Swedish Folk Tales E-Book

Anna Maria Vilhelmina Hellberg Moberg

• Herausgeber: The History Press
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Serie: Folk Tales
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 255

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Beschreibung

Humorous tales, cautionary tales, tall tales, fairy tales, heroic tales – the depths of Swedish folklore hold all of the above and more besides. From cunning folk and helpful Tomtar, to sinister Näcken and the Stallos of Sami legend (and with plenty of romance and derring-do in-between), this book covers centuries' worth of Sweden's folk tales, telling stories that have never been translated into English as well as several oral tales published in writing for the first time.

Leseprobe

This book is dedicated to my maternal grandmother, Olga Holmblad (née Hellberg), to my uncle Bo Holmblad, and to storytellers everywhere, past, present and future.

First published 2024

The History Press

97 St George’s Place, Cheltenham,

Gloucestershire, GL50 3QB

www.thehistorypress.co.uk

Text © Anna Maria Vilhelmina Hellberg Moberg, 2024

Illustrations © Rosalie Day www.heydaystudio.co.uk

The right of Anna Maria Vilhelmina Hellberg Moberg to be identified as the Author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without the permission in writing from the Publishers.

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

ISBN 978 1 80399 506 9

eBook converted by Geethik Technologies

Typesetting and origination by The History Press

Printed and bound in Great Britain by TJ Books Limited, Padstow, Cornwall.

CONTENTS

Introduction

1 The Old Woman and the Fish

2 The Clever Kitty

3 King Bear

4 Skipper Quick

5 Cruelty at Borgholm’s Castle

6 A Tale About Cunning Folk

7Tomtar – Helpers Around the House and Farm

8Mara

9 The Mistress of the Mountain

10 How the Beast of the Great Lake was Created

11 The Changeling

12 The Child Returned from the Dead

13 Creating a Bara

14 An Encounter with the Trolls

15 The Tomte at the Mill

16 The Giant Finn and the Cathedral of Lund

17 The Enchanted Spinning Wheel

18 The Haunting at the Vicarage

19 The Trolls’ Whip

20 Old Nick and the Girl

21 Karin Wildstar and the Letter

22 The Boy Who Turned Into a Dog

23 The Death of Kasserikus

24 The Old Woman’s Good Advice

25 Never Cross a Tomte

26 The Farmhand and the Giant of Garphytteklint

27Titta Grå

28 The Old Woman and the Tramp

29 The Old Man and the Cooking Pot

30 The Dance of the Elves

31 The Creatures of the Forest

32 When the Governor’s Cat Set Fire to the City of Umeå

33Bäckahästen

34 It’s Hard to Leave a Tomte Behind

35 St Peter and the Two Women

36 Why the Hare’s Tail is so Short

37 The Vicar and the Clerk

38 The Knight at the Christmas Mass

39 Little Jan

40 A Tale of Two Beggars

41–42 Christmas Mass of the Dead (two versions)

43 The Haunting at Apertin

44 Old Nick and the Pedlar

45 The Boy from the Sea

46 The Wedding Guest

47 The Groom, the Bride and the Farmhand

48 Per Little and Per Large

49 The Farmhand and the Skull

50 Priest’s Tarn

51 The Girl Who Fooled the Giant

52 The Giant Without a Heart

53 All My Worldly Goods

54 Elis of Taserud Tales

55 Sami Folk Tales

56 Epilogue – The Tale of Hellberg

Glossary

Sources

Bibliography

Acknowledgements

About the Author

INTRODUCTION

When I started researching this book, I was amazed by the sheer number of folk tale gems I found, hailing from all the different regions of Sweden – humorous tales, cautionary tales, tall tales, fairy tales, heroic tales, ghost stories and much more besides – collected over several centuries. Some were different from anything I’d heard or read before, while others felt strikingly familiar, like distant echoes across the land, the north whispering stories to the south, via east and west, the south murmuring tales back via lakes and forests, mountains and rivers.

