Oh, geez...I have about five posts halfway finished that I haven't been able to make any progress on. I recall that my last post or so (might have been before that; I've lost track of what's been published and what hasn't), I mentioned an entry about a Norse folktale. Here it is. You might have heard it, or a variation of it. It's the Norse version of "Beauty and the Beast," bearing similarities to "The Scarlet Flower" and "Eros and Psyche," both of which are posted on this site. Without further ado:
EAST O' THE SUN AND WEST O' THE MOON
There once lived a poor man who had too many children to care for properly, though he loved each of them dearly. They were all handsome children, but the most beautiful of the lot of them was the man's youngest daughter.
One evening, as a winter storm howled and raged against the cottage walls, threatening to tear them down and rend them asunder, the man and all his children sat round the fire and attempted to warm their frigid bodies when, suddenly, there could be heard a tapping against the windowpane. The man rose to see who it was, and when he opened the door was met by an enormous white bear.
"Good evening," said the bear. When the man returned the greeting, the bear became so bold as to ask him, "May I have your youngest daughter? If I may have her, I swear to you that I will make you as rich as the richest man in the world--richer, even. Neither you nor your children should ever want for anything more in this world."
Though he would fain accept the offer of the money, he loved his daughter more than any worldly wealth, and so went inside to consult with her on the matter. The daughter, knowing full well that, otherwise, there was little hope of her own survival or that of her parents and siblings, eventually agreed to go with the bear, albeit quite reluctantly, as she didn't wish to leave her family and trust her fate and theirs to a perfect stranger. And so, she climbed up on the bear's back, held tight to its thick, shaggy fur, and the two of them set off for the bear's abode.
The bear lived in a castle hidden inside a hill, with many rooms decked in silver and gold and precious jewels. The bear gave the maiden a silver bell, and told her to ring it if there was anything she might need or want. After she had eaten and drunk her fill, she rang the bell, wishing to be shown to her bed. She scarce had touched it before she was whisked into a large chamber, in the middle of which was a gorgeous canopy bed, large enough for perhaps ten or fifteen men to lie upon it, and covered with luxurious silks and velvet and down pillows. She lay down on the bed and drew the coverlet over herself, and blew out the lamp, but just before she was able to settle into a deep sleep, she heard a man's footsteps come into the room. The figure stopped at the bed and lay down beside her. It must be the bear, she mused, and thought no more of it till morning and, by the time she awoke around dawn the bear was gone.
This happened every night for quite some time--a few months, perhaps nearly a year. As time went by, although the maid received practically anything her heart desired, she was not content, for she missed her family quite dearly. One day, as she dined with the bear, he asked her what was troubling her, and she told him that she wished to see her father and mother and brothers and sisters again. The bear took some convincing, for he could foresee no good coming out of this. Finally, he sighed and said, "Very well. But you must remember never to speak to your mother unless at least one other of your kin is around to hear. Mark me, she will try to take you by the arm and lead you away from the others, but you must refuse, otherwise you'll bring misfortune upon both of us."
The maiden's family was overjoyed to receive her company, even if it was to be only for a few days' time. It turned out that the bear truly was a creature of his word--they were indeed very well off. When her father and mother asked her how she was where she lived, she told them about the white bear's magnanimity and how she always had enough to eat, and fine clothes and jewels to wear, and a soft, warm bed to sleep in. Her parents were glad to hear this, but after they had dined and the children went out to play, the mother asked the maid if she could talk to her in her bedroom. The maid, remembering her promise to the bear, gently and politely refused. Twice more the mother did this, and eventually the maid had to tell her the whole story, about how every night after she had extinguished the lamp, the bear cast off his form and lay beside her, and would vanish again by morning.
"Dear child," the woman exclaimed, "You may be sleeping with a Troll! Here, take this candle, and when you are sure he is asleep, light it and have a look at him. But be sure not to let any of the tallow drop on him."
