Grumblegizzard

Once upon a time, there were five old women who were all reaping in a field. They were all childless and all wished to have a child. Suddenly, they spotted a strangely large goose egg, almost as big as a man's head.

"I saw it first!" said one. "I saw it just as soon as you!" screamed another. "Heaven help me, but I will have it!" swore the third. "I was the first to see it."

They flocked around it and squabbled so much over the egg that they began tearing each other's hair. At last, they agreed they would own it together, all five of them, and each would sit on it in turn like a goose to hatch the gosling. The first woman sat for eight days, but nothing came of it. Meanwhile, the others had to scrounge for food for themselves and for her. Finally, one of them started to scold her.

"Well," said the one who had been sitting, "you didn't chip the egg yourself before you could cry, did you? But this egg, I think, has something in it, for it seems to mumble, and this is what it says: 'Herrings and brose, porridge and milk, all at once.' Now you may come and sit for eight days too, and we'll take turns and get food for you."

So when all five had sat on it for eight days, the fifth heard plainly that there was a gosling inside, which screeched, "Herrings and brose, porridge and milk!"

She picked a hole in it, but instead of a gosling, out came a baby boy, awfully ugly, with a big head and a tiny body. The first thing he bawled when he chipped the egg was, "Herrings and brose, porridge and milk." So they called him Grumblegizzard.

As ugly as he was, they were glad to have him at first. But it wasn't long before he grew so greedy that he ate up all the meat in the house. When they boiled a kettle of soup or a pot of porridge that they thought would be enough for all six, he tossed it all down his own throat. So they decided they wouldn't keep him any longer.

"I've not known what it is to have a full meal since this changeling crept out of the eggshell," said one of them. When Grumblegizzard heard that the rest agreed, he said he was quite willing to leave. If they didn't care for him, he didn't care for them. And with that, he strode off from the farm.

After a long time, he came to a farmer's house in a stony country, and there he asked for work. They needed a laborer, and the farmer set him to pick up stones from the field. Grumblegizzard gathered the stones, taking such big ones that they would have made many horse-loads. He stuffed them all into his pocket, big and small. It wasn't long before he was done, and then he wanted to know what to do next.

"I told you to pick the stones from the field," said the farmer. "You can't be done before you begin, I'm sure."

But Grumblegizzard turned out his pockets and threw the stones in a heap. The farmer saw that he had indeed done the work and felt he ought to keep such a strong worker. He told Grumblegizzard to come in and have something to eat. Grumblegizzard agreed, and he alone ate all the food prepared for the master, mistress, and servants, and even then he wasn't half full.

"He's a man and a half to work, but a fearful fellow to eat too! There's no stopping him," said the farmer. "Such a laborer would eat a poor farmer out of house and home before you could turn around." So he told him he had no more work and suggested he go to the king's estate.

Grumblegizzard strode on to the king and got a place at once. At the king's estate, there was enough of both work and food. He was to be the odd-job man, helping the maids with wood and water and other small tasks. He asked what he should do first.

"Oh, if you would be so good as to chop us a little firewood."

Grumblegizzard fell to chopping and hewing until splinters flew. It wasn't long before he had chopped up all the firewood and timber, both planks and beams. When he finished, he came back and asked what to do next.

"Go on chopping wood," they said.

"There's no more left to chop," he replied.

"That can't be true," said the king's steward, and he went to look in the wood yard. But it was true: Grumblegizzard had chopped everything into firewood, even the sawn planks and hewn beams. The steward scolded him and said he should not taste a morsel of food until he had gone into the forest and cut down as much timber as he had chopped into firewood.

Grumblegizzard went to the smithy and had the smith help him make an axe of fifteen pounds of iron. Then he went into the forest and began clearing it. Tall spruces and firs fit for masts toppled down. He cut down everything on the king's land and his neighbors' land, without stopping to trim them, leaving them lying like windfalls. Then he loaded a sledge with timber and hitched all the horses to it, but they couldn't budge the load. When he took them by the heads to get them moving, he pulled their heads off. So he tossed the horses out of the traces and pulled the load home by himself.

When he arrived at the king's estate, the king and his wood steward stood on the gallery to scold him for being so wasteful. But when they saw him dragging back half a forest of timber, the king grew both angry and afraid. He realized he had to be careful with someone so strong.

"That I call a workman, no mistake!" said the king. "But how much do you eat at once? You must be hungry now."

"When I'm to have a good meal of porridge, I can do with twelve barrels of meal," said Grumblegizzard. "But once I get that inside me, I can hold out for some time."

