A Tale of the Tontlawald

A TALE OF THE TONTLAWALD

Long, long ago there stood in the midst of a country covered with lakes

a vast stretch of moorland called the Tontlawald, on which no man ever

dared set foot. From time to time a few bold spirits had been drawn by

curiosity to its borders, and on their return had reported that they had

caught a glimpse of a ruined house in a grove of thick trees, and round

about it were a crowd of beings resembling men, swarming over the grass

like bees. The men were as dirty and ragged as gipsies, and there were

besides a quantity of old women and half-naked children.

One night a peasant who was returning home from a feast wandered a

little farther into the Tontlawald, and came back with the same story. A

countless number of women and children were gathered round a huge fire,

and some were seated on the ground, while others danced strange dances

on the smooth grass. One old crone had a broad iron ladle in her hand,

with which every now and then she stirred the fire, but the moment she

touched the glowing ashes the children rushed away, shrieking like night

owls, and it was a long while before they ventured to steal back. And

besides all this there had once or twice been seen a little old man with

a long beard creeping out of the forest, carrying a sack bigger than

himself. The women and children ran by his side, weeping and trying to

drag the sack from off his back, but he shook them off, and went on

his way. There was also a tale of a magnificent black cat as large as a

foal, but men could not believe all the wonders told by the peasant,

and it was difficult to make out what was true and what was false in his

story. However, the fact remained that strange things did happen there,

and the King of Sweden, to whom this part of the country belonged, more

than once gave orders to cut down the haunted wood, but there was no one

with courage enough to obey his commands. At length one man, bolder than

the rest, struck his axe into a tree, but his blow was followed by

a stream of blood and shrieks as of a human creature in pain. The

terrified woodcutter fled as fast as his legs would carry him, and after

that neither orders nor threats would drive anybody to the enchanted

moor.

A few miles from the Tontlawald was a large village, where dwelt a

peasant who had recently married a young wife. As not uncommonly happens

in such cases, she turned the whole house upside down, and the two

quarrelled and fought all day long.

By his first wife the peasant had a daughter called Elsa, a good quiet

girl, who only wanted to live in peace, but this her stepmother would

not allow. She beat and cuffed the poor child from morning till night,

but as the stepmother had the whip-hand of her husband there was no

remedy.

For two years Elsa suffered all this ill-treatment, when one day

she went out with the other village children to pluck strawberries.

Carelessly they wandered on, till at last they reached the edge of the

Tontlawald, where the finest strawberries grew, making the grass red

with their colour. The children flung themselves down on the ground,

and, after eating as many as they wanted, began to pile up their

baskets, when suddenly a cry arose from one of the older boys:

‘Run, run as fast as you can! We are in the Tontlawald!’

Quicker than lightning they sprang to their feet, and rushed madly away,

all except Elsa, who had strayed farther than the rest, and had found a

bed of the finest strawberries right under the trees. Like the others,

she heard the boy’s cry, but could not make up her mind to leave the

strawberries.

‘After all, what does it matter?’ thought she. ‘The dwellers in the

Tontlawald cannot be worse than my stepmother’; and looking up she saw

a little black dog with a silver bell on its neck come barking towards

her, followed by a maiden clad all in silk.

‘Be quiet,’ said she; then turning to Elsa she added: ‘I am so glad you

did not run away with the other children. Stay here with me and be my

friend, and we will play delightful games together, and every day we

will go and gather strawberries. Nobody will dare to beat you if I tell

them not. Come, let us go to my mother’; and taking Elsa’s hand she led

her deeper into the wood, the little black dog jumping up beside them

and barking with pleasure.

Oh! what wonders and splendours unfolded themselves before Elsa’s

astonished eyes! She thought she really must be in Heaven. Fruit trees

and bushes loaded with fruit stood before them, while birds gayer than

the brightest butterfly sat in their branches and filled the air with

their song. And the birds were not shy, but let the girls take them in

their hands, and stroke their gold and silver feathers. In the centre

of the garden was the dwelling-house, shining with glass and precious

stones, and in the doorway sat a woman in rich garments, who turned to

Elsa’s companion and asked:

‘What sort of a guest are you bringing to me?’

‘I found her alone in the wood,’ replied her daughter, ‘and brought her

back with me for a companion. You will let her stay?’

The mother laughed, but said nothing, only she looked Elsa up and down

sharply. Then she told the girl to come near, and stroked her cheeks and

spoke kindly to her, asking if her parents were alive, and if she really

would like to stay with them. Elsa stooped and kissed her hand, then,

kneeling down, buried her face in the woman’s lap, and sobbed out:

‘My mother has lain for many years under the ground. My father is still

alive, but I am nothing to him, and my stepmother beats me all the day

long. I can do nothing right, so let me, I pray you, stay with you. I

will look after the flocks or do any work you tell me; I will obey your

lightest word; only do not, I entreat you, send me back to her. She will

half kill me for not having come back with the other children.’

