الفصل الفصل 85 · The Young Giant

. The Young Giant

Once on a time a countryman had a son who was as big as a thumb, and

did not become any bigger, and during several years did not grow one

hair’s breadth. Once when the father was going out to plough, the

little one said, “Father, I will go out with you.” “Thou wouldst go out

with me?” said the father. “Stay here, thou wilt be of no use out

there, besides thou mightest get lost!” Then Thumbling began to cry,

and for the sake of peace his father put him in his pocket, and took

him with him. When he was outside in the field, he took him out again,

and set him in a freshly-cut furrow. Whilst he was there, a great giant

came over the hill. “Do thou see that great bogie?” said the father,

for he wanted to frighten the little fellow to make him good; “he is

coming to fetch thee.” The giant, however, had scarcely taken two steps

with his long legs before he was in the furrow. He took up little

Thumbling carefully with two fingers, examined him, and without saying

one word went away with him. His father stood by, but could not utter a

sound for terror, and he thought nothing else but that his child was

lost, and that as long as he lived he should never set eyes on him

again.

The giant, however, carried him home, suckled him, and Thumbling grew

and became tall and strong after the manner of giants. When two years

had passed, the old giant took him into the forest, wanted to try him,

and said, “Pull up a stick for thyself.” Then the boy was already so

strong that he tore up a young tree out of the earth by the roots. But

the giant thought, “We must do better than that,” took him back again,

and suckled him two years longer. When he tried him, his strength had

increased so much that he could tear an old tree out of the ground.

That was still not enough for the giant; he again suckled him for two

years, and when he then went with him into the forest and said, “Now

just tear up a proper stick for me,” the boy tore up the strongest

oak-tree from the earth, so that it split, and that was a mere trifle

to him. “Now that will do,” said the giant, “thou art perfect,” and

took him back to the field from whence he had brought him. His father

was there following the plough. The young giant went up to him, and

said, “Does my father see what a fine man his son has grown into?”

The farmer was alarmed, and said, “No, thou art not my son; I don’t

want thee leave me!” “Truly I am your son; allow me to do your work, I

can plough as well as you, nay better.” “No, no, thou art not my son;

and thou canst not plough go away!” However, as he was afraid of this

great man, he left go of the plough, stepped back and stood at one side

of the piece of land. Then the youth took the plough, and just pressed

it with one hand, but his grasp was so strong that the plough went deep

into the earth. The farmer could not bear to see that, and called to

him, “If thou art determined to plough, thou must not press so hard on

it, that makes bad work.” The youth, however, unharnessed the horses,

and drew the plough himself, saying, “Just go home, father, and bid my

mother make ready a large dish of food, and in the meantime I will go

over the field.” Then the farmer went home, and ordered his wife to

prepare the food; but the youth ploughed the field which was two acres

large, quite alone, and then he harnessed himself to the harrow, and

harrowed the whole of the land, using two harrows at once. When he had

done it, he went into the forest, and pulled up two oak-trees, laid

them across his shoulders, and hung on them one harrow behind and one

before, and also one horse behind and one before, and carried all as if

it had been a bundle of straw, to his parents’ house. When he entered

the yard, his mother did not recognize him, and asked, “Who is that

horrible tall man?” The farmer said, “That is our son.” She said, “No

that cannot be our son, we never had such a tall one, ours was a little

thing.” She called to him, “Go away, we do not want thee!” The youth

was silent, but led his horses to the stable, gave them some oats and

hay, and all that they wanted. When he had done this, he went into the

parlour, sat down on the bench and said, “Mother, now I should like

something to eat, will it soon be ready?” Then she said, “Yes,” and

brought in two immense dishes full of food, which would have been

enough to satisfy herself and her husband for a week. The youth,

however, ate the whole of it himself, and asked if she had nothing more

to set before him. “No,” she replied, “that is all we have.” “But that

was only a taste, I must have more.” She did not dare to oppose him,

and went and put a huge caldron full of food on the fire, and when it

was ready, carried it in. “At length come a few crumbs,” said he, and

ate all there was, but it was still not sufficient to appease his

hunger. Then said he, “Father, I see well that with you I shall never

have food enough; if you will get me an iron staff which is strong, and

which I cannot break against my knees, I will go out into the world.”

