BUTTERBALL, from the collection of Asbjørnsen and Moe

Here's my favorite Norwegian Folk Tale - a great bedtime story for children.


BUTTERBALL or BUTTERCUP (Norwegian: Smørbukk, literally "Butter-buck")
from the collection of Peter Christen Asbjørnsen and Jørgen Moe

There was once an old woman who sat baking. She had a little boy, and he was so round and fat, and fond of good things to eat, that she called him "Butterball." And she had a dog called "Goldtooth." All at once the dog started to bark.

"Run out, my little Butterball," said the old woman, "and see who Goldtooth's barking at."

So the boy ran out, and came back in and said, "Oh, heaven help me! Here comes a big, tall Troll-hag, with her head under her arm and a sack on her back!"

"Run under the breadboard and hide!" said his mother.

Then in came the big Troll. "Good day!" she said.

"God bless you!" said Butterball's mother.

"Isn't Butterball at home today?" asked the Troll.

"No, he's in the woods with his father bagging grouse," replied the mother.

"Devil take it!" said the Troll-hag. "I've got such a fine little silver knife I wanted to give 'im!"

"Pip, pip! Here I am!" said Butterball from underneath the breadboard, and out he came.

"I'm so old and my back's so stiff," said the Troll. "You'll have to pop down into the sack and fetch it yourself."

When Butterball was well down inside, the Troll swung the sack on her back and rushed out through the door. But, when they had gone a bit on the way, the Troll grew tired and asked, "How far must I go to find a place to take a nap?"

"A furlong," said Butterball.

So the Troll put the sack down by the side of the road, and went off through the woods by herself, and lay down to sleep.

In the meantime, Butterball saw his chance. He took his knife, ripped a hole in the sack, and popped out. Then he put a large pine root in his place, and home he ran to his mother. When the Troll got home and laid eyes on what she had in the sack, she was beside herself with rage.

The next day the old woman sat baking again. All at once the dog started to bark. "Run out, my little Butterball," she said, "and see what Goldtooth's barking at."

"Oh nay! Oh nay! That nasty beast!" said Butterball. "Now she's coming back, with her head under her arm and a big sack on her back!"

"Run under the breadboard and hide!" said his mother.

"Good day," said the Troll. "Is Butterball at home today?"

"Indeed he isn't," said the mother. "He's in the woods with his father bagging grouse."

"Devil take it!" said the Troll-hag. "I've got such a pretty little silver fork I wanted to give 'im."

"Pip, pip! Here I am!" said Butterball, and out he came.

"My back's so stiff," said the Troll. "You'll have to pop down into the sack and fetch it yourself."

When Butterball was well down inside the sack, the Troll flung it on her back and set off.

When they had gone a good bit on the way, she grew tired and asked, "How far off is it to where I can sleep?"

"Half a mile," replied Butterball.

So the Troll put the sack down by the side of the road, and went up through the woods, and lay down to sleep. While the Troll was away, Butterball made a hole in the sack, and when he was out he put a big stone inside. When the Troll-hag got home, she made a fire in the hearth, hung a huge pot over, and was going to stew Butterball. But when she took the sack, thinking it was Butterball she was going to shake out, down fell the stone, making a hole in the bottom of the pot, so the water ran out and put out the fire. Now the Troll was terribly angry and said, "No matter how heavy he makes himself this time, I'll trick him just the same, I will!"

The third time was just like the others: Goldtooth started to bark, and so the mother said to Butterball, "Run out, my little Butterball, and see who Goldtooth's barking at."

So Butterball ran out, and came back in again and said, "Oh mercy me! It's that Troll again, with her head under her arm and a sack on her back!"

"Run under the breadboard and hide!" said his mother.

"Good day," said the Troll and stepped in through the door. "Is Butterball at home today?"

"Indeed he isn't!" said the mother. "He's out in the woods with his father bagging grouse."

"Devil take it!" said the Troll-hag. "I've got such a pretty little silver spoon I wanted to give 'im!"

"Pip, pip! Here I am!" said Butterball, and out he came from underneath the breadboard.

"My back's so stiff," said the Troll-hag. "You'll have to pop down into the sack and fetch it yourself."

When Butterball was well down inside, the Troll threw the sack on her back and set off on the way. This time she didn't go off by herself and lie down to sleep, but strode straight home with Butterball in the sack. And when they got there, it was a Sunday.

Then the Troll said to her daughter, "Now you must take Butterball, and cut 'im up, and make broth out of 'im by the time I come back. For now I'm going to church and invite my friends to a feast."

When the Troll had gone, the daughter was going to take Butterball and butcher him, but she didn't quite know how she was to set about it.

"Wait and I'll show you how to go about it, I will," said Butterball. "Lay your head on the stool and you'll see."

She did just so, poor thing, and Butterball took the axe and chopped off her head, just like a chicken's. Then he put the head in the bed and the carcass in the pot, and made broth of the Troll's daughter. And when that was done, he scrambled up over the door, dragging the pine root and the stone with him, and one he placed over the door and the other on the Troll's chimney pipe.

When the folks came home from church and saw the head in the bed, they thought the daughter was asleep; but then they went over to taste the broth.

"Tastes good, this Butterball broth!" said the Troll-hag.

"Tastes good, this daughter broth!" said Butterball, but they paid no attention to that.

Then the Mountain Troll took the spoon and was going to taste. "Tastes good, this Butterball broth!" he said.

"Tastes good, this daughter broth!" said Butterball, perched up on the chimney pipe.

Then they took to wondering who was talking, and wanted to go out and have a look. But when they got to the door, Butterball threw the pine root and the stone at their heads and killed them all. Then he took all the gold and silver there was in the house - and now he was rich indeed, if you please - and then home he went to his mother.

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More on the TROLL KJERRINGA: Troll Woman, the Troll of Hate
by Art (Grandpa) Stavig

The Troll Kjerringa was a horrible creature! Grandpa told us that in the olden days, the simple country people regarded her as the worst troll in Norway; she had to be - for SHE was the Troll of Hate. She was uglier than you can ever imagine and she was also very proud of the fact that she could take her head right off her neck and carry it under her arm! No wonder people dreaded the thought of meeting this headless monster as she prowled through the darkness.

There used to be many scarey stories about coarse people who went out under cover of the darkness, intending to do some mischief to others, who met the troll woman face to face in the dark! Needless to say, they quickly forgot their own evil thoughts when they faced that monster! Terrified, they turned to run as fast as they could go - but alas, they only got a few steps away, and there she was, squarely in front of them again! Then, to their horror, that ugly head under her arm began to talk to them through those thick, horrid lips, "I'M GOING WITH YOU TONIGHT!" After the man backed away from her in fear, she came after him again, and once more those ugly lips spoke, "YOU NEED ME! I'M THE TROLL OF HATE!"

Grandpa told us there was NO troll that was worse than the Troll of Hate because she was the one that tried to make her home in your heart!


Lesson of the Troll-Kjerringa:
DON'T LET THE TROLL OF HATE MAKE HER HOME IN YOUR HEART LEST YOU BECOME HER FIRST VICTIM!





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For the complete contents of the Butter Rum Cartoon, click here.