Icelandic
                              Fairy Tales

                        Translated and Edited by
                            Mrs. A. W. Hall

                     With Original Illustrations by
                              E. A. Mason

                                 London
                         Frederick Warne & Co.
                              And New York
                                  1897

PREFACE

Fairy Tales seem scarcely to require any preface, but in publishing
these quaint Norse legends, a few explanatory remarks may not be out of
place.

In their original form, many of the stories are somewhat crude and
rough for juvenile reading. This it has been the Editor’s endeavour to
ameliorate by eliminating all objectionable matter, while at the same
time preserving the originality and local colouring which most of them
possess.

It will be found that though some bear a similarity to the well-known
standard fairy tales, which have been the delight of countless children
for many generations, yet they all possess an originality peculiarly
their own.

It is remarkable too that, whereas in most southern legends it is
always the prince who delivers the princess and performs the heroic and
valorous deeds, in these tales it is for the most part the young
princess or peasant maiden who undergoes all the hardships and trials,
and after countless dangers rescues the prince who has fallen under the
ban of some wicked witch or giantess.

The story of the five brothers, one of the quaintest, is an exceedingly
effective illustration of the old proverb of the bundle of sticks.

A strong moral tone runs more or less through all the tales, exhibiting
the higher and better qualities of human nature.

CONTENTS

    CHAPTER                                                        PAGE

    THE LEGEND OF THE KING’S THREE SONS                              11

    HELGA                                                            35

    THORSTEIN

    I.      How Thorstein lost his Kingdom                           46
    II.     His Arrival at the Giant’s Castle                        50
    III.    The Mystery of the Locked Room                           59
    IV.     How Thorstein’s Kind Actions received their Reward       68

    SIGURD

    I.      Sigurd Finds a Friend in his Stepmother                  73
    II.     He wrestles with the Giant Sisters                       79
    III.    His Meeting with Helga                                   84
    IV.     His Escape on the Wonderful Horse Gullfaxi               90

    LINEIK AND LAUFEY                                                95

    THE FIVE BROTHERS                                               116

    HERMOD AND HADVÖR                                               127

    INGEBJÖRG                                                       147

    HANS

    I.      Hans Starts on his Travels                              157
    II.     His Wonderful Adventures, and how he returned Good
            for Evil                                                166

    THE GIANTESS AND THE GRANITE BOAT                               176

    GREYBEARD

    I.      The Strange Adventures of Geir                          189
    II.     How Greybeard outwitted the King and won Princess
            Sigrid                                                  196

    LITILL, TRITILL, THE BIRDS, AND THE PEASANT LAD                 210

    LAUGHING INGIBJÖRG

    I.      Thorwald and Ingibjörg are cruelly treated by their
            stepmother, who tries to get rid of them                224
    II.     How Thorwald and Ingibjörg found themselves at the
            Witch’s Island, and what they did                       232
    III.    Their Further Adventures and Escape                     236
    IV.     The King’s Return, and Queen Guda’s Release from the
            Witch’s Thrall                                          242

    THE THREE PEASANT MAIDENS

    I.      How Queen Hertha fell from her High Estate              248
    II.     What had befallen the Two Little Princes and their
            Sister                                                  253
    III.    Olga’s Courage rescues Her Brothers, Queen Hertha
            is restored to her Husband, and the Parents recover
            their Children                                          258

    THE FAIR AND THE DARK ISOLDE

    I.      Death of the Queen. The King remarries, and proceeds
            on a Tour through his Kingdom                           267
    II.     What Befalls “Fair Isolde” after her Father has gone    273
    III.    “Fair Isolde” escapes, and disguises herself            278
    IV.     Fertram falls under a Spell, and is betrothed to
            “Dark Isolde”                                           281
    V.      The Spell is broken, and the Wicked Queen’s Designs
            are frustrated                                          285

    PRINCE HLINI                                                    291

    FERTRAM AND HILDUR                                              303

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

                                                                   PAGE
“The Shield rose up in the Air”                            Frontispiece
“When Randur appeared before the ‘Thing’”                            33
“She saw a Big Three-Headed Giant”                                   39
“He saw a Young Girl fastened to a Nail in the Wall by her
Long Plaits of Hair”                                                 61
“He then hid himself behind a Projecting Rock”                       65
“A Gigantic Woman appeared”                                          80
“Helga gave a Cry of Terror”                                         91
“She appeared more like Some Terrible Giantess”                     104
“Creeping forth from her Tree, greatly to Laufey’s Surprise”
                                                            To face 109
“A Monstrous Hand opened the Lattice”                               123
“With One Spring Hadvör was outside the Grave”                      137
“There the Rat and Mouse were fighting and biting One Another”      145
“‘Ay, you shall have your Wish, he muttered’”                       149
“Hans at once saw that it was a Dragon”                             162
“Kurt hoped the Giantess might be asleep”                   To face 169
“Forth stepped the Beautiful White-Robed Figure”                    185
“The Grey Man, hanging apparently Lifeless from the Branch”         200
“They saw a Figure all blazing with Light”                          206
“Harald pitied the Old Man”                                         215
“Queen Guda rolled the Stone into the Sea”                          231
“Just let me catch you”                                     To face 240
“Olga went bravely up the Rock”                                     261
“‘Don’t leave me here,’ cried Fair Isolde”                          275
“The Old Cook was sitting on a Stool shelling Peas”                 283
“Signy entered very softly”                                         294
“She was dressed as a Simple Peasant”                               314

ICELANDIC FAIRY TALES

THE LEGEND OF THE KING’S THREE SONS

In olden days there once lived a king and a queen; they were wise and
good, and their kingdom was known far and near as the happiest and
best-governed country in the world. They had three sons—Osric, Edric,
and Frithiof,—all handsome and brave and greatly beloved by their
parents; but, having no daughter, the king had adopted his little
orphan niece Isolde. She grew up with his sons, and was their
best-loved playfellow, both the king and queen making no distinction
between her and their own children.

As the princess grew older, she also grew fairer, till when she was
sixteen years old there was no maiden in the land so beautiful and
sweet as Isolde. All three brothers fell in love with her and wanted to
marry her, each in turn asking his father for her hand in marriage.

Now the king was greatly puzzled what to do, for he loved his sons all
equally well, so at length he decided that the princess should choose
for herself, and select the one she liked best. He therefore sent for
her, and told her that she was herself to choose as a husband whichever
of his sons she liked best.

“It is my duty as well as my pleasure to obey you, dear father,” said
Isolde; “but when you tell me to choose one of the princes as my
husband, you give me a very difficult task, for they are all equally
dear to me.”

When the king heard these words, he saw that his troubles were by no
means at an end, so he thought for a long time how he could best find a
way that would satisfy all parties, and at last decided to send all
three sons away for a year. At the end of that time they were to
return, and whoever had succeeded in bringing back the most precious
and valuable thing from his travels should receive the hand of Isolde
as his reward.

The three princes were quite willing to accept these terms, and
arranged among themselves that at the end of the year they would all
meet at their hunting-lodge and thence go together to the king’s palace
with their gifts; so, bidding farewell to their parents and Isolde,
they started off on their different journeys.

Osric, the eldest son, travelled from city to city, and explored
various foreign countries, without finding anything precious enough to
take home. At last, when he had almost given up all hope, he heard
that, not very far from where he then was, there lived a princess who
possessed a wonderful telescope, which was so powerful that one could
see all over the world with it. No country was too distant, and not
only could one see every town, but also every house and tree, and even
people and animals inside the houses.

“Surely,” thought Osric, “no one could find a more precious or valuable
thing than this glass, for nothing is hidden from it.” So, having
arrived at the castle where the princess dwelt, he told her the object
of his journey, and asked whether she would sell him her telescope.

At first the princess said she would not part with it, but when Osric
told her how much depended on his taking back so valuable a gift, she
consented to let him have it for a very large sum of money.

The prince did not mind this; he only thought the gold well spent, and
hastened homewards, full of hope that he would secure the hand of
Isolde.

Prince Edric fared much the same as his elder brother. He also
travelled about in distant countries, seeking in vain for something
rare and precious to bring home. At last, when the year was nearly at
an end, he reached a large and populous town, and in the inn where he
lodged he met a man who told him that in a cave outside the town there
lived a curious little dwarf called Völund, [1] who was famed for his
rare skill in all kinds of metal-work.

“Perhaps,” thought the prince, “he might be able to make me some rare
and costly article worthy to take back.” So he went to the dwarf, but
when he told him what he wanted, the dwarf said he was very sorry, but
he had quite given up working in metals.

“The last thing I made was a shield,” he continued, “but that is many
years ago now. I made it for myself, and am unwilling to part with it,
for not only is it almost the finest bit of work I ever did, but it has
also some very special properties.”

“And what are these special properties?” asked the prince.

“Well,” replied the dwarf, “it is not only a perfect safeguard in
battle, as no ordinary sword or arrow can pierce it, but if you sit on
it, it will carry you all over the world, through the air as well as
across the water. But there are some old runes, or ancient letters,
carved on the shield, which he who guides it must be able to read. But
I will show it you.”

So saying, he went to the back of the cave and brought forth a
beautiful shield, worked in gold, silver, and copper, the runic letters
being all formed of precious stones.

When Edric saw the shield and heard of its wonderful properties, he
thought it would not be possible to find anything more rare or
valuable. He therefore told the dwarf how much depended on his bringing
back so precious a gift, and entreated him to let him purchase it; and
he was so importunate and urged him so strongly that, although loth to
part with it, when the dwarf heard how much depended on his securing so
rare a gift, he agreed to sell it him for a large sum of money. He also
taught him how to read the runes, and Edric, thanking him for
consenting to part with his shield, started on his homeward journey,
filled with hope and confidence that he must win the princess’s hand.

Frithiof, the youngest son, was the last to start. He determined to
travel through his own country first, so he wandered about from place
to place, stopping in this town and that village, and wherever he met a
merchant, or hoped to find anything rare or beautiful, he made most
searching inquiries. All his efforts, however, proved fruitless. The
greater part of the year had already passed, and he was still as far as
ever from his goal, and he almost began to fear that no success would
crown his efforts.

At length he arrived at a large and populous town, where a big market
was being held, and numbers of people from all parts of the world came
thronging in, some to buy and some to sell. So he followed the crowd,
and then went on from stall to stall, and from one merchant to another,
inspecting their wares and chatting and asking for news. But though
there were many beautiful and many curious things, nothing specially
struck his fancy.

At length, tired and thirsty, he sat down beside a large fruit stall.
The merchant, seeing, as he thought, a likely customer, came forward
asking if he would not buy something—offering him grapes, peaches,
pineapples, and melons in turn.

But Frithiof shook his head; none of these tempted him, for on the very
top shelf he saw a magnificent crimson apple, streaked with green and
gold, lying on a bed of soft moss.

“I should like that apple,” said the prince, “and do not mind what I
pay for it. It is the only thing that I fancy, though all your fruit is
splendid.”

The merchant smiled, but shook his head.

“You have a quick eye,” he said to the prince, “for that apple is
indeed the rarest and most valuable thing I have. But it is not for
sale. It was given to one of my ancestors, who was a great doctor, by a
geni, and has the peculiar power, that if it is placed in the right
hand of any one who is sick, no matter how dangerous the illness, they
recover at once—ay, even if they are at the point of death—and many a
life it has saved.”

When the prince heard this, he wished more than ever to possess the
apple. He felt he could not possibly find anything that the princess,
who was so kind-hearted, would value more than the possession of this
apple, which would enable her to do good to others. He therefore
entreated the merchant to let him buy the apple, and when the man had
heard his tale, and all that depended upon his bringing back such a
rare and precious gift, he sold the apple to the prince, who, filled
with hope, now wended his way homewards.

And so it happened that, as they had arranged, the three brothers
arrived at the hunting-lodge, outside the capital, and after they had
related their adventures, Osric, the eldest, said, “Now let us hasten
to the palace, but before starting I should like to see what the
princess is doing.”

He thereupon drew forth his telescope and looked in the direction of
the palace, but no sooner had he done so, than an exclamation of terror
escaped his lips, for there on her couch lay the princess, white and
still as the driven snow, while beside her stood the king and queen and
the chief of the courtiers in a sorrowful group, sadly awaiting the
last breath of the fair Isolde.

When Osric beheld this grievous sight he was overwhelmed with grief,
and when his brothers heard what he had seen, they too were overcome
with sorrow. Gladly would each have given all they possessed to be back
in time, at least to bid her farewell.

Then Prince Edric remembered his magic shield, which would at once
carry them to the king’s palace, and, bringing it forth, the three
brothers seated themselves on it, and the shield rose up in the air and
in a few seconds they had reached the palace, and hastened up to the
princess’s chamber, where they found all the court assembled, sadly
awaiting the end.

Then Frithiof remembered his apple. Now was the time to test its power.
Stepping softly up to the couch, he bent over the still white form of
the princess and gently placed the apple in her right hand. Immediately
a change was visible, it seemed as if a fresh stream of life passed
through her body. The colour returned to her lips and cheeks, she
opened her eyes, and after a few minutes she was able to sit up and
speak.

