He still had three hundred dollars, and these he put in his pocket and started out. After he had gone a while he met a man with a nice-looking horse. He decided to buy it, and began to talk with the man. “It is true I did not intend to sell the horse,” said the man, “but perhaps we can come to an understanding.” Halvor asked him what he wanted for it. “I did not pay much for it, nor is it worth very much: it is a good saddle horse, but as a draft horse it does not amount to much. Yet it could carry you and your knapsack without difficulty, if you were to walk a bit from time to time,” said the man. At last they agreed on the price, and Halvor slung his knapsack across the horse, and from time to time he walked, and then he rode again. Toward evening he came to a green hill on which stood a large tree, beneath which he seated himself. He turned the horse loose, yet did not lie down to sleep, but took out his knapsack instead. When day came he wandered on again, for it seemed to him as though there were no place in which he could rest. He walked and rode all day long through a great forest, in which were many green clearings, that shimmered cheerfully among the trees. He did not know where he was, nor did he know whither he was going; but he allowed himself no more time to rest than his horse needed to feed in one of the green clearings, and himself to eat from his knapsack. He walked and rode, on and on, and thought the forest would never end.
But on the evening of the following day he saw something gleaming among the trees. “If the people there are still up, I could warm myself a little, and get something to eat!” thought Halvor. When he got there it was a wretched little hut, and through the window he saw an old couple sitting in it, as ancient and gray-headed as doves, and the woman had so long a nose that she used it at the hearth for a poker. “Good evening! Good evening!” said the old woman. “But what are you doing here? No Christian soul has come this way for the past hundred years.” Halvor told her he was looking for Soria-Moria Castle, and asked whether she knew the way to it. “No,” was the woman’s answer, “I do not know, but here comes the moon, I will ask him. He ought to know, for he shines on everything.” And then, when the moon rose bright and clear above the tree-tops, the woman went out. “You moon, you moon,” she cried, “can you tell me the way to Soria-Moria Castle?” “No,” said the moon, “I cannot do that, because when I was shining there, a cloud lay in my way.”
“Just wait a little while,” said the old woman to Halvor. “The West Wind will be right along, and he is sure to know, for he sweeps and blows about in every corner. Well, I declare, you have a horse, too!” said the old woman when she came in again. “Now don’t let the poor beast stand by the door there and starve to death; but take it out to the pasture instead. Or would you like to change with me? We have a pair of old boots, that carry you twelve miles further with every step. I will give them to you in exchange for the horse, and then you will reach Soria-Moria Castle more quickly.” Halvor at once agreed, and the old woman was so pleased with the horse, that she almost started dancing then and there. “For now I can ride to church, too,” said she.
Halvor was very restless, and wanted to go right on again, but the woman said there was no need to hurry. “Lie down on the bench by the stove, and take a nap, for we have no bed for you,” said she. “I will watch for the West Wind’s coming.”
All of a sudden the West Wind came rushing along so that the walls creaked. The woman ran out: “You West Wind! You West Wind! Can you tell me the way to Soria-Moria Castle? There is a fellow here who wants to know.” “Yes, indeed,” said the West Wind, “I have to go to that very place, and dry the wash for the wedding soon to be held. If he is quick afoot, he may come along with me.” Halvor ran out. “You must hurry if you are going with me,” said the West Wind; and at once he was up and off over hill and dale, land and sea, so that Halvor could hardly keep up with him. “Now I have no more time to keep you company,” said the West Wind, “because I have first to tear down a stretch of pine forest, before I come to the bleaching-field and dry the wash. But if you keep going along the hills, you will meet some girls standing there and washing, and then you will not be far from Soria-Moria Castle.”
After a time Halvor came to the girls who were washing, and they asked him whether he had seen anything of the West Wind, who was to come and dry the clothes for the wedding. “Yes,” said Halvor. “He is only tearing down a stretch of pine forest, and will soon be here,” and then he asked the way to Soria-Moria Castle. They showed it to him, and when he reached the castle it was fairly alive with men and horses. But Halvor was so tattered and torn because he had followed the West Wind over stick and stone, and through thick and thin, that he kept to one side, and could not come forward until the last day of the feast. Then all the folk, as was the custom, had to drink the health of the bride and groom, and the cupbearer had to pledge all of them in turn, knights and serving-men. So at length they came to Halvor. Halvor drank the health, and then let the ring which the princess had put on his finger when he lay by the water fall into the glass, and told the cupbearer to greet the bride, and bring her the ring. And the princess at once rose from the table. “Who do you think has first claim to the hand of one of us,” she asked, “the man who delivered us, or the one who now sits here in the bridegroom’s place?” There was only one opinion as to that, and when Halvor heard it, he did not delay, but cast off his rags and dressed himself as a bridegroom. “Yes, he is the right one!” cried the youngest princess when she caught sight of him, and she drove the other one away, and celebrated her wedding with Halvor.
NOTE
The “Soria-Moria Castle” (Asbjörnsen and Moe, N.F.E., No. 27, p. 115) occurs in Ibsen’s Per Gynt as a fabled fairy-palace. The hero cannot hold his tongue at the right time, and as a result loses the princess for whom he had so strenuously fought. The recognition of Halvor by his mother by the flickering light of the hearth-fire, in whose ashes Halvor was always digging when a boy, is touchingly told.