Far, far from here there once lived a king, who had three beautiful daughters. But he had no sons, and therefore he grew so fond of the three princesses that he granted their every wish. But in time the enemy invaded the country, and the king had to go to war. When he set out, the oldest princess begged him to buy her a ring that would prevent her dying as long as she wore it. The second princess asked him for a wreath that would make her happy whenever she looked at it, no matter how sad and troubled her heart might be. “Buy me trouble and care!” said the youngest. And the king promised everything.

When he had driven the enemy out of his own land, and out of the neighboring land as well, and was about to set out for home, he remembered what he had promised the three princesses. The ring and the wreath were easy enough to obtain; but trouble and care were to be had neither in one place nor in another, for all the people were so happy that the enemy had been driven out, that there was no sorrow nor care to be found in the entire kingdom. And since he could not buy it, it was not to be had at all, and he had to travel home without it, loathe as he was to do so.

When he was not far from the castle, his way took him through a thick forest. And there sat a squirrel in a tree by the road. “Buy me! buy me! My name is trouble and care!” it said. Thought the king to himself, It is better to have a squirrel than two empty hands, so he brought it along for his youngest daughter. And she was quite as well pleased with her present as her two sisters were with the ring and the wreath. The squirrel played about in her room, sometimes it balanced itself on the bed-posts, at others it would sit on the top of the wardrobe, and it always had a great deal to chatter about.

But as soon as it grew dark, it turned into a man. And he told her how an evil and malicious giantess dwelt in the golden forest, who had turned him into a squirrel because he would not marry her. During the night she had no power over him; but every morning at daybreak he had to slip back into his squirrel form.

And in the course of time the princess actually wanted to marry Trouble and Care; but when they were betrothed, he begged her earnestly, and as best he knew how, never to light a light at night, and try to look at him, “for then both of us would be unhappy,” said he. No, said she, she would be quite sure not to do so.

And every evening, when the princess had lain down and blown out the light, she would hear a man go into Trouble and Care’s room; but when morning dawned, the squirrel sat on her bed-post and greeted her, and chattered and babbled about all sorts of things.

Once, when she thought Trouble and Care had gone to sleep, she could not help herself; but stood up quietly, lit a light and crept softly into his room and to his bed, and when the ray of light fell on him, she saw that he was far, far handsomer than the most handsome prince. He was so surpassingly handsome that she bent over him in order to see more clearly, and finally she could not help herself, but had to kiss him. And then, three drops of wax from the candle fell on his chest, and he awoke.

“But how could you have done this!” he cried, and was quite unhappy. “Had you only waited three days longer, I should have been free!” said he. “But now I must return to the evil giantess and marry her, and all is over between us.” “Can I not follow you there?” asked the princess. “No, that is something you could not do in all your days, for if you rest or even so much as bend your knees to sit down, you will go back during the night as far as you came forward during the day,” said he; leaped to the door, and disappeared.

Then the princess wept and wailed, and waited for him to return; but she heard and saw nothing more of him. After a few days she grew so restless and wretched that she could no longer remain at home, and implored her maid to go along with her to search for the golden forest. The girl finally allowed herself to be moved; but she would not agree to set out until she had gotten together a yard of drilling, a yard of ticking, and a yard of fine linen; and she got them at once, as you may imagine, for there was no shortage of such things in the castle.

So they set out and wandered far, and ever farther, until their feet ached, and their spirits fell. Toward evening they came into the middle of a thick, dark forest; and climbed up into a high tree. The princess was so tired that the maid had to hold her in her arms while she slept a little. But during the night the ground about the tree grew alive with wolves, in the most sinister fashion, and they howled and cried, so that the princess did not venture to close her eyes another moment. But when daylight appeared in the skies, it seemed as though the wolves had suddenly all been blown away.

The following day they wandered far and ever farther, until their feet ached more, and their spirits sank lower. Toward evening they again came to the middle of a thick, dark forest. And they once more climbed into a high, high tree; but the princess was so tired that the maid had to hold her in her arms while she slept a little. When it grew darker, a most alarming number of bears flocked together under the tree, and began to dance and turn in a circle, with alarming speed, and all at once they tried to climb the tree. So the princess and her maid had to stand up in the tree-top the whole night through, and could not close an eye; but when day came, it seemed as though the bears sank into the earth in a single moment.

