“Take your feet out of the way of the dishes,” said the old Trold, and they obeyed him, but not at once. They tickled the ladies they took in to dinner with fir-cones out of their pockets; then they pulled off their boots, so as to be quite comfortable, and handed the boots to the ladies to hold. Their father the old Trold chieftain, was very different; he told no end of splendid stories about the proud Norwegian mountains, and the waterfalls dashing down in white foam with a roar like thunder. He told them about the salmon leaping up against the rushing water, when the nixies played with golden harps. Then he went on to tell them about the sparkling winter nights when the sledge bells rang and the lads flew over the ice with blazing lights, the ice which was so transparent that you could see the startled fish darting away under your feet. Yes, indeed, he could tell stories, you could see and hear the things he described; the saw mills going, the men and maids singing their songs and dancing the merry Halling dance. Huzza! All at once the old Trold gave the elf housekeeper a smacking kiss, such a kiss it was, and yet they were not a bit related. Then the elf-maidens had to dance, first plain dancing, and then step dancing, and it was most becoming to them. Then came a fancy dance.
Preserve us, how nimble they were on their legs, you couldn’t tell where they began or where they ended, you couldn’t tell which were arms and which were legs, they were all mixed up together like shavings in a saw-pit. They twirled round and round so often that it made the Hell-horse feel quite giddy and unwell and he had to leave the table.
“Prrrrr!” said the old Trold. “There is some life in those legs, but what else can they do besides dancing and pointing their toes and all those whirligigs?”
“We will soon shew you!” said the Elf-king, and he called out his youngest daughter; she was thin and transparent as moonshine, and was the most ethereal of all the daughters. She put a little white stick in her mouth and vanished instantly; this was her accomplishment.
But the Trold said he did not like that accomplishment in a wife, nor did he think his boys would appreciate it. The second one could walk by her own side as if she had a shadow, and no elves have shadows.
The third was quite different; she had studied in the marsh witches’ brewery, and understood larding alder stumps with glow-worms.
“She will be a good housewife,” said the Trold, and then he saluted her with his eyes instead of drinking her health, for he did not want to drink too much.
Now came the turn of the fourth; she had a big golden harp to play, and when she touched the first string everybody lifted up their left legs (for all the elfin folk are left legged). But when she touched the second string everybody had to do what she wished.
“She is a dangerous woman!” said the Trold, but both his sons left the hill, for they were tired of it all.
“And what can the next daughter do?” asked the old Trold.