Tri sestre, ujete v gori

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Once upon a time there was an old widow who lived far from the village, high up beneath a ridge, with her three daughters. She was so poor that she owned nothing but a hen, and she cherished it as the apple of her eye; she clucked to it and tended it early and late. But one day, all of a sudden, the hen vanished. The woman went out and searched all round the cottage, calling and coaxing, but the hen was gone and stayed gone. “You must go out and look for our hen,” the woman said to her eldest daughter. “We must have her back, even if we have to fetch her out of the mountain.” So the daughter went out to look for her; she wandered here and there, searching and calling, but there was no hen to be found. Then she heard a voice from a rock face:

“The hen is tripping about in the mountain! The hen is tripping about in the mountain!” She went over to see what it was, but beside the rock face she fell through a trapdoor, deep, deep down into a vault beneath the ground. Down there she passed through many rooms, each finer than the last, but in the innermost room a great ugly mountain troll came towards her. “Will you be my sweetheart?” he asked. No, she said, she certainly would not; she wanted to go straight back up and look for her hen, which had gone missing.

Then the troll grew so angry that he seized her, twisted off her head, and threw both head and body down into the cellar. Her mother sat at home waiting and waiting, but no daughter came back. She waited a good while longer, but when she neither saw nor heard anything of her, she told the middle daughter to go out and look for her sister;

“and you can call the hen at the same time,” she said. So the second sister went out, and exactly the same thing happened to her. She wandered about searching and calling, and all at once she too heard a voice from the rock face:

“The hen is tripping about in the mountain! The hen is tripping about in the mountain!” She thought this very strange, and went over to see what it was; then she too fell through the trapdoor, deep, deep down into the vault. She passed through all the rooms, but in the innermost one the troll came towards her and asked whether she would be his sweetheart. No, she certainly would not; she wanted to go straight back up and look for the hen that had gone missing. But then the troll grew angry; he seized her, twisted off her head, and threw both head and body down into the cellar.

When the woman had sat waiting for her second daughter for seven long ages and seven broad ones, with neither sight nor sound of her, she said to the youngest, “Now you really must be off and look for your sisters. It was bad enough to lose the hen, but it would be worse still if we never found your sisters again; and you can always call the hen at the same time.” So the youngest went out; she wandered here and there, searching and calling, but she saw neither the hen nor her sisters. At long last she too came towards the rock face, and heard a voice say:

“The hen is tripping about in the mountain! The hen is tripping about in the mountain!” She thought this curious, and went over to see; then she too fell through the trapdoor, deep, deep down into the vault.

Down there she passed through one room after another, each finer than the last; but she was not so easily frightened. She took her time and looked at everything, and so she also caught sight of the cellar hatch. She peered down through it and at once recognized her sisters, who lay dead below. She had only just closed the hatch again when the troll came towards her.

“Will you be my sweetheart?” asked the troll. “Yes, gladly,” said the girl, for she could well understand what had happened to her sisters. When the troll heard this, he gave her fine, fine clothes, the loveliest she could wish for, and anything else she wanted, so happy was he that someone would be his sweetheart.

But when she had been there some time, a day came when she was even more downcast and sorrowful than usual. The troll asked her what she was so sad about. “Oh,” said the girl, “it is because I cannot go home to my mother;

she must be hungry and thirsty, and there is no one with her.” “Well, I cannot let you go to her,” answered the troll, “but put some food in a sack, and I will carry it to her.” She thanked him and said she would do that; but in the bottom of the sack she packed a great deal of gold and silver, then laid a little food on top. She told the troll that the sack was ready, but he must on no account look inside it, and he promised not to. When the troll set off, she watched him through a little hole in the trapdoor. When he had gone some way, he said, “This sack is so heavy, I think I shall see what is in it,” and was about to undo the cord; but then the girl called, “I can see you! I can see you!” “The devil take those eyes of yours!” said the troll, and he dared not try it again. When he reached the widow’s cottage, he threw the sack in through the door. “Here is food from your daughter; she wants for nothing,” he said.