The third day they wandered far and ever farther, and then a bit more. Toward evening they again came to a thick, dark forest. There they again climbed into a high, high tree; but no sooner were they up in the tree than the ground beneath the tree and the whole forest were alive with lions, and they all roared and howled together in such a gruesome way that the echoes came back from rock and woodland. Suddenly they began to dance and whirl around in such a terrible fashion that the earth trembled, and in between they would clutch the tree again, and try to shake and loosen it, as though they would pull it out root and branch. The princess and her maid had to stand up in the very tree-top, and though they were so tired they could have fallen down from time to time, neither of them dared think of sleeping. But the moment day dawned, the lions all suddenly disappeared from the face of the earth, where they were, walking and standing.

Then they stumbled along, this way and that, the whole day long, until their feet ached harder than hard, and their spirits sank lower than low. They lost path and direction, and though they hunted north and south and east and west, they could not find the way out of the great, dark forest.

At last the princess grew tired and sad beyond all measure, and wanted to sit down every moment, in order to rest a little; but the maid held her and dragged her forward, and never let her bend her knees for a moment to sit down, because then they would have gone back just as far as they had come that day; for you must know that the giantess in the golden forest had so arranged matters.

In the evening they came to an enormous, horrible rock. “I will knock here,” said the maid, and tapped and knocked. “O no,” said the princess, “please don’t knock here, you can see how ugly everything is here!” “Who is knocking there at my door?” cried the giantess in the rock, in a loud, harsh manner, opened the door, and stuck her nose—it was all of a yard long—out through the crack.

“The youngest princess and her maid, they want to get to a prince in the golden forest, whose name is Trouble and Care,” was the maid’s reply.

“O, faugh!” cried the giantess, “that is so far to the north that one can neither sail nor row there. But what do you want of Trouble and Care? Is this, perhaps, the princess who wanted to marry him?” asked the giantess. Yes, this was the princess. “Well, she will never get him as long as she lives,” said the giantess, “for now he must marry the great giantess in the golden forest. You might just as well go back home now as later,” said she. No, they would not turn back for anything, and the maid asked whether it would not be possible for her to take them in for the darkest part of the night. “I can take you in easily enough,” said the giantess, “but when my husband comes home he will tear off your heads, and eat you up!” But there was no help for it, they could not go on in the middle of the night. Then the maid pulled out the yard of ticking, and gave it to the giantess for linen. “It can’t be true! It can’t be true!” cried she. “Here I have been married all of a hundred years, and have never yet had any ticking!” And she was so pleased that she invited the wanderers in, received them kindly, and took the best care of them. After a while, when they had strengthened themselves with food and drink, the giantess said to them: “Yes, he is a ferocious fellow, is my husband, and I will have to hide you in the anteroom. Perhaps he will not find you then.” And she prepared a bed for them, as soft and comfortable as a bed can be; but they did not care to lie down in it, nor sit in it; no, they could not even close their eyes, for they had to watch to see that their knees did not bend. So they stood the whole night through, and took turns holding each other up, for by now the maid was so weary and wretched that she was ready to give in.

Toward midnight it began to thunder and rumble in a terrible manner. This was the troll coming home; and no sooner had he thrust his first head in at the door than he cried out loudly and harshly: “Faugh! faugh! I smell Christian bodies!” and he rushed about in so wild and furious a manner that the sparks flew. “Yes,” said the giantess, “a bird flew past with a bone from a Christian, and he let it drop down the chimney. I threw it out again as quickly as I could, but perhaps one can smell it still,” said the giantess, and soothed him again. And he was satisfied with her explanation. But the next morning the giantess told him that the youngest princess and her maid had come in search of a prince named Trouble and Care, in the golden forest. “O faugh! that is so far to the north that one can neither sail nor row there!” the troll at once cried. “It is the princess who wanted to marry him, I know, but she will never get him as long as she lives, for he has to marry the great giantess in three days’ time. But the maidens shall not get away from me! Where are they, where are they?” he cried, and sniffed and snuffed about in every corner. “O no, you must not touch them,” said the giantess. “They have given me a yard of ticking, and here I have been married now for more than a hundred years, and have never owned any ticking. Therefore you must lend them your seven-mile waistcoat to the nearest neighbor,” said the giantess, and pleaded for the girls. And the troll was willing when he heard how kind they had been to his wife.

