mud/content/library/grimm/090_the_young_giant.txt

The Young Giant

Once on a time a countryman had a son who was as big as a thumb, and
did not become any bigger, and during several years did not grow one
hair’s breadth. Once when the father was going out to plough, the
little one said, “Father, I will go out with you.” “Thou wouldst go out
with me?” said the father. “Stay here, thou wilt be of no use out
there, besides thou mightest get lost!” Then Thumbling began to cry,
and for the sake of peace his father put him in his pocket, and took
him with him. When he was outside in the field, he took him out again,
and set him in a freshly-cut furrow. Whilst he was there, a great giant
came over the hill. “Do thou see that great bogie?” said the father,
for he wanted to frighten the little fellow to make him good; “he is
coming to fetch thee.” The giant, however, had scarcely taken two steps
with his long legs before he was in the furrow. He took up little
Thumbling carefully with two fingers, examined him, and without saying
one word went away with him. His father stood by, but could not utter a
sound for terror, and he thought nothing else but that his child was
lost, and that as long as he lived he should never set eyes on him
again.

The giant, however, carried him home, suckled him, and Thumbling grew
and became tall and strong after the manner of giants. When two years
had passed, the old giant took him into the forest, wanted to try him,
and said, “Pull up a stick for thyself.” Then the boy was already so
strong that he tore up a young tree out of the earth by the roots. But
the giant thought, “We must do better than that,” took him back again,
and suckled him two years longer. When he tried him, his strength had
increased so much that he could tear an old tree out of the ground.
That was still not enough for the giant; he again suckled him for two
years, and when he then went with him into the forest and said, “Now
just tear up a proper stick for me,” the boy tore up the strongest
oak-tree from the earth, so that it split, and that was a mere trifle
to him. “Now that will do,” said the giant, “thou art perfect,” and
took him back to the field from whence he had brought him. His father
was there following the plough. The young giant went up to him, and
said, “Does my father see what a fine man his son has grown into?”

The farmer was alarmed, and said, “No, thou art not my son; I don’t
want thee leave me!” “Truly I am your son; allow me to do your work, I
can plough as well as you, nay better.” “No, no, thou art not my son;
and thou canst not plough go away!” However, as he was afraid of this
great man, he left go of the plough, stepped back and stood at one side
of the piece of land. Then the youth took the plough, and just pressed
it with one hand, but his grasp was so strong that the plough went deep
into the earth. The farmer could not bear to see that, and called to
him, “If thou art determined to plough, thou must not press so hard on
it, that makes bad work.” The youth, however, unharnessed the horses,
and drew the plough himself, saying, “Just go home, father, and bid my
mother make ready a large dish of food, and in the meantime I will go
over the field.” Then the farmer went home, and ordered his wife to
prepare the food; but the youth ploughed the field which was two acres
large, quite alone, and then he harnessed himself to the harrow, and
harrowed the whole of the land, using two harrows at once. When he had
done it, he went into the forest, and pulled up two oak-trees, laid
them across his shoulders, and hung on them one harrow behind and one
before, and also one horse behind and one before, and carried all as if
it had been a bundle of straw, to his parents’ house. When he entered
the yard, his mother did not recognize him, and asked, “Who is that
horrible tall man?” The farmer said, “That is our son.” She said, “No
that cannot be our son, we never had such a tall one, ours was a little
thing.” She called to him, “Go away, we do not want thee!” The youth
was silent, but led his horses to the stable, gave them some oats and
hay, and all that they wanted. When he had done this, he went into the
parlour, sat down on the bench and said, “Mother, now I should like
something to eat, will it soon be ready?” Then she said, “Yes,” and
brought in two immense dishes full of food, which would have been
enough to satisfy herself and her husband for a week. The youth,
however, ate the whole of it himself, and asked if she had nothing more
to set before him. “No,” she replied, “that is all we have.” “But that
was only a taste, I must have more.” She did not dare to oppose him,
and went and put a huge caldron full of food on the fire, and when it
was ready, carried it in. “At length come a few crumbs,” said he, and
ate all there was, but it was still not sufficient to appease his
hunger. Then said he, “Father, I see well that with you I shall never
have food enough; if you will get me an iron staff which is strong, and
which I cannot break against my knees, I will go out into the world.”
The farmer was glad, put his two horses in his cart, and fetched from
the smith a staff so large and thick, that the two horses could only
just bring it away. The youth laid it across his knees, and snap! he
broke it in two in the middle like a bean-stalk, and threw it away. The
father then harnessed four horses, and brought a bar which was so long
and thick, that the four horses could only just drag it. The son
snapped this also in twain against his knees, threw it away, and said,
“Father, this can be of no use to me, you must harness more horses, and
bring a stronger staff.” So the father harnessed eight horses, and
brought one which was so long and thick, that the eight horses could
only just carry it. When the son took it in his hand, he broke off a
bit from the top of it also, and said, “Father, I see that you will not
be able to procure me any such staff as I want, I will remain no longer
with you.”