The farmer was glad, put his two horses in his cart, and fetched from

the smith a staff so large and thick, that the two horses could only

just bring it away. The youth laid it across his knees, and snap! he

broke it in two in the middle like a bean-stalk, and threw it away. The

father then harnessed four horses, and brought a bar which was so long

and thick, that the four horses could only just drag it. The son

snapped this also in twain against his knees, threw it away, and said,

“Father, this can be of no use to me, you must harness more horses, and

bring a stronger staff.” So the father harnessed eight horses, and

brought one which was so long and thick, that the eight horses could

only just carry it. When the son took it in his hand, he broke off a

bit from the top of it also, and said, “Father, I see that you will not

be able to procure me any such staff as I want, I will remain no longer

with you.”

So he went away, and gave out that he was a smith’s apprentice. He

arrived at a village, wherein lived a smith who was a greedy fellow,

who never did a kindness to any one, but wanted everything for himself.

The youth went into the smithy and asked if he needed a journeyman.

“Yes,” said the smith, and looked at him, and thought, “That is a

strong fellow who will strike out well, and earn his bread.” So he

asked, “How much wages dost thou want?” “I don’t want any at all,” he

replied, “only every fortnight, when the other journeymen are paid, I

will give thee two blows, and thou must bear them.” The miser was

heartily satisfied, and thought he would thus save much money. Next

morning, the strange journeyman was to begin to work, but when the

master brought the glowing bar, and the youth struck his first blow,

the iron flew asunder, and the anvil sank so deep into the earth, that

there was no bringing it out again. Then the miser grew angry, and

said, “Oh, but I can’t make any use of you, you strike far too

powerfully; what will you have for the one blow?”

Then said he, “I will only give you quite a small blow, that’s all.”

And he raised his foot, and gave him such a kick that he flew away over

four loads of hay. Then he sought out the thickest iron bar in the

smithy for himself, took it as a stick in his hand and went onwards.

When he had walked for some time, he came to a small farm, and asked

the bailiff if he did not require a head-servant. “Yes,” said the

bailiff, “I can make use of one; you look a strong fellow who can do

something, how much a year do you want as wages?” He again replied that

he wanted no wages at all, but that every year he would give him three

blows, which he must bear. Then the bailiff was satisfied, for he, too,

was a covetous fellow. Next morning all the servants were to go into

the wood, and the others were already up, but the head-servant was

still in bed. Then one of them called to him, “Get up, it is time; we

are going into the wood, and thou must go with us.” “Ah,” said he quite

roughly and surlily, “you may just go, then; I shall be back again

before any of you.” Then the others went to the bailiff, and told him

that the head-man was still lying in bed, and would not go into the

wood with them. The bailiff said they were to awaken him again, and

tell him to harness the horses. The head-man, however, said as before,

“Just go there, I shall be back again before any of you.” And then he

stayed in bed two hours longer. At length he arose from the feathers,

but first he got himself two bushels of peas from the loft, made

himself some broth with them, ate it at his leisure, and when that was

done, went and harnessed the horses, and drove into the wood. Not far

from the wood was a ravine through which he had to pass, so he first

drove the horses on, and then stopped them, and went behind the cart,

took trees and brushwood, and made a great barricade, so that no horse

could get through. When he was entering the wood, the others were just

driving out of it with their loaded carts to go home; then said he to

them, “Drive on, I will still get home before you do.” He did not drive

far into the wood, but at once tore two of the very largest trees of

all out of the earth, threw them on his cart, and turned round. When he

came to the barricade, the others were still standing there, not able

to get through. “Don’t you see,” said he, “that if you had stayed with

me, you would have got home just as quickly, and would have had another

hour’s sleep?” He now wanted to drive on, but his horses could not work

their way through, so he unharnessed them, laid them on the top of the

cart, took the shafts in his own hands, and pulled it all through, and

he did this just as easily as if it had been laden with feathers. When

he was over, he said to the others, “There, you see, I have got over

quicker than you,” and drove on, and the others had to stay where they

were. In the yard, however, he took a tree in his hand, showed it to

the bailiff, and said, “Isn’t that a fine bundle of wood?” Then said

the bailiff to his wife, “The servant is a good one, if he does sleep

long, he is still home before the others.” So he served the bailiff for

a year, and when that was over, and the other servants were getting

their wages, he said it was time for him to take his too. The bailiff,

however, was afraid of the blows which he was to receive, and earnestly

entreated him to excuse him from having them; for rather than that, he

himself would be head-servant, and the youth should be bailiff. “No,”