The general rejoicing at the princess’s wonderful and unexpected
recovery, and at the happy and opportune return of the three princes,
can be better imagined than described.

But as soon as she was quite well, the king, mindful of his promise,
called together a great “Thing,” or national assembly, at which the
brothers were to exhibit the treasures they had brought back, when
judgment would be pronounced.

First came the eldest brother Osric, with his telescope. This was
handed round for the people to see, while he explained its strange and
marvellous properties, stating how by means of this glass he had saved
the princess, for he had been able to see how ill she was. He therefore
considered that he had earned the right to claim the princess’s hand.

Then Edric, the second brother, stepped forth and showed the beautiful
shield he had got from the dwarf, and explained its peculiar power. “Of
what use would have been my brother’s glass,” he asked, “without this
shield, which carried us hither in time to save her life? I claim,
therefore, that it was really due to the power of my shield that the
princess is not dead, and that I ought therefore to possess her hand in
marriage.”

And now it was Frithiof’s turn to come forward with the apple. He said,
“I fear that neither the telescope which first showed us that the
princess was ill, nor the shield which so quickly brought us hither,
would have sufficed to restore the Princess Isolde to life and health,
had it not been for the magic power of my apple. For what good could
our mere presence have done her? Our seeing her thus and unable to help
her, would only have added to our grief and pain. It is due to my apple
that the princess has been restored to us, and I therefore think my
claim to her hand is the greatest.”

Then there arose much questioning and reasoning in the “Thing” as to
which of the three articles were of the greatest value, but as they
could come to no satisfactory agreement, the judges declared that all
three articles were of equal value, for they had all equally
contributed to restore the princess to life and health, for if one had
been missing, the other two would have been valueless. So judgment was
pronounced that, all three gifts being equally valuable, neither of the
brothers could claim the princess’s hand.

Then the king happily hit upon the idea of allowing his sons to shoot
for the prize, and whoever was adjudged the best shot should wed the
princess.

So a target was set up, and Osric, armed with bow and arrow, stepped
forth first.

Taking careful aim, he drew his bow, and the arrow sped forth, but it
fell some distance short of the mark.

Then Edric stepped forth. He too took careful aim, and his arrow fell
nearer the mark.

And now it was Frithiof’s turn. He too took a very careful aim, and all
the people said his arrow went beyond the mark, and that he was the
best shot, but when they came to look for it, behold, it could nowhere
be found. In vain search was made in all directions, no sign of the
arrow could be found. The king therefore decided that Edric had won the
princess’s hand. The wedding forthwith took place amid great splendour
and rejoicing, and the princess and her husband then went to her own
country, where they reigned long and happily. The eldest brother,
Osric, greatly vexed that he had not been successful, started off on a
long journey, and nothing more was heard of him. So only the youngest
brother was left at home. But he was not at all satisfied with the way
matters had turned out, for he had always been considered by far the
best shot. He therefore searched every day in the field where the trial
had taken place, looking for his arrow. At length, after many days, he
found it lodged in an oak tree, far beyond the mark. He brought
witnesses to attest the truth of this, and though there could be no
question that his arrow had gone the furthest, the king said it was now
too late to go into the matter, for the princess was married and gone
away.

Then Frithiof grew very restless. He thought he had been unfairly
treated, and at length decided to go away, so he packed up his
belongings, and, bidding his parents farewell, started off in search of
adventures.

After passing along the wide plains that surrounded the capital, he
climbed a high range of mountains, and from thence descended into a
great forest. Here he wandered about for several days, but whichever
way he turned, he could see nothing but trees all around him. The small
store of food he had taken with him when he started was exhausted, and
tired, hungry, and footsore, he sat down to rest on a large flat grey
stone, unable to proceed any further. He thought the end of his days
had surely come, when suddenly he heard the noise of horses’ feet, and
looking up he saw ten men mounted on horseback coming rapidly towards
him. They were all richly dressed and well armed, the last one leading
a finely caparisoned palfrey.

When they came to the prince, the leader dismounted, and, bowing low
before him, begged him to honour them by mounting the steed they had
brought with them.

Frithiof gratefully accepted this offer, and, mounting the horse, the
party turned back the way they had come, riding rapidly on till they
arrived at a large town. Before entering the gates they dismounted, the
prince alone remaining on horseback, and then led the prince in state
to the palace.

Now, it happened that a most beautiful young queen reigned over this
province. She had been left an orphan at an early age, her father
entrusting his chief ministers with the care and responsibility of
looking after her and finding her a worthy husband. Queen Hildegard
received the prince with much friendliness. She told him that her fairy
godmother had bestowed on her the gift of seeing, whenever she wished,
what happened in other countries.

“A wandering minstrel came here and told us of the wonderful journeys
you and your brothers had made, and also of your sorrow at your failure
in the shooting competition for the Princess Isolde’s hand, though you
were the best shot of the three. Then a great wish seized me to try and
make you happy, so I followed your wanderings after you left your
father’s palace, and when I saw you, sad and tired, resting on the
great stone in my forest, I sent forth some of my knights to meet you
and bring you back, and now, with the consent of my ministers, I invite
you to remain here as my husband. You shall rule over my kingdom, and I
will try, as far as lies in my power, to make you forget all the
trouble and anxiety you have gone through.”

Frithiof was charmed with the beauty and kindness of the maiden, and
gladly consented to share her throne, and very happy days followed for
both of them. The wedding was on the most magnificent scale, and after
they were married, Frithiof, according to the custom of the country,
took the reins of government in his hands, amid the general rejoicing
of the people.

And now we must return to the old king. Soon after his youngest son had
gone away the queen died, and the king, well advanced in years, felt
very lonely and dull. One day, while seated beside the great open
hearth, in the big audience hall, a pedlar woman entered and displayed
her wares before him. She told him her name was Brunhilde—she had
evidently travelled much—and amused the king with tales of where she
had been and what she had seen.

When she was going away, the king told her she might come again, which
she did, day after day, till the king got so interested in her talk,
that he never was happy unless Brunhilde was with him, and at length he
asked her to marry him and be his queen.

In vain the chief ministers and courtiers dissuaded him from taking
this step. The king was determined, and the wedding took place.

No sooner had Brunhilde gained her object, than she showed that she
meant to be a real queen, not merely one in name. She always sat beside
the king in council, and interfered in all State matters. He would do
nothing without consulting her, and no matter how wrong or unfair it
might be, he always did whatever she wished.

One day she said to him, “It seems very strange to me, that you have
never made any attempt to recall your son, who went away. Why, only the
other day we heard that he had become king of a neighbouring country.
You may depend upon it that, as soon as he has got a sufficiently large
army, he will come back and attack you here, in order to revenge
himself for the fancied wrong he imagines was done him, in the trial of
skill for the princess’s hand. Now, take my advice, call out your army,
attack him first, and so ward off the danger that threatens your
country.”

At first the king would not listen to what the queen said; and declared
she was only frightening herself for nothing. But Brunhilde brought
forward fresh arguments each day, till at length the king thought she
must be right, and asked her what he had better do, so that the prince
should not suspect anything.

“You must first send messengers to him with presents,” said the queen,
“and invite him to come and see you, so that you may arrange with him
about his succession to the throne after your death, and also to
strengthen the friendship and neighbourly relations between your two
countries. After that we will consult further.”

The king thought her advice very good, and at once sent messengers
laden with presents to his son.

When they arrived at Prince Frithiof’s court, they told the young king
how anxious his father was to see him, and hoped he would make no long
tarrying in coming to visit him.

Frithiof, greatly pleased with the handsome gifts his father had sent
him, at once agreed to go, and hastened to make all preparations for
his journey. But when Queen Hildegard heard of it she became very
anxious, and entreated her husband not to leave her.

“I feel that some danger threatens you, and that you may even lose your
life,” she said.

But Frithiof laughed at her fears. “Surely you do not think my father
would entreat me to come to him if he meant to deal wrongly with me?
No, no, dear wife; set your heart at rest, and have no fears. I will
make but a short stay;” and so saying he bade her a fond farewell and
started off with the messengers, arriving after a short journey at his
father’s court.

But instead of the warm greeting promised him, to his surprise the king
received him but coldly, and began to reproach him for being so
undutiful as to go away.

“It was most unfilial behaviour,” broke in the queen, “and caused such
grief to your father that he was nearly at death’s door; and had
anything happened to him, your life would have been forfeited,
according to the laws of the land. As, however, you have given yourself
up willingly, and have come here when he sent for you, he will not
condemn you to death, but he gives you three tasks to perform, which
you must accomplish within the year.”

It was in vain that Frithiof declared he never meant to vex his father.
The queen would not let the old king speak, and said the only way
Frithiof could save his life was to carry out the tasks his father had
set him, which were as follows:—

“First, you must bring back a tent large enough to seat a hundred
knights, and yet so fine and thin that you can cover it with one hand;
secondly, you must bring me some of the famous water which cures all
sicknesses; and, thirdly, you must show me a man who is utterly unlike
any other man in the whole world.”

“And in what direction must I go to find these rarities?” asked
Frithiof.

“Nay, that is your affair,” said the king; when Brunhilde, taking his
arm, led him away into his own chamber; and Frithiof, without other
farewell, sorrowfully returned to his own kingdom.

On his arrival, Queen Hildegard hastened down to meet him, and seeing
him looking sad and silent, asked him anxiously how he had fared at his
father’s court.

At first Frithiof, not liking to frighten her, tried to put her off,
and made light of the scant courtesy shown him; but Hildegard, kneeling
down beside him, and taking his hand in hers, entreated him to conceal
nothing from her.

“I know you have had some difficult tasks given you, which will not be
easy to perform. But do not lose heart, dear husband. Tell me all, and
then we will see if some way cannot be found to carry them out. A thing
bravely faced is half accomplished, and it is not at all impossible
that with my kind godmother’s help I may be able to aid you. Tell me,
therefore, what makes you so anxious.”

Then Frithiof, taking heart, told Hildegard of the difficult tasks that
the queen had given him to do. “And if I fail to accomplish them within
the year I must forfeit my life,” he concluded.

“This is surely your stepmother’s doing,” said Hildegard. “She is a
jealous and, I fear also, a wicked woman. Let us hope she is not
planning any further mischief against you. She evidently thought these
tasks she gave you would be more than you could accomplish; but,
fortunately, I can help you in some of them. The tent your father wants
I happen to have; it was given me by my godmother, so that difficulty
is disposed of. Then the magic water which you are to bring is not far
from here. Nevertheless, it is not easy to get, for it is in a deep
well, inside a dark cave, which is guarded by seven lions and three
huge snakes. Several persons have tried to get in and fetch some of the
water, but no one has ever yet come back alive. I might give you some
poison to kill these monsters, but, unfortunately, the water loses all
its healing power if it is taken after the animals are dead. But I
think I may nevertheless be able to help you to get it.”

Queen Hildegard then sent for her cowherd, and he and his two
assistants drove seven oxen and three great boars to the mouth of the
cave. Here the animals were killed, and the carcases thrown down before
the lions and snakes. Then, while the monsters were gorging themselves
with the carcases of the dead animals, the queen told Frithiof to lower
her quickly down the well. She had provided herself with a large
crystal jar; this she immediately filled with the water, and when
Frithiof drew her up again, so exactly had she timed it, that they both
reached the mouth of the cave just as the lions and snakes were
finishing the last morsels of their meal. Thus the second task was
safely accomplished, and Frithiof and Hildegard hastened back to the
palace.

“The two first tasks are happily ended,” said Hildegard; “but the third
and most difficult one still remains to be done, and this you must
carry out by yourself. All I can do is to tell you how best to set to
work about it. You must know that I have a half-brother, called Randur.
He lives on an island not very far from here. He is nine feet high, has
one big eye in the middle of his forehead, and a black beard thirty
yards long, and as hard and stiff as pigs’ bristles. He also has a
dog’s snout instead of a mouth and nose, and a pair of green cat’s
eyes. In truth, it would be impossible to find another creature like
him. When he wants to go from one place to another, he swings himself
along by means of a great pole fifty yards long, and in this way he
almost seems to fly through the air like a bird. The island on which he
lives forms about one-third of my father’s kingdom, and my brother
thought he ought to have had a larger share. Then, also, my father had
a wonderful ring which my brother wished to keep, but this also fell to
my share, and since then my brother has shut himself up in his island.
Now, however, I will write to him, enclosing the ring he always
coveted. Perhaps that may dispose him to be more friendly to us, and we
may get him to go to the king’s court; for I know no one else who could
so well fulfil the third task given you. Now, therefore, you must go to
him, accompanied by a large following of knights and squires, for that
will please him. When you come near his castle, take off your crown,
and approach his throne bareheaded. He will then stretch forth his
hand, and you must bend your knee and kiss it, and then hand him my
letter and the ring. If after reading it he tells you to rise and seat
yourself beside him, we may hope that he will aid us. And now, good
luck attend you!”