The landscape of Sweden plays a key part in many of the folk tales; there are those particularly associated with forests, with mountains, with farmland or with the long coastline, rivers and lakes. As for the creatures populating these tales, they too are often tied intimately to a particular landscape feature and this is mirrored in their looks, behaviour or demeanour. Even though there are some scary forest stories in Swedish folklore, a forest is sometimes seen as a place of magic, rather than as somewhere menacing, or sinister. More often than not, it is the mountain, or places near water, that hold more menace and threat.

As you’ll discover, some tales have ‘wandered the land’, getting slightly altered on their journeys. Tales crop up in different parts of the country, with local or regional versions of similar stories, which makes ascertaining which version is the ‘original’ a bit of a challenge. But perhaps the true origins don’t matter so much – folk tales grow organically and many have been told for generations, at the kitchen table, by the hearth, in the forests by teams of hunters or workers, with friends and family, indoors and outdoors, in groups big or small. Although many of the tales included in this collection of folk tales were collected and written down from the late 1700s onwards, some are clearly older, as the original teller sometimes recollects and retells something that happened a generation or two ago. Other stories are more contemporary – new versions of old tales, or brand-new tales created and told by a new generation of oral storytellers, finding their way to an old craft amidst the currently ongoing revival of storytelling across Sweden (as part of a greater revival internationally).

I hail from a tiny, rural community in the far west of Sweden, very close to the Norwegian border. As a child, I was hardly aware of how integral storytelling was to life in such small communities. Only as an adult, and as a writer and fledgling storyteller myself, have I begun to understand the importance of going back to my roots and reconnecting with the part of Swedish culture – particularly rural Swedish culture – that is steeped in the storytelling tradition.

My maternal grandfather, Karl Holmbad, was a great storyteller. Most of his stories and tall tales are rather too bawdy (and occasionally lewd) to include in this collection, but even though he passed away when I was ten years old after a few years’ illness, I still remember his voice, the way he told his tales and the pleasure he took in telling them. He recounted his time working as a woodsman in Norway and spoke of vast forests and hard work. He talked about tomtar – the little helpers on the farm – and skogsråa – the female forest spirit – of adventure and camaraderie, of finding one’s way in unfamiliar territory.

My maternal grandmother, Olga Maria Hellberg (two of whose names I carry), outlived him by a whole decade and consequently I remember her stories even more vividly. She was a very different kind of storyteller compared to her husband. Just like my grandfather’s, her stories were of a personal nature, but with far less bravado and derring-do. Instead, her tales spoke of taking pleasure in the little things – enjoying the first spring blossoms, basking in the sunshine by a lake, sipping a delicious cup of coffee, aka having Swedish fika. She lived in an era when personal tragedy wasn’t something you’d talk about much, rather you just lived through it and occasionally whispered about it in hushed tones – like a secret. Although the occasions were few, I remember her calmly telling me tales of terrible tragedy, of life-changing events, of bravery of a different kind from that of my grandfather’s tales, i.e. what today would be known as life stories or documentary storytelling.

Both of them, in their own, very different ways, have been an inspiration to me when compiling this book. Delving deeply into Swedish folk tales has allowed me to not only reconnect with the land I left over three decades ago by now, but also to reconnect with the stories I grew up with and find many stories that were new to me along the way. Storytelling has always been close to my heart as a writer, but in recent years I have started to discover, embrace and tentatively explore the very different art of oral storytelling.

In this book I have attempted to put together a selection of folk tales from across Sweden. In some cases, the tales date back several hundred years, while others are more modern. They range in length from mere ‘snippets’ to full-length stories of ten-plus pages. Many have never been translated into English before and some did not exist in writing in Swedish or English until this printed version. I have used a wide range of sources from interviews with modern-day storytellers, printed material and books, the ISOF archives, local magazines, personal recordings and conversations with older relatives (see the Sources and Bibliography sections).