said he, “I will not be a bailiff, I am head-servant, and will remain

so, but I will administer that which we agreed on.” The bailiff was

willing to give him whatsoever he demanded, but it was of no use, the

head-servant said no to everything. Then the bailiff did not know what

to do, and begged for a fortnight’s delay, for he wanted to find some

way of escape. The head-servant consented to this delay. The bailiff

summoned all his clerks together, and they were to think the matter

over, and give him advice. The clerks pondered for a long time, but at

last they said that no one was sure of his life with the head-servant,

for he could kill a man as easily as a midge, and that the bailiff

ought to make him get into the well and clean it, and when he was down

below, they would roll up one of the mill-stones which was lying there,

and throw it on his head; and then he would never return to daylight.

The advice pleased the bailiff, and the head-servant was quite willing

to go down the well. When he was standing down below at the bottom,

they rolled down the largest mill-stone and thought they had broken his

skull, but he cried, “Chase away those hens from the well, they are

scratching in the sand up there, and throwing the grains into my eyes,

so that I can’t see.” So the bailiff cried, “Sh-sh,” and pretended to

frighten the hens away. When the head-servant had finished his work, he

climbed up and said, “Just look what a beautiful neck-tie I have on,”

and behold it was the mill-stone which he was wearing round his neck.

The head-servant now wanted to take his reward, but the bailiff again

begged for a fortnight’s delay. The clerks met together and advised him

to send the head-servant to the haunted mill to grind corn by night,

for from thence as yet no man had ever returned in the morning alive.

The proposal pleased the bailiff, he called the head-servant that very

evening, and ordered him to take eight bushels of corn to the mill, and

grind it that night, for it was wanted. So the head-servant went to the

loft, and put two bushels in his right pocket, and two in his left, and

took four in a wallet, half on his back, and half on his breast, and

thus laden went to the haunted mill. The miller told him that he could

grind there very well by day, but not by night, for the mill was

haunted, and that up to the present time whosoever had gone into it at

night had been found in the morning lying dead inside. He said, “I will

manage it, just you go away to bed.” Then he went into the mill, and

poured out the corn. About eleven o’clock he went into the miller’s

room, and sat down on the bench. When he had sat there a while, a door

suddenly opened, and a large table came in, and on the table, wine and

roasted meats placed themselves, and much good food besides, but

everything came of itself, for no one was there to carry it. After this

the chairs pushed themselves up, but no people came, until all at once

he beheld fingers, which handled knives and forks, and laid food on the

plates, but with this exception he saw nothing. As he was hungry, and

saw the food, he, too, place himself at the table, ate with those who

were eating and enjoyed it. When he had had enough, and the others also

had quite emptied their dishes, he distinctly heard all the candles

being suddenly snuffed out, and as it was now pitch dark, he felt

something like a box on the ear. Then he said, “If anything of that

kind comes again, I shall strike out in return.” And when he had

received a second box on the ear, he, too struck out. And so it

continued the whole night. He took nothing without returning it, but

repaid everything with interest, and did not lay about him in vain. At

daybreak, however, everything ceased. When the miller had got up, he

wanted to look after him, and wondered if he were still alive. Then the

youth said, “I have eaten my fill, have received some boxes on the

ears, but I have given some in return.” The miller rejoiced, and said

that the mill was now released from the spell, and wanted to give him

much money as a reward. But he said, “Money, I will not have, I have

enough of it.” So he took his meal on his back, went home, and told the

bailiff that he had done what he had been told to do, and would now

have the reward agreed on. When the bailiff heard that, he was

seriously alarmed and quite beside himself; he walked backwards and

forwards in the room, and drops of perspiration ran down from his

forehead. Then he opened the window to get some fresh air, but before

he was aware, the head-servant had given him such a kick that he flew

through the window out into the air, and so far away that no one ever

saw him again. Then said the head-servant to the bailiff’s wife, “If he

does not come back, you must take the other blow.” She cried, “No, no I

cannot bear it,” and opened the other window, because drops of

perspiration were running down her forehead. Then he gave her such a

kick that she, too, flew out, and as she was lighter she went much

higher than her husband. Her husband cried, “Do come to me,” but she

replied, “Come thou to me, I cannot come to thee.” And they hovered

about there in the air, and could not get to each other, and whether

they are still hovering about, or not, I do not know, but the young

giant took up his iron bar, and went on his way.