Frithiof followed the queen’s instructions exactly. When he arrived at
the three-eyed king’s palace, both he and his attendants were greatly
startled at the frightful ugliness of the three-eyed monarch; but
quickly recovering himself, Frithiof handed him Hildegard’s letter and
the ring. When the giant saw the ring he seemed greatly pleased, and
said—

“I suppose my sister wants my help in some important matter, that she
sends me so valuable a present?”

He then bade Frithiof sit down beside him, and, having read his
sister’s letter, he said he was quite ready to help and carry out her
wishes.

He then stretched out his hand, grasped the long pole that always
rested near him, and in an instant he had swung himself out of sight.

The king feared at first that Randur had gone away altogether and left
them, but a loud shout told them he had only gone in advance. And thus
they went on, the giant waiting for them every now and then, and when
they reached him scolding them well for being so slow and dilatory; in
this way they at last arrived at the queen’s palace, and Randur at once
asked Hildegard what it was she wanted him to do.

The queen then told him what Frithiof’s father had required of her
husband, and begged her brother to accompany Frithiof back to his
father’s court. Randur, greatly pleased at having at last got the ring
he so much coveted, declared himself quite ready to do as she desired.
So they started off at once for the old king’s palace, which they
reached without any further adventures.

Frithiof announced his arrival to his father; but though he informed
him that he had obtained the three things required of him a year ago,
he carefully kept Randur in safe hiding till his presence should be
required, and asked that a “Thing” might be called together, in order
that he might show the people how he had succeeded in carrying out the
tasks assigned him.

So the old king issued a proclamation all through the land, and on the
appointed day so great was the interest and curiosity of every one,
from the king and his courtiers down to the very poorest labourer and
herdboy, that there was hardly standing-room in all the great “Thing”
valley.

Queen Brunhilde was furious at the thought that Frithiof should have
been successful, but she still hoped that, when the things were brought
to light, it would be found that he had failed in something.

The tent was produced first. When it was fairly set up, it was so large
and roomy that a hundred knights and squires easily found room inside,
yet it was so finely wrought, that when closed any one could cover it
with their hand. So all the people declared Prince Frithiof had fully
acquitted himself of his first task.

Then the prince brought forth the crystal jar with the healing water,
and handed it to his father. Queen Brunhilde, who was getting quite
yellow with anger, insisted upon tasting it to see whether it was the
right water and taken at the right time, so as not to lose its healing
qualities. But as she was quite well, no sooner had she tasted the
healing water, than she felt very ill, and had to take a second taste
ere she was well again. So the second task was pronounced to have also
been successfully accomplished.

“Now,” said the king, “there only remains the third and last task, and
that was the most difficult one. See that you have not failed in that”

Then Frithiof sent for the three-eyed giant, whom he had kept in safe
hiding till now.

When Randur appeared before the “Thing,” springing into their midst by
means of his long pole, everyone, but especially the old king, started
back in fear; they could not imagine how he had got there, and thought
he must have flown down from the skies. Never before had they seen so
hideous a creature. But, not taking any notice of the crowd, Randur
walked up to the queen, and placing the point of his long pole against
her chest, he raised her up in the air, and then hurled her to the
ground, when she fell down dead, and was immediately transformed into
the hideous old giantess she really was. Having accomplished this,
Randur made his way out of the “Thing,” and returned to his island.

Frithiof devoted all his efforts to restore and nurse the old king,
who, through anxiety and fright, had nearly been at death’s door. But a
few drops of the healing water sprinkled over him quickly restored him,
and being freed by the queen’s death from all her wicked enchantments,
he speedily recovered his former good sense, and found that all the
faults he had thought his son guilty of, were only the inventions of
wicked Queen Brunhilde.

He therefore called Frithiof to his bedside, and begged him to forgive
him all the injury he had tried to do him.

“I am only anxious now to make up to you, my dear son, for all you have
suffered, and beg you never to leave me again. I will gladly hand over
the kingdom to you, and live beside you in peace and quiet for the rest
of my days.”

So Frithiof was reconciled to his father, and at once sent messengers
to Hildegard, telling her what had happened, and begging her to hasten
to him. Queen Hildegard, when she received her husband’s message,
decided to give up her small kingdom to her brother, as a reward for
all he had done for them; and then, accompanied by some of her
husband’s ablest courtiers and friends, she rejoined Frithiof, and the
old king, happy at having his son again, lived to a good old age,
surrounded by his grandchildren and great-grandchildren.

HELGA

An old man and his wife once lived in a cottage beside the sea, far
away from any other habitations. They had three daughters; the eldest
was called Fredegond, the second Olga, and the youngest Helga.

Now, although the parents were not rich, owning only a few acres of
land, which they tilled themselves, Fredegond and Olga were treated as
if they were princesses. They never did any work, but sat all day
amusing themselves and decking themselves in any finery their father
brought them home from the neighbouring town, whilst Helga, who was far
more beautiful and clever than either of her sisters, was always kept
in the background. She never shared in any pleasures that her elder
sisters often enjoyed; no presents were ever brought home for her; but
all day long, from early morning till late at night, poor Helga had to
work and toil for the whole family, receiving nothing but sour looks,
often accompanied by blows, from the elder sisters.

Now, it happened one day that the fire on their hearth had been allowed
to go out. Helga was busy working in the fields, and as they had to
send a long way to fetch fresh fire, the old man told Fredegond she
must go for it

At first Fredegond grumbled, for she was trying to dress her hair in a
new way; but then she thought a walk through the woods might be
pleasant, so she started.

After she had gone some little distance, she came to a hillock, and
heard a deep voice saying, “Would you rather have me with you or
against you?”

Fredegond, thinking it was some labourer or woodcutter, said she did
not care in the least, and that it was very impertinent of him to
address her, and went on to the cave whence they fetched their fire.

When she got there, to her great surprise she saw a big cauldron,
filled with meat, boiling on the fire, and beside it stood a pan,
filled with dough, waiting to be made into cakes, but not a creature in
sight.

Fredegond, being very hungry after her long walk, stirred up the fire
beneath the cauldron, to make the meat boil quickly, and then began
baking some cakes. But although she made one specially nice for
herself, she let all the others burn, so that they were quite
uneatable. Then as soon as the meat was cooked she took a bowl from a
shelf, filled it with all the best bits, and sat down and made a good
meal, finishing up with the cake.

Just as she had finished, a big black dog ran up to her, and began
wagging his tail and begging for some food. But Fredegond angrily gave
him a slap, and chased him away. Then the dog grew angry, and, jumping
upon her, bit one of her hands.

Screaming with fright and pain, Fredegond jumped up, and, in her hurry
to get away, forgot all about the fire she was to bring, and ran home
to tell her parents what had happened.

They were very sorry, both for her sore hand, which they bathed and
bandaged, and the lack of the fire. It was really very unfortunate, for
that cave was the nearest place where they could procure some fire, as
it was generally used by charcoal-burners. So, though very unwilling to
send Olga, who was their pet and favourite, she had to go, for they all
feared that if Helga were sent, she might run away and never come back
again. And then there would be no one on whom to vent their bad
tempers, or to do the work of the whole household—for did she not wait
on father and mother and both her sisters? So it was decided that Olga
should go.

But, alas! Olga fared even worse than her sister. She was so spoilt,
that she thought she ought always to have the best of everything. So,
when she reached the cave, she too helped herself to all the best bits
of meat, and, making a nice cake for herself, threw the rest of the
dough on the fire.

Then when the dog came up to her and wagged his tail and sat up and
begged for some food, Olga took up some of the boiling broth and threw
it on him. This made the dog so angry that he jumped up and bit off the
point of her nose; and Olga ran home crying and screaming, with only
half a nose and no fire.

This time the parents were quite beside themselves with anger, and
decided that Helga must go and fetch the fire. If she succeeded, well
and good; and if not, why, the dog might eat her, for all they cared.
It would be a good riddance.

So, taking up the big fire-shovel, Helga went on her way to the cave.
As she passed the hillock, she too heard a voice, saying, “Would you
rather I was with you than against you?”

To this question she answered, “A well-known proverb says, ‘There is
nothing so bad that it is not better to have it on your side than
against you;’ so, as I do not know who you are who ask me this
question, I would rather that you were with me than against me.”

And hearing nothing further and seeing no one, Helga continued her way
till she reached the cave. Here she found everything the same as her
sisters had done. The cauldron was on the fire, and the dough was ready
for baking, but, instead of thinking only of herself, Helga looked
after the meat, and saw that it was nicely cooked; then, with great
care, she made up the dough into cakes, and never thought of taking
anything for herself, although she was very hungry, for she had had
nothing for her breakfast but some hard, dry crusts, and a glass of
cold water. Neither would she now help herself to any of the fire
without asking leave from the owner of the cave.

Feeling very tired after her long walk, Helga sat down on a bench to
rest. But she had hardly done so, when she heard a loud rumbling noise;
the ground began to tremble; and Helga, fearful that the cave might
fall in, rose hastily from her seat. But as she turned to run out, she
saw a big, three-headed giant standing at the entrance of the cave,
followed by a large black dog.

Helga was terribly frightened; but being fond of animals, she held out
her hand and patted the dog, and she quite regained courage when the
giant, in a kind voice, said, “You have done the work well, which you
found waiting here. It is only right, therefore, that you should get
your share. Sit down, therefore, on that bench, and share my dinner;
afterwards you can take home some of the fire you have come for.”

The giant then got a bowl from the shelf and helped Helga to some broth
out of the big cauldron, carefully giving her the tenderest bits of
meat. As he did so, the ground again began to shake and tremble, and
fearful noises, like claps of thunder, frightened Helga greatly.

But the giant in a gentle voice bade her sit down beside him, and she
finished her broth.

Then the giant got up and gave her one of the cakes she had baked; but
no sooner had she finished it, than the ground again began to shake and
tremble, the thunder pealed, and flash after flash of lightning lit up
the inside of the cave. Helga got so terrified that she ran up to the
giant for protection, and as she clung to his arm the noises ceased,
and as the darkness passed away Helga saw that the giant had
disappeared, and that she was holding on to the arm of a handsome young
prince.

“Nay, do not be frightened,” he said; “I can never thank you enough,
dear Helga, for you have rescued me from the horrible enchantment the
wicked fairy Gondomar pronounced on me at my birth. I am Torquil, the
son of King Osbert, who reigns in the neighbouring island; but because
my father refused to marry Gondomar, and chose my mother instead, the
wicked fairy condemned me to go through life a three-headed monster,
until some young girl should, despite my frightful appearance, place
full trust and confidence in me.”

As Prince Torquil said these words, he seated himself beside Helga on a
stone, thickly covered with soft green moss. Then Helga told him her
history, and why she came to the cave, and also the fate of her sisters
who had gone to the cave on the same errand, adding that she must
hasten back with the fire, else her father and mother would scold and
beat her.

“You shall not be ill treated any more,” replied Torquil; and he went
to the back of the cave, and presently returned, carrying a casket and
a small bundle in his hands.

“See, this casket contains gold, and pearls, and precious stones,” he
said. “You can give some of these to your sisters; but this,” and he
placed the bundle on a stool, “you must wear under your own dress, when
you get home, and be very careful that no one sees it.”

So saying, he undid the bundle, and unfolded a beautiful dress of cloth
of gold, all worked with silver and precious stones.

Helga could not repress a cry of admiration when she saw the lovely
gown, and warmly thanked the prince for all his beautiful gifts.

Torquil then filled her fire-shovel with burning coals, and carried it
for her some part of the way home; but ere they came in sight of the
cottage he stopped, and, taking her hand, placed a heavy gold ring on
her finger.

“Keep this ring, dear Helga,” he said, “and let no one take it from
you. It will not be long ere I come to claim my bride, but I must first
return to my parents and tell them the joyful news that the wicked
charm is broken at last.” With these words he took a loving farewell of
Helga, and started her on her homeward journey.

When she reached the cottage, and her parents saw that she had
succeeded in bringing back the fire, Helga, for once in her life,
received a kind word of welcome; but when she showed them the casket
and was about to give her sisters some of the jewels, they seized upon
it, and dividing the contents among themselves, returned Helga the
empty casket. They might also have taken away her beautiful dress, but,
after Torquil left her, she had taken the precaution to slip it on
under her old gown, so no one knew anything about it.

And thus some days passed on. Matters relapsed into their former way.
Fredegond and Olga did nothing all day but deck themselves with the
jewels out of the casket, quarrelling and fighting over them and Helga,
as before, had to do the work for the whole family, when one day the
mother, who had been to the higher meadow for some herbs she wanted,
came back and said that she had seen a beautiful big ship lying at
anchor on the shore below their cottage.

The old man hastened down to the strand to find out who the owner of
the fine vessel might be, and seeing a boat pulling off from it, he
waited till the stranger, who was a handsome young man, had landed, and
then entered into conversation with him. But though he plied him with
many questions, he could not find out his name.