It took time to boil the porridge, and meanwhile, he was to bring in some wood for the cook. He loaded the whole woodpile onto a sledge, but when he tried to get through the doorway, he got into trouble again. The house shook so much that every joint gave way, and he nearly dragged the whole estate down.

When dinner time approached, they sent him to call the workers in from the field. He bellowed so loudly that the rocks and hills echoed. But they didn't come quickly enough for him, so he lost his temper and killed twelve of them on the spot.

"He has slain twelve men," said the king, "and he eats for twelve times twelve. But for how many do you work, I'd like to know?"

"For twelve times twelve too," said Grumblegizzard.

After dinner, he was to go to the barn to thresh. He took off the roof beam and made a flail out of it. When the roof was about to collapse, he grabbed a great spruce tree, branches and all, and stuck it up as a new roof beam. Then he threshed the floor, the straw, and the hay all together. He did great harm, as grain, chaff, and husks flew all around, and a cloud of dust rose over the entire barn.

When he was nearly done threshing, enemies invaded the land, and war was declared. The king told Grumblegizzard to take men and go meet the enemy and fight them, hoping they would kill him. "No, I'll have no men with me to be slain. I'll fight alone," said Grumblegizzard.

"All the better; I'll be rid of him sooner," thought the king.

But Grumblegizzard needed a mighty club. They sent to the smith to forge one of fifty pounds. "That might do to crack nuts," he said. So they made one of a hundred pounds. "That might do to nail shoes," he said. The smith couldn't make it any bigger with all his men. So Grumblegizzard went to the smithy himself and forged a club of fifteen tons. It took a hundred men to turn it on the anvil. "That might do," he said.

He also needed a food bag, so he made one from fifteen ox hides and stuffed it full of food. Then he set off down the hill with his bag on his back and his club on his shoulder.

When the enemy saw him coming, they sent a man to ask if he was coming against them. "Wait a bit till I've had my dinner," said Grumblegizzard, throwing himself down on the road and eating from his huge bag. But they couldn't wait and started shooting at him. Bullets rained like hail.

"These bilberries don't bother me at all," he said, eating even harder. Neither lead nor iron could hurt him, and his bag acted like a wall, blocking the fire.

They started shooting cannonballs at him. He just grinned every time he was hit. "Ha, ha! It's all no good," he said. But then a cannonball went right down his throat.

"Fie!" he said, spitting it out. Then a chain shot hit his butter box, and another snatched the bite he was about to eat from his fingers. That made him angry. He stood up, took his club, and slammed it on the ground. "Are you going to snatch the bread from my mouth with your bilberries that you puff out of big peashooters?" he shouted. He struck a few more blows, making the rocks and hills shake, and the enemy flew into the air like chaff. And so the war was over.

*

Having gotten this far, Peter said he needed to catch his breath and called for another bowl of milk. While he refreshed himself, we all waited eagerly for the rest of the story.

*

When Grumblegizzard came home and wanted more work, the king was worried. He had hoped to be rid of him this time, but now he could only think of sending him to hell. "You must go to Old Nick and ask for my land tax."

Grumblegizzard set off with his bag on his back and his club on his shoulder. He lost no time, but when he got there, Old Nick was away serving on a jury. Only his mother was home, and she said she had never heard of any land tax. He should come back another day.

"Yes, yes, come back tomorrow," said Grumblegizzard. "That's all nonsense, for tomorrow never comes. I'm here now, and I'll stay. I must and will have the land tax. I have plenty of time to wait."

When he had eaten all his food, time hung heavy. He went to the old woman and demanded the land tax. She must pay up.

"No," she said, "I can't. It's as sure as the old fir tree outside the gate of hell, which is so big that fifteen men can barely encircle it."

But Grumblegizzard climbed to the top of the tree, twisted and turned it like a willow branch. Then he asked if she was ready with the tax.

Yes, she dared not refuse, so she gave him as many coins as he thought he could carry in his bag.

He started for home with the tax, but as soon as he left, Old Nick returned. When he heard that Grumblegizzard had taken a bag full of money, he beat his mother and then ran after him to catch him. He caught up, for he ran lightly and used his wings, while Grumblegizzard was weighed down by the bag. Just as Old Nick was at his heels, Grumblegizzard began to run and jump as fast as he could, holding his club behind him to keep Old Nick away.

And so they went, Grumblegizzard holding the handle and Old Nick clawing at the head, until they came to a deep valley. Grumblegizzard leaped from one hilltop to the other, and Old Nick, eager to follow, tripped over the club and fell into the valley, breaking his leg. And there he lay.

"Here's the land tax," said Grumblegizzard as he reached the king's estate. He dashed the bag of money before the king, making the whole gallery creak and crack.

