The Princess On The Glass Hill

Once upon a time there was a man who owned a meadow on the side of a mountain. In the meadow stood a barn where he stored hay. But for the last two years, there had been very little hay in the barn, because every Midsummer's Eve, when the grass was at its tallest and greenest, it was all eaten up during the night, as if a whole flock of sheep had nibbled it down to the ground.

This happened once, and it happened twice. Then the man grew tired of losing his crop and said to his three sons—the youngest was called Cinderlad—that one of them must go and sleep in the barn on Midsummer's Eve.

It was ridiculous to let the grass be eaten up again, every single blade. The one who went to watch must keep a sharp lookout, the man said.

The eldest son was happy to go to the meadow. He would watch the grass, he said, and he would do it so well that neither man nor beast nor even the devil himself would get any of it. So when evening came, he went to the barn and lay down to sleep. But when night drew near, there was such a rumbling and such an earthquake that the walls and roof shook. The boy jumped up and ran as fast as he could, never looking back. That year, the barn stayed empty, just like the two years before.

The next Midsummer's Eve, the man said again that he could not go on losing all the grass in the outlying field year after year, and that one of his sons must go and watch it, and watch well too. So the second-oldest son was willing to show what he could do.

He went to the barn and lay down to sleep, as his brother had done. But when night drew near, there was a great rumbling, then an earthquake even worse than the one the year before.

When the boy heard it, he was terrified and ran off as if he were racing for a prize.

The year after, it was Cinderlad's turn. When he got ready to go, his brothers laughed and made fun of him. “Well, you are just the right one to watch the hay—you who have never learned anything but how to sit among the ashes and warm yourself!” they said.

Cinderlad did not let their words bother him. When evening came, he walked out to the field. When he got there, he went into the barn and lay down. After about an hour, a rumbling and creaking began, and it was frightening to hear.

“Well, if it gets no worse than that, I can manage to stand it,” thought Cinderlad. Soon the creaking started again, and the earth shook so hard that all the hay flew around the boy. “Oh, if it gets no worse than that, I can manage to stand it,” thought Cinderlad.

Then came a third rumbling and a third earthquake, so violent that the boy thought the walls and roof had fallen down. But when that was over, everything suddenly grew as still as death around him. “I am pretty sure it will come again,” thought Cinderlad. But no, it did not.

Everything was quiet, and everything stayed quiet. When he had lain still for a short while, he heard something that sounded like a horse standing and chewing just outside the barn door. He crept to the door, which was slightly open, to see what was there. A horse was standing there eating.

It was so big, fat, and fine a horse that Cinderlad had never seen one like it. On it lay a saddle and bridle, and a complete suit of armor for a knight. Everything was made of copper, so bright that it gleamed. “Ha ha!

So it is you who eats our hay,” thought the boy. “But I will put a stop to that!” He quickly took out his steel for striking fire and threw it over the horse. Then the horse could not move from the spot; it became so tame that the boy could do whatever he liked with it.

So he mounted it and rode away to a place that no one knew about except himself, and there he tied it up. When he went home again, his brothers laughed and asked how he had done.

“You didn't lie long in the barn, if you have even been as far as the field!” they said.

“I lay in the barn until the sun rose, but I saw nothing and heard nothing,” said the boy. “God knows what there was to make you two so frightened.”

“Well, we shall soon see whether you have watched the meadow or not,” answered the brothers. But when they went there, the grass was all standing just as long and thick as it had been the night before.

The next Midsummer's Eve, it was the same thing again. Neither of the two brothers dared to go to the outlying field to watch the crop, but Cinderlad went. Everything happened exactly as it had the year before: first a rumbling and an earthquake, then another, then a third.

But all three earthquakes were much more violent than the year before. Then everything became still as death again. The boy heard something chewing outside the barn door, so he crept as softly as he could to the door, which was slightly open.

Again a horse was standing close by the wall, eating and chewing. It was far bigger and fatter than the first horse, and it had a saddle on its back, a bridle on its head, and a full suit of armor for a knight, all of bright silver, as beautiful as anyone could wish to see.

“Ho ho!” thought the boy. “Is it you who eats our hay at night? But I will put a stop to that.” So he took out his steel for striking fire and threw it over the horse's mane. The beast stood as quiet as a lamb.

Then the boy rode this horse too away to the place where he kept the other, and then went home again.

“I suppose you will tell us that you have watched well again this time,” said the brothers.

“Well, so I have,” said Cinderlad. So they went there again, and there the grass stood as high and thick as before. But that did not make them any kinder to Cinderlad.