When they had eaten and were ready to travel, he put his seven-mile waistcoat on them: “And now you must repeat: ‘Forward over willow bush and pine-tree, over hill and dale, to the nearest neighbor,’” said he. “And when you get there you must say: ‘You are to be hung up this evening where you were put on this morning!’” The maidens did as he said, and were carried for miles, over hill and dale. In the evening, at dusk, they again came to a great, ugly rock. There they pulled off the seven-mile waistcoat and said: “You are to be hung up this evening where you were put on this morning,” and then the waistcoat ran home by itself.

“I will knock here,” said the maid, and knocked and thumped on the rock. “O no,” said the princess, “please do not knock here. You can see how sinister everything is here!” “Who is thumping at my door?” cried the giantess inside the rock, more loudly and harshly than the first one, and she opened the door and thrust her nose, that was all of two yards long, right through the crack. “Here stand the youngest princess and her maid, and they are looking for a prince named Trouble and Care, who lives in the golden forest,” answered the maid. And then this giantess also said it was so far north that one could neither sail nor row there, and wanted them to turn back by all means. “You might just as well turn back now as later,” said she. But this the maidens did not want to do at all, and the maid asked whether she would not, perhaps, take them in for the night, and if it were only the darkest part of the night. “Yes, I can take you in easily enough,” said the giantess, “but when my husband comes home to-night, he will tear off your heads and eat you up!” Then the maid pulled out a yard of drilling, and gave it to the giantess for linen. “It can’t be true! It can’t be true! here I have been married now for over two hundred years, and I have never yet had any drilling in the house,” cried the giantess, and she was so pleased that she invited them in, and received them kindly, and saw that they wanted for nothing. After a while, when they had strengthened themselves with food and drink, the giantess said: “Yes, he is a ferocious fellow, is my husband, and he eats up every Christian who comes here, root and branch. I’ll have to put you in the anteroom, perhaps he will not find you there,” and she prepared a bed for the maidens. But they did not dare either to lie down nor sit on it, not for a single moment, for they had to watch to see that they did not bend their knees. So they stood there the whole night through, and took turns holding each other up, while each snatched a little sleep.

Toward midnight it began to rumble and thunder in such a terrible manner that they could feel the earth tremble beneath them. Then the troll came rushing in. “Faugh! faugh! I smell Christian bodies!” he cried out loudly and harshly, and thrashed about in such a furious way that the sparks flew from him as from a fire. “Yes,” said the giantess, “a bird flew by, and let a bone from a Christian fall through the chimney. I threw it out again as quickly as I could, but it may well be the case that the smell still lingers,” said she, and quieted her husband. And he was satisfied with her explanation. But when he got up in the morning, she told him that the youngest princess and her maid had come in search of a prince named Trouble and Care, in the golden forest. When the troll heard that, he also said that it was so far north that one could neither sail nor row there. “That is the princess who wanted to marry him. Yes, I know; but she will never get him as long as she lives, for he must marry the great giantess herself in two days’ time,” said the troll. “And where are they, these maidens? They shall not escape from me with their lives!” he shouted, and sniffed and snuffed about everywhere. “O no, you must not harm them!” said the giantess, and told him that they had given her a yard of drilling for linen. “Therefore you must lend them your seven-mile waistcoat to the nearest neighbor,” said she. And he was willing at once, when he heard how kind they had been to his giantess. When they had eaten in the morning, he put his seven-mile waistcoat on them. “When you reach your goal, you need only say: ‘Where you were put on this morning, there you are to hang again to-night!’ and then the seven-mile waistcoat will travel home by itself,” said the troll. Then they were carried for miles, over hill and dale, on and on. In the evening, at dusk, they again came to a great, ugly rock.