Throughout the process of researching and compiling this book, I have been reminded of those who came before me, the stories I grew up with and the country that I hail from, even if I no longer call it home. My mother lived and worked in Lapland for many years and I grew up listening to her stories of the midnight sun, the high mountains, the Sami, the reindeer and the deep snows. Her mother before her had three siblings who emigrated to America and she, in turn, told me the stories they told her, of their new lives across the ocean. Only one of them made it back to Sweden again, for one single visit. The world has changed at an astounding pace since then and it’s hard to imagine leaving home with no guarantee of ever returning. The world may have changed, but stories and storytelling remain. Stories also change and evolve, and thus they endure. I suspect I too will have changed through the process of writing this book, and so will my stories. And the folk tales included in this book are part of that process of change. I hope I have not taken too many liberties with the heritage present in these folk tales, but they too will have morphed slightly in the process of translation and adaptation. I have endeavoured to stick reasonably close to the original source material, with some artistic licence. Each story told belongs to the teller and is given a new lease of life in the moment of storytelling.

Anna Maria Vilhelmina Hellberg MobergLondon, February 2024

A further note on the content of this book:

Some people today equate folk tales with fairy tales, and assume they are all meant for children, but this could hardly be further from the truth! Throughout history people have invented, created and recounted tales for all occasions, for adults as well as children. Folk tales are no exception, and while some are funny and fantastical, others contain elements that are dark, gory and downright brutal. As a result, this collection contains material and language that might not be suitable for young readers.

1

THE OLD WOMAN AND THE FISH

Many folk tales hail from a time when poverty was rife in rural Sweden and plenty deal with misers getting their just desserts, or wealth being ‘redistributed’ to those with fewer means, often by cunning, magic, or trickery. In others, such as in the tale below, the rural poor get unexpected help when they show that magical quality: mercy. The magic number appears in the form of three wishes, well known in tales from all over the world.

Once upon a time, long ago, there lived an old, wizened woman in a tiny, ramshackle cottage, high up on the brow of a hill, overlooking the town below. Her husband had long since died and all her children had moved away to work in different parts of the county, so this woman felt very sad and lonely in her little cottage. And, it has to be said, she was also rather impoverished.

But when one has been granted life, there’s hardly any point in planning one’s funeral before one’s time. Instead, one has to take each day as it comes and try to make the best of it, and this was the woman’s sole consolation. But oh, how heavy were those pails of water she had to carry from the well below, to her cottage on the hill; and how blunt and rusty was her old axe that she used to chop her firewood; and how short and meagre was the only piece of cloth she could use to weave. All this saddened the woman greatly and made her occasionally bemoan her fate.

One day, as she was gathering water from the well, she found a small fish – a pike – when she pulled up the bucket, and this rather pleased her.

‘It’s not every day that I get to cook such a grand meal,’ she said to herself.

She wasn’t the only one with the gift of speech, though – the fish had it also and now it spoke up.

‘Let me go!’ the fish implored her at once.

The woman stopped dead, bucket in hand, and just stared. Such a fish she’d certainly never come across before.

‘Well, I never,’ she exclaimed. ‘What kind of fish are you, who thinks he’s too good to be eaten?’

‘No need to eat all that you get your hands on,’ the fish continued. ‘It would be wise to let me go, and if you do, you will be well rewarded for your troubles.’

‘I much prefer a fish caught in a bucket to all the wild, frolicking fish in rivers, streams and lakes,’ said the woman, unconvinced. ‘Easier to catch with your hand and bring to your mouth, for one thing.’

‘That is as it may be,’ said the fish, ‘but if you just do as I say and let me go, you shall have three wishes.’

The woman was paying attention now, but still hesitating, not quite believing what she was hearing.

‘Promises are all very well,’ she said at last, ‘but how will I know that you’ll keep them? I won’t really trust you until you’re in my cooking pot, that much I can tell you!’

‘You mind that sharp tongue of yours now,’ the fish countered, getting angry, ‘and pay attention to what I’m telling you. Make three wishes and then see for yourself and judge whether I’m not worthy of your trust.’

The woman already had in mind what her three wishes would be and thought there was no harm in testing the fish to see if he would keep his word. She was thinking of those heavy pails when they were filled to the brim with the well’s cool, clear water.

