Icelandic Fairy Tales

by Mrs. Angus W. Hall

“It was the only way, Fertram,” said Hildur, when the young man regretted leaving without a word of thanks or love to those who had cared for him through the long years since his childhood—“it was the only way. Nowhere in my father’s castle would you have been safe, and my grandmother would only have vented her anger upon my parents, if they had known of our flight.”

At length a small river stopped their way. In an instant Hildur changed herself and Fertram into trout, and, glittering in the sunlight, they leaped into the water. Hardly had they got below the surface when they saw the grandmother walking along the bank of the river. She had tracked them at once, and now used her spells to try and catch them in their present form. The day wore on, but her art was useless—nothing would entrap the wary trout; and at last, filled with rage, she retraced her steps to the castle.

It was sunset now, and the two young people, having resumed their natural shape, pursued their way into the forest.

“We must no longer take the form of fish,” Hildur said. “Even now grandmother will be weaving a magic net, out of which no fish can possibly escape.”

And up in her tower, the grandmother went on weaving, weaving. At first the work went smoothly; but soon the netting became entangled, the knots no longer held together, and her spells showed her that the fugitives were no longer fish, but had resumed their own forms.

“Go forth immediately,” she said to her servants. “Take every one who can be spared. Search all through the forest, and kill every living thing that you see.”

So the servants searched all day in every direction, but not a creature was to be seen. At last, as night drew on, they met two beautiful dogs; they were the most magnificent animals they had ever seen. But, although they were quite friendly with the servants, they did not allow themselves to be touched. The men therefore returned to the castle and told what had happened.

The wrath of the grandmother was terrible to see. She knew at once that the dogs were Fertram and Hildur, and she commanded the servants to be thrown into the dungeons for not carrying out her orders.

Hildur, by her magic power, knew what had taken place.

“We must not stay here, Fertram,” she said sadly; “my grandmother will never rest now until she kills us. Even her love for me seems to have turned to hatred.”