Then the young man in his turn began to question him, and asked him how
many children he had.

“Only two daughters,” replied the old man, “and such good and beautiful
girls they are too,” he added.

“I should much like to see them,” said the stranger.

The old man, greatly delighted, led the way back to his cottage, where
his two eldest daughters had hurried on their best frocks and decked
themselves with all the jewels out of Helga’s casket.

The stranger expressed himself as being very pleased with the girls.

“But,” he asked, “why has one of your daughters got her hand tied up
with a cloth, and the other one a handkerchief fastened across her
nose?”

At first the father said they had met with an accident, and slipped
down the cliffs; but when the stranger pressed for further particulars,
the story of the dogs and the cave had to be told.

“But surely you have another daughter?” said the stranger; “one who, I
know, is always kind to all animals.”

At first the old man and his wife both declared they only had those two
daughters; but when the stranger kept on urging him, he at last
admitted that he had another girl. “But she is so ugly, lazy, and
wicked,” he added, “that she is more like some wild animal than a human
being.”

But the stranger said he did not mind that at all, and that he must see
her. So the old man was obliged at last to call Helga.

The poor girl came out from the kitchen dressed just as she was, in her
shabby old dress, when the young man went up to her; and as he took her
hand the ragged old gown slipped from her shoulders, and there, to the
astonishment and rage of her sisters, stood Helga, arrayed in the
beautiful garment the prince had given her.

Prince Torquil rated the old man and the two wicked sisters soundly for
all their unkindness to Helga. He also made the sisters give up all the
jewels they had taken from her. But Helga begged that they might be
allowed to keep a few; and the prince consenting, she gave each of them
two chains, two brooches, two bracelets, and two pairs of ear-rings.
Then Torquil led Helga down to the shore and took her on board his
beautiful ship, where his sister gave her a kindly welcome; and when
they reached his own country, King Osbert and his queen prepared a
great wedding-feast, and Torquil and Helga were married, and lived long
and happily together.

THORSTEIN

CHAPTER I.

HOW THORSTEIN LOST HIS KINGDOM.

There once reigned a king and queen, a long, long time ago, who had an
only child, a son called Thorstein.

The lad was brave, strong, and handsome, and was greatly beloved by
every one on account of his kind-heartedness and open-handed
generosity.

But as years passed and he attained to man’s estate, his
indiscriminating kindness was often taken advantage of. His father and
mother tried to check him, pointing out that heedless generosity often
did more harm than good; but Thorstein could not be brought to believe
that kindness could ever be wrong or do harm, and continued to give to
every one who asked him, as long as he had anything he could part with.

At length the king and queen died. On their death-bed they again
endeavoured to impress upon their son that a good and wise king must
not only reign with kindness, but also with justice; but though
Thorstein, who loved his parents dearly, and was terribly grieved at
the idea of losing them, promised he would do his best and bear their
wise counsel in mind, no sooner were the burial ceremonies concluded
and he was crowned king, than all his good resolves to be firm and
discriminating were scattered to the winds.

He kept open house for all who choose to come, gave gifts to all who
asked, so that all the riches and treasure his wise father had so
carefully collected began very speedily to disappear, without any one
being really the better or happier for them.

So quickly indeed did all he had inherited vanish, that ere many months
had passed he had nothing left but the kingdom itself; and then
realizing the truth, that a penniless king has but small authority or
power, he decided to part with his throne, and thus have some money
wherewith to make a fresh start in life.

There was no difficulty in finding a purchaser, and Thorstein, in
exchange for a horse and a sack filled with gold and silver, parted
with his inheritance.

But when he had once sold his kingdom, his so-called friends, who had
been so numerous before, now speedily began to drop off, and as the
sack got emptier, so did his companions grow fewer in number.

“There will soon be nothing more to be got out of him,” they said. “A
fool and his money is soon parted.” So they gradually deserted him.

Then, when it was too late, Thorstein began to realize the sad plight
he had brought himself to, and determined to quit the country, and
leave his false friends behind him. He therefore put together the few
things he had left, placed them on the horse he had bought, and
mounting his own fine chestnut, which he could never bring himself to
part with, he started off on his travels.

For a long time Thorstein wandered on over desolate moors and through
dark sombre forests, not knowing or caring where he went or what became
of him. He had no friends, not a single creature to care for, or who
loved him, so he allowed the horses to roam where they listed, letting
them graze whenever they came to any fresh grass, but beyond this never
resting or pausing anywhere.

Once, when they had stopped to graze near a tiny stream on the banks of
which the grass looked specially fresh, he got off his horse, and
throwing himself down on the ground almost made up his mind to go no
further. Why not rest there till death overtook him? But even as this
thought flashed through him, he raised his eyes towards the west, where
the sun was just setting in a bed of crimson and gold, flushing all the
distant peaks of the great snow-capped mountains with magic rainbow
hues.

Whilst still lost in wondering admiration at the gorgeous spectacle,
the rosy clouds suddenly parted, and a star of exquisite brilliancy
shot down a ray of light that seemed to touch Thorstein’s face, and he
heard a voice saying: “Fear not, Thorstein, but go forth on thy travels
with a brave heart. Learn from the mistakes of thy youth, that
indiscriminate open-handedness is neither just nor kind, but only does
harm, and that a true sovereign must also be a father to his people.”

And even as the voice died away, the rosy light gradually faded from
sky and mountain, and the pale golden moon rose and shed its soft
silvery radiance over earth and sky.

Thorstein started to his feet. He felt the warm blood coursing quickly
through his veins; and whistling to his horses, who came obedient to
his call, he mounted his noble chestnut with a light heart, fully
determined to seek his fortune.

CHAPTER II.

HIS ARRIVAL AT THE GIANT’S CASTLE.

For some time he followed the rough track across the open plain, but
presently he arrived at a small farm. Knocking at the door, he asked
the old man who opened it if he might rest the night there.

“Oh yes,” replied the man; “if you don’t mind taking things as you find
them, you are very welcome.”

Thorstein thanked him kindly, and after stabling his horses in the shed
at the back, threw himself down on the rushes that were lying in one
corner of the room, the farm servants occupying the opposite corner,
and the old man sleeping in a third corner, the remaining one being
filled by the huge stove.

Thorstein, tired out with his long day’s journey, slept soundly all
night, but when he woke next morning he was surprised to find the
farmer and his men had already gone out.

Fearing lest some treachery might be meditated, he sprang up from his
bed and rushed out of the house.

There, to his surprise, he saw the farmer and all his men busily at
work with their pitchforks, digging and raking up the earth from a
large tumulus, or grave, at some little distance from the farm.

Thorstein hurried up to the farmer, and asked him what he was doing,
and why he was disturbing the grave.

“I have very good reason for doing so,” replied the man; “the man who
lies buried there owes me two hundred dollars!”

“But,” said Thorstein, “no amount of digging will give you back the
money he owed you! On the contrary, you are losing your own time as
well as that of your men, and you will probably, in addition, get fined
for disturbing the grave.”

But the farmer was obstinate. He said he did not care. Only he was
quite determined that the dead man should not rest peacefully in his
grave, while he owed him all that money, and that he and his men would
continue to dig and stir up the ground day after day.

Then Thorstein asked him if he would be satisfied and let the man rest
in his grave if some one else paid the dead man’s debt.

“Oh yes!” answered the farmer; “but I don’t see where that man is
likely to come from, as he had no sons.”

Then Thorstein drew forth his purse, which contained the last of his
money, and gave it to the farmer in payment of the debt. The farmer
thanked him warmly, and promised not to disturb the grave any more.

So Thorstein bade his host farewell; but ere he left he asked him which
road he should take, so as to reach a populous neighbourhood, where he
might chance to get some work to do.

“You must continue along this same road,” replied the farmer, “until
you come to four cross-roads. Then don’t take the road that goes east,
but take the one that goes west.”

Thorstein thanked him, and rode away. After some time he arrived at the
cross-roads, and took the rode to the west, as the farmer had advised
him. But he had not gone very far when he thought he would rather like
to know why the man had said he should not go the other way.

“Perhaps there are giants or some other dangers one may meet,” thought
Thorstein; so he promptly turned back till he arrived at the
cross-roads, when he proceeded along the road leading east.

For some time he saw nothing new or strange. The road wound among many
small fields and brushwood, with here and there some groups of tall,
dark pine-trees; but after passing through a narrow defile, he suddenly
came to a large, deep valley, in the centre of which rose a fine big
house, standing quite by itself on a steep, rocky mound. At first he
could see no way of getting up to it, but presently he noticed a narrow
path, almost hidden by trees and thicket; so, fastening his horses to a
stake, he made his way up to the house.

As he approached he saw the door was wide open and no one anywhere
about. Thorstein therefore went in and came into a big hall, in which
stood two huge beds, one on each side, covered with rich silken
hangings, while down the middle ran a table, ready laid with two
plates, two knives and forks, two great goblets of rarely chased
silver, and two large golden flagons of wine. But no one was visible
here either.

After waiting a short time, to see if the owners would appear,
Thorstein went down the hill again to look after his horses, for he
thought he might as well stay the night in the house, even if there
were a little danger in so doing. So he lifted the saddles off the
horses, tethered them with sufficient length of rope that they could
both graze and lie down comfortably, and then took all he needed out of
his saddlebags, with his sword, which, after his favourite chestnut,
was his most precious possession. Then, giving a last look to the
horses to see they were all right, he returned to the house, and going
to the kitchen, he brought thence some bread and the meat which was
roasting before the fire.

Cutting this up carefully, he placed a good portion in each plate,
together with a large slice of bread; he then went to the beds, shook
up the pillows, and made them all ready for the night. After this,
feeling rather tired, he thought he would lie down and rest. He did
not, however, venture to occupy either of the beds, but threw himself
down on some mats that lay in a corner, carefully pulling one over him.

After lying awake for some time, Thorstein was just dropping off to
sleep when he heard loud underground rumblings. Presently the door was
thrown open, and he heard heavy steps crossing the floor.

Then a loud, gruff voice exclaimed: “Some one has been here! but
whoever it is, we shall soon put an end to him.”

“No,” answered another voice, “that you shall not do! I take him,
whoever it may be, under my protection; I have the right to do this,
for it is my turn, and can dispose of him as I like. He came here of
his own free will, and has shown himself both able and willing to be
useful. He has made our beds, prepared our food, and all has been well
done. Let him now show himself and no harm shall befall him.”

When Thorstein heard these words, he once again began to breathe
freely, and throwing back the rug he had drawn over him, stood up
before them.

The young men were regular giants, both in size and strength,
especially the elder, who had taken his part, and who was quite a head
taller than his brother.

Thorstein then went to fetch another plate and cup, and shared in the
giants’ meal, after which the two brothers retired to their beds,
Thorstein again taking possession of his rugs, where he soon fell
soundly asleep, never waking till long after the sun had risen.

Then, while they were at breakfast, the elder giant, whose name was
Osric, asked Thorstein whether he would stay on with them; that all he
would have to do would be to get their meals ready for them and make
their beds. He might also keep his horses in their stables; and as to
food and wine, Thorstein would only have to tell them what was needed,
and they would always keep the larder and cellar filled, so that
Thorstein need never leave the hill.

Thorstein said he would try it for a week. At the end of that time the
giants were so well pleased with him, that they urged him to remain
with them, for a year, at any rate; and though Thorstein found the life
rather dull and stupid, he agreed to stop, Osric, the elder giant,
promising him a rich reward at the end of his term. He then handed him
the keys of all the rooms in the house, except one key, and this the
giant always wore fastened to a string round his neck, only taking it
off at night when he went to bed.

When the two brothers had gone off on their daily expeditions,
Thorstein made a regular round of the house, looking into the
storerooms, cellars, and every room except the one of which Osric kept
the key. In vain he tried all the keys on his bunch, hoping one of them
might open the lock; but in vain. He then tried to force open the door
by throwing himself against it with all his might; but in this also he
failed.

Later on, Thorstein noticed that Osric always went into this room every
night and morning, while Bifrou, the younger giant, waited for him
outside. So one day he asked Osric why, when handing him the keys of
all the other rooms, he had kept back this one.

“Surely,” he continued, “if you have found me faithful in all you have
entrusted me with, you might also trust me with what is in that room.”

But Osric said there was really nothing particular in the room.
Thorstein might be quite sure of that, for, having found him so
faithful and honest respecting everything placed under his care, they
would certainly also have trusted him if there had been anything
valuable in that room.

But although Thorstein pretended that he was quite satisfied with the
giant’s answer, he made up his mind to solve the mystery in some way.

At length the end of the year arrived, and the two giant brothers, well
pleased to have secured so careful a servant, gave him as his wages two
great sacks filled with gold. They had never been made so comfortable
before, and again begged Thorstein to remain another year.

To this Thorstein would not agree, but said he would remain six months,
as he was more than ever determined to find out the mystery of the
locked room.

He therefore carefully watched every opportunity, hoping Osric might
perhaps by chance leave the key behind him. But the giant was much too
careful to do so.