When the girl had been in the mountain another good while, a billy goat fell through the trapdoor one day. “Who sent for you, you shaggy brute?” said the troll, in a terrible rage. Then he seized the goat, twisted off its head, and threw it down into the cellar.

“Oh no, why did you do that?” said the girl. “I could have had it to amuse me down here.” “There is no need to put on such a long face,” said the troll. “I can soon bring the billy goat back to life.” With that he took a jar that hung on the wall, set the goat’s head back on its body, and smeared it with some of what was in the jar; then it was as good as ever. Aha! thought the girl. That jar is worth something!

When she had been with the troll another good while, she chose a day when he was away, took the eldest of her sisters, set her head back on her body, and smeared her with some of what was in the jar, just as she had seen the troll do with the billy goat;

and at once her sister came back to life. The girl packed her into a sack, laid a little food on top, and as soon as the troll came home she said to him, “My dear, you must go home to my mother with a little food again. She must be hungry and thirsty, poor thing, and she is all alone too;

but do not look in the sack!” Yes, he said, he would take the sack, and he would not look inside it either. But when he had gone some way, he thought the sack was growing terribly heavy, and when he had walked a little farther, he said he would have a look at what was inside. “Whatever sort of eyes she has, she cannot see me now,” he said to himself. But just as he was about to undo the cord, the sister sitting inside the sack said, “I can see you! I can see you!” “The devil take those eyes of yours!” said the troll, for he thought it was the girl in the mountain speaking. He dared not try to look inside again, but carried the sack straight to the mother as fast as he could, and when he reached the cottage door, he threw it inside. “Here is food from your daughter; she wants for nothing!” he said.

When the girl had been in the mountain another good while, she did the same with her other sister: she set her head back on her body, smeared her with some of what was in the jar, and packed her into the sack. This time, though, she put as much gold and silver on top of her as the sack would hold, and a little food at the very top. “My dear,” she said to the troll, “you must go home to my mother with a little food again; but do not look in the sack!” Yes, the troll was quite willing to oblige her, and he promised not to look in the sack. But when he had gone some way, he thought the sack was terribly heavy;

and when he had walked a little farther, he could carry it no longer. He had to put it down and rest. He was about to undo the cord and look inside when the sister in the sack called, “I can see you! I can see you!” “The devil take those eyes of yours!” said the troll, and after that he dared not look in the sack again, but hurried as fast as he could and carried it straight to the mother.

When he reached the cottage door, he threw it inside. “Here is food from your daughter; she wants for nothing!” he said. After the girl had been there another good while, the troll was going out one day, and she pretended to be poorly and ill, moaning and making a great fuss. “There is no use coming home before twelve o’clock,” she said, “for I cannot have the food ready before then; I am so poorly and ill.” As soon as the troll had gone, she stuffed her clothes with straw and set this straw girl in the corner by the hearth with a stirring stick in her hand, so that it looked as though she herself were standing there. Then she slipped away home, and got a marksman to stay in the cottage with her mother.

At twelve o’clock, or a little after, the troll came home. “Give me something to eat!” he said to the straw girl. No, she did not answer. “Give me something to eat, I say!” the troll said again, “for I am hungry!” No, she did not answer.

“Give me something to eat!” screamed the troll for the third time. “And I advise you to heed what I say, or I shall find a way to wake you up!” No, the girl stood quite still. Then he flew into such a rage that he kicked her, sending bits of straw flying against the ceiling and the walls. But when he saw this, he knew something was wrong and began searching everywhere. At last he went down into the cellar too; both the girl’s sisters were gone, and he understood at once what had happened. “She shall pay for this!” he said, and set off for the mother’s cottage. But when he reached it, the marksman fired, and the troll dared not go in, for he thought it was thunder. He raced home again as fast as he could, but just as he reached the trapdoor, the sun rose, and he burst. There must still be plenty of gold and silver there, if only one knew where the trapdoor was!