When the third Midsummer's Eve came, neither of the two older brothers dared to lie in the outlying barn to watch the grass. They had been so scared the nights they had slept there that they could not get over it. But Cinderlad dared to go.

Everything happened just as on the two previous nights. There were three earthquakes, each worse than the last, and the last one flung the boy from one wall of the barn to the other. But then everything suddenly became still as death.

When he had lain quietly for a short time, he heard something chewing outside the barn door. He crept once more to the door, which was slightly open, and behold, a horse was standing just outside. It was much larger and fatter than the two others he had caught. “Ho ho!

So it is you, then, who are eating our hay this time,” thought the boy. “But I will put a stop to that.” So he pulled out his steel for striking fire and threw it over the horse.

The horse stood as still as if it had been nailed to the field, and the boy could do just what he liked with it. Then he mounted it and rode away to the place where he kept the other two, and then he went home again.

His brothers mocked him just as before and told him they could see that he must have watched the grass very carefully that night, for he looked as if he were walking in his sleep. But Cinderlad did not let that bother him.

He just told them to go to the field and see. They did go, and this time too the grass was standing fine and thick as ever.

The king of the country where Cinderlad's father lived had a daughter. He would give her only to the man who could ride up to the top of the Glass Hill. For there was a high, high hill of glass, slippery as ice, close to the king's palace.

On the very top, the king's daughter was to sit with three golden apples in her lap. The man who could ride up and take the three golden apples should marry her and have half the kingdom.

The king had this announced in every church in the whole kingdom, and in many other kingdoms too. The princess was very beautiful, and everyone who saw her fell deeply in love with her. So it is no surprise that all the princes and knights were eager to win her and half the kingdom.

They came riding from the very ends of the world, dressed so splendidly that their clothes gleamed in the sunshine, riding on horses that seemed to dance as they went. Not one of these princes thought he could fail to win the princess.

On the day the king had appointed, there was such a crowd of knights and princes under the Glass Hill that they seemed to swarm. Everyone who could walk or even crawl was there to see who would win the king's daughter. Cinderlad's two brothers were there too, but they would not let him go with them. He was so dirty and black from sleeping and grubbing among the ashes that they said everyone would laugh at them if they were seen with such a pig.

“Well, then I will go all alone by myself,” said Cinderlad.

When the two brothers reached the Glass Hill, all the princes and knights were trying to ride up it. Their horses were covered in foam, but it was all in vain. As soon as the horses set foot on the hill, they slipped down again.

Not one could get even a couple of yards up. Nor was that strange, for the hill was as smooth as a glass window and as steep as the side of a house. But they were all eager to win the king's daughter and half the kingdom, so they rode and slipped.

At last, all the horses were so tired that they could do no more, and so hot that the foam dripped from them. The riders were forced to give up. The king was just thinking that he would announce that the riding should begin again the next day, when perhaps it would go better, when suddenly a knight came riding up on such a fine horse that no one had ever seen the like.

The knight wore armor of copper, and his bridle was of copper too. All his equipment was so bright that it shone. The other knights all called out to him that he might as well save himself the trouble of trying to ride up the Glass Hill, for it was useless.

But he did not listen. He rode straight to it and went up as if it were nothing. Thus he rode a long way—maybe a third of the way up. But when he had gone that far, he turned his horse around and rode down again.

The princess thought she had never seen such a handsome knight. While he was riding up, she sat thinking, “Oh, how I hope he can come all the way to the top!” When she saw him turn back, she threw one of the golden apples down after him.

It rolled into his shoe. But when he had come down the hill, he rode away so fast that no one saw where he went.

So all the princes and knights were ordered to appear before the king that evening, so that the one who had ridden so far up the Glass Hill could show the golden apple the princess had thrown down. But no one had anything to show. One knight came after another, and none could show the apple.

That night, Cinderlad's brothers came home and told a long story about the riding on the Glass Hill. At first, they said, not one could get even a step up. But then came a knight with copper armor and a copper bridle.

His armor and trappings were so bright that they shone in the distance. It was a sight to see him ride. He rode one-third of the way up the Glass Hill, and he could easily have ridden all the way if he had wanted to, but he turned back because he decided that was enough for once.

“Oh, I would have liked to see him too!” said Cinderlad, who was as usual sitting by the chimney among the cinders. “You indeed!” said the brothers. “You look as if you would fit in with such great lords, you nasty beast sitting there!”

The next day, the brothers set out again. This time too, Cinderlad begged to go with them and see who rode. But no, they said he was not fit to do that—he was much too ugly and dirty. “Well, well, then I will go all alone by myself,” said Cinderlad.

