Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - VII. Lapland
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foaming with smoke and fire. We are all afraid
of him, all the animals in the forests and fields,
all the birds in the sky, all the fishes in rivers and
lakes, even the Trolls under the mountains are
flying north in terror of his approach. What will
become of us poor goblins? What will become
of all the children when we are no more in the
nurseries to put them to sleep with our fairy tales
and keep watch over their dreams? Who will
look after the horses in the stable, who will see to
it that they do not fall on the slippery ice and
break their legs? Who will wake the cows and
help them to look after their new-born calves? I
tell you times are hard, there is something wrong
with your world, there is no peace anywhere.
All this incessant rattle and noise is getting on my
nerves. I dare not stay with you any longer.
The owls are already getting sleepy, all the
creeping things in the forest are going to bed,
the squirrels are already crunching their fir-cones,
the cock will soon crow, the terrible blasting
across the lake will soon begin again. I tell you
I cannot stand it any longer. It is my last night
here, I have to leave you. I have to work my
way up to Kebnekajse before the sun rises.”
“Kebnekajse! Kebnekajse is hundreds of
miles further north, how on earth are you going
to get there with your short little legs?”
“I dare say a crane or a wild goose will give me
a lift, they are all collecting there now for the
long flight to the land where there is no winter.
If it comes to the worst I shall ride part of the
way on the back of a bear or a wolf, they are all
friends to us goblins. I must go.”
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