One day the city was roused to great excitement by the appearance of a most beautiful maiden. No one knew whence she had come, but all agreed that her loveliness could not be surpassed, and when the queen saw her, she sent for her to the palace, treated her like a daughter, and besought Fertram to marry her. This, however, he steadily refused to do.
After a time, whispers went abroad that the beautiful girl was not as good as she was lovely. Her fair face was constantly disfigured by an ugly frown if things were not arranged as she liked, and the courtiers began to think that the king was right, after all, in preferring to seek another wife.
Just then one of the royal swineherds happened to lose his way in the forest, and he wandered on until he came to a little hut. There he found an old man and his wife, and with them a fair maiden, whom they called their daughter. Never had the swineherd seen any one so beautiful, and he determined to stay the night with these people, and if possible carry off the maiden. He found that her name was Hildur; and when the old people had gone up to bed, while Hildur was closing the windows, and putting things straight before following their example, he suggested that they should go out and look at the beautiful moon rising. But Hildur said—
“I must first make up the fire on the hearth.”
The man offered to do it for her; but no sooner had he knelt down, than his hands became fastened to the hearth. In vain he struggled to get away, it was all of no avail. Hildur was nowhere to be seen, and it was not until morning that he felt free once more. Then, rising to his feet, he fled from the uncanny place without once looking back.
When he reached the castle, his fellow servants soon heard the whole tale, and the report of the beauty of the woodcutter’s daughter was circulated from one to the other. The royal huntsman thought he, too, would like to see her. So, setting off at once, he reached the hut, and begged for a night’s rest. The old people granted it willingly. The beautiful girl was still there, and the huntsman in his turn planned to carry her off that night. He begged Hildur to come for a walk, as it was such a beautiful night. But she refused.
“My time is too fully occupied for idle wanderings,” she said. “Will you help me by locking up the door for the night?”
“Willingly,” said the huntsman, intending to put the key in his pocket, and carry her off later on.
But no sooner had his hands touched the lock, than they remained fastened to it. A mocking laugh behind him made him look round, and he saw Hildur disappearing up the stairs to her room.
When the sun was well up in the sky, and the old couple beginning to stir, the huntsman found he could remove his hands, and he hurried off shamefaced to his home.