Izvirnik

Der var engang en gammel Enke, hun boede affides fra Bygden, langt oppe under en Aas med de tre Døttrene sine. Hun var saa fattig, at hun ikke eiede Andet end en Høne, og den havde hun saa kjær som Øiesteen sin; den kaglede hun for og den stelte hun med, baade tidlig og seent. Men en Dag, retsom det var, saa blev Hønen borte. Konen gik da ud, rundt omkring Stuen, og ledte og lokkede; men Hønen var borte og blev borte. „Du faaer ud og prøve at see efter Hønen vor, du,“ sagde Konen til den ældste Datteren, „have den igjen maae vi, om vi saa skal tage den ud af Bjerget.“ Ja, Datteren skulde da ud at see efter den; hun gik baade hid og did og ledte og lokkede, og ingen Høne borte i en Bjergvæg:

„Hønen tripper i Bjerget! „Hønen tripper i Bjerget!“ Hun skulde da hen at see, hvad det var, men ved Bjergvæggen faldt hun gjennem en Lem, dybt, dybt ned i en Hvælving under Jorden. Dernede gik hun frem igjennem mange Værelser, det ene gjildere end det andet, men i det inderste kom en stor styg Bjergmand til hende. „Vil du være Kjæeresten min, du?“ spurgte han. Nei sagde hun, det vilde hun slet ikke; hun vilde strax op igjen og see efter Hønen sin, som var bleven borte.

Saa blev Bjergmanden saa sindt, at han tog hende og vred Hovedet af hende, og kastede Krop og Hoved ned i Kjælderen. Moderen sad hjemme og ventede og ventede, men ingen Datter kom der igjen. Hun ventede endda en god Stund, men da hun hverken hørte eller saa noget til hende, sagde hun til den mellemste Datteren, at hun fik gaae ud og see efter Søstren sin; „og Hønen kan du lokke paa med det samme,“ sagde hun.

Den anden Søster skulde da ud, og hende gik det netop lige eens; hun gik og ledte og lokkede, og med Eet saa hørte hun ogsaa, det sagde borte i Bjergvæggen: „Hønen tripper i Bjerget! „Hønen tripper i Bjerget!“ Det syntes hun var underligt; hun skulde da hen og see, hvad det var, og saa faldt hun ogsaa gjennem Lemmen dybt, dybt ned i Hvælvingen. Der gik hun igjennem alle Værelserne, men i det inderste kom Bjergmanden til hende og spurgte om hun vilde værre Kjæresten hans? Nei, det vilde hun slet ikke, hun vilde strax op igjen og lede efter Hønen, som var bleven borte, hun. Men saa blev Bjergmanden sindt; han tog hende og vred

Hovedet af hende, og kastede Hoved og Krop ned i Kjælderen. Da nu Konen ogsaa havde siddet og ventet paa den anden Datter i syv Lange og syv Brede, og der ingen Datter var at høre eller see, sagde hun til den yngste: „Nu faaer rigtig du i Veien og see efter Søstrene dine. Galt var det at Hønen blev borte, men endnu galere blev det, skulde vi ikke finde Søstrene dine igjen; men Hønen kan du altid lokke paa med det samme.“ Ja, den yngste skulde da ud; hun gik hid og did og ledte og lokkede, men ikke saa hun Hønen og ikke saa hun Søstrene sine. Langt om længe kom hun ogsaa bort imod Bjergvæggen; saa hørte hun det sagde: „Hønen tripper i Bjerget!

„Hønen tripper i Bjerget!“ Det syntes hun var rart; hun skulde da bort og see, og saa faldt hun ogsaa igjennem Lemmen, dybt, dybt ned i Hvælvingen. Dernede gik hun igjennem det ene Værelse gjildere end det andet; men hun var ikke saa ræd hun; hun gav sig god Tid og saa baade paa det Ene og det Andet, og saa fik hun ogsaa Øie paa Kjælderlemmen; hun saa dernedi, og strax kjendte hun Søstrene sine, som laae døde der. Med det samme hun vel havde faaet lukket Kjælderlemmen igjen, kom Bjergmanden til hende.

