The Blue Fairy Book
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 armor 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
win the 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 slipped, and there was not one which could get even so much as
a couple of yards up. Nor was that strange, for the hill was as smooth
as a glass window-pane, and as steep as the side of a house. But they
were all eager to win the King’s daughter and half the kingdom, so they
rode and they slipped, and thus it went on. At length all the horses
were so tired that they could do no more, and so hot that the foam
dropped from them and the riders were forced to give up the attempt. The
King was just thinking that he would cause it to be proclaimed that the
riding should begin afresh on the following day, when perhaps it might
go better, when suddenly a knight came riding up on so fine a horse that
no one had ever seen the like of it before, and the knight had armor of
copper, and his bridle was of copper too, and all his accoutrements were
so bright that they shone again. The other knights all called out to him
that he might just as well spare himself the trouble of trying to ride
up the glass hill, for it was of no use to try; but he did not heed
them, and rode straight off to it, and went up as if it were nothing at
all. Thus he rode for a long way--it may have been a third part of the
way up--but when he had got so far he turned his horse round and rode
down again. But the Princess thought that she had never yet seen so
handsome a knight, and while he was riding up she was sitting thinking,
“Oh! how I hope he may be able to come up to the top!” And when she saw
that he was turning his horse back she threw one of the golden apples
down after him, and it rolled into his shoe. But when he had come down
from off the hill he rode away, and that so fast that no one knew what
had become of him.
So all the princes and knights were bidden to present themselves before
the King that night, so that he who had ridden so far up the glass hill
might show the golden apple which the King’s daughter had thrown down.
But no one had anything to show. One knight presented himself after the
other, and none could show the apple.
At night, too, Cinderlad’s brothers came home again and had a long story
to tell about riding up the glass hill. At first, they said, there was
not one who was able to get even so much as one step up, but then came
a knight who had armor of copper, and a bridle of copper, and his armor
and trappings were so bright that they shone to a great distance, and it
was something like a sight to see him riding. He rode one-third of the
way up the glass hill, and he could easily have ridden the whole of it
if he had liked; but he had turned back, for he had made up his mind
that that was enough for once. “Oh! I should have liked to see him too,
that I should,” said Cinderlad, who was as usual sitting by the chimney
among the cinders. “You, indeed!” said the brothers, “you look as if you
were fit to be among such great lords, nasty beast that you are to sit
there!”
Next day the brothers were for setting out again, and this time too
Cinderlad begged them to let him go with them and see who rode; but no,
they said he was not fit to do that, for he was much too ugly and dirty.
“Well, well, then I will go all alone by myself,” said Cinderlad. So the
brothers went to the glass hill, and all the princes and knights began
to ride again, and this time they had taken care to roughen the shoes of
their horses; but that did not help them: they rode and they slipped as
they had done the day before, and not one of them could get even so far
as a yard up the hill. When they had tired out their horses, so that
they could do no more, they again had to stop altogether. But just as
the King was thinking that it would be well to proclaim that the riding
should take place next day for the last time, so that they might have
one more chance, he suddenly bethought himself that it would be well to
wait a little longer to see if the knight in copper armor would come on
this day too. But nothing was to be seen of him. Just as they were still