‘Well,’ she said, ‘if you put it that way, here’s my first wish. I wish that these pails were able to go and fetch water from the well and bring it back up to my cottage again, all by themselves.’

‘Then so they shall,’ said the fish.

The woman then thought of her axe.

‘And,’ she continued, ‘I wish that whatever I strike with my axe will easily break at the first strike.’

‘Then so it shall,’ said the fish.

She also remembered that the cloth she had to weave was in no way long enough.

‘I wish,’ she said finally, ‘that whatever I pull increases in length and grows very long.’

‘Then so it shall,’ said the fish solemnly. ‘Now let me back down into the well.’

The old woman agreed.

As she let the fish go, the pails of water began scrambling up the hill all by themselves, gently, without spilling the water.

The woman stood there, staring in amazement for a long while.

Then she let out a cry of joy and danced about, slapping herself across her knees.

‘I have never seen anything like it!’ she shouted happily across the hillside. The lonely, old woman had never felt more pleased. ‘No need to eat everything one gets one’s hands on, indeed,’ she thought.

2

THE CLEVER KITTY

Different animals appear in many folk tales, where they are often given magical powers of some kind, such as this very clever, talking cat, in a story from Bohuslän, on the west coast. This is one of many stories from a very prolific storyteller, August Jakobsson (1844–1930), a salesman and fisherman active along the coast in the 1800s. He collected tales and songs during his journeys buying and selling lobster and many of his stories were documented in 1919–20 by David Arill.

There was once a crofter who had two children, a son and a daughter. Then, suddenly, the crofter and his wife died, leaving the boy and girl orphaned. The two children decided to split their inheritance, for they could not stay in the little, old house and all that remained for them to share between them was a cow and a cat. The girl was very disgruntled when she realised all she’d be getting was the cat. ‘Do not be disheartened,’ said the kitty, ‘for, truly, you have got the best end of the bargain.’

The two siblings set off into the world, in different directions. The young lad went off with his cow, and the girl and the kitty went the opposite way. When they had walked a fair distance, the girl and the kitty reached the king’s abode. This is where the prince spotted her, for this girl was strikingly beautiful. The prince asked her where she hailed from. This is when the kitty was quick to advise her. ‘Say that you’re from such and such a castle,’ the cat swiftly whispered to the girl.

As fate would have it, the two young people – the girl and the prince – got married and the kitty cat taught the girl well. She was well rehearsed and always able to tell them that whatever finery they showed her, what she had back home in her own castle was much finer still. The queen thought her very posh indeed. When she made the bed for the princess, she added two, three bits of straw among the bedding. In the morning the queen asked, ‘So did you sleep well last night?’

‘No, not at all,’ the princess replied, ‘I feel as though I’ve slept on large tree trunks.’

It was the kitty who had taught her to say that, you see. The princess confessed that she actually slept much, much better at home in her own castle.

The following evening, the queen made the girl’s bed again, and added three or four peas among the bedding. In the morning the queen asked her if she had slept well.

‘No,’ said the princess, ‘I feel as though I’ve slept on large stones!’

‘She must be terribly refined and elegant,’ the queen thought to herself.

Soon the prince and princess were off to visit the grand castle. When they’d driven for a little while, the kitty set off ahead of the couple, spotting lots of fine-looking farm animals along the way. ‘There are a few people following in my footsteps,’ the cat said to the shepherds looking after the animals. ‘When they ask who the owner of the fine animals is, tell them they belong to the new princess.’

When the prince saw the fine-looking creatures, of course he asked who they belonged to. ‘They belong to the new princess,’ said the shepherds.

The couple drove on. Kitty ran on in advance. They reached some beautiful farmland with crops growing high. People were there harvesting the crops. The kitty approached them and said, ‘Look, there’s the prince driving by. If he asks who owns this bountiful farmland, say, “It belongs to the new princess.”’

When the prince arrived, he duly asked who this bountiful farmland belonged to and was told that it belonged to the new princess.