And the woman smiled and answered, ‘Well, we will see what we can do

with you,’ and, rising, went into the house.

Then the daughter said to Elsa, ‘Fear nothing, my mother will be your

friend. I saw by the way she looked that she would grant your request

when she had thought over it,’ and, telling Elsa to wait, she entered

the house to seek her mother. Elsa meanwhile was tossed about between

hope and fear, and felt as if the girl would never come.

At last Elsa saw her crossing the grass with a box in her hand.

‘My mother says we may play together to-day, as she wants to make up her

mind what to do about you. But I hope you will stay here always, as I

can’t bear you to go away. Have you ever been on the sea?’

‘The sea?’ asked Elsa, staring; ‘what is that? I’ve never heard of such

a thing!’

‘Oh, I’ll soon show you,’ answered the girl, taking the lid from the

box, and at the very bottom lay a scrap of a cloak, a mussel shell, and

two fish scales. Two drops of water were glistening on the cloak, and

these the girl shook on the ground. In an instant the garden and lawn

and everything else had vanished utterly, as if the earth had opened

and swallowed them up, and as far as the eye could reach you could see

nothing but water, which seemed at last to touch heaven itself. Only

under their feet was a tiny dry spot. Then the girl placed the mussel

shell on the water and took the fish scales in her hand. The mussel

shell grew bigger and bigger, and turned into a pretty little boat,

which would have held a dozen children. The girls stepped in, Elsa very

cautiously, for which she was much laughed at by her friend, who used

the fish scales for a rudder. The waves rocked the girls softly, as if

they were lying in a cradle, and they floated on till they met other

boats filled with men, singing and making merry.

‘We must sing you a song in return,’ said the girl, but as Elsa did not

know any songs, she had to sing by herself. Elsa could not understand

any of the men’s songs, but one word, she noticed, came over and over

again, and that was ‘Kisika.’ Elsa asked what it meant, and the girl

replied that it was her name.

It was all so pleasant that they might have stayed there for ever had

not a voice cried out to them, ‘Children, it is time for you to come

home!’

So Kisika took the little box out of her pocket, with the piece of

cloth lying in it, and dipped the cloth in the water, and lo! they

were standing close to a splendid house in the middle of the garden.

Everything round them was dry and firm, and there was no water anywhere.

The mussel shell and the fish scales were put back in the box, and the

girls went in.

They entered a large hall, where four and twenty richly dressed women

were sitting round a table, looking as if they were about to attend a

wedding. At the head of the table sat the lady of the house in a golden

chair.

Elsa did not know which way to look, for everything that met her eyes

was more beautiful than she could have dreamed possible. But she sat

down with the rest, and ate some delicious fruit, and thought she must

be in heaven. The guests talked softly, but their speech was strange

to Elsa, and she understood nothing of what was said. Then the hostess

turned round and whispered something to a maid behind her chair, and the

maid left the hall, and when she came back she brought a little old man

with her, who had a beard longer than himself. He bowed low to the lady

and then stood quietly near the door.

‘Do you see this girl?’ said the lady of the house, pointing to Elsa. ‘I

wish to adopt her for my daughter. Make me a copy of her, which we can

send to her native village instead of herself.’

The old man looked Elsa all up and down, as if he was taking her

measure, bowed again to the lady, and left the hall. After dinner the

lady said kindly to Elsa, ‘Kisika has begged me to let you stay with

her, and you have told her you would like to live here. Is that so?’

At these words Elsa fell on her knees, and kissed the lady’s hands and

feet in gratitude for her escape from her cruel stepmother; but her

hostess raised her from the ground and patted her head, saying, ‘All

will go well as long as you are a good, obedient child, and I will take

care of you and see that you want for nothing till you are grown up and

can look after yourself. My waiting-maid, who teaches Kisika all sorts

of fine handiwork, shall teach you too.’

Not long after the old man came back with a mould full of clay on his

shoulders, and a little covered basket in his left hand. He put down his

mould and his basket on the ground, took up a handful of clay, and made

a doll as large as life. When it was finished he bored a hole in the

doll’s breast and put a bit of bread inside; then, drawing a snake out

of the basket, forced it to enter the hollow body.

‘Now,’ he said to the lady, ‘all we want is a drop of the maiden’s

blood.’

When she heard this Elsa grew white with horror, for she thought she was

selling her soul to the evil one.

‘Do not be afraid!’ the lady hastened to say; ‘we do not want your blood

for any bad purpose, but rather to give you freedom and happiness.’

