The Violet Fairy Book | Page 4

Fish swam in the Air and a Hare in the Water
Two in a Sack The Envious Neighbour The Fairy of the Dawn The
Enchanted Knife Jesper who herded the Hares The Underground
Workers The History of Dwarf Long Nose The Nunda, Eater of People
The Story of Hassebu The Maiden with the Wooden Helmet The
Monkey and the Jelly-fish The Headless Dwarfs The young Man who
would have his Eyes opened The Boys with the Golden Stars The Frog
The Princess who was hidden Underground The Girl who pretended to
be a Boy The Story of Halfman The Prince who wanted to see the
World Virgililus the Sorcerer Mogarzea and his Son
A TALE OF THE TONTLAWALD
Long, long ago there stood in the midst of a country covered with lakes
a vast stretch of moorland called the Tontlawald, on which no man ever
dared set foot. From time to time a few bold spirits had been drawn by
curiosity to its borders, and on their return had reported that they had
caught a glimpse of a ruined house in a grove of thick trees, and round
about it were a crowd of beings resembling men, swarming over the
grass like bees. The men were as dirty and ragged as gipsies, and there
were besides a quantity of old women and half-naked children.
One night a peasant who was returning home from a feast wandered a
little farther into the Tontlawald, and came back with the same story. A
countless number of women and children were gathered round a huge
fire, and some were seated on the ground, while others danced strange
dances on the smooth grass. One old crone had a broad iron ladle in her
hand, with which every now and then she stirred the fire, but the
moment she touched the glowing ashes the children rushed away,
shrieking like night owls, and it was a long while before they ventured

to steal back. And besides all this there had once or twice been seen a
little old man with a long beard creeping out of the forest, carrying a
sack bigger than himself. The women and children ran by his side,
weeping and trying to drag the sack from off his back, but he shook
them off, and went on his way. There was also a tale of a magnificent
black cat as large as a foal, but men could not believe all the wonders
told by the peasant, and it was difficult to make out what was true and
what was false in his story. However, the fact remained that strange
things did happen there, and the King of Sweden, to whom this part of
the country belonged, more than once gave orders to cut down the
haunted wood, but there was no one with courage enough to obey his
commands. At length one man, bolder than the rest, struck his axe into
a tree, but his blow was followed by a stream of blood and shrieks as of
a human creature in pain. The terrified woodcutter fled as fast as his
legs would carry him, and after that neither orders nor threats would
drive anybody to the enchanted moor.
A few miles from the Tontlawald was a large village, where dwelt a
peasant who had recently married a young wife. As not uncommonly
happens in such cases, she turned the whole house upside down, and
the two quarrelled and fought all day long.
By his first wife the peasant had a daughter called Elsa, a good quiet
girl, who only wanted to live in peace, but this her stepmother would
not allow. She beat and cuffed the poor child from morning till night,
but as the stepmother had the whip-hand of her husband there was no
remedy.
For two years Elsa suffered all this ill-treatment, when one day she
went out with the other village children to pluck strawberries.
Carelessly they wandered on, till at last they reached the edge of the
Tontlawald, where the finest strawberries grew, making the grass red
with their colour. The children flung themselves down on the ground,
and, after eating as many as they wanted, began to pile up their baskets,
when suddenly a cry arose from one of the older boys:
'Run, run as fast as you can! We are in the Tontlawald!'

Quicker than lightning they sprang to their feet, and rushed madly away,
all except Elsa, who had strayed farther than the rest, and had found a
bed of the finest strawberries right under the trees. Like the others, she
heard the boy's cry, but could not make up her mind to leave the
strawberries.
'After all, what does it matter?' thought she. 'The dwellers in the
Tontlawald cannot be worse than my stepmother'; and looking up