Hildur The Fairy Queen

Once on a time a farmer settled in a mountainous part of the country, but the particular spot is not mentioned, nor has his name come to us; but we do know that he was a bachelor, and had a housekeeper named Hildur.

Who Hildur was, neither the