Then she took a tiny golden needle, pricked Elsa in the arm, and gave

the needle to the old man, who stuck it into the heart of the doll. When

this was done he placed the figure in the basket, promising that the

next day they should all see what a beautiful piece of work he had

finished.

When Elsa awoke the next morning in her silken bed, with its soft white

pillows, she saw a beautiful dress lying over the back of a chair, ready

for her to put on. A maid came in to comb out her long hair, and brought

the finest linen for her use; but nothing gave Elsa so much joy as the

little pair of embroidered shoes that she held in her hand, for the girl

had hitherto been forced to run about barefoot by her cruel stepmother.

In her excitement she never gave a thought to the rough clothes she had

worn the day before, which had disappeared as if by magic during the

night. Who could have taken them? Well, she was to know that by-and-by.

But WE can guess that the doll had been dressed in them, which was to go

back to the village in her stead. By the time the sun rose the doll had

attained her full size, and no one could have told one girl from

the other. Elsa started back when she met herself as she looked only

yesterday.

‘You must not be frightened,’ said the lady, when she noticed her

terror; ‘this clay figure can do you no harm. It is for your stepmother,

that she may beat it instead of you. Let her flog it as hard as she

will, it can never feel any pain. And if the wicked woman does not come

one day to a better mind your double will be able at last to give her

the punishment she deserves.’

From this moment Elsa’s life was that of the ordinary happy child, who

has been rocked to sleep in her babyhood in a lovely golden cradle. She

had no cares or troubles of any sort, and every day her tasks became

easier, and the years that had gone before seemed more and more like

a bad dream. But the happier she grew the deeper was her wonder at

everything around her, and the more firmly she was persuaded that some

great unknown power must be at the bottom of it all.

In the courtyard stood a huge granite block about twenty steps from the

house, and when meal times came round the old man with the long beard

went to the block, drew out a small silver staff, and struck the stone

with it three times, so that the sound could be heard a long way off.

At the third blow, out sprang a large golden cock, and stood upon the

stone. Whenever he crowed and flapped his wings the rock opened and

something came out of it. First a long table covered with dishes ready

laid for the number of persons who would be seated round it, and this

flew into the house all by itself.

When the cock crowed for the second time, a number of chairs appeared,

and flew after the table; then wine, apples, and other fruit, all

without trouble to anybody. After everybody had had enough, the old

man struck the rock again. The golden cock crowed afresh, and back went

dishes, table, chairs, and plates into the middle of the block.

When, however, it came to the turn of the thirteenth dish, which nobody

ever wanted to eat, a huge black cat ran up, and stood on the rock close

to the cock, while the dish was on his other side.

There they all remained, till they were joined by the old man.

He picked up the dish in one hand, tucked the cat under his arm, told

the cock to get on his shoulder, and all four vanished into the rock.

And this wonderful stone contained not only food, but clothes and

everything you could possibly want in the house.

At first a language was often spoken at meals which was strange to

Elsa, but by the help of the lady and her daughter she began slowly

to understand it, though it was years before she was able to speak it

herself.

One day she asked Kisika why the thirteenth dish came daily to the table

and was sent daily away untouched, but Kisika knew no more about it

than she did. The girl must, however, have told her mother what Elsa had

said, for a few days later she spoke to Elsa seriously:

‘Do not worry yourself with useless wondering. You wish to know why

we never eat of the thirteenth dish? That, dear child, is the dish of

hidden blessings, and we cannot taste of it without bringing our happy

life here to an end. And the world would be a great deal better if

men, in their greed, did not seek to snatch every thing for themselves,

instead of leaving something as a thankoffering to the giver of the

blessings. Greed is man’s worst fault.’

The years passed like the wind for Elsa, and she grew into a lovely

woman, with a knowledge of many things that she would never have learned

in her native village; but Kisika was still the same young girl that she

had been on the day of her first meeting with Elsa. Each morning they

both worked for an hour at reading and writing, as they had always done,

and Elsa was anxious to learn all she could, but Kisika much preferred

childish games to anything else. If the humour seized her, she would

fling aside her tasks, take her treasure box, and go off to play in the

sea, where no harm ever came to her.

‘What a pity,’ she would often say to Elsa, ‘that you have grown so big,

you cannot play with me any more.’

Nine years slipped away in this manner, when one day the lady called

Elsa into her room. Elsa was surprised at the summons, for it was

unusual, and her heart sank, for she feared some evil threatened her. As

she crossed the threshold, she saw that the lady’s cheeks were flushed,

and her eyes full of tears, which she dried hastily, as if she would

conceal them from the girl. ‘Dearest child,’ she began, ‘the time has

come when we must part.’

‘Part?’ cried Elsa, burying her head in the lady’s lap. ‘No, dear lady,

that can never be till death parts us. You once opened your arms to me;

you cannot thrust me away now.’