On they drove with the kitty always running ahead. There was a great, big, beautiful castle, where an enormous giant lived. When the kitty cat arrived at the castle, the giant had gone out and locked the door.

‘This would be a good time to turn into an ant,’ said the kitty and no sooner had she said it than she turned into an ant, crawled through the keyhole, and inspected the castle. The giant had gone out, but he could only do so after sunset so this all happened at night. Time passed and dawn was approaching. The giant’s heavy footsteps could be heard outside – he was returning. ‘This would a good time to turn into a loaf of bread,’ the kitty said and swiftly turned into a loaf of bread inside the keyhole.

The giant came to unlock the door, but no matter how he tried, he couldn’t get the key into the hole. The sun began to rise …

The kitty cried out, ‘Beautiful maiden to the east!’ and when the giant turned to look, the sun shone right at him and he burst.

The clever kitty managed to move the giant out of the way, just in time for the arrival of the prince and the princess. Never before had the prince seen such a marvellous castle as this one.

3

KING BEAR

The line between a folk tale and a fairy tale is often blurred, and enchanted animals and animals with magical or shapeshifting powers appear in many tales across the globe. Although kings, queens, princes and princesses are often thought of as a staple in fairy tales, Sweden is a kingdom with a popular royal family to this day and royals appear in folk, as well as fairy, tales. This folk tale from Södermanland could be seen as a variation of the ‘beauty and the beast’ story.

Many weird and wonderful things used to happen at the king’s royal court, one of which was the fattening of a louse until it reached unusually large proportions. When the louse had grown as large as she possibly could, she was flayed, and her skin displayed for everyone to see. If any man was able to guess what creature the skin belonged to, he would be allowed to marry the king’s daughter, such was the promise proclaimed at the time. Although many tried their luck, no one was able to guess correctly.

Finally, the last day when anyone was allowed to have a guess at the creature’s origins arrived, and a large gathering of people was present. The fate of the king’s daughter would be sealed by the end of the day. Among those gathered in the crowd there was a gentleman that the princess dearly loved, but to smuggle him some kind of clue as to the skin’s origins seemed all but impossible. The princess nearly despaired, but then she thought of something. She quickly scribbled ‘louse skin, gentleman mine’ on a piece of paper, which she threw out of the window in the hope that her beloved would find it. Sadly, the piece of paper instead fell into the hands of a different man, who thought nothing of what was written down.

There was also, in this large crowd of people, a bear who happened to be an enchanted prince. As luck would have it, he noticed the piece of paper and managed to snatch it from the man who had initially picked it up. The bear, reading what was written, immediately understood that it was a clue and roared at the top of his voice, ‘Louse skin, gentleman mine.’ Nobody knew what this might mean, but the bear presented himself to the king and his guess was correct. The king became inconsolable when he realised he had to keep his promise and deliver his daughter to this monstrous creature. The princess was equally inconsolable as she loved another, but the king’s word of honour and his daughter’s duty to her father were sacred to father and daughter alike in those days. And so it was that the princess had to accompany the bear to his castle.

Their journey took them through inhospitable wilderness and along winding paths, which meant the princess had to spend a lot of the journey on the bear’s back. When they’d covered a good distance, they reached a grand castle and, as they were hungry, the bear sent the princess into the castle to ask for food. She went inside, and when she returned, she found to her astonishment a beautiful male figure waiting for her instead of the bear she had left moments ago. In the same instant that the princess delivered the greeting from King Bear inside the castle, the very same bear was released from his enchantment that had held him prisoner for so long. In order to be released, he had been told that he needed to bring home a Christian princess, and now that this condition had been fulfilled, the spell was broken.

The two of them were immediately brought into the castle, where they were warmly welcomed with great fanfare. Soon enough their wedding was held and they were married. Neither the princess nor her father needed to have any regrets now that she was married to King Bear, who was no bear after all.

