“Perchance it is some poor creature even colder than I,” thought the boy: “I hope not a troll!”
Hurrying to the spot whence the sound came, he found an ugly, long-nosed dwarf lying on the ground, nearly perishing with cold. It was growing late, and the boy himself was benumbed; but he went briskly to work, chafing the hands and face of the stranger, even taking off his own blue jacket to wrap it about the dwarf’s neck.
“Poor old soul, you shall not die of cold!” said he; then, helping him to rise, he added cheerily, “We will go to my mother’s cottage, and have a warm supper of oat-cakes and herrings; and our fire of dry boughs will do you good.”
The noble boy knew there was barely supper enough for two, but did not mind going hungry to bed for charity’s sake. In the ear of his heart, he heard the words of his mother:—
“Never fear starving, my son, but freely share your last loaf with the needy.”
They walked through the forest, the old man leaning heavily on the youth’s shoulder.
“Why should you befriend a poor wretch who cannot repay you?” whined the dwarf in a hollow voice which startled Thule, it was so like the echo sent back by a mountain or a rock.
“I do not ask or wish to be repaid,” was the reply. “Don’t you know what the proverb says? ‘Do good, and throw it into the sea; if the fishes don’t know it, Odin will!’”
“Yes: Odin shall know it, never fear,” answered the dwarf; “but, as I happen to be informed that your tea-table is not quite large enough for three, I think I will decline your invitation to supper. Really, my lad,” he continued, “it would delight me to do you a little favor; for, though I am only a poor dwarf, I know how to be grateful. By the way, have you seen such a thing hereabouts as a green alder-tree?”