‘Ah, be quiet, child,’ replied the lady; ‘you do not know what I would

do to make you happy. Now you are a woman, and I have no right to keep

you here. You must return to the world of men, where joy awaits you.’

‘Dear lady,’ entreated Elsa again. ‘Do not, I beseech you, send me from

you. I want no other happiness but to live and die beside you. Make me

your waiting maid, or set me to any work you choose, but do not cast me

forth into the world. It would have been better if you had left me with

my stepmother, than first to have brought me to heaven and then send me

back to a worse place.’

‘Do not talk like that, dear child,’ replied the lady; ‘you do not know

all that must be done to secure your happiness, however much it costs

me. But it has to be. You are only a common mortal, who will have to die

one day, and you cannot stay here any longer. Though we have the

bodies of men, we are not men at all, though it is not easy for you to

understand why. Some day or other you will find a husband who has

been made expressly for you, and will live happily with him till death

separates you. It will be very hard for me to part from you, but it has

to be, and you must make up your mind to it.’ Then she drew her golden

comb gently through Elsa’s hair, and bade her go to bed; but little

sleep had the poor girl! Life seemed to stretch before her like a dark

starless night.

Now let us look back a moment, and see what had been going on in Elsa’s

native village all these years, and how her double had fared. It is

a well-known fact that a bad woman seldom becomes better as she grows

older, and Elsa’s stepmother was no exception to the rule; but as the

figure that had taken the girl’s place could feel no pain, the blows

that were showered on her night and day made no difference. If the

father ever tried to come to his daughter’s help, his wife turned upon

him, and things were rather worse than before.

One day the stepmother had given the girl a frightful beating, and then

threatened to kill her outright. Mad with rage, she seized the figure by

the throat with both hands, when out came a black snake from her mouth

and stung the woman’s tongue, and she fell dead without a sound. At

night, when the husband came home, he found his wife lying dead upon the

ground, her body all swollen and disfigured, but the girl was nowhere

to be seen. His screams brought the neighbours from their cottages, but

they were unable to explain how it had all come about. It was true, they

said, that about mid-day they had heard a great noise, but as that was

a matter of daily occurrence they did not think much of it. The rest of

the day all was still, but no one had seen anything of the daughter.

The body of the dead woman was then prepared for burial, and her tired

husband went to bed, rejoicing in his heart that he had been delivered

from the firebrand who had made his home unpleasant. On the table he

saw a slice of bread lying, and, being hungry, he ate it before going to

sleep.

In the morning he too was found dead, and as swollen as his wife, for

the bread had been placed in the body of the figure by the old man who

made it. A few days later he was placed in the grave beside his wife,

but nothing more was ever heard of their daughter.

All night long after her talk with the lady Elsa had wept and wailed her

hard fate in being cast out from her home which she loved.

Next morning, when she got up, the lady placed a gold seal ring on her

finger, strung a little golden box on a ribbon, and placed it round her

neck; then she called the old man, and, forcing back her tears, took

leave of Elsa. The girl tried to speak, but before she could sob out her

thanks the old man had touched her softly on the head three times with

his silver staff. In an instant Elsa knew that she was turning into

a bird: wings sprang from beneath her arms; her feet were the feet of

eagles, with long claws; her nose curved itself into a sharp beak, and

feathers covered her body. Then she soared high in the air, and floated

up towards the clouds, as if she had really been hatched an eagle.

For several days she flew steadily south, resting from time to time when

her wings grew tired, for hunger she never felt. And so it happened

that one day she was flying over a dense forest, and below hounds were

barking fiercely, because, not having wings themselves, she was out of

their reach. Suddenly a sharp pain quivered through her body, and she

fell to the ground, pierced by an arrow.

When Elsa recovered her senses, she found herself lying under a bush in

her own proper form. What had befallen her, and how she got there, lay

behind her like a bad dream.

As she was wondering what she should do next the king’s son came riding

by, and, seeing Elsa, sprang from his horse, and took her by the hand,

sawing, ‘Ah! it was a happy chance that brought me here this morning.

Every night, for half a year, have I dreamed, dear lady, that I should

one day find you in this wood. And although I have passed through it

hundreds of times in vain, I have never given up hope. To-day I was

going in search of a large eagle that I had shot, and instead of the

eagle I have found--you.’ Then he took Elsa on his horse, and rode with

her to the town, where the old king received her graciously.

A few days later the wedding took place, and as Elsa was arranging the

veil upon her hair fifty carts arrived laden with beautiful things which

the lady of the Tontlawald had sent to Elsa. And after the king’s death

Elsa became queen, and when she was old she told this story. But that

was the last that was ever heard of the Tontlawald.

(From Ehstnische Marchen.)