“I will knock here!” said the maid, and knocked and thumped on the rock. “O no,” said the princess, “please do not knock here, you can see how sinister everything looks here!” “Who is thumping at my door?” the giantess cried inside the rock, in a ruder and harsher manner than the other two giantesses, and she opened the door just far enough so that she could thrust her nose, which was all of three yards long, through the crack. “Here stand the youngest princess and her maid, in search of a prince named Trouble and Care, who lives in the golden forest,” was the maid’s reply. “O faugh!” cried the giantess, “that is so far to the north that one can neither sail nor row there. But what do you want of Trouble and Care? Is this, perhaps, the princess who wanted to marry him?” asked the giantess. Yes, this was the princess, was the maid’s reply. Then this giantess said in turn: “He must marry the great giantess in the golden forest, so you might just as well turn back home now as later!” But this the maidens did not want to do at all, and the maid asked whether, perhaps, she would not take them in for the night, and if it were only for the very darkest part of the night.

“Yes, I can take you in easily enough,” said the giantess, “but when my husband comes home to-night he will tear off your heads and eat you up!” But there was nothing else to do; they could not travel on through the wood and wilderness, in the very darkest part of the night. Then the maid pulled out the yard of linen and made the giantess a present of it. “It can’t be true! It can’t be true!” cried she. “Here I have been married now for more than three hundred years, and have never yet had a bit of linen!” And she was so pleased that she invited the maidens in, and received them kindly, and let them want for nothing. “He is a ferocious fellow, is my husband, and he does away with every Christian soul that strays here,” she said, when her guests had eaten. “But I will hide you in the anteroom. Perhaps he will not find you there.” Then she carefully made up a soft bed for them, as fine as the finest in the world. But now the princess was weary and wretched and sleepy beyond all measure. She could no longer stand up at all, and finally had to lie down and sleep a little, and even though it were but a tiny little while. The maid was also so weary and wretched that she fell asleep standing, and fell over from time to time. Yet she still managed to keep her wits about her to the extent of seizing the princess, and holding her up, so that she did not bend her knees. Toward midnight it began to rumble and thunder so that the whole house shook, and it seemed as though the roof and walls would fall in. This was the great troll, who was coming home. When he thrust his first nose in at the door, he at once cried out in a manner so wild and harsh that the like had never been heard before: “Faugh! faugh! I smell Christian bodies!” and he fell into a white rage, so that sparks and flame flew from him. “Yes, a bird flew by, and let a bone from a Christian fall through the chimney. I threw it out as quickly as ever I could; but it may be that the smell still persists!” said the giantess, and tried to pacify her troll. And he was satisfied with her explanation. But when he awoke in the morning, she told him that the youngest princess and her maid had come in search of a prince named Trouble and Care, who lived in the golden forest. “O faugh! That is so far north that one can neither sail nor row there!” cried the great troll, just as the smaller trolls had. “But she will never get him as long as she lives, for to-morrow he must marry the great giantess. Where are they, these maidens? Hm, hm, hm, they will make tasty eating!” he cried, and danced around everywhere, and sniffed and snuffed with all his nine noses at once. “O no, you must not harm them!” cried the giantess. “They have given me a yard of linen, and here I have been married for more than three hundred years, and have never had a bit of linen yet. Therefore you must lend them your seven-mile waistcoat to the nearest neighbor.” And when the super-troll heard that the maidens had been so kind, he was agreeable.

When they had strengthened themselves in the morning, he put his seven-mile waistcoat on them. “And now you must repeat: ‘On, on! Over willow brush and pine tree, over hill and dale, to the nearest neighbor.’ And when you reach your goal, you need only say: ‘You must hang again to-night on the nail from which you were taken down this morning!’” said the great troll. They did as he had told them, and were carried farther and farther along, over hills and deep valleys.

At dusk they came to a large, large forest, where all the trees were black as coal. If one only so much as touched them, they made one look like a chimney-sweep. And in the middle of the forest was a clearing, and there stood a wretched hut, ready to fall apart; it was only held together by two beams, and looked more forlorn than the most wretched herdsman’s hut. And in front of the door lay a rubbish heap of old shoes, dirty rags and other ugly stuff. Here the maid took off the seven-mile waistcoat, and said: “You must hang again to-night from the nail from which you were taken down this morning!” and the waistcoat wandered home all by itself.

