"Thank you very much," said Knut. "But give me rather a bit of bread and a bowl of sour milk."
"Oh, come now! You don't know what is good! Get into the furnace there. Be quick! The iron is red hot already."
"I believe you!" said Knut. "It is almost too hot for me."
"What nonsense!" growled the old troll. And he tried with all his might to thrust Knut into the furnace.
But the one who took to his heels at that instant was Knut. He ran for dear life, was lucky enough to find the outside door and was soon again on the forest path.
"Grandmother was right," thought Knut. "I really must hear myself the Catechism and keep my mind on it."
While Knut was thinking of one of the long explanations following the oft-recurring question, "What does that mean?" he suddenly felt very cold. The cause was soon evident, for behold! although it was summer, there, at a turn in the path, stood a snow mountain!
"This is remarkable," thought Knut. "How does any one here ever get warm food?"
With these words he climbed up on the snow, Catechism forgotten and thoughts of food uppermost in his mind; and at once he tumbled down into a deep hole, and found himself in a magnificent palace of glittering ice. Starlight and moonlight illuminated it. All the great rooms were ornamented with shining ice-mirrors, all the floors were strewn with diamonds of hoar frost. Clumsy snow men rolled about on their stomachs over the floor. Presently one stood upright. He was a long-bodied stiff creature, with icicles in his hair, icicles in his beard, a robe of thin sheet-ice, and shoes of frozen berry-juice.
"Good-day, Knut Spelevink," said the Snow King. "Why do you look so poorly to-day?"
"Why shouldn't I look poorly when I have had nothing but Catechism and bar iron to eat since yesterday noon?" said Knut with chattering teeth.
"You are too hot, young man, you are too hot—that is what is the matter with you. I am the Snow King and I bring up all my subjects to be ice-clad—turn them into regular lumps of ice—and I will do the same for you. Chief Officer of the Snow Knights, dip this boy seven times in ice-cold water, hang him on a hook and let him freeze."
"No—thank you—wait a little," suggested Knut. "Give me instead a mug of hot posset. I am already a lump of ice!"
"Chief Officer of the Snow Knights, give him a bit of frozen quicksilver, and a mug of chipped ice before you dip him," ordered the Snow King.
Knut wanted to run away but it was already too late. The Chief Officer had grabbed him by the collar, and it would have been all over with Knut if he had not chanced to get hold of his magic pipe. Knowing that there was not another thing he could do to try to save himself but to blow on his pipe, blow he did, right lustily; and this time the sound was pū, pū.
Instantly the long-bodied troll's features were distorted by a grin that should have represented merriment, but he was far from merry. He was boiling with rage over the resistless desire to laugh that unexpectedly took possession of him. He laughed and laughed; yes, he laughed so hard that the icicles fell from his hair and chin, his knees doubled under him, and at last his very head burst into bits! All the snow men laughed so violently that they, too, fell to pieces; the Chief Officer sank to the floor, becoming only a pool of mushy, dirty water. The ice-mirrors broke into small fragments and the whole palace changed into a wild whirl of snow!
Knut himself was so overcome by laughter that it was only by the strongest effort he could hold his lips together on the pipe and keep on blowing.
While the snow still whirled about him, he suddenly noticed that he was again upon the forest path. And lo! the next instant the air cleared, the last of the snow disappeared in swift-running streams, and summer, high summer, ruled once more.
"Now I will look out for myself," thought Knut as he tramped steadily forward; and he began again to pick out from his memory an answer to the question, "What does that mean?"
He had not walked far before he found himself beside the most beautiful little wooded hill, where strawberries gleamed red all through the grass. It could not be dangerous to pick a few strawberries to eat, when one was not to have dinner until four o'clock in the afternoon, thought hungry Knut; and he climbed a little way up the hill.
No sooner was he there than he saw that what he had taken for strawberries was nothing else than many thousand charming little elves in red clothing. They were no taller than a strawberry stem, and were dancing merrily around a green hillock upon which sat their queen who was about three inches tall.
"Good-day, Knut Spelevink," said the elf-queen. "Why do you look so poorly to-day?"
"Why shouldn't I look poorly when I have had nothing to eat since yesterday noon except Catechism and bar iron and frozen quicksilver? I thought that you people were strawberries."
"Poor thing, he is hungry," said the queen to her lady-in-waiting. "Give him a dewdrop and the leg of a gnat so that he may for once eat until he is really satisfied."
"Thank you very much," answered Knut. "But might I perhaps have a dish of berries and a pail of milk instead?"
"What coarseness!" said the elf-queen, highly disgusted with such a gluttonous appetite. "Do you know, you human child, that you came into our kingdom without a pass, and that you trod to death three and thirty of our faithful subjects so that there is nothing left of them but a red stain? And you have refused our gracious offer of food and shown yourself to be disgustingly greedy, besides. Forest spinners of our court, do your duty."
Scarcely were the words spoken before a legion of long-legged spiders swung down from the trees and began to spin around Knut a network of countless fine threads. Knut did not relish this, and thought it a very poor joke. He beat away the webspinners, and tried to return to the forest path, but could not stir from the spot. His feet were tangled in an all too strong net, his arms were glued to his sides, his eyes even were plastered shut, and at last down he fell in the grass.
He could see nothing but he could hear how the whole hill rang with laughter; the elves formed a ring around him, danced over him, nipped him on the cheeks like gnats, and were beside themselves with joy over their comical trick.
"Lie there and starve until you can be satisfied with a dewdrop and a gnat leg," said the elves.
Knut fell to pleading with them. "Listen now, little elves," said he. "I shall be content if I may bite on a small piece of reed I have in my jacket pocket. Will not some of you be so good as to stick it into my mouth?"
The elves thought it would be inexpressibly amusing to see this greedy human child eat a piece of reed; so four of them climbed into his jacket pocket and with their united strength drew forth the magic pipe, which, with great effort, they succeeded in putting into his mouth. Thereupon they danced more merrily than ever around and over him, and the hill resounded with their delicate laughter. It was like the humming of a million swarms of gnats.
Knut no sooner felt the pipe between his lips than he began to blow; and this time the tone was pȳ, pȳ. At once the merry laughter came to an end, and sobbing was heard from every direction—a sound as of a hundred thousand sobbing together, not unlike what one hears in summer when the beating rain lashes the hill.
Knut could not see, but he knew that the elves were crying and he felt that it was a sin, no matter what they had done, to make such merry creatures sob so grievously.
"Set me free and you shall laugh again," said Knut to the weeping elves.
Now it is the elves' greatest joy to laugh. Indeed, they laugh away their short lives in the summer evenings knowing nothing of sorrow.
At Knut's words, hundreds of elves began immediately