One morning, when Thorstein had risen particularly early, in order to
bake the bread, the thought of the locked chamber came constantly
before him, and while kneading the dough he kept puzzling his head as
to how he could circumvent the giant. Suddenly a bright idea struck
him. Creeping softly to the back door, which led into the stable yard,
he gave a loud knock, and then ran back as quickly as he could to the
room where the giants were sleeping, and asked them, with a scared face
(holding the dough he had been kneading in his hands), whether they had
not heard some one knocking.

“Oh yes,” they both replied; “we did hear something, but we thought it
was you knocking down a chair while you were sweeping.”

Thorstein declared he had not knocked down anything, and added that he
was afraid to open the door, for he was quite positive some one had
knocked there.

The giants said he was quite right not to open it, for it might be some
unfriendly giant; so they got up themselves, and ran to the door to see
who had disturbed them at that early hour in the morning.

No sooner had they left the room than Thorstein drew forth the key of
the mysterious chamber, which the biggest giant always kept under his
pillow at night, and quickly taking an impression of it in the dough he
had in his hand, replaced the key in its former place.

When the brothers came back they were not a little put out, for of
course they found no one at the door, and declared that Thorstein had
only said it in order to make fun of them.

But this Thorstein denied stoutly, and maintained that he had heard
some one knocking, and supposed, whoever it was, must have run away.

CHAPTER III.

THE MYSTERY OF THE LOCKED ROOM.

As soon as the giants had gone forth that day to seek for treasure, as
usual, Thorstein tried to make a key at the giants’ forge from the
impression he had taken in the dough; but many and fruitless were the
trials ere he succeeded. Then, watching his opportunity, when the
brothers had gone on a long expedition, he unlocked the forbidden door,
and entered the mysterious chamber.

At first he could see nothing, for it was almost dark, the single
window being heavily barred and shuttered. But having struck a light,
he glanced eagerly round. There, to his amazement and horror, he saw a
young girl fastened to a nail in the wall by her long plaits of hair.

Mounting on a chair, he hastened to release her, and begged her to tell
him who she was, and how and why she had come there.

At first the poor girl could scarcely believe that she had at last
found a friend; but Thorstein looked so good and kind, that her fears
quickly vanished.

“Alas!” she said, “I am a most unhappy maiden! My name is Thekla, and
my father is King Alfhelm. One day, as I was playing in a field near
the palace with my maidens, a great giant suddenly rushed in among us
from the neighbouring wood, and snatching me up in his arms, despite
all my cries and struggles, carried me down to the shore, where his
boat was waiting. Ere any help could reach us, we were well out of
sight, till at length we arrived at this place. He then asked me to
marry him, which I indignantly refused to do; and though he comes every
day to try and persuade me to consent, I will never give in; no, not
though they starve or kill me!” And she burst again into bitter sobs.

Thorstein tried to comfort her as best he could. He told her that,
having now made a key, he would be able to come and see her every day
while the giants were away. He then brought her some food, for the poor
girl was half starved (as the giant only gave her just enough to keep
her alive), and then, as evening drew near, Thorstein again fastened
Thekla’s hair to the nail, ere he closed the door before the giants’
return.

From that day forward Thorstein visited the poor girl regularly every
day, always bringing her some food, and then putting all straight again
ere the brothers returned, so that they had no idea of what took place
during their absence.

When the end of the six months drew near, Thorstein told the giants
that he wished to leave. But they had got so used to him, and he waited
on them so carefully, that they did not want to part with him, and
begged him to remain another year.

At first Thorstein refused, but after much persuasion, the brothers
giving him again two more sacks of gold as wages, Thorstein said he
would remain another six months, if at the end of that time they would
give him as wages whatever was in the locked room—no matter whether it
was valuable or not.

When Osric heard this he grew very angry, and told Thorstein not to be
a fool; that what he was asking for was utterly worthless; and that he
had much better accept the good wages they were quite willing to give
him.

Thorstein, however, would not give in. He said he did not care whether
the contents of the room were valuable or not. He had set his heart
upon that, and nothing else, and would remain with them on no other
condition.

Osric grew furious, and they argued and fought over this, till at last
Bifrou, seeing that Thorstein was quite determined, advised his brother
to give in, for they could keep him in no other way. So the big giant
at last agreed to his terms.

During the six months that followed, Thorstein did his utmost to
lighten Thekla’s imprisonment. Many a long and pleasant chat they had
together, planning their future life, while Thekla described her former
home, and how delighted her father would be to see her safely back
again.

At length the weary six months came to an end; and though the giant
brothers again tried to persuade Thorstein to remain with them, he was
firm, and would listen to no further promises of future wealth and
greatness with which they tried to bribe him.

So, seeing that neither persuasions nor threats would prevail, Osric at
last opened the door and brought out Thekla; very much surprised he was
to see her looking so well when he saw her in the daylight, and half
repented him of his promise.

But Thorstein led forth his two horses, which he had all this time
carefully groomed and tended. Placing two sacks of gold on each, he
lifted Thekla on one horse, and buckling on his sword, as well as a
sharp dagger, mounted the other horse.

As he did so, Thekla noticed the giants whispering together, and heard
the younger one mutter, with a laugh, “Yes, as soon as they get to the
ravine.”

“Oh, Thorstein,” she said, when they had ridden on a short distance, “I
know they mean to attack us. I heard them say so.”

“Never fear,” replied Thorstein. “My good sword has never failed me
yet! But you ride on in front.”

As soon as they were out of sight, he placed the other sacks of gold on
Thekla’s horse, and bidding her ride on ahead, he drew his sword and
kept a keen look-out.

They rode on thus for some little distance. The country was open, and
though the road was rough, they were soon out of sight of the castle.
At length they arrived at the narrow ravine which led down to the
shore. They had not long entered it when they heard the clatter of
horses’ hoofs behind them. Thorstein bade Thekla ride on. He then hid
himself behind a projecting rock, and as Bifrou, who was in front, rode
past, Thorstein rushed at him, and with one blow of his sword, severed
his head from his body. Osric, seeing what had befallen his brother and
fearing the same fate, rode back to the castle for more help.

Thorstein then joined Thekla, who had anxiously watched the combat, and
they rode on, hoping that all danger of pursuit was now over. But just
as they emerged from the ravine, Thorstein, looking back, saw Osric,
accompanied by a still bigger and fiercer-looking giant, hurrying after
them.

Again sending Thekla on in front, he turned and faced his enemies. A
terrible combat now ensued. They attacked Thorstein, one on each side,
but he swung his great broadsword round his head and with one blow cut
off Osric’s head. Then the big giant, seeing his friend fall to the
ground, grew furious. He threw away his sword, and grasping Thorstein
round the waist, flung him to the ground. But in an instant Thorstein
was on his feet again, and now a desperate conflict ensued. They
wrestled together fiercely; sometimes one, sometimes the other was
uppermost, but at length the giant’s weight and size began to tell, and
Thekla was horrified to see Thorstein grow pale and stagger.

Without a moment’s thought or hesitation she sprang from her horse,
and, snatching up the dagger that had fallen from Thorstein’s girdle
during the struggle, she thrust it through the heart of the giant, who
rolled over on his side without a groan.

Both the giant brothers and their friend being now dead, Thorstein said
they had better return to their house and take possession of all the
treasure they could find. This they did, and by making several journeys
backwards and forwards, they had quite a large store of boxes on the
shore, filled with gold and precious stones.

Then, to their joy, they one day saw a vessel nearing the land, which,
as it came closer, proved to be a ship belonging to Thekla’s father,
the captain, called Randur, being one of his chief ministers.

The latter was delighted when he saw Thekla, for her father had been so
greatly distressed at her disappearance that he had fitted out several
ships to go in search of her, promising that he would bestow her as a
bride on whoever was fortunate enough to find her.

Randur therefore at once offered to take them home, and sent some of
his men ashore to help and carry Thorstein’s treasure down to the ship.
When everything was put on board, the sails were set, and the good
vessel sped gallantly on her homeward way.

CHAPTER IV.

HOW THORSTEIN’S KIND ACTIONS RECEIVED THEIR REWARD.

Thekla and Thorstein now thought all their trials were surely over, and
gave themselves up to the enjoyment of each other’s society. But Randur
had no intention of letting the latter reach Thekla’s home. So he
watched his opportunity, and one night, when they were well out at sea,
he had one of the boats lowered. In this he placed Thorstein, who was
fast asleep in the after-part of the ship, and, casting loose the boat,
let it drift away. He then made the men take a solemn oath never to
mention what had been done, but that if any one asked about Thorstein,
they were to say they knew nothing about him.

Next morning, when Thekla, surprised at not seeing Thorstein, asked
where he was, Randur pretended to be greatly surprised at his
non-appearance, and instituted a search all over the vessel for him.

Thekla was very unhappy to think that Thorstein should have disappeared
so unaccountably; then, suddenly missing one of the boats, she said
that perhaps he had gone fishing, and insisted upon the vessel being
put about to search for him.

But though Randur pretended to obey her orders, shifting the sails and
issuing various commands, he was in reality hurrying home as fast as he
could, rejoicing at having so successfully rid himself of his rival.

The boat, meanwhile, in which Thorstein lay fast asleep, had drifted a
long distance from the ship ere he awoke, and on first opening his eyes
he could not imagine where he was. But when he once realized his
position, he decided that Randur’s jealousy must have played him this
trick, and he set himself to think what he had better do.

When Randur had sent him adrift, he had put neither food nor water in
the boat, and as the sun rose higher and higher in the heavens, the
heat grew intense. In vain he steeped his clothes in the water, hoping
thus, at least, to assuage his thirst, which was causing him much
suffering. He gradually grew more faint and weary, and a feeling of
hopelessness was stealing over him, when suddenly he heard a voice
saying, “Do not lose heart, Thorstein, though your plight is sad,
drifting thus hopelessly about on the ocean. But as you once spent your
all to give me rest, so now I will also aid you.”

And immediately the boat flew rapidly over the water, propelled by an
unseen force. Thorstein’s thirst and weariness vanished, and he reached
the island where Thekla’s father lived at the same time as the ship in
which she was returning, though he landed at a different point.

As Thorstein stepped on shore, he again heard the strange voice,
saying, “I am only repaying what I owe you, for had you not given up
all you possessed to the farmer to whom I was in debt, he would never
have allowed my bones to rest in peace in the grave. And now I will
help you further. This is King Alfhelm’s country. Go to the palace, and
there offer to look after the king’s chestnut horses, of which he is
very proud. His late groom was very careless, and has been dismissed,
so he will engage you. But, remember, whatever is found beneath the
horses’ mangers belongs to you, and you can keep it.”

So saying, the spirit of the dead man departed, and Thorstein, having
thanked him gratefully, at once started off for the king’s palace.

King Alfhelm, who had been rather at a loss as to whom to entrust with
his fine chestnut horses, of which he was very proud, was greatly
pleased with Thorstein’s appearance, and at once put him in charge of
the stable, where Thorstein, to his surprise, saw his own chestnut
among the other horses—for Randur, on landing, had given it as a
present to the king. But the horse would allow no strange hand to come
near it; the moment it saw Thorstein, however, it became gentle as a
lamb.

The king, meanwhile, was greatly rejoiced at his daughter’s safe
return, for he had almost given up all hope of ever seeing her again.
So he ordered a great feast to be prepared to celebrate her arrival,
and believing Randur’s tale, that he had rescued the princess from the
giants, promised to give him his daughter in marriage.

To this, however, Thekla objected.

“Rather than wed Randur, I will remain single all my life,” she said.

This threat so frightened the king, for, having no son, he looked
forward to seeing Thekla’s children growing up, that he did not urge
her any further.

Thekla then begged her father to summon the new groom to the great hall
that evening, for she had been told that he had travelled a great deal,
and it would amuse them all to hear his adventures.

So the king, willing to please his daughter, and anxious himself to
hear the tale of his adventures, summoned Thorstein to the big hall,
where the whole court was assembled.

And then the whole truth came to light; and when King Alfhelm heard the
wickedness and treachery of his minister, he grew so angry that he
ordered Randur to be torn to pieces by wild horses.

But Thekla and Thorstein both interceded for him, so he was only
banished for life from the kingdom.

Very soon after, the marriage of Thorstein and the fair princess was
celebrated, amid general rejoicings. In addition to the treasure they
had brought back from the giant’s house, Thorstein, on looking under
the horses’ mangers, found an immense pile of old golden coins, rare
ornaments, and precious stones, which had been hidden there in ancient
war times by some previous kings.

After King Alfhelm’s death, who lived long enough to see three little
grandchildren running beside him, Thorstein and Thekla succeeded to the
throne.

They were both greatly beloved by their people, whose lives they ever
studied to make happy, so much so, that to this day that period is
always spoken of as “the reign of the good king and queen.”

SIGURD

CHAPTER I.

SIGURD FINDS A FRIEND IN HIS STEPMOTHER.