“I will knock here!” said the maid. “O no, O no,” wailed the princess, “please do not knock here, you can see how ugly everything is!” “If you do not do as I do, then it will be the worse for both of us!” said the maid; trampled through the rubbish-pile and knocked. An old, old troll-woman with a nose all of three yards long, looked out through the crack in the door. “If you girls want to come in, then come in, and if you do not want to, you can stay out!” said she, and made as though to close the door in their faces. “Yes, indeed, we want to come in,” replied the maid, and drew the princess in with her. “If you girls want to come through the door, then come through, but if you do not want to, you can stay out,” the woman said once more. “Yes, thanks, we want to come in,” said the maid, and tramped over the threshold through the dirt and rags. “Alas, alas!” wailed the princess, and tramped after her. All was black and ugly inside, and as grimy and dirty as a corn-loft. After a while the giantess went out, and fetched them some milk to drink. “If you girls want to drink, why, drink, and if you do not, why, do without!” said she, and was about to carry it out again. “Yes, thanks, we want to drink,” said the maid, and drank. “Alas, alas!” wailed the princess, when it came her turn, for the milk was in a pig-trough, and dirt and clots of hair were swimming in it. Then the giantess gave them something to eat. “If you girls want to eat, why, eat, and if you do not, why, do without,” said the giantess. “Yes, indeed, we will be glad to,” said the maid, before the ugly nosey could take the food away again. The bread was moldly, mice had been nibbling at the cheese, the meat was so old that one could smell it at a distance, and two dirty calves’ tails were draped about the butter. “Alas, alas!” wailed the princess, and was ready to cry; but she had to do what her maid did, and taste the horrible dishes. Then they had to say they were much obliged. An old man, whom thus far they had not seen, lay on a bed covered with a few old odds and ends of fur and other rags. When they went up to him to thank him, he stood up, and when the princess gave him her hand he kissed it; and at that very moment he turned into a prince handsome beyond all measure, and the princess saw that he was Trouble and Care, for whom she had so greatly longed. “Now you have delivered me!” he said. “Woe to whoever has delivered you!” cried the giantess, and rushed out of the door; but on the door-step she stood like a stone, for the forest was no longer black, and all the trees looked as though they had been gilded from root to crest, and glittered and sparkled more brightly than the sun at noon-day. The wretched, dirty hut had changed into a royal castle, immensely large and handsome. One might have thought that the roof and walls were made of the purest gold and silver, and so they were. “Now you may bend your knee again,” said the prince, “and if you have hitherto known nothing but sorrow and care, you shall henceforth know all the more happiness.”

The old giantess had brewed and baked, and prepared the whole wedding dinner. And when the next day dawned, the prince and the princess, and all the people in the castle, and in the whole country over which he was king, celebrated the wedding. And it lasted for four times fourteen days, so that the news spread through seven kingdoms, and reached the bride’s father and her two sisters. And they would have celebrated it with them, had they not been so far away. I was invited to the feast myself, and the bridegroom made me chief cook, and I had to speak the toast for the bride and groom. But on the last day of the feast, I had to draw mead from a large, large cask that lay at the farthest end of the cellar. Before I sent off the filled jug, I took a taste myself, and the mead was so strong that it suddenly went to my head, and I flew through the air like a bird, and there I was, floating between heaven and earth for full nine years, and then I fell down here in the village, in front of the house up there on the hill. And out came Bertha Friendly, with a letter for me from the prince, who had become king in the meantime, and the letter said that he and the young queen were doing well, and that they sent me their greetings, and that I was to greet you for them, and that you and your sisters were invited to the castle Sunday after Michaelmas, and then you should see a pair of dear little princes, the golden forest, and the old stone giantess, who stands before the door with her nose three yards long.

NOTE

The story of Cupid and Psyche is the most celebrated representative of the type of fairy-tale to which “Trouble and Care” belongs (Hallv.E. Bergh, Nye Folkeeventyr og Sagn fra Valdres og Hallindal, Coll.III, Christiania, 1882, No.1). The northern peoples take special pleasure in tales of faithful women, who try to reach their vanished lovers by means of wearisome and difficult wanderings. Peculiar is the transformation of the lover into a squirrel, in this tale, and the condition that the poor princess must not bend her knees, that is, sit or crouch down, during her long journey. The end is a typical fairy-tale close, such as the narrator likes to add, without any inner relationship to the story itself.