ONCE upon a time there
was a man who had a meadow which lay on the side of a mountain, and in the
meadow there was a barn in which he stored hay. But there had not been much
hay in the barn for the last two years, for every St. John's eve, when the
grass was in the height of its vigor, it was all eaten clean up, just as if
a whole flock of sheep had gnawed it down to the ground during the night.
This happened once, and it happened twice, but then the man got tired of losing
his crop, and said to his sons--he had three of them, and the third was called
Cinderlad--that one of them must go and sleep in the barn on St. John's night,
for it was absurd to let the grass be eaten up again, blade and stalk, as
it had been the last two years, and the one who went to watch must keep a
sharp look-out, the man said. The eldest was quite willing to go to the meadow;
he would watch the grass, he said, and he would do it so well that neither
man, nor beast, nor even the devil himself should have any of it. So when
evening came he went to the barn, and lay down to sleep, but when night was
drawing near there was such a rumbling and such an earthquake that the walls
and roof shook again, and the lad jumped up and took to his heels as fast
as he could, and never even looked back, and the barn remained empty that
year just as it had been for the last two. Next St. John's eve the man again
said that he could not go on in this way, losing all the grass in the outlying
field year after year, and that one of his sons must just go there and watch
it, and watch well too. So the next oldest son was willing to show what he
could do. He went to the barn and lay down to sleep, as his brother had done;
but when night was drawing near there was a great rumbling, and then an earthquake,
which was even worse than that on the former St. John's night, and when the
youth heard it he was terrified, and went off, running as if for a wager.
The year after, it was
Cinderlad's turn, but when he made ready to go the others laughed at him,
and mocked him. "Well, you are just the right one to watch the hay, you who
have never learned anything but how to sit among the ashes and bake yourself!"
said they. Cinderlad, however, did not trouble himself about what they said,
but when evening drew near rambled away to the outlying field. When he got
there he went into the barn and lay down, but in about an hour's time the
rumbling and creaking began, and it was frightful to hear it. "Well, if it
gets no worse than that, I can manage to stand it," thought Cinderlad. In
a little time the creaking began again, and the earth quaked so that all the
hay flew about the boy. "Oh! if it gets no worse than that I can manage to
stand it," thought Cinderlad. But then came a third rumbling, and a third
earthquake, so violent that the boy thought the walls and roof had fallen
down, but when that was over everything suddenly grew as still as death around
him. "I am pretty sure that it will come again," thought Cinderlad; but no,
it did not. Everything was quiet, and everything stayed quiet, and when he
had lain still a short time he heard something that sounded as if a horse
were standing chewing just outside the barn door. He stole away to the door,
which was ajar, to see what was there, and a horse was standing eating. It
was so big, and fat, and fine a horse that Cinderlad had never seen one like
it before, and a saddle and bridle lay upon it, and a complete suit of armour
for a knight, and everything was of copper, and so bright that it shone again.
"Ha, ha! it is thou who eatest up our hay then," thought the boy; "but I will
stop that." So he made haste, and took out his steel for striking fire, and
threw it over the horse, and then it had no power to stir from the spot, and
became so tame that the boy could do what he liked with it. So he mounted
it and rode away to a place which no one knew of but himself, and there he
tied it up. When he went home again his brothers laughed and asked how he
had got on. "You didn't lie long in the barn, if even you have been so far
as the field!" said they. "I lay in the barn till the sun rose, but I saw
nothing and heard nothing, not I," said the boy. "God knows what there was
to make you two so frightened." "Well, we shall soon see whether you have
watched the meadow or not," answered the brothers, but when they got there
the grass was all standing just as long and as thick as it had been the night
before.
The next St. John's eve
it was the same thing, once again: neither of the two brothers dared to go
to the outlying field to watch the crop, but Cinderlad went, and everything
happened exactly the same as on the previous St. John's eve: first there was
a rumbling and an earthquake, and then there was another, and then a third:
but all three earthquakes were much, very much more violent than they had
been the year before. Then everything became still as death again, and the
boy heard something chewing outside the barn door, so he stole as softly as
he could to the door, which was slightly ajar, and again there was a horse
standing close by the wall of the house, eating and chewing, and it was far
larger and fatter than the first horse, and it had a saddle on its back, and
a bridle was on it too, and a full suit of armor for a knight, all of bright
silver, and as beautiful as anyone could wish to see. "Ho, ho!" thought the
boy, "is it thou who eatest up our hay in the night? but I will put a stop
to that." So he took out his steel for striking fire, and threw it over the
horse's mane, and the beast stood there as quiet as a lamb. Then the boy rode
this horse, too, away to the place where he kept the other, and then went
home again. "I suppose you will tell us that you have watched well again this
time," said the brothers. "Well, so I have," said Cinderlad. So they went
there again. and there the grass was, standing as high and as thick as it
had been before, but that did not make them any kinder to Cinderlad.
When the third St. John's
night came neither of the two elder brothers dared to lie in the outlying
barn to watch the grass, for they had been so heartily frightened the night
that they had slept there that they could not get over it, but Cinderlad dared
to go, and everything happened just the same as on the two former nights.
There were three earthquakes, each worse than the other, and the last flung
the boy from one wall of the barn to the other, but then everything suddenly
became still as death. When he had lain quietly a short time, he heard something
chewing outside the barn door; then he once more stole to the door, which
was slightly ajar, and behold, a horse was standing just outside it, which
was much larger and fatter than the two others he had caught. "Ho, ho! it
is thou, then, who art eating up our hay this time," thought the boy; "but
I will put a stop to that." So he pulled out his steel for striking fire,
and threw it over the horse, and it stood as still as if it had been nailed
to the field, and the boy could do just what he liked with it. Then he mounted
it and rode away to the place where he had the two others, and then he went
home again. Then the two brothers mocked him just as they had done before,
and told him that they could see that he must have watched the grass very
carefully that night, for he looked just as if he were walking in his sleep;
but Cinderlad did not trouble himself about that, but just bade them go to
the field and see. They did go, and this time too the grass was standing,
looking as fine and as thick as ever.
The King of the country
in which Cinderlad's father dwelt had a daughter whom he would give to no
one who could not ride up to the top of the glass hill, for there was a high,
high hill of glass, slippery as ice, and it was close to the King's palace.
Upon the very top of this the King's daughter was to sit with three gold apples
in her lap, and the man who could ride up and take the three golden apples
should marry her, and have half the kingdom. The King had this proclaimed
in every church in the whole kingdom, and in many other kingdoms too. The
Princess was very beautiful, and all who saw her fell violently in love with
her, even in spite of themselves. So it is needless to say that all the princes
and knights were eager to win her, and half the kingdom besides, and that
for this cause they came riding thither from the very end of the world, dressed
so splendidly that their raiments gleamed in the sunshine, and riding on horses
which seemed to dance as they went, and there was not one of these princes
who did not think that he was sure to winthe Princess. When the day appointed
by the King had come, there was such a host of knights and princes under the
glass hill that they seemed to swarm, and everyone who could walk or even
creep was there too, to see who won the King's daughter. Cinderlad's two brothers
were there too, but they would not hear of letting him go with them, for he
was so dirty and black with sleeping and grubbing among the ashes that they
said everyone would laugh at them if they were seen in the company of such
an oaf.
"Well, then, I will go
all alone by myself," said Cinderlad. When the two brothers got to the glass
hill, all the princes and knights were trying to ride up it, and their horses
were in a foam; but it was all in vain, for no sooner did the horses set foot
upon the hill than down they
Source : Andrew Lang, "The Blue
Fairy Book". Lang's Source : Asbjornsen and Moe.