In olden times there lived a king and queen who had an only son called
Sigurd. All went happily until the boy was about ten years old, and
then the queen became very ill and died. According to the custom of
that land, her body was embalmed and placed on a funeral pile, and
there it was watched by the king, who sat day after day beside it in
inconsolable grief.

Time went on, but he refused to leave the funeral pile, and all the
business of the kingdom came to a standstill, for the sovereign gave no
heed to what went on around him, and the courtiers had one and all
failed to influence him.

At last one day he raised his eyes from the ground and looked towards
the great pine forest that stretched away as far as you could see round
the palace, and there, under the trees, coming towards him, he saw a
most beautiful woman, her tall figure clothed in costly black robes.

“Who are you?” he asked, as she drew near.

“My name is Injibjörg,” she answered, in a low, sweet voice. “Why are
you sitting here alone?”

“Because the queen is dead, and my heart is filled with sorrow.”

“Alas! I can sympathize with you in your grief,” she replied. “I, too,
lost my husband only yesterday, and now I am alone in the world.”

The king for the first time began to be interested in something. Here
was a person as sad as himself. They soon began talking like old
friends, and in the end decided that, as they were both so lonely, it
would be a wise thing for them to marry. The king invited her to return
with him to the palace, and in a few days the wedding took place, amid
the rejoicings of the people at the return of their sovereign once more
to everyday life and work.

Under the wise influence of Injibjörg the king soon regained his usual
health and spirits. He began to take up the neglected affairs of the
kingdom, and rode out constantly hunting and fishing, attended by his
court. And Sigurd? In his stepmother the boy found a true friend, who
cared for him with a real mother’s love, and made his life full of
sunshine. They were inseparable companions, and people would stop and
watch them as they passed along the roads, or played together in the
palace gardens, saying, “Ah, the good stepmother! See how she loves the
poor motherless boy.” They were a pretty picture—the fair-haired,
handsome little prince, and the beautiful tall woman, with her gracious
manners and winning smile.

And thus their lives went happily on until Sigurd was almost a youth
and as tall as his stepmother.

One evening Sigurd and Injibjörg were returning to the palace from a
long stroll. The sun was lighting up the stems of the pine trees as
they walked along beneath them. He had noticed for some days that his
mother, as he loved to call her, appeared sad and out of spirits, but
to-day the deepest depression seemed to possess her. As they drew near
home, she laid her hand lovingly on the boy’s arm.

“My son, your father goes hunting to-morrow. It is my wish that you go
with him and leave me alone for a day.”

“But, mother, why? You are sad, I see; my place is surely with you. I
love hunting, as you know, but I cannot leave you thus.”

And all her persuasions were in vain.

Next morning the king set out, but the young prince remained with his
stepmother, in spite of all she could say.

“Alas! alas!” she said, when they were left alone, “why did you disobey
my wishes? I fear me that you will repent it sorely.”

Then she led Sigurd to her own room, and told him to hide under her bed
until she called him forth. Directly he was safely hidden, the ground
began to tremble, there was a terrific noise like thunder, and out of a
great fissure appeared a huge giantess. Her feet were buried in the
earth up to her ankles, for she was too tall to stand upright in the
room. Through a small aperture in the hangings of the great bed, Sigurd
watched to see what would happen.

“A pleasant greeting to you, Sister Injibjörg!” he heard the giantess
say. “Is Sigurd, the king’s son, at home?”

“No,” replied Injibjörg. “He has gone hunting with his father.”

Then the queen spread the table for her terrible giant sister, with
rich and dainty dishes. When the meal was at an end, the giantess said,
“I thank you for the nicest food and the best drink of mead that I have
yet tasted. Is Sigurd, the king’s son, at home?”

Again Injibjörg said no. So the giantess took leave of her and
departed; the floor closed up, and all was quiet once more. Then the
queen called Sigurd, embraced him with the greatest affection, and,
after a short time, regained her usual cheerfulness.

When the king returned in the evening from the chase, neither the queen
nor Sigurd told him what had happened during his absence.

The next morning he declared his intention of going out hunting in a
still further part of the kingdom, and once more Injibjörg tried to
persuade the boy to go with his father. Her persuasions were useless.
He was more than ever determined to stay with her, hoping, in some
unforeseen way, that he might be of use; for that there was some
dreadful mystery about the giantess, he was sure.

This time, directly the king left, Injibjörg put the prince into a
large press, and as she turned away, he saw tears in her eyes, and
guessed that she feared some terrible new visitor. And he was right.
Hardly had she closed the door when the noises of yesterday were
renewed; the ground quaked, and a still greater giantess appeared, her
feet buried in the floor up to her knees to allow of her entering the
room.

“A pleasant greeting to you, Sister Injibjörg,” she cried. “Is Sigurd,
the king’s son, at home?”

“No,” said Injibjörg. “How should he be, when the king, his father, is
hunting far from the palace?”

And, as yesterday, she immediately began to spread the table with
delicacies. When the meal was over, the giantess took her leave,
saying, “I thank thee for the best food and most refreshing draught of
ale that I have yet tasted. Is Sigurd, the king’s son, at home?”

Again Injibjörg said no, and in a few moments she was alone, and all
was quiet.

Then Sigurd came out of the press, and once more his mother clasped him
in her arms, and he heard her say to herself, “My son, my son! if I can
but save him once more, all may yet be well.”

With tears she entreated him, for her sake, to go away with his father
the next day.

“Twice I have hidden you successfully, but my third sister comes
to-morrow, and she is sharper and fiercer than either of the others. If
I can save you this time, they will never come again. My son, leave me
this once. Even if they do me harm I shall know that you are safe.”

“Mother,” Sigurd answered, “I am no longer a little child. If you are
in danger at all, my place is with you. And I am sure that your sister
cannot do me any real harm.”

CHAPTER II.

HE WRESTLES WITH THE GIANT SISTERS.

All that evening she tried her utmost to alter his decision, and also
the next morning, for now the day had come, and brought with it a
presage of evil. But nothing would move Sigurd.

Directly the king had ridden forth, Injibjörg concealed the prince
behind some thick hangings on the wall. The earth quaked, terrible
noises were heard, and a gigantic woman appeared, fiercer and stronger
than either of the others, and so huge that only half her body rose out
of the floor.

“A pleasant greeting to you, Sister Injibjörg,” she cried, in a harsh,
terrible voice. “Is Sigurd, the king’s son, at home?”

“No,” replied Injibjörg, in a faltering voice. “He is hunting with his
father in the woods.”

“I see you lie!” roared the giantess. “The boy is here;” and she seized
the queen, and began to shake her violently. But, as Injibjörg
continued to protest that the prince was not at home, she relaxed her
hold, and the table was spread as usual with beautiful dishes. When the
meal was ended, the giantess rose. “I thank you for the best meal I
have ever tasted,” she said. “Is Sigurd, the king’s son, at home?”

“No,” replied Injibjörg. “Have I not already answered you?”

“Aha!” cried the giantess, her wicked, malicious laugh making the
rafters ring. “Then if he be so far away, my words can do him no harm.
But should he be within hearing, I decree that half of his body shall
wither up, and he shall never recover until he has sought and found me.
And you, my sister, be thankful if a worse fate does not overtake you.”

And, with another peal of mocking laughter, she disappeared.

Trembling from head to foot, the queen went to find her son; but, alas!
when she led him forth from his hiding-place, the curse had fallen upon
him, and his left side was shrunk and withered.

“Sigurd, Sigurd,” she cried, holding him close, and weeping bitterly.
“See what has happened because you would not leave me. Better far that
I should have suffered than that this should have fallen upon you.
Alas! alas! what shall we do?”

“Mother,” he answered bravely, “there is but one thing—I must seek your
sister, as she said, and perhaps, in doing that, I may chance to free
you also from their dread visits for ever. Tell me what I must do to
find her, and let me depart at once, before my father returns, lest he
see me like this, and be angry with you. I grieve to leave you; but it
is best, I know. Watch for my return day by day, dear mother, and give
me your blessing before I go. Your love will make me strong to bear all
that may lie before me.”

Then Injibjörg took a large ball of wool out of a chest and gave it to
her son, with three golden rings.

“As soon as you let this ball fall to the ground,” she said, “it will
go on rolling till it reaches some rocks. Follow it till it stops, and
one of the giantesses will come forth. Do not lose heart. Do whatever
she wishes you to. She will draw you up on to the rock where she
stands, and you must salute her, and present her with the smallest
ring. When she sees the gold she will be delighted, and will challenge
you to wrestle with her. When you get exhausted she will offer you a
drink out of a horn; and I have prayed that the strength of that magic
draught will make you the victor in the wrestling match, so that she
will allow you to depart next day. My other two sisters will behave in
the same manner; but be brave and fearless, and remember what I tell
you. One thing, dear son, keep ever in your mind, as you love me. If at
any time my dog comes suddenly to you, puts his paws on your knees, and
looks up at you, while tears run down his face, hasten home, let
nothing stay you, for my life will be in danger. Do not forget your
step-mother Injibjörg.”

Many times Sigurd embraced the queen before he at length left her on
his dangerous journey. And as he looked back for a last farewell, he
saw her tall, graceful figure still standing watching him at the
entrance of the palace. He knew she was wondering if she should ever
see her beloved son again. And his heart was very heavy at leaving her
in such grief.

Directly he was out of sight of the palace, he threw the ball on the
ground, and eagerly followed its winding course.

Towards sunset he found himself in a wild and rocky region, and at
length the ball led him to the foot of a precipitous rock, on the
summit of which sat the first giantess.

“Aha!” she cried, “this is splendid! Here is Sigurd, the king’s son. He
shall be my meal to-night. Come up, comrade! Come hither! Thou art not
afraid of a woman, I feel sure.”

With these mocking words she reached down a long boat-hook, and drew
him up beside her. Sigurd greeted her bravely, and presented her with
the smallest of the golden rings. When she saw the gold, the giantess
was delighted. “Ah! now thou shalt wrestle with me,” she cried.

And they began. Sigurd fought bravely, and when she saw him getting
tired she gave him a draught of mead, which made him so strong that he
came off victor in the end, and she let him go.

The next day, bidding her farewell, he again followed the ball till it
reached another high rock. There sat the second giantess.

She greeted the youth in the same fashion as her sister, pulled him up
beside her, and was so delighted at the gift of the ring, that she,
too, offered to wrestle with Sigurd for the victory before making her
meal off him.

Again, as he got exhausted, he was offered a drink of mead from a huge
horn, and was able to throw his opponent to the ground with one hand.

On the third day Sigurd rose with a lighter heart—only one more foe to
meet, and then the victory would be won: his mother freed from the
hateful dominion of her sisters, and he himself restored to his usual
appearance. As he looked at his withered arm and leg, he vowed to use
every effort to become victor.

CHAPTER III.

HIS MEETING WITH HELGA.

It was early morning when Sigurd left the home of the second giantess,
but night had nearly fallen before his ball stopped at the foot of the
highest rock he had yet come to. On the summit stood the huge figure he
had last seen on that fatal day at the palace; her head seemed to touch
the clouds, and a terrible smile played on her lips as she looked down
at the prince.

“Aha! So you have followed me, as I said. Up, comrade, up! You shall
have your wish, and see how you like a contest with me in person.”

But Sigurd’s heart did not fail him. “Draw me up,” he said; “I have a
message for you from my stepmother, Queen Injibjörg.”

Then the giantess drew him up, as her sisters had done, and he
presented the last and largest of the golden rings. This pleased her
immensely, and she proposed that they should at once wrestle for the
victory, without waiting any longer. Sigurd exerted his utmost
strength, feeling that on this combat all his future happiness
depended; and just when he thought he could hold out no longer, the
giantess reached him a horn of mead, which, as before, gave him
supernatural strength, and he forced her to her knees.

In a moment he felt that his withered side was healed. The glow of
perfect health came over him, and he could have sung aloud and danced
for joy.

“Thou hast conquered, Sigurd, the king’s son,” the giantess
said—“conquered in fair fight. I am no longer thine enemy; my power
over thee is gone for ever. Now, go forth. Not far from here is a lake.
There thou wilt see a maiden rocking herself in a boat. Give her this
small ring, and it will be of use to thee. Thou art a brave youth, and
I have done that for thee which I would not do for any one else. Thy
strength is now fully restored to thee, and thou shalt succeed in all
thine undertakings.”

With grateful thanks, Sigurd bade her farewell, and took his way to the
lake she had told him of. All through the night he went on, and when
the morning sun arose he saw the glitter of its rays on the water. As
he reached the shore he beheld a lovely girl in a tiny green-and-gold
boat, gently rocking herself to and fro on the waves, close to the edge
of the water.

Sigurd approached, doffed his cap, and ventured to ask her name.

“My name is Helga,” she said, “and I live yonder with my
father,”—pointing to a castle in the distance.

Then Sigurd showed her the ring he had received from the giantess.

“I have come all this way to give it to you,” he said; “fate has
decreed that we are to be great friends. Will you accept it, and wear
it always?”

“I have no friends,” Helga answered. “I will gladly have you for one,
and wear your ring.”

