Popular Tales from Norse Mythology

George Webbe Dasent

• Publisher: Dover Publications
• Year: 2012
• Print ISBN: 9780486418124
• eBook ISBN: 9780486119748
• Topic: Social Sciences
• Subtopic: European History
• Index: Social Sciences

Embodying the fears, fantasies, and forebodings of the people who lived in northern Europe when the world was a darker and more frightening place, these 42 authentic folktales were culled from the rich legacy of Norse and German mythology by noted folklorist George Webbe Dasent. They include stories of princes and princesses who have been transformed into animals, trolls, and maneating giants who possess magical powers, and good-hearted, clever young men and women, often poor and ridiculed, who eventually come away with wealth and love beyond measure.
In addition to such well-known favorites as "Dapplegrim," "Katie Woodencloak," "Tatterhood," and "Legend of Tannhäuser," this collection also brings to light many gems difficult to find elsewhere. In "The Werewolf," a cruel stepmother thwarts a beautiful princess's marriage plans by transforming her fiancé into a hunted denizen of the forest. The hilarious "Such Women Are" proves the world is never without a sufficiency of fools, while "The Three Dogs" tells of a youth whose four-legged friends defeat a serpent with the nasty habit of devouring a town's young women. Among many other hard-to-find stories are "King Gram," "The Magician's Pupil," "The Outlaw," "Temptations," "The Widow's Son," "The Three Sisters Trapped in a Mountain," and "The Goatherd" (the inspiration for Washington Irving’s story of Rip van Winkle).
These stories preserve the ancient myths of Western Europe that have been passed down from generation to generation, but aside from their importance as seminal folktales, they are simply good reading — full of passion and excitement, magic, mystery, and sheer storytelling power. Popular Tales from Norse Mythology will delight any student or admirer of myths and mythology.

THE BLUE BELT.

ONCE on a time there was an old beggar-woman, who had gone out to beg. She had a little lad with her, and when she had got her bag full, she struck across the hills towards her own home. So when they had gone a bit up the hill-side, they came upon a little blue belt, which lay where two paths met, and the lad asked his mother’s leave to pick it up.

“No,” said she, “may be there’s witchcraft in it;” and so with threats she forced him to follow her. But when they had gone a bit further, the lad said he must turn aside a moment out of the road, and meanwhile his mother sat down on a tree-stump. But the lad was a long time gone, for as soon as he got so far into the wood, that the old dame could not see him, he ran off to where the belt lay, took it up, tied it round his waist, and lo! he felt as strong as if he could lift the whole hill. When he got back, the old dame was in a great rage, and wanted to know what he had been doing all that while. “You don’t care how much time you waste, and yet you know the night is drawing on, and we must cross the hill before it is dark!” So on they tramped; but when they had got about half-way, the old dame grew weary, and said she must rest under a bush.

“Dear mother,” said the lad, “mayn’t I just go up to the top of this high crag while you rest, and try if I can’t see some sign of folk hereabouts?”

Yes! he might do that; so when he had got to the top, he saw a light shining from the north. So he ran down and told his mother.

“We must get on, mother; we are near a house, for I see a bright light shining quite close to us in the north.” Then she rose and shouldered her bag, and set off to see; but they hadn’t gone far, before there stood a steep spur of the hill, right across their path.

“Just as I thought!” said the old dame; “now we can’t go a step farther; a pretty bed we shall have here!”

But the lad took the bag under one arm, and his mother under the other, and ran straight up the steep crag with them.

“Now, don’t you see! don’t you see that we are close to a house! don’t you see the bright light?”

But the old dame said those were no Christian folk, but Trolls, for she was at home in all that forest far and near, and knew there was not a living soul in it, until you were well over the ridge, and had come down on the other side. But they went on, and in a little while they came to a great house which was all painted red.

“What’s the good?” said the old dame, “we daren’t go in, for here the Trolls live.”

“Don’t say so; we must go in. There must be men where the lights shine so,” said the lad. So in he went, and his mother after him, but he had scarce opened the door before she swooned away, for there she saw a great stout man, at least twenty feet high, sitting on the bench.

“Good evening, grandfather!” said the lad.

“Well, here I’ve sat three hundred years,” said the man who sat on the bench, “and no one has ever come and called me grandfather before.” Then the lad sat down by the man’s side, and began to talk to him as if they had been old friends.

“But what’s come over your mother?” said the mar, after they had chattered a while. “I think she swooned away; you had better look after her.”

So the lad went and took hold of the old dame; and dragged her up the hall along the floor. That brought her to herself, and she kicked, and scratched, and flung herself about, and at last sat down upon a heap of fire-wood in the corner; but she was so frightened that she scarce dared to look one in the face.