The king thanked him, put on a brave face, and promised him good pay and a safe passage home if he wanted it. But Grumblegizzard only wanted more work.

"What shall I do now?" he asked. After thinking, the king said he should go to the Hill Troll, who had stolen the king's grandfather's sword and taken it to his castle by the lake, where no one dared to go.

Grumblegizzard filled his bag with several loads of food and set off again. He traveled far and long, over woods and mountains and wild wastelands, until he came to some high hills where the Troll was said to live.

But the Troll was not to be seen outside, and the hill was sealed shut. Grumblegizzard couldn't get in, even with his strength. So he joined some quarrymen who were living at a hill farm and working in those hills. They had never had such help, for he beat and battered the rock until it split, rolling down stones as big as houses. But when he stopped to rest at noon and took out a load of food, the whole bag was eaten empty.

"I'm a pretty good trencherman myself," said Grumblegizzard, "but whoever has been here has a sharper tooth, for he's eaten bones and all."

The same thing happened the first day, and the next was no better. On the third day, he went quarrying again, taking his third meal of food. But he lay down behind it and pretended to sleep.

Just then, a Troll with seven heads came out of the hill and began to eat his food. "Now the table is set, and I will eat," said the Troll.

"We'll have a fight over that," said Grumblegizzard, and he struck the Troll with his club, knocking off all seven heads at once.

Then he went into the hill from which the Troll had come. Inside stood a horse eating from a tub of glowing coals, and at its heels was a tub of oats. "Why don't you eat from the tub of oats?" asked Grumblegizzard.

"Because I can't turn around," said the horse.

"I'll soon turn you," said Grumblegizzard.

"Rather strike off my head," said the horse. So he did, and the horse turned into a handsome man. He said the Troll had turned him into a horse. He helped Grumblegizzard find the sword, which the Troll had hidden at the bottom of his bed. On the bed lay the Troll's old mother, asleep and snoring.

They returned home by water. When they had gotten well out, the old witch came after them. Unable to catch them, she started drinking the lake dry. She drank and drank until the water level fell, but she couldn't drink the sea dry, and so she burst.

When they reached the shore, Grumblegizzard sent word to the king to come and fetch his sword. The king sent four horses, but they couldn't move it. He sent eight, then twelve, but the sword stayed put. Grumblegizzard picked it up alone and carried it.

The king could hardly believe his eyes when he saw Grumblegizzard again. He put on a brave face and promised him gold and green woods. When Grumblegizzard wanted more work, the king suggested he go to a haunted castle he owned, where no one dared stay. He was to sleep there and build a bridge over the Sound so people could cross. If he succeeded, the king would pay him well and even give him his daughter in marriage.

"Yes, I can do that," said Grumblegizzard.

No one had ever left that castle alive; those who went there were torn to pieces. The king thought he would never see Grumblegizzard again.

But Grumblegizzard set off, taking his food bag, a tough twisted fir stump, an axe, a wedge, some matches, and the workhouse boy from the king's estate.

When they reached the Sound, the river was full of ice and ran like a waterfall. Grumblegizzard planted his legs firmly and waded across.

When he had lit a fire, warmed himself, and eaten, he tried to sleep. But soon there was such a noise and din as if the whole castle was turning upside down. The door blew open, and he saw nothing but a gaping mouth from the threshold to the lintel.

"Here, have a bite! Taste that!" said Grumblegizzard, throwing the workhouse boy into the gaping maw. "Now let me see what kind you are. Maybe we're old friends."

It was Old Nick. Then they started playing cards. The Old One wanted to win back some of the land tax Grumblegizzard had taken from his mother. But no matter how they cut the cards, Grumblegizzard won, for he had marked all the court cards with a cross. When he had won all the ready money, Old Nick had to give him some of the gold and silver from the castle.

Just as they were busy, the fire went out, and they couldn't see the cards. "Now we must chop wood," said Grumblegizzard. He drove his axe into the fir stump and thrust in the wedge. The tough root wouldn't split easily, no matter how hard he twisted.

"They say you're very strong," he said to Old Nick. "Spit on your hands, bear a hand with your claws, and rend it apart. Let me see what you're made of."

Old Nick did so, putting both fists into the split and straining to tear it apart. At that moment, Grumblegizzard struck out the wedge, trapping Old Nick's hands. Then he tried his back with the axe. Old Nick begged and pleaded to be let go, but Grumblegizzard was deaf to that until Old Nick gave his word never to come there again and make noise. He also had to promise to build a bridge over the Sound so people could cross at any time of year, and it was to be ready when the ice melted.