The daughter, frightened, did as her mother had said, and lit the candle the very night that she had returned. But when she had turned to gaze upon the man lying at her side, she saw that it was not as her mother had said, but that the bear assumed the form of the most handsome Prince anyone could ever set eyes upon. At that moment, she fell so deeply in love with him that she bent to give him a kiss, but in doing so she let three drops of tallow spill on his shirt. The hot wax woke him and he fixed her with a glare that could have melted stone.
"You foolish girl," he said in a voice made threatening by its calm, "had you possessed the patience to wait this one year through, I would have been freed from this enchantment that had been placed upon me by my witch of a stepmother. So now, I must go to her castle which lies East o' the Sun and West o' the Moon, and marry the Princess who lives in that castle, with a nose three ells[1] long."
She mustn't come with him, he said, but she was free to seek him out if she could; he could only say that the palace lay East o' the Sun and West o' the Moon, and nothing more the would aid her. When she awoke the next morning, she found herself in the midst of a dark wood, wearing the rags in which she had first come to the Prince's palace, months before. Both Prince and palace had vanished without a trace. She walked for a long time until she found an old lady, playing with a golden apple. The maid asked her if she knew how to get to the castle East o' the Sun and West o' the Moon, to rescue the Prince who lived there who was to marry the Princess with the nose three ells long.
"How is it that you know about him?" asked the crone. "Are you the one who ought to have had him?"
"Yes, I am," replied the maiden.
Alas, the lady knew nothing more than the Prince had told the maid already, but she loaned the girl her horse and gave her the golden apple, saying that it might help her in the future.
The crone had a neighbor, a woman as old as she, whom the maid encountered sitting with a gold carding-comb. The maid switched the horse under the left ear, and it returned home to its mistress. Then, she approached the hag and asked if she knew the way to the palace East o' the Sun and West o' the Moon, where the Prince lived, who was to marry the Princess with the nose three ells long.
The old woman knew nothing other than what the maid had already heard, but gave her the carding-comb and the loan of her horse so that she might ask the next neighbor.
The maid found the third woman spinning with a golden spinning-wheel. When asked about the castle East o' the Sun and West o' the Moon, and the Prince who lived there, and the Princess with the nose three ells long, she replied, "You must be the one who ought to have had him. I know nothing of the place, other than that it is East o' the Sun and West o' the Moon, but you may have my spinning-wheel and the loan of my horse so that you may ride to the East Wind; perhaps he could take you there."
The maid thanked the crone and went off on her way. When she reached the home of the East Wind, she switched her horse and bade it return home, and approached the East Wind, inquiring, "Would you, by any chance, know of the way to the palace East o' the Sun and West o' the Moon, where lives the Prince who is to marry the Princess with the nose three ells long?"
The East Wind replied, "I know of the place, but I am the weakest of the four winds, and have never blown nearly so far in my life. But here; I shall take you to my brother, the West Wind, who is stronger than I."
It was many days to the place where dwelt the West Wind. It turned out that he was of no assistance, either--he had never blown so far. "But," he said to the girl, "Perhaps my brother, the South Wind, would know the way to the palace East o' the Sun and West o' the Moon."
The ride to the South Wind was longer still than either of the journeys, and no more fruitful. The South Wind had never blown so far, but he knew for a fact that the North Wind, the strongest of the four of them, had. And so, he offered to take her to him, so that he might bring her to the castle East o' the Sun and West o' the Moon.
The North Wind was not quite so good-humored as were his three brothers. But, when the South Wind informed him that this was the girl who ought to have had the Prince who lived with his wicked stepmother in the palace East o' the Sun and West o' the Moon, he reined in his temper just a little bit and said, "Child, it is true that I have blown to the castle which lies East o' the Sun and West o' the Moon, but I was so weary that for days afterward I was forced to rest, for exhaustion had rendered me powerless. Nevertheless, I shall try to carry you thither."
The girl was quite thankful, and got on his back, and the two of them set off on their way, across a great sea. True to his word, the journey sapped most of the North Wind's strength, so that he only had just enough to push the girl onto the edge of the shoreline. The castle stood on a hill in the distance, a great mass of stone walls, battlements and towers.
The next morning, the girl sat beneath the window she saw was that of the Princess's bedchambers, and played with the golden apple the first hag had given her. The Princess saw, and thought to herself that she must have that apple, whatever the cost. So she leaned out of the window and asked the girl, "How much could I give you for that apple you have there?"
"It's not for sale for gold or money," replied the girl.
"If not for gold or money, then what?"
The girl made a show of thinking for a moment, then said, "If you would allow me to spend the night with the Prince who is to marry you, then the apple will be yours."
Now, the Princess knew that the maid was the one who ought to have had the Prince, and she had a plan. She quickly agreed, and the maid tossed the apple to her.
That evening, when the Princess served the Prince his supper, she mixed a special brew into his wine, so that he would fall into a deep sleep until morning. Thus, when the maid went to see him, she could not wake him, and so was forced to leave at dawn, forlorn. But the maid was not to be deterred: she sat herself down right in the same spot she had the day before and fussed with her golden carding-comb. The Princess wished to have the comb, too, and agreed to barter another night with the Prince for it. Unbeknownst to the maid, the Princess drugged the Prince once more, and the girl once again failed to wake him.
Knowing that this was her last chance, the maiden sat down beneath the window and spun with her gold spinning wheel until the Princess asked for it, agreeing to one last night with the Prince. Meanwhile, there were in the castle some men of the Christian faith, who had been staying in the room next to the Prince's, and had heard the cries and prayers and pleas of the girl, and so told the Prince. The Prince knew that this was the girl who had gone with him when he was trapped as a white bear, and who ought to have had him, and realized that the Princess had tricked him. So, when the Princess came into his room that night with the drink, he took a sip, but didn't swallow, instead spitting it out the moment she left. So, when the maiden came in, she found to her surprise and joy that the Prince was awake, and told him the story of how she had found him.
"You've come just in time," said the Prince with a smile, "for tomorrow is the day I am to be wed to the horrid Princess with the nose three ells long. But I'll not have her; I want you. I'll challenge her to show me what she is fit for." He went to the wardrobe and removed the shirt with the three drops of tallow on it, the tallow she had spilled the night he disappeared. "I'll ask her to wash the tallow out of this shirt, which she won't be able to do, as she carries Troll blood in her veins. And when she fails, I'll say that I'll only have for a bride the woman who can wash the shirt clean, and then ask you to do it."
The next day, the maid was shooed out of the room as the servants came to ready the Prince for his wedding. The Prince announced, "I would like to see what my bride is fit for."
The stepmother agreed that that was a wise request, and he went on. "I've got a very fine shirt here, which I would like to wear to my wedding, but somehow it has gotten three spots of tallow on it. I want them washed out, and I refuse to marry anyone save the one who can do it."
Immediately the Princess set to work, but the more she scrubbed, the bigger and blacker the spots grew. The stepmother, too, made an attempt, to similar results. Then all the other Trolls tried, until the spots had just about consumed the shirt.
"You're all worthless," exclaimed the Prince. He gestured to the window where the maiden watched. "Outside sits a beggar girl who I'm positive could wash this shirt better than any of you. Come here, girl!"
She came in, she took the shirt from the Prince, and as soon as she had dipped it in the water, the spots vanished and it became as white as fresh snow. The Prince proclaimed that he had made his choice, and so the two of them married, took the Trolls' silver and gold, and went as far away as was humanly possible from the castle that lay East o' the Sun and West o' the Moon.
[1] unit of measurement, also called a cubit, spanning the length of a man's forearm from the elbow to the tip of the middle finger, or approximately 18 inches
Sources:
Dasent, G. W. (1903). Popular tales from the Norse (New ed.). Edinburgh: David Douglas.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ell