So the brothers went to the Glass Hill. All the princes and knights began to ride again. This time they had roughened the shoes of their horses, but that did not help. They rode and slipped as they had the day before, and not one could get even a yard up the hill.

When they had tired out their horses and could do no more, they had to stop. But just as the king was thinking that he should announce that the riding would take place the next day for the last time, so they would have one more chance, he suddenly thought it would be good to wait a bit longer to see if the knight in copper armor would come today.

But he was nowhere to be seen. Just as they were still looking for him, however, a knight came riding on a steed much, much finer than the one the knight in copper armor had ridden. This knight wore silver armor and had a silver saddle and bridle.

Everything was so bright that it shone and glittered even from far away. Again the other knights called to him and said he might as well give up trying to ride up the Glass Hill, for it was useless. But the knight paid no attention.

He rode straight to the Glass Hill and went even farther up than the knight in copper armor had. But when he had ridden two-thirds of the way up, he turned his horse around and rode down again. The princess liked this knight even better than the other.

She sat longing for him to reach the top. When she saw him turn back, she threw the second apple after him. It rolled into his shoe. As soon as he had come down the Glass Hill, he rode away so fast that no one could see where he went.

That evening, everyone was to appear before the king and princess to show the golden apple. One knight after another went in, but none had a golden apple to show.

At night, the two brothers went home as they had the night before and told how things had gone. Everyone had ridden, but no one had been able to get up the hill. “But last of all,” they said, “came one in silver armor. He had a silver bridle on his horse and a silver saddle. Oh, how he could ride! He took his horse two-thirds of the way up the hill, but then he turned back. He was a fine fellow,” said the brothers. “The princess threw the second golden apple to him!”

“Oh, how I would have liked to see him too!” said Cinderlad.

“Oh, indeed! He was a little brighter than the ashes you sit grubbing among, you dirty black creature!” said the brothers.

On the third day, everything went just as on the previous days. Cinderlad wanted to go with them to watch the riding, but his two brothers would not have him in their company. When they got to the Glass Hill, no one could ride even a yard up it.

Everyone waited for the knight in silver armor, but he was neither seen nor heard of. At last, after a long time, a knight came riding on a horse so fine that its equal had never been seen. The knight wore golden armor, and the horse had a golden saddle and bridle.

Everything was so bright that it shone and dazzled everyone, even when the knight was still far away. The other princes and knights could not even call out to tell him that trying to climb the hill was useless—they were too amazed by his splendor.

He rode straight to the Glass Hill and galloped up as if it were no hill at all. The princess did not even have time to wish that he would make it all the way. As soon as he reached the top, he took the third golden apple from the princess's lap.

Then he turned his horse around and rode down again. He vanished from sight before anyone could say a word to him.

When the two brothers came home that night, they had much to tell about how the riding had gone. At last, they told about the knight in golden armor. “He was a fine fellow, that one! Such another splendid knight cannot be found on earth!” said the brothers.

“Oh, how I would have liked to see him too!” said Cinderlad.

“Well, he shone almost as brightly as the coal-heaps you are always raking among, you dirty black creature!” said the brothers.

The next day, all the knights and princes were to appear before the king and princess—it had been too late the night before—so that the one who had the golden apple could show it. They all went in turn, first princes, then knights, but none of them had a golden apple.

“But someone must have it,” said the king. “For with our own eyes we all saw a man ride up and take it.” So he ordered that everyone in the kingdom should come to the palace to see if they could show the apple. One after another they all came, but no one had the golden apple. After a long, long time, Cinderlad's two brothers came as well. They were the very last, so the king asked them if there was anyone else left in the kingdom to come.

“Oh, yes, we have a brother,” said the two, “but he never got the golden apple! He never left the cinder-heap on any of the three days.”

“Never mind that,” said the king. “Since everyone else has come to the palace, let him come too.”

So Cinderlad had to go to the king's palace.

“Have you the golden apple?” asked the king.

“Yes, here is the first, and here is the second, and here is the third, too,” said Cinderlad. He took all three apples out of his pocket. Then he pulled off his sooty rags and stood before them in his bright golden armor, which gleamed as he stood.

“You shall have my daughter and half of my kingdom, and you have well earned both!” said the king.

So there was a wedding, and Cinderlad married the king's daughter. Everyone made merry at the wedding, for all of them could make merry, even if they could not ride up the Glass Hill. And if they have not stopped their merrymaking, they must still be at it.