At that one of the elves stepped forward, and said; “Listen to me, Jack Frost. You have just one chance of success. Not so very long ago our queen was choosing a christening gift for a poor charcoal-burner’s child to whom she had promised to stand sponsor; all her choicest treasures were spread out before her, when suddenly a magpie swooped down and carried off a certain magic ring to its nest in a belfry. Now this ring was one of the queen’s most priceless gifts, for it conferred on him who should possess it the good-will of wind and weather, the friendship of all the dumb creatures, and the power of making himself beloved wherever he might love. The queen is much grieved at its loss, and since no fairy may enter a belfry, none but a mortal can recover it. Now if you should find this ring, it may be that in her gratitude the queen will consent to grant your request, to take back the changeling and to restore the king’s son.”
“How shall I find the belfry?” asked Jack Frost.
“Go by forest and road and sea, and you shall find it,” replied the elf, “but first, Jack Frost, tell me what it is that you see in our thorn-tree?”
“I see a nest,” replied Jack Frost, “and in it are seven speckled eggs.”
“Take three of them,” said the elf, “and you will find them useful. A bird does not build in the fairies’ tree for nothing.”
So Jack Frost took the three speckled eggs, thanked the Little People, and went his way. He soon came to a dense forest in which he wandered till nightfall without seeing any trace of a human dwelling. He was therefore very glad when at last he caught sight of a ruddy glint among the trees, and came upon a smithy in a clearing of the wood. Now this smithy belonged to a very wicked hobgoblin, who forged upon his anvil all the weapons that are wielded in unrighteous wars. Whoever fights in a wrongful quarrel or in defence of a bad cause, may be quite sure that his steel was forged at the hobgoblin’s smithy. But Jack Frost did not know this, and felt very thankful at having come across any kind of shelter, so approaching the smith he asked him for a night’s lodging.
“You shall have supper and a bed,” replied the hobgoblin, and leading Jack Frost into his house he gave him some broken victuals, and motioned him to a bed of straw. The foundling fell to with a good appetite, and then lay down upon the straw and fell fast asleep. In the morning he thanked his host for his hospitality, and prepared to continue his journey.
“Wait a bit,” said the hobgoblin, “you have not yet paid me for your supper, nor for your bed over-night.”
“Alas,” replied Jack Frost, “I cannot pay you save in thanks, good sir, for I have no money.”
“I have no need of money,” replied the wicked sprite, “but you must pay me in service. All who break my bread are bound to serve me for seven years. Make haste therefore to sweep my room and cook my breakfast.”