He ran down and told his mother what he had seen. “Mother, let us go there and ask for a bite to eat, for if we don’t, we’ll have to go hungry till to-morrow,” he cried. “And maybe the people who live there will let us spend the night there, too.”
The mother began to groan and lament. “Never in the world could I climb up that cliff and over,” said she. “I’m so tired I can scarce put one foot before the other, and that’s the truth of the matter.”
“Never bemoan yourself about that,” cried the lad, “for I’ll carry you over”; and so saying, he caught her up as though she weighed no more than a feather, and ran up the cliff and over, and down on the other side with her; and when he put her down he was not even breathing fast from carrying her.
“You’ve grown to be a strong, stout lad, and there’s no doubt about that,” said his mother.
After that they went along again until they came to the house with the light in it, and when they got up close to it, the mother began to shake and tremble.
“Come away! Come away!” said she. “This is a Troll’s house, and it would be a bad thing for us if he were to get hold of us.”
But the lad was not one whit afraid. He knocked at the door, and then, before any one could answer the knock, he opened the door and stepped inside, dragging his mother with him.
There, on a great settle by the fire, sat a man at least twenty feet high, and it was easy enough to tell by the look of him that he was a Troll.
The mother almost fainted with terror, but the lad spoke up as bold as bold could be, for he felt the strength inside of him and feared nobody. He told the Troll that he and his mother were footsore and weary, and he asked whether they might come in and rest a bit.
The Troll told him he and his mother were welcome, and then he made the lad sit down and they talked of one thing and another, but the woman was so frightened she just crept into a corner and groaned every time the Troll looked at her.