After a while, the lad asked if they could spend the night there.

“Yes, to be sure,” said the man.

So they went on talking again, but the lad soon got hungry, and wanted to know if they could get food as well as lodging.

“Of course,” said the man, “that might be got too.” And after they had sat a while longer, he rose up and threw six loads of dry pitch-pine on the fire. This made the old hag still more afraid.

“Oh! now he’s going to roast us alive,” she said, in the corner where she sat.

And when the wood had burned down to glowing embers, up got the man and strode out of his house.

“Heaven bless and help us! what a stout heart you have got,” said the old dame; “don’t you see we have got amongst Trolls?”

“Stuff and nonsense!” said the lad; “no harm if we have.”

In a little while back came the man with an ox so fat and big, the lad had never seen its like, and he gave it one blow with his fist under the ear, and down it fell dead on the floor. When that was done, he took it up by all the four legs, and laid it on the glowing embers, and turned it and twisted it about till it was burnt brown outside. After that, he went to a cupboard and took out a great silver dish, and laid the ox on it; and the dish was so big that none of the ox hung over on any side. This he put on the table, and then he went down into the cellar, and fetched a cask of wine, knocked out the head, and put the cask on the table, together with two knives, which were each six feet long. When this was done, he bade them go and sit down to supper and eat. So they went, the lad first and the old dame after, but she began to whimper and wail, and to wonder how she should ever use such knives. But her son seized one, and began to cut slices out of the thigh of the ox, which he placed before his mother. And when they had eaten a bit, he took up the cask with both hands, and lifted it down to the floor; then he told his mother to come and drink, but it was still so high she couldn’t reach up to it; so he caught her up, and held her up to the edge of the cask while she drank; as for himself, he clambered up and hung down like a cat inside the cask while he drank. So when he had quenched his thirst, he took up the cask and put it back on the table, and thanked the man for the good meal, and told his mother to come and thank him too, and a-feared though she was, she dared do nothing else but thank the man. Then the lad sat down again alongside the man and began to gossip, and after they had sat a while, the man said—

“Well! I must just go and get a bit of supper too;” and so he went to the table and ate up the whole ox—hoofs, and horns, and all—and drained the cask to the last drop, and then went back and sat on the bench.

“As for beds,” he said, “I don’t know what’s to be done. I’ve only got one bed and a cradle; but we could get on pretty well if you would sleep in the cradle, and then your mother might lie in the bed yonder.”

“Thank you kindly, that’ll do nicely,” said the lad; and with that he pulled off his clothes and lay down in the cradle; but, to tell you the truth, it was quite as big as a four-poster. As for the old dame, she had to follow the man who showed her to bed, though she was out of her wits for fear.

“Well!” thought the lad to himself; “’twill never do to go to sleep yet. I’d best lie awake and listen how things go as the night wears on.”

So after a while the man began to talk to the old dame, and at last he said—

“We two might live here so happily together, could we only be rid of this son of yours.”

“But do you know how to settle him? Is that what you’re thinking of?” said she.

“Nothing easier,” said he; at any rate he would try. He would just say he wished the old dame would stay and keep house for him a day or two, and then he would take the lad out with him up the hill to quarry corner-stones, and roll down a great rock on him. All this the lad lay and listened to.

Next day the Troll—for it was a Troll as clear as day —asked if the old dame would stay and keep house for him a few days; and as the day went on he took a great iron crowbar, and asked the lad if he had a mind to go with him up the hill and quarry a few corner-stones. With all his heart, he said, and went with him; and so, after they had split a few stones, the Troll wanted him to go down below and look after cracks in the rock; and while he was doing this, the Troll worked away, and wearied himself with his crowbar till he moved a whole crag out of its bed, which came rolling right down on the place where the lad was; but he held it up till he could get on one side, and then let it roll on.

“Oh!” said the lad to the Troll, “now I see what you mean to do with me. You want to crush me to death; so just go down yourself and look after the cracks and rifts in the rock, and I’ll stand up above.”

The Troll did not dare to do otherwise than the lad bade him, and the end of it was that the lad rolled down a great rock, which fell upon the Troll, and broke one of his thighs.

“Well! you are in a sad plight,” said the lad, as he strode down, lifted up the rock, and set the man free. After that he had to put him on his back and carry him home; so he ran with him as fast as a horse, and shook him so that the Troll screamed and screeched as if a knife were run into him. And when he got home, they had to put the Troll to bed, and there he lay in a sad pickle.