4

SKIPPER QUICK

A tale from Sweden’s largest island, Gotland in the Baltic Sea. There are many tales of seafaring folk and merpeople from coastal areas. The gift of a handkerchief from the merpeople to a sailor is a common theme in tales from a number of different places – a so-called ‘wandering tale’. Being kind to a merwoman or mermaid was said to bring good luck.

Once upon a time, there was a sea captain from Fårösund, in Gotland, whose name was Skipper Quick. He was the captain of a large vessel with many masts. One time he was sailing his ship from Sweden to America. When they were in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, the sailors called out to their captain.

‘Captain, captain, an unknown woman has just boarded the ship.’

The sea captain understood at once that this could be no ordinary human being, because no human can board a ship in the middle of the ocean. He immediately suspected that it was the lady of the sea, a merwoman. When the captain went to greet the unknown woman, he saw that she had long, light green hair like seaweed, she smelt of kelp and salt water was pouring off her. He became convinced that she was in fact a merwoman. He greeted her politely and asked if she needed help with anything, as she had boarded his ship.

‘Yes,’ said the merwoman, ‘down in my castle at the bottom of the ocean, we are curing magpies and squirrels for the winter and we’ve run out of salt, so I would like to borrow some.’

‘Oh, we have plenty of salt,’ said the sea captain and then he had a couple of the crew bring a whole barrel for her. ‘But how will you get it down to the bottom of the sea?’

‘Just throw it overboard,’ said the merwoman, ‘and it will end up where it needs to be.’

Said and done, the barrel of salt was thrown overboard and sank like a stone.

As a token of gratitude, the sea captain was then invited to follow the merwoman down into the depths to visit her castle. She took him by the hand, climbed over the railing and then took the plunge down into the waters below, pulling the sea captain along with her.

When Skipper Quick hit the water, he realised that he had reached solid ground. He was standing on the top step of a long staircase, leading to the bottom of the sea. The merwoman and the sea captain began to walk down the stairs hand in hand. With each step, the water got higher and higher, covering their bodies. When the water reached so high that it covered nose and mouth, the sea captain noticed that a bubble of air had formed in front of his face, allowing him to breathe normally even though he was under water.

When they reached the bottom of the sea, they followed a winding path with seaweed growing on both sides. It felt like walking through a forest of swaying trees, except along the seabed. After a little while, the merwoman’s crystal castle came into view. It glittered and shone with a faintly green light. The castle had a wide gate made out of gold that opened gently as though by magic when they approached. Tiny red fish swam in and out through the gate.

In the first room to the left, inside the gate, Skipper Quick spotted the barrel of salt they had thrown overboard from his ship. Here the servants of the merwoman were busy curing the magpies and squirrels for the winter in large wooden barrels.

They placed a layer of salt at the bottom of the barrel. Then they spread out a layer of squirrels on top of the salt, all with their tails facing the same direction. Then they added more salt before adding a layer of magpies, all with their beaks in the same direction. Then more salt, more squirrels, more salt and more magpies, until the barrel was full. This would give them enough food to eat throughout the winter months.

The merwoman and the sea captain continued deeper into the castle, through one crystal hall after another. The furthermost hall was also the largest. It was as big as a football pitch and as high-ceilinged as a church. An ancient, withered old man was kneeling on the floor, with his knees bent forwards instead of backwards. The old man had white hair and a white beard and lacked eyes. The merwoman introduced the sea captain to the blind old man.

‘This is Skipper Quick from Fårösund who’s paying us a visit.’

‘That is impressive,’ said the blind old man, ‘it’s been many moons since we had a sea captain from Gotland visiting us. Come here and let me shake your hand.’

But the sea captain had no desire to shake the blind old man’s hand. He grabbed an anchor that was lying about on the floor and held that out for the man to shake, instead of his hand. The blind old man grabbed the anchor and gave it a squeeze. He pressed so hard that the iron was flattened in his grasp and protruded between his fingers.

‘How wonderful to know that there are still strong men hailing from old Gotland,’ he exclaimed, delighted.

As a souvenir from his visit to the bottom of the sea, Skipper Quick was given a gift by the blind old man – a handkerchief with three knots.