The Halcyon Fairy Book

standard themes. It’s from The Danish Fairy Book by Clara Stroebe (New York: Frederick A. Stokes Co., 1922).
THERE was once a widower and a widow, who married each other. Now each of them had a daughter; but the daughter of the widower was lovely to look on, while the daughter of the widow was very homely. And the wife was jealous of her husband’s daughter because she was so much fairer than her own. Early and late her thoughts turned on how she might harm her, and she treated her very harshly.
Now her husband was away from home nearly every day, from morning till evening, and since he was never at home he did not notice how his daughter was treated.
Wicked stepmother, check. Ugly stepsister, check. Oblivious father, check.
One evening, after the door was locked and all had gone to bed, there was a knock at the door. The woman told her daughter to go and open the door, and see who was outside. This the daughter had no mind to do, but the woman insisted, and then the husband’s daughter offered to go to the door; but this did not suit the woman at all, and she insisted that her daughter go. So the girl went and drew the bolt, and there at the door stood a great antlered deer, or something of the sort.
I begin to suspect that the storyteller is not taking this entirely seriously. “It was a giant deer, or something. Might’ve been a dragon. Or a chicken. No, probably a deer. Something like that, anyway. I might remember specifics if someone gave me a beer.”
She picked up a broomstick and was about to beat the animal, but it at once disappeared. Then she went in again and told her mother what it had been. At night of the following day, after the door had been bolted, there was another knock, and this time the woman’s daughter did not dare to go down and draw the bolt, so the husband’s daughter had to do it. When she had unbolted the door she saw the deer standing outside, and she said to him: “Where do you come from, you poor fellow?”
“Little girl, mount on my back!”
Nothing sketchy about this, no sir!
No, that she would not do, said the girl, for it would be a shame, since the poor fellow had enough to do to carry himself. Well, she could not go along with him in any other way, replied the deer. So she climbed on his back, since she did not want to stay at home, and he ran off with her.
… walking next to him was right out?
They came to a meadow, and the deer said to her: “How would it be for us to enjoy this pretty spot together some time?” But the girl could not imagine how that could possibly come to pass or what it would be like.
I smell a euphemism!
Then they reached a wood, and here, too, the deer said, “How would it be for us to take a pleasant walk together in this beautiful wood some time?” But she could not imagine such a thing.
Two! Two euphemisms! Seriously, imagining a walk in the woods is very easy unless you’re imagining a “walk” in the “woods” with a “giant antlered deer or something of the sort” if you catch my drift. (Feel free to add nudges and winks as appropriate.)
At last they came to an enormous castle. The deer led her into it, and told her that she was to live there all alone; but that her every wish would be granted, and she could make her own plans for passing the time in whatever way she preferred. He would return to visit her before long. Yet there was one place in the castle which she must avoid: a place where there were three doors, one of wood, one of copper and one of iron. Under no consideration was she to unlock them but he thought to himself, that at the very first chance she would be quite certain to do what he had forbidden.
Oh my god, I love this deer. Seriously, in the history of fairy tales, how did it take until a Danish megaceros to understand human nature?
So she killed time all that day, quite alone as she was, until nightfall, and the following morning she began to look around. And she felt a great desire to open the iron door, and could not resist it and opened it.
I am shocked. Simply shocked.
There stood two men who were stirring a kettle of tar with bare hands and arms. She asked them why they were stirring with bare hands and arms, and they replied that they had no choice, but must do so until a Christian soul gave them something else with which to stir their tar. So the girl took a hatchet, chopped out a couple of flat wooden paddles, and gave them to the men to stir with.
The day passed, and night came, and the following morning she heard a great noise in the courtyard of the castle. Men were running about everywhere, grooms feeding the horses, and servants polishing the silver, all of them very busy, and they filled the entire courtyard And now she felt a desire to open the second door, and so she opened it. There stood two girls who were raking a glowing fire with their bare hands. She asked them why they raked the fire with their bare hands. The girls replied that they had no choice, until some Christian soul gave them something with which they could rake. Then the maiden gave them a pole, and the girls thanked her most gratefully.
On the following morning the castle was full of girls, sweeping and washing and polishing everything.
Waaaaait a minute … this is an entirely logical progression and outcome! And a grasp of human nature! And … well, there were the euphemisms. Still! How do you expect to say anything significant about the