So he went away, and gave out that he was a smith’s apprentice. He
arrived at a village, wherein lived a smith who was a greedy fellow,
who never did a kindness to any one, but wanted everything for himself.
The youth went into the smithy and asked if he needed a journeyman.
“Yes,” said the smith, and looked at him, and thought, “That is a
strong fellow who will strike out well, and earn his bread.” So he
asked, “How much wages dost thou want?” “I don’t want any at all,” he
replied, “only every fortnight, when the other journeymen are paid, I
will give thee two blows, and thou must bear them.” The miser was
heartily satisfied, and thought he would thus save much money. Next
morning, the strange journeyman was to begin to work, but when the
master brought the glowing bar, and the youth struck his first blow,
the iron flew asunder, and the anvil sank so deep into the earth, that
there was no bringing it out again. Then the miser grew angry, and
said, “Oh, but I can’t make any use of you, you strike far too
powerfully; what will you have for the one blow?”

Then said he, “I will only give you quite a small blow, that’s all.”
And he raised his foot, and gave him such a kick that he flew away over
four loads of hay. Then he sought out the thickest iron bar in the
smithy for himself, took it as a stick in his hand and went onwards.

When he had walked for some time, he came to a small farm, and asked
the bailiff if he did not require a head-servant. “Yes,” said the
bailiff, “I can make use of one; you look a strong fellow who can do
something, how much a year do you want as wages?” He again replied that
he wanted no wages at all, but that every year he would give him three
blows, which he must bear. Then the bailiff was satisfied, for he, too,
was a covetous fellow. Next morning all the servants were to go into
the wood, and the others were already up, but the head-servant was
still in bed. Then one of them called to him, “Get up, it is time; we
are going into the wood, and thou must go with us.” “Ah,” said he quite
roughly and surlily, “you may just go, then; I shall be back again
before any of you.” Then the others went to the bailiff, and told him
that the head-man was still lying in bed, and would not go into the
wood with them. The bailiff said they were to awaken him again, and
tell him to harness the horses. The head-man, however, said as before,
“Just go there, I shall be back again before any of you.” And then he
stayed in bed two hours longer. At length he arose from the feathers,
but first he got himself two bushels of peas from the loft, made
himself some broth with them, ate it at his leisure, and when that was
done, went and harnessed the horses, and drove into the wood. Not far
from the wood was a ravine through which he had to pass, so he first
drove the horses on, and then stopped them, and went behind the cart,
took trees and brushwood, and made a great barricade, so that no horse
could get through. When he was entering the wood, the others were just
driving out of it with their loaded carts to go home; then said he to
them, “Drive on, I will still get home before you do.” He did not drive
far into the wood, but at once tore two of the very largest trees of
all out of the earth, threw them on his cart, and turned round. When he
came to the barricade, the others were still standing there, not able
to get through. “Don’t you see,” said he, “that if you had stayed with
me, you would have got home just as quickly, and would have had another
hour’s sleep?” He now wanted to drive on, but his horses could not work
their way through, so he unharnessed them, laid them on the top of the
cart, took the shafts in his own hands, and pulled it all through, and
he did this just as easily as if it had been laden with feathers. When
he was over, he said to the others, “There, you see, I have got over
quicker than you,” and drove on, and the others had to stay where they
were. In the yard, however, he took a tree in his hand, showed it to
the bailiff, and said, “Isn’t that a fine bundle of wood?” Then said
the bailiff to his wife, “The servant is a good one, if he does sleep
long, he is still home before the others.” So he served the bailiff for
a year, and when that was over, and the other servants were getting
their wages, he said it was time for him to take his too. The bailiff,
however, was afraid of the blows which he was to receive, and earnestly
entreated him to excuse him from having them; for rather than that, he
himself would be head-servant, and the youth should be bailiff. “No,”
said he, “I will not be a bailiff, I am head-servant, and will remain
so, but I will administer that which we agreed on.” The bailiff was
willing to give him whatsoever he demanded, but it was of no use, the
head-servant said no to everything. Then the bailiff did not know what
to do, and begged for a fortnight’s delay, for he wanted to find some