So he placed it on her finger, and they rowed in the little boat, and
wandered about the woods on the shores of the lake, until the sun began
to sink behind the hills.

“Alas!” cried Helga, as she saw the slanting rays, “it is getting late;
I must away home.”

“I will come too,” Sigurd answered.

“No, no,” she cried, in a terrified voice. “My father allows no
stranger to enter our home. He would certainly kill you if he found
you. No, you must not come.” And she set off running.

Sigurd ran too, and came up with her just as they reached the door.
Helga put out her hand, the one which bore the ring he had given her,
to stop him. In a moment, the young prince had disappeared, and where
he had stood there was now only a huge bundle of wool. Helga then
realized that the ring he had given her was a magic one, which she must
use for his protection. She at once lifted up the bundle of wool in her
arms, carried it into the castle hall, and threw it up on a high shelf.

At that instant her father came striding in—he was a giant of great
size. Taking no notice of his daughter, he began searching in all the
corners, and finding nothing, cried out in an angry voice: “Where has
he gone? What was that I saw you carrying, child?”

“Only a bundle of wool, father,” Helga answered, as fearlessly as she
could.

“Ah, it must have been that; but I thought I saw some one with you,” he
muttered, and soon after retired to his room. The next morning, when
Helga went out as usual, she carried the bundle of wool with her, and
when she reached the boat, she touched it with her ring, and Sigurd
regained his natural form. They rowed to a more distant part of the
lake, and spent another happy day together.

Sigurd told Helga all about his stepmother, and his love for her.

“I owe everything to her kindness,” he said, “and I shall never be
really happy till I have finished this journey and returned to her.
Even when I am with you I dread lest evil may have overtaken her in my
absence. But the giantess sent me here for some end, which I must wait
to perform. My mother is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,
except you.”

Helga, in her turn, told him of her lonely life with her fierce old
father, and of how she had always longed to have some one of her own
age as a companion.

“But what shall I do when I am left alone again?” she asked, with tears
in her eyes.

“Be comforted,” Sigurd said, as he took her hand in his. “I must return
to my stepmother, but I will come again, and take you away with me to
my own home.”

As they returned, Helga said: “To-morrow we shall have more freedom,
for my father goes to a great gathering of giants, and I will show you
over the castle in his absence.” When they reached the house, Helga
touched him with her ring, and once again Sigurd became a bundle of
wool, and passed the night on a shelf in the hall.

Next morning, almost at break of day, Helga’s father departed, and
Sigurd was enabled to resume his natural form at once. They walked and
talked for some time, and then Sigurd reminded Helga of her promise to
show him over the castle. She produced a huge bunch of keys, and
together they passed through room after room, each one more beautiful
than the last.

“And what is that key for?” asked the prince, pointing to a very
strange one, which Helga had not yet used.

“That is my father’s secret room. The key is of a different pattern to
all the others.”

“It is, indeed. But surely you will not refuse to let me see that room
also?” And as he spoke, they passed to a door strongly studded with
great iron nails. He entreated Helga not to refuse his request. “This,
I am sure, is the door.”

“Yes, you are right. But if I open the door you must only just peep in,
for I myself am terrified to go inside.”

“Nothing can hurt you while you are with me,” Sigurd said, placing his
arm round her; and, with trembling fingers, Helga fitted the key into
the massive lock, and opened the door a couple of inches. But Sigurd
pushed it wide open and boldly stood in the doorway. There he saw a
magnificent horse, richly caparisoned, eating golden hay, while,
suspended to the rafters above its head, hung a sword sheathed in gold,
with these words engraved on the hilt—

              Whoever mounts this horse, and is armed with
               this sword, good luck will ride with him.

Sigurd entreated Helga to let him ride the horse once round the castle,
and to carry the sword in his hand. At first Helga would not hear of
it. Something terrible would happen, she felt sure. But the young
prince pleaded so irresistibly, that at last he won her reluctant
consent. The horse, she told him, was called Gullfaxi, “the golden
mane;” the sword, Gunnfjöden, “fighting blade.”

CHAPTER IV.

HIS ESCAPE ON THE WONDERFUL HORSE GULLFAXI.

Sigurd led the beautiful steed outside the castle, took down the sword,
and had just mounted, when Helga came running to him with something in
her hand.

“Here, I give you a green branch, a stone, and a stick,” she said,
“else I fear that you may get into trouble. Listen carefully to what I
tell you. If, when you are mounted on the horse, an enemy should follow
you and threaten to take your life, you have only to throw down the
green branch as you ride along, and immediately a dense forest will
grow up behind you. Should the enemy still attempt to follow, you have
only to strike the stick on the white stone, and a terrible hailstorm
will kill all who come after you.”

As she finished speaking, and Sigurd gathered up the reins to start
off, Helga gave a cry of terror. Striding over the brow of the hill,
she saw the huge form of her father.

“Fly! fly!” she said. “Use the steed for your own protection; it is
your only chance of life. Save yourself, for my sake.”

Raising his cap in farewell to his young hostess, Sigurd set spurs to
Gullfaxi, and as the noble animal put forth his full speed, the prince
turned in the saddle and shook his fist at the angry giant.

Without staying to question his daughter, the giant strode after his
horse, breathing out threats of vengeance. At first he could only just
keep them in sight; but, with his gigantic strides, he soon began to
gain upon them when the ground grew rocky and hilly. Then Sigurd threw
down Helga’s green branch, and immediately a thick forest rose between
him and his enemy.

But the giant seized his axe, and began with mighty strokes to hew his
way through the wood. Crash went trees and bushes; crash, crash, to
right and to left, and when Sigurd looked back a second time, the giant
was through the forest, and close behind him. Then Sigurd touched the
white stone with his stick, and immediately such a terrible hailstorm
broke loose behind him that the giant was killed on the spot, while
Sigurd rode on in bright sunshine.

The giant dead, Sigurd thought he would return and fetch Helga; but
while he was debating which road to take, he saw his stepmother’s dog
running towards him. The dog was dusty and footsore, and whined
piteously as he drew near. Sigurd dismounted, and went to meet him; the
dog put his paws upon the prince’s knee, and looked up at him with
tears running down his face. Then Sigurd’s heart was very heavy, for he
knew misfortune was threatening his beloved stepmother. He leapt on to
his horse, and rode at full speed, taking no rest, either by day or
night, till at length he came out of the thick pinewoods, and saw the
palace before him. In the courtyard a great crowd was assembled, and
there, fastened to a stake, and surrounded by huge faggots, he saw the
graceful figure of his stepmother.

“Here is Sigurd—Sigurd, the king’s lost son,” he heard voices say, as
if in a dream, as he galloped furiously on.

He, however, saw nothing but the beautiful pale face of the queen as he
leaped from his horse, and pushed his way through the crowd, sword in
hand. He cut the bands with which Injibjörg was fastened, scattered the
guards, and carried her into the palace, to his father’s room.

There he found the king lying on his couch, sick unto death for grief
at the loss of his son.

“My father,” Sigurd cried, as he stood before him with his arm round
his stepmother, “what is this that has been done? Why has my mother
been treated thus in my absence?”

“My son,” his father cried, hardly believing that he saw him alive and
well before him, “where hast thou been? The people declared the queen
had taken thy life, and she was therefore condemned to death, while I
was too ill to save her from their vengeance. Forgive me, Sigurd, and
beg the queen also to pardon me;” and he embraced them both with the
utmost affection.

Then Sigurd related all his adventures, and how he had freed Injibjörg
for ever from the hateful power of her sisters. His love for his
stepmother was greater than ever, as he heard of all that she had
suffered in his absence. He was not happy now when she was out of his
sight, and he tried in every way to make up to her for what had passed.
He told her, too, of Helga in the castle by the lake; and when she was
quite restored to health, he set out, with her blessing and that of his
father, to fetch the maiden to his home, as he had promised.

Helga was rejoiced to see Sigurd again, for she had watched for him day
by day. They brought away all the treasures of the castle, and in a
short time there was a magnificent wedding between Helga and Sigurd,
the marriage feast lasting a whole month.

When the king died, Sigurd and Helga came to the throne, and, guided by
the wise counsels of Injibjörg, the kingdom became renowned far and
near for its good rule and the happiness of its people.

LINEIK AND LAUFEY

In olden days, there once lived a king called Ring, and his queen
Gytha, who reigned over a mighty kingdom. They had two children, a son
and a daughter, who were both almost grown up when my story begins. The
boy was called Siegfrid, and the daughter Lineik. They were both as
beautiful in person as they were gifted in mind. No one in the whole
kingdom was their equal; and they loved each other so dearly that the
one was never happy when the other one was away. Their father,
therefore, had a beautiful palace built for them, where they had as
many servants as they wanted, and everything they could possibly wish
for.

Here the brother and sister lived together very happily until the queen
fell ill, and feeling her end was drawing near, she called the king to
her bedside.

“Dear husband,” she said, “we have lived very happily together; but now
my end is drawing near, and, before I die, I hope you will grant two
requests I wish to make—first, if ever you marry again, do not choose
your wife from any small village or lonely island, but bring your bride
from one of the large cities in the neighbouring kingdoms. If you do
this, good fortune will attend you. Secondly, never let any one or
anything come between you and our dear children; they will bring you
good luck and happiness if you always let them stand first in your love
and affection.”

When the queen had spoken these words, she lay back and died. The king
was very grieved at her death. He sorrowed so greatly that he never
left his room and would not see any one, and all the affairs of the
kingdom came to a standstill.

Then one day the prime minister came to him, and told him that there
would be a rebellion, and that the country would go to ruin if he
continued to shut himself up instead of attending to the affairs of his
kingdom.

“It is far more kingly,” he concluded, “to pull yourself together, and
try and overcome your grief for the sake of your people, than to sit
alone and lament! Besides, why should you not look around for another
queen, who will be worthy to succeed your late consort?”

“Alas! that will be no easy task,” said the king, sighing deeply. “I
will not, however, gainsay your words. As, however, such is your
advice, it is best that the responsibility of the choice should also be
yours. I therefore empower you to find me a bride worthy to share my
throne, and be a successor to my late wife. I only make one
stipulation: you must not seek her in any small village or lonely
island, but from some large neighbouring state.”

The minister, delighted that he had at last roused the king, and filled
with the importance of his mission, promised to bear in mind the king’s
instructions, and set about preparing for the journey. The king
provided him with a magnificent outfit, and a large and imposing
following, and started him on his journey.

When they had sailed for about three days on their way to the
neighbouring kingdom, suddenly a thick white fog arose; they could no
longer see where they were going, and for a whole month they sailed
about first in one direction then in another, for they had lost all
reckoning. Whichever way they steered their vessels, no land was in
sight, and they were beginning to lose all heart, when at length one
day they saw a faint grey line on the horizon; gradually, as they came
nearer, they could distinguish hills and trees, and finding a nice
gently shelving beach in a sheltered nook, they ran their boats ashore,
and landing, pitched their tents on the strand. But not a single human
being was in sight, all was perfectly still, and they thought they must
have landed on a desert island.

While the men, tired with their exertions, were resting, the minister
decided to go on a little way inland and explore; and as the sun was
now very hot, for it was about mid-day, he bent his steps towards a
forest he saw some little way ahead. He had not gone very long in that
direction, when he suddenly heard a harp being played; following the
sound, he came to an open glade, and there, sitting on a fallen tree,
he saw a beautiful woman, so grand, so stately, he thought he had never
before seen any one so enchanting. Her playing on the harp was so
perfect, that it was happiness only to listen to her, while at her feet
sat the loveliest maiden he had ever seen, whose sweet voice
accompanied the harpist.

The prime minister doffed his hat and bowed courteously to the lady,
who, on seeing him approach, rose and returned his greeting with much
friendliness, asking him where he was going and what was the object of
his journey.

The minister, quite charmed with her kindness, told her the purpose of
his coming.

“How strange!” said the lady, “for almost the same thing has happened
to me. I, too, have lost my husband. He was one of the great kings who
reigned on this continent; but, alas! one sad day the Vikings came,
they overran the whole land, killed my husband, and took possession of
this country. It was only with great difficulty, and not without much
danger, that I managed to escape with this maiden, who is my daughter.”

When the girl heard this, she said softly—

“Is that the truth you are speaking?”

A sharp slap on the ear, while the minister was looking at the harp,
rewarded the girl’s speech.

“Don’t forget what I told you,” muttered the lady.

The prime minister, who had not noticed anything, now asked the lady
what her name was, and whether he could do anything for her.

“I am called Blauvör,” she replied, “and my daughter’s name is Laufey.”

Then the minister sat down beside her and began to talk to her; finding
her very clever and well-informed, and fearing that if he went further
he might fare worse, he thought he could not do better than secure so
wise and beautiful a wife for the king; so he made proposals for her
hand in his master’s name. His embassy seemed very welcome to Blauvör,
who said she would be quite willing to accompany him, and that there
need be no delay, “for I have all my treasures here with me, and shall
not require any attendants beyond my daughter Laufey.”

