det var mig, du stak Øinene ud paa et Aar i Dag siden. Utro hedder du og utro er du, det sagde jeg og det siger jeg endnu; men du er nu Bro’er min ligevel, og derfor skal du faae lidt Mad, og saa kan du gaae til det Lindetræ, hvor jeg sad i Fjor. — Faaer du saa høre Noget
som kan gjøre din Lykke, saa er det godt for dig.“ Ja, Utro lod sig ikke sige det to Gange; har han Tro havt slig Nytte af at sidde i Lindetræet, at han er bleven til Konge over halve England siden i Fjor, saa — tænkte han, og han lagde i Veien og kom til Linden, og den krøb han op i. Han havde ikke siddet der længe, saa kom alle Dyrene og aad og drak og holdt St. Hansleg nede under Træet igjen. Da de havde spist fra sig, vilde Ræven at de skulde til at fortælle Historier, og da kan det vel hænde at Utro begyndte at lye, og det saa Ørene vare færdige at falde af ham.
Men Bjørnen var sindt, han, og brummede og sagde: „Der har Nogen sladret om det, vi fortalte i Fjor, og derfor vil vi nu tie med det, vi veed,“ og saa bad Dyrene Godnat og gik fra hverandre, og Utro var lige klog. Det var fordi han hed Utro og var utro, det.
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