“Now how amazed will Loki be when he learns that this little boy has been tempted in all these particulars, yet proves true. My poor soldiers, you may return whence you came, for the alder-tree will never rustle its silver leaves in the mountain-garden of Loki.”
Then the men disappeared, not sorry that the good boy had escaped his threatened doom.
Thule, looking at the beautiful elf so lately a tree, could hardly trust his own eyes; and I fancy that many a boy, even at the present day, would have felt rather bewildered under the circumstances.
“Shining child!” said he: “you look vastly like the wonderful little being who led me out of the forest yesterday.”
“That may well be,” replied the elf of light; “for she is my sister. The brown dwarf who pointed out to you the alder-tree is also an excellent friend of mine, though, strange to say, I have never seen him. We love to aid each other in all possible ways; yet we can never meet, for there is a fatality in my eyes which would strike him dead. He had heard of Thule, the little woodcutter who was called so brave and generous and true. He tried you, you see; and so did my frolicsome sister, who was fairly ablaze with delight when she found you could not be tempted to steal!”
Thule’s mother had stood all the while on the threshold, overawed and dumb. Now she came forward, and said,—
“I am prouder to-day than I should be if my son had slain ten men on the battle-field!”
The beautiful elf of light, penetrated with gratitude and admiration, remained Thule’s fast friend as long as he lived. She gave the lad and his mother an excellent home, and made them happy all the days of their lives.