When the night wore on the Troll began to talk to the old dame again, and to wonder how ever they could be rid of the lad.

“Well,” said the old dame, “if you can’t hit on a plan to get rid of him, I’m sure I can’t.”

“Let me see,” said the Troll; “I’ve got twelve lions in a garden; if they could only get hold of the lad they’d soon tear him to pieces.”

So the old dame said it would be easy enough to get him there. She would sham sick, and say she felt so poorly, nothing would do her any good but lion’s milk. All that the lad lay and listened to; and when he got up in the morning his mother said she was worse than she looked, and she thought she should never be right again unless she could get some lion’s milk.

“Then I’m afraid you’ll be poorly a long time, mother,” said the lad, “for I’m sure I don’t know where any is to be got.”

“Oh! if that be all,” said the Troll, “there’s no lack of lion’s milk, if we only had the man to fetch it;” and then he went on to say how his brother had a garden with twelve lions in it, and how the lad might have the key if he had a mind to milk the lions. So the lad took the key and a milking pail, and strode off; and when he unlocked the gate and got into the garden, there stood all the twelve lions on their hind-paws, rampant and roaring at him. But the lad laid hold of the biggest, and led him about by the fore-paws, and dashed him against the stocks and stones, till there wasn’t a bit of him left but the two paws. So when the rest saw that, they were so afraid that they crept up and lay at his feet like so many curs. After that they followed him about wherever he went, and when he got home, they laid down outside the house, with their fore-paws on the door sill.

“Now, mother, you’ll soon be well,” said the lad, when he went in, “for here is the lion’s milk.”

He had just milked a drop in the pail.

But the Troll, as he lay in bed, swore it was all a lie. He was sure the lad was not the man to milk lions.

When the lad heard that, he forced the Troll to get out of bed, threw open the door, and all the lions rose up and seized the Troll, and at last the lad had to make them leave their hold.

That night the Troll began to talk to the old dame again. “I’m sure I can’t tell how to put this lad out of the way—he is so awfully strong; can’t you think of some way?”

“No,” said the old dame, “if you can’t tell, I’m sure I can’t.”

“Well!” said the Troll, “I have two brothers in a castle; they are twelve times as strong as I am, and that’s why I was turned out and had to put up with this farm. They hold that castle, and round it there is an orchard with apples in it, and whoever eats those apples sleeps for three days and three nights. If we could only get the lad to go for the fruit, he wouldn’t be able to keep from tasting the apples, and as soon as ever he fell asleep my brothers would tear him in pieces.”

The old dame said she would sham sick, and say she could never be herself again unless she tasted those apples; for she had set her heart on them.

All this the lad lay and listened to.

When the morning came the old dame was so poorly that she couldn’t utter a word but groans and sighs. She was sure she should never be well again, unless she had some of those apples that grew in the orchard near the castle where the man’s brothers lived; only she had no one to send for them.

Oh! the lad was ready to go that instant; but the eleven lions went with him. So when he came to the orchard, he climbed up into the apple tree and ate as many apples as he could, and he had scarce got down before he fell into a deep sleep; but the lions all lay round him in a ring. The third day came the Troll’s brothers, but they did not come in man’s shape. They came snorting like man-eating steeds, and wondered who it was that dared to be there, and said they would tear him to pieces, so small that there should not be a bit of him left. But up rose the lions and tore the Trolls into small pieces, so that the place looked as if a dungheap had been tossed about it; and when they had finished the Trolls they lay down again. The lad did not wake till late in the afternoon, and when he got on his knees and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, he began to wonder what had been going on, when he saw the marks of hoofs. But when he went towards the castle, a maiden looked out of a window who had seen all that had happened, and she said,—

“You may thank your stars you wern’t in that tussle, else you must have lost your life.”

“What! I lose my life! No fear of that, I think,” said the lad.

So she begged him to come in, that she might talk with him, for she hadn’t seen a Christian soul ever since she came there. But when she opened the door the lions wanted to go in too, but she got so frightened, that she began to scream, and so the lad let them lie outside. Then the two talked and talked, and the lad asked how it came that she, who was so lovely, could put up with those ugly Trolls. She never wished it, she said; ’twas quite against her will. They had seized her by force, and she was the King of Arabia’s daughter. So they talked on, and at last she asked him what he would do; whether she should go back home, or whether he would have her to wife. Of course he would have her, and she shouldn’t go home.

After that they went round the castle, and at last they came to a great hall, where the Trolls’ two great swords hung high up on the wall.

“I wonder if you are man enough to wield one of these,” said the Princess.

“Who?—I?” said the lad. “ ’Twould be a pretty thing if I couldn’t wield one of these.”

With that he put two or three chairs one a-top of the other, jumped up, and touched the biggest sword with his finger tips, tossed it up in the air, and caught it again by the hilt; leapt down, and at the same time dealt such a blow with it on the floor, that the whole hall shook. After he had thus got down, he thrust the sword under his arm and carried it about with him.

So, when they had lived a little while in the castle, the Princess thought she ought to go home to her parents, and let them know what had become of her; so they loaded a ship, and she set sail from the castle.

After she had gone, and the lad had wandered about a little, he called to mind that he had been sent on an errand thither, and had come to fetch something for his mother’s health; and though he said to himself, “After all, the old dame was not so bad but she’s all right by this time,”—still he thought he ought to go and just see how she was. So he went and found both the man and his mother quite fresh and hearty.

“What wretches you are to live in this beggarly hut,” said the lad. “Come with me up to my castle, and you shall see what a fine fellow I am.”

Well! they were both ready to go, and on the way his mother talked to him, and asked, “How it was he had got so strong?”

“If you must know, it came of that blue belt which lay on the hill-side that time when you and I were out begging,” said the lad.

“Have you got it still?” asked she.

“Yes,”—he had. It was tied round his waist.

“Might she see it?”

“Yes, she might;” and with that he pulled open his waistcoat and shirt to show it to her.

Then she seized it with her hands, tore it off, and twisted it round her fist.

“Now,” she cried, “what shall I do with such a wretch as you? I’ll just give you one blow, and dash your brains out!”

“Far too good a death for such a scamp,” said the Troll. “No! let’s first burn out his eyes, and then turn him adrift in a little boat.”

So they burned out his eyes and turned him adrift, in spite of his prayers and tears; but, as the boat drifted, the lions swam after, and at last they laid hold of it and dragged it ashore on an island, and placed the lad under a fir tree. They caught game for him, and they plucked the birds and made him a bed of down; but he was forced to eat his meat raw, and he was blind. At last, one day the biggest lion was chasing a hare which was blind, for it ran straight over stock and stone, and the end was, it ran right up against a fir-stump and tumbled head over heels across the field right into a spring; but lo! when it came out of the spring it saw its way quite plain, and so saved its life.

“So, so!” thought the lion, and went and dragged the lad to the s...

Table of contents

• THE INSPIRATION OF NORSE IMAGINATION.
• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Table of Contents
• INTRODUCTION. - NORSE POPULAR TALES.
• KING GRAM.
• HELGI, SON OF HIORWARD.
• LEGEND OF TANNHAUSER.
• THE WEREWOLF. - SWEDISH.
• THE PRINCESS ON THE GLASS MOUNTAIN. - FROM SOUTH SMALAND.
• THE THREE DOGS.
• THE WIDOW’S SON.
• THE THREE AUNTS.
• SUCH WOMEN ARE; OR, THE MAN FROM RINGERIGE AND THE THREE WOMEN.
• TOLLER’S NEIGHBOURS.
• THE MAGICIAN’S PUPIL.
• TEMPTATIONS.
• THE OUTLAW.
• THE BLUE RIBAND. - FROM MARNE.
• THE MAN WITHOUT A HEART. - FROM MELDORF.
• THE SEVEN RAVENS.
• THE LITTLE CUP OF TEARS.
• THE MAN IN THE MOON.
• LORA, THE GODDESS OF LOVE.
• THE GOATHERD. - (THE STORY WHICH SUGGESTED TO WASHINGTON IRVING THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW—RIP VAN WINKLE.)
• THE DWELLER IN THE ILSENSTEIN.
• THE ROSSTRAPPE; OR, HORSE’S FOOT-MARK.
• KING WALDEMAR.
• WHY THE SEA IS SALT.
• THE TWELVE WHITE PEACOCKS.
• THE MASTER-SMITH.
• GUDBRAND ON THE HILL-SIDE.
• THE BLUE BELT.
• THE THREE PRINCESSES OF WHITELAND.
• RICH PETER THE PEDLAR.
• THE BEST WISH.
• THE HUSBAND WHO WAS TO MIND THE HOUSE.
• FARMER WEATHERSKY.
• LORD PETER.
• BOOTS AND HIS BROTHERS.
• TATTERHOOD.
• KATIE WOODÉNCLOAK.
• SORIA MORIA CASTLE.
• THE LAD WHO WENT TO THE NORTH WIND.
• THE CAT ON THE DOVREFELL.
• THE THREE SISTERS WHO WERE ENTRAPPED INTO A MOUNTAIN.
• THE BOY THAT STOLE THE GIANT’S TREASURE.