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- The Dovre Witch
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The Dovre Witch
The Dovre witch was abroad on the shores of
the Löfven. She was small and hunchbacked
and wore a leather coat and belt studded with
silver. How did she come from her wolf-hole to the
world of men? And what did she seek in our green
valleys? She came a-begging, for, although she was
so rich, she was miserly and loved gifts. She had
hidden thick, white layers of silver in the clefts of
the rocks and far among the mountains. Her great
herds of black, yellow-horned cows fed on dewy
meadows, yet she wore birch-bark shoes and a leather
coat, the rough seams of which showed through the
accumulated dirt of centuries. Her pipe was filled
with moss, and she begged from the very poorest.
Shame upon her, who was never grateful, and seemed
never to have received enough.
She was very, very old. When did the beautiful
glamour of youth rest over that broad face with its
brown skin shining with fat, over the flat nose and
the small eyes which gleamed through the dirt like
bright coals among the ashes? When did she, as a
girl, sit on a saeter knoll, and answer the shepherd
boy’s love song with a note on her cow-horn? She
had lived for several centuries. The oldest did not
remember the time when she did not wander begging
through the country. When their fathers were
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