And so, without loss of time, the minister conducted Blauvör and Laufey
to the shore. The tents were struck, and the whole party having got on
board again, the sails were set and the ships turned homeward.

The dense fog which had accompanied them was now quite dispersed, and
they saw that they had landed on a small rocky island; but all were too
delighted at the thoughts of the homeward journey to take any notice of
this.

A fine fresh wind drove the vessels merrily along, and after six days’
delightful sailing, they came in sight of land, and soon recognized the
great high towers of the king’s castle. Then the anchors were dropped,
and they speedily began to disembark, the minister at once sending a
message to King Ring, to announce their arrival.

The king was delighted to hear that his minister had been so
successful. He at once put on his grandest robes of state, and,
accompanied by his chief ministers and all the principal courtiers,
equally richly attired, he proceeded down to the shore to receive and
welcome his bride.

He had only gone half way when he met his prime minister, leading two
beautiful women by the hand. Both were richly dressed in
gold-embroidered robes, and decked with rare jewels. When King Ring saw
all this richness and beauty, he was delighted beyond measure, and when
he was told that the elder and the most beautiful of the two was his
destined bride, he thought himself the most fortunate of kings.

He thanked the minister warmly for what he had done, and in his joyful
greeting of mother and daughter, he quite forgot to ask whence his
bride and her daughter had come, but led them with great pomp into the
city, and lodged them in the most magnificent rooms in the palace.

A grand wedding-feast was speedily arranged, and all the great people
in the kingdom were invited, only Siegfrid and Lineik were not asked.
The king was so engrossed with his beautiful bride, sitting beside her
and talking to her, that he had completely forgotten them.

The wedding was one of the grandest that had ever been seen, and after
this feast, all the guests received rich gifts ere they departed, and
then at the end of the week the king began again to look after the
affairs of his kingdom.

Thus some time passed quietly, the queen was always present when the
king received his ministers, and though she never said much, whispers
soon went abroad that matters were not as they should be. The queen
wished everything to be done her way, and insisted on hearing all that
was being arranged, so that King Ring began to think that his marriage
was not, after all, such a great piece of luck as he had at first
imagined.

As for Siegfrid and Lineik, the queen never asked about them, nor did
she see them. They never came to the palace, but kept to their own
house and grounds.

Then, after a time, some of the people about the court began to
disappear. No one could find out where they had gone, or what had
become of them, and it was always those who had opposed the queen in
the council. The king, thinking they had gone away because they would
not agree to the queen’s wishes, at first took no notice of these
strange disappearances, but appointed other ministers in their place;
and so things went on for some time.

Then one day the queen came to the king and said she thought it was
time for him to make his journey through the country to collect the
revenue.

“I have helped you so much in all your business that I can easily carry
on the government while you are away, so you need not hurry home, but
take your time and enjoy yourself,” she added.

The king did not much care to go away. He was getting old, and thought
his prime minister might well have gone in his stead, but he was
falling each day more under the queen’s rule. She was the one who
settled and decided everything, and if any one ventured to oppose her
they were made to rue it.

The king therefore fitted out his ships for the journey, but he was
very sorrowful and sad at heart. When everything was ready for him to
start, he went to the house of his two children, where of late he had
seldom been. A warm greeting welcomed him, and both Siegfrid and Lineik
could not make enough of their father.

When the time for bidding them farewell drew near, the king grew very
sad again, and sighing deeply, said—

“I cannot tell you, my children, what a sad foreboding haunts me that
some evil threatens you. If I should not return from this journey, I
fear it will not be safe for you to remain here. Take my advice
therefore, and go away secretly, as soon as you are sure that there is
no hope of my return. When you start, remember you must go towards the
East—you will then soon arrive at a high, steep rock; when you have
climbed this rock you will come to a long, narrow valley. Follow this
valley till you come to two beautiful trees, the one has bright, glossy
green leaves, the other dark bronze ones. They are hollow, and so
arranged that they can be securely fastened from the inside, the
opening being invisible from the outside. You must each get into one of
these trees, and as long as you remain in them, nothing can touch you.”

Then the king took a tender farewell of his children, and getting on
board his ship, the sails were unfurled, and he started off on his
journey. They had not, however, been long at sea, before a frightful
storm arose. Peals of thunder rent the air, the lightning flashed
incessantly, and the wind and rain lashed the sea till the waves rose
mountains high and engulfed the ships, so that the king and all on
board the ships were drowned.

That same night of the storm, Prince Siegfrid had a strange dream. He
saw his father standing beside his bed, his clothes streaming with
water. Bending over his son, he took the crown off his head and placed
it beside Siegfrid on the pillow, and then passed silently away.

When Siegfrid awoke next morning, he told Lineik his dream, and they
both agreed that this could only be a warning from their father,
telling them of his death at sea.

They therefore quickly gathered together all their clothes and jewels,
and ere the sun had fully risen, they were well on their way on the
road their father had told them of.

When they reached the foot of the hill they looked back, and there they
beheld their step-mother in the distance, following them. She looked so
fierce and angry, and so big, that she appeared more like some terrible
giantess than an ordinary woman. Fortunately they had passed the wood
at the foot of the hill, so they set fire to this, and the flames rose
so quickly and brightly that their step-mother was unable to pass it,
and had to go round. This gave Siegfrid and his sister time to get up
the hill, but it was a long and weary climb, and once or twice Lineik
was fain to sit down, but Siegfrid took her up in his arms and carried
her till she was again able to walk. At last they reached the narrow
valley in which stood the two trees their father had told them of.
Lineik chose the one with the bronze-coloured leaves, and Siegfrid,
having seen her safely fastened in, got into the other tree, drawing
the opening to after him. But though no one could look into the trees,
the rough, thick bark grew in such cunning twists and turns, that those
inside could see everything that happened outside, and the brother and
sister were thus able to talk to one another.

About this time, there reigned a great and powerful king in Greece,
called Menelaus. He had two children, a son called Tellus, and a
daughter called Hebe. They were beautiful, clever, and good, and it
would have been difficult to find their equals in all the land.

When Tellus grew to man’s estate, he distinguished himself by many
brave and noble deeds during his numerous warlike expeditions, which
often carried him far away into foreign lands, and while thus
travelling in search of adventures, he had more than once heard of
Princess Lineik, who, it was said, surpassed all other women in beauty,
wit, and goodness; so he determined to try and win her for his bride.

When he neared the island of King Ring, the wicked queen, who by her
enchantments was aware of his coming and also his reasons for so doing,
prepared to receive him with all honour. Dressing herself in her most
magnificent garments, she ordered Laufey to do the same, and then went
down to the shore with her maidens to receive him.

The prince, on landing, greeted her with great respect, and asked after
King Ring, whereupon the queen, drawing forth her handkerchief,
pretended to wipe away her tears, and told him that the king and all
his attendants had perished at sea in a frightful gale, and declared
she could never get over her great loss.

“And where is Princess Lineik?” asked Tellus.

“This is my dear step-daughter,” replied the queen, drawing Laufey
forward, who, ashamed and angry, had kept in the background.

The prince seemed much surprised, for though Laufey was very pretty,
yet from the fame of Lineik’s beauty he had pictured the latter as much
handsomer.

But the queen, seeing his disappointment, said he must not be surprised
that the dear child looked pale and sad, having lost both father and
brother at one blow.

Prince Tellus thought this was but natural, so he formally demanded the
princess’s hand in marriage. As may well be imagined, he did not meet
with any opposition from the queen, who said she would hurry on the
preparations, but Prince Tellus said he had promised his father that
the marriage should take place in Greece, with all due splendour, and
that the princess must therefore return with him.

The queen offered to accompany them, but this the prince would not
consent to. So Laufey and her maidens were escorted to the prince’s
ship, and they set sail for Greece, leaving Brunhild behind, greatly to
her chagrin.

They had not sailed far, when a dense white mist overtook them. The
steersman lost his reckoning, and when at length the fog lifted, they
found they had sailed up a beautiful fiord. The mountains with their
snowy tops rose steeply on each side at the entrance, but as they got
further in, the fiord widened, and grassy slopes shelved down to the
golden sands.

The prince ordered a boat to be lowered, and getting in, they rowed on
till they came to the entrance of a narrow valley in which stood two
beautiful trees.

The prince landed to look at them. He had never seen anything like them
before, and nothing would satisfy him but to have them cut down and
carried on board his ship to take back to Greece.

No sooner were they brought on board than the fog lifted. The sails
were immediately unfurled, and the homeward journey was speedily
effected.

On his arrival, Prince Tellus at once led Laufey to the palace, where
she was received with all honour. He gave her up his own magnificent
rooms, which looked on the court where the great fountains played and
the beautiful doves circled amid the fruit and flower-laden trees and
shrubs. Here Laufey was to spend her days, while at night she retired
to the women’s apartments under the care of the queen.

The two beautiful trees, however, Prince Tellus declared he could not
part from; so he had them placed in his room, one at the head and the
other at the foot of his couch.

Meanwhile the preparations for the wedding went on apace.

The prince, according to the custom of the country, then brought Laufey
(believing she was Lineik) three pieces of rich silk, to make him three
tunics; one was blue, the other was red, and the third one was green.
She was to make up the blue one first, then the red one, and last of
all the green one, which was to surpass both the others in richness and
beauty of design. “For,” added the prince, “the green one is the one I
shall wear on our wedding-day.”

Laufey took the three bits of stuff, and the prince departed. But no
sooner had he closed the door than, sitting down on the couch between
the two trees, she burst into tears.

Oh! what was she to do? Brunhild had never taught Laufey anything, but
just let her grow up as she would, so how could she, who had never had
a needle in her hand, make up or embroider these beautiful stuffs? And
if the prince discovered how ignorant she was, would he not send her
away with scorn and laughter, or perhaps even have her put to death for
her deception?

And the poor girl sobbed and cried as if her heart would break.

Now, as has already been mentioned, Siegfrid and Lineik were inside the
two beautiful trees. They could therefore see all that passed in the
prince’s chamber, and when they heard poor Laufey’s lamentations,
Siegfrid was so touched at sight of the girl’s tears that he said to
his sister—

           “Sister Lineik,
            Laufey weeps;
            Oh, have pity on her,
            And assist her with her task.”

Then Lineik replied—

           “Hast thou forgotten, oh brother,
            All Brunhild’s wicked deeds,
            And how she endeavoured
            To kill both you and me?”

But after a while Lineik consented, and creeping forth from her tree,
greatly to Laufey’s surprise, she told her who she was and how she came
there. Then sitting down beside her, helped her so effectually with her
skilful fingers that the tunic was soon completed, greatly to Laufey’s
delight. Lineik crept back into her tree, and when Prince Tellus
appeared, she showed him the garment.

“I have never seen so prettily worked a tunic,” he said, greatly
pleased. “Now take the piece of red silk and let that be as much more
finely embroidered as the stuff itself is richer.”

But when Laufey found herself confronted with this fresh piece of work,
all her courage fled. How could she carry out the prince’s wishes? And
she began to cry.

Then Siegfrid again called to his sister—

           “Sister Lineik,
            Laufey weeps;
            Oh, have pity on her,
            And assist her with her task.”

And again Lineik answered—

           “Hast thou forgotten, oh brother,
            Brunhild’s wicked deeds,
            And how she used all endeavours
            To kill both you and me?”

Nevertheless, after a while she again consented to help Laufey, and
leaving her tree she sat down beside her, cut out and made up the red
tunic, devoting even more care and skill than on the first one. All the
seams were embroidered in gold thread, and precious stones bordered the
neck and skirt.

When it was ready she gave it to Laufey, while she herself slipped back
into her tree.

Prince Tellus was greatly pleased when he saw the second tunic.

“Why, this is more beautifully worked than the first tunic! I can
hardly imagine how you have done it without any one to help you. Now
you must make the third and last tunic. I will give you three days to
finish it; and remember that this tunic must surpass both the others in
beauty of design and richness of embroidery, for I shall wear it on our
wedding-day.”

After the prince had gone, Laufey sat down on the couch, and felt very
sad. How could she hope that Lineik would again help her? She had done
so twice, notwithstanding all the ill the queen had intended against
her and Siegfrid, and it was too much to expect her to aid her again,
and, thinking thus sadly, the tears streamed down her cheeks.

But Prince Siegfrid was so touched by the poor girl’s grief that he
again said to his sister—

           “Lineik, sister,
            Laufey weeps!
            Oh, have pity on her,
            And assist her with her task!”

And again Lineik replied—

           “Hast thou forgotten, oh brother,
            All Brunhild’s wicked deeds,
            And how she used all her arts
            To kill both you and me?”

Nevertheless, after a while, she again consented to help Laufey, and
leaving her tree, she sat down beside her, and with her deft, clever
fingers the work made rapid progress, and seemed to grow under her
hands. This time she spent even more care and skill on the garment, and
when, on the third day, it was finished, there was hardly any portion
of the original stuff visible, so thickly was it covered with rich gold