way of escape. The head-servant consented to this delay. The bailiff
summoned all his clerks together, and they were to think the matter
over, and give him advice. The clerks pondered for a long time, but at
last they said that no one was sure of his life with the head-servant,
for he could kill a man as easily as a midge, and that the bailiff
ought to make him get into the well and clean it, and when he was down
below, they would roll up one of the mill-stones which was lying there,
and throw it on his head; and then he would never return to daylight.
The advice pleased the bailiff, and the head-servant was quite willing
to go down the well. When he was standing down below at the bottom,
they rolled down the largest mill-stone and thought they had broken his
skull, but he cried, “Chase away those hens from the well, they are
scratching in the sand up there, and throwing the grains into my eyes,
so that I can’t see.” So the bailiff cried, “Sh-sh,” and pretended to
frighten the hens away. When the head-servant had finished his work, he
climbed up and said, “Just look what a beautiful neck-tie I have on,”
and behold it was the mill-stone which he was wearing round his neck.
The head-servant now wanted to take his reward, but the bailiff again
begged for a fortnight’s delay. The clerks met together and advised him
to send the head-servant to the haunted mill to grind corn by night,
for from thence as yet no man had ever returned in the morning alive.
The proposal pleased the bailiff, he called the head-servant that very
evening, and ordered him to take eight bushels of corn to the mill, and
grind it that night, for it was wanted. So the head-servant went to the
loft, and put two bushels in his right pocket, and two in his left, and
took four in a wallet, half on his back, and half on his breast, and
thus laden went to the haunted mill. The miller told him that he could
grind there very well by day, but not by night, for the mill was
haunted, and that up to the present time whosoever had gone into it at
night had been found in the morning lying dead inside. He said, “I will
manage it, just you go away to bed.” Then he went into the mill, and
poured out the corn. About eleven o’clock he went into the miller’s
room, and sat down on the bench. When he had sat there a while, a door
suddenly opened, and a large table came in, and on the table, wine and
roasted meats placed themselves, and much good food besides, but
everything came of itself, for no one was there to carry it. After this
the chairs pushed themselves up, but no people came, until all at once
he beheld fingers, which handled knives and forks, and laid food on the
plates, but with this exception he saw nothing. As he was hungry, and
saw the food, he, too, place himself at the table, ate with those who
were eating and enjoyed it. When he had had enough, and the others also
had quite emptied their dishes, he distinctly heard all the candles
being suddenly snuffed out, and as it was now pitch dark, he felt
something like a box on the ear. Then he said, “If anything of that
kind comes again, I shall strike out in return.” And when he had
received a second box on the ear, he, too struck out. And so it
continued the whole night. He took nothing without returning it, but
repaid everything with interest, and did not lay about him in vain. At
daybreak, however, everything ceased. When the miller had got up, he
wanted to look after him, and wondered if he were still alive. Then the
youth said, “I have eaten my fill, have received some boxes on the
ears, but I have given some in return.” The miller rejoiced, and said
that the mill was now released from the spell, and wanted to give him
much money as a reward. But he said, “Money, I will not have, I have
enough of it.” So he took his meal on his back, went home, and told the
bailiff that he had done what he had been told to do, and would now
have the reward agreed on. When the bailiff heard that, he was
seriously alarmed and quite beside himself; he walked backwards and
forwards in the room, and drops of perspiration ran down from his
forehead. Then he opened the window to get some fresh air, but before
he was aware, the head-servant had given him such a kick that he flew
through the window out into the air, and so far away that no one ever
saw him again. Then said the head-servant to the bailiff’s wife, “If he
does not come back, you must take the other blow.” She cried, “No, no I
cannot bear it,” and opened the other window, because drops of
perspiration were running down her forehead. Then he gave her such a
kick that she, too, flew out, and as she was lighter she went much
higher than her husband. Her husband cried, “Do come to me,” but she
replied, “Come thou to me, I cannot come to thee.” And they hovered
about there in the air, and could not get to each other, and whether
they are still hovering about, or not, I do not know, but the young
giant took up his iron bar, and went on his way.