„Vil du være Kjæresten min du?“ spurgte Bjergmanden. „Ja gjerne det,“ sagde Gjenten, for hun kunde nok forstaae, hvorledes det var gaaet med Søstrene hendes. Da Troldet hørte det, fik hun gjilde, gjilde Klæder af ham, de deiligste hun kunde ønske sig, og Alt, hun ellers vilde have, saa glad blev han ved det at Nogen vilde være Kjæresten hans. Men da hun havde været der en Tid, var det en Dag, hun var endda mere stuur og bedrøvet, end hun pleiede. Saa spurgte Bjergmanden hende hvad det var, hun sturede for. „Aa,“ sagde Gjenten, „det er fordi jeg ikke kan komme hjem til Moder min; hun baade sulter og tørster vist, og der er Ingen hos hende.“ „Ja, gaae til hende kan du ikke faae Lov,“ svarede Troldet, „men

stop noget Mad i en Sæk, saa skal jeg bære den til hende.“ Ja, det takkede hun for, det skulde hun gjøre, sagde hun; men paa Bunden af Sækken stoppede hun en Mængde Guld og Sølv, og saa lagde hun lidt Mad ovenpaa, og sagde saa til Troldet, at nu var Sækken færdig, men han maatte slet ikke see ned i den og det lovede han ogsaa, han ikke skulde gjøre. Da saa Bjergmanden gik, skottede hun ud efter ham i et lidet Hul, som var paa Lemmen; da han var kommen et Stykke paa Veien, sagde han: „Den er saa tung denne Sækken, jeg vil nok see, hvad der er i den, jeg,“ og vilde til at løse op Sækkebaandet; men saa raabte Gjenten: „Jeg seer dig nok! Jeg seer dig nok!“ „Det er da Pokker til Øine i Hovedet paa dig ogsaa da!“ sagde Troldet,

og saa turde han ikke prøve paa det mere. Da han var kommen did, hvor Enken boede, kastede han Sækken ind gjennem Stuedøren. „Der har du Mad fra Datteren din; det lider ikke paa hende,“ sagde han. Da nu Gjenten havde været i Bjerget endnu en god Stund, faldt der en Dag en Gjedebuk ned gjennem Lemmen. „Hvem er det, som har sendt Bud efter dig, dit langraggede Best!“ sagde Troldet, han var fælt vild, og saa tog han Bukken og vred Hovedet af den og kastede den ned i Kjælderen.

„Aa nei, hvorfor gjorde du det da?“ sagde Gjenten, „den kunde jeg havt at more mig med hernede.“ „Du behøver ikke at sætte op Bededagsansigt for det, veed jeg,“ sagde Troldet, „jeg kan snart skaffe Liv i Gjedebukken igjen, jeg.“ Dermed tog han en Krukke, som hang paa Væggen, satte Hovedet paa Gjedebukken og smurte den af Krukken, saa var den lige god igjen. Haa, haa! tænkte Gjenten, den Krukken er nok Noget værd, den.

Da hun saa havde været hos Troldet endnu en god Tid, passede hun paa en Dag, Troldet var borte, tog den ældste af Søstrene og satte Hovedet paa hende og smurte hende af Krukken, saaledes som hun havde seet Troldet gjorde med Gjedebukken; og strax kom Søsteren til Live igjen. Gjenten stoppede hende da ned i en Sæk, lagde lidt Mad ovenpaa, og saa snart Troldet kom hjem igjen, sagde hun til ham: „Kjærre Vene, nu faaer du gaae hjem til Moer min med lidt Mad igjen; hun baade tørster og sulter vist, Stakkel, og alene er hun ogsaa; men se ikke i Sækken!“ Ja Sækken skulde han gaae med, sagde han, og see i den skulde han heller ikke; men da han kom et Stykke paa Veien, syntes han, Sækken blev saa fælt tung, og da han havde gaaet endda en Stund, sagde han, at han nok

vilde see, hvad der var i Sækken; „hvordan Øine der er skabt paa hende, saa kan hun da ikke see mig nu,“ sagde han ved sig selv. Men med det samme, han vilde til at løse op, sagde hun, som sad i Sækken: „Jeg seer dig nok! Jeg seer dig nok!“ „Det var da Pokker til Øine i Hovedet paa dig, ogsaa da!“ sagde Troldet, for han troede det var hende i Bjerget som talte. Han turde da ikke prøve at see nedi mere, men bar Sækken lige til Moderen det forteste han kunde, og da han kom til Stuedøren, kastede han den ind igjennem; der har du Mad fra Datteren din; det lider ikke paa hende!“ sagde han.

Da nu Gjenten havde været i Bjerget endda en god Stund, gjorde hun det samme med den anden Søster; hun satte Hovedet paa hende, smurte hende af Krukken og stoppee hende i Sækken; men den Gang fyldte hun ovenpaa saa meget Guld og Sølv, som fik Rum i Sækken, og allerøverst lagde hun lidt Mad. „Kjærre, Vene,“ sagde hun til Troldet, „nu faaer du gaae hjem til Moder min med lidt Mad igjen; men se ikke i Sækken!“ Ja, Troldet vilde gjerne føie hende i det, og han lovede ogsaa, at han ikke skulde see i Sækken. Men da han kom et Stykke paa Veien, blev Sækken saa fælt tung, syntes han; og da han havde gaaet endda et Stykke, orkede han ikke at bære den; han maatte sætte den ned og hvile; han vilde da til at løse op Sækkebaandet og see nedi; men saa raabte hun, som

var i Sækken: „Jeg seer dig nok! Jeg seer dig nok!“ „Det er da Pokker til Øine i Hovedet paa dig, ogsaa da!“ sagde Troldet, og saa turde han ikke see i Sækken meer, men skyndte sig det meste han kunde, og bar Sækken lige til Moderen. Da han kom udenfor Stuedøren, kastede han den ind igjennem; „der har du Mad fra Datter din; det lider ikke paa hende!“ sagde han. Da saa Gjenten havde været der endda en god Tid, skulde Troldet ud engang; saa lød Gjenten, som hun var ussel og syg, og suttrede og bar sig. „Det kan ikke nytte, du kommer hjem før Klokken tolv,“ sagde hun, „for før kan jeg ikke faae Maden færdig; jeg er saa ussel og syg.“ Da nu Troldet vel var gaaet,

stoppede hun Klæderne sine ud med Halm og satte denne Halmgjenten bort i Krogen ved Skorstenen med en Tvare i Haanden, saa det saa ud, som det var hende selv, der stod der. Derpaa listede hun sig hjem, og fik med sig en Skytter til at være i Stuen hjemme hos Moderen. Da Klokken var tolv eller vel det, kom Troldet hjem. „Giv mig noget Mad!“ sagde han til Halmgjenten. Nei, hun svarede ikke. „Giv mig noget Mad, siger jeg!“ sagde Troldet igjen, „for jeg er sulten!“ Nei, hun svarede ikke.

„Giv mig noget Mad!“ skreg Troldet tredie Gang „og jeg raader dig til, du hører det, jeg siger, ellers skal jeg prøve at vække dig, jeg!“ Nei, Gjenten stod lige stille. Saa blev han saa vild, at han spændte til hende, saa Halmstubbene foer baade i Tag og Vægge. Men da han saa det, mærkede han Uraad og begyndte at lede allesteds, og tilsidst kom han ogsaa ned i Kjælderen; der vare begge Søstrene til Gjenten borte, og saa skjønnede han strax hvorledes det var gaaet til. „Ja, det skal hun faae betale!“ sagde han, og lagde i Veien did, hvor Moderen boede. Men da han kom til Stuen, skjød Skytteren; saa turde Troldet ikke gaae ind, for han troede det var Tordenen. Han satte da hjem igjen, det forteste han orkede,

men med det samme han kom til Lemmen, randt Solen, og saa sprak han. Der er vist Guld og Sølv nok endnu; den som bare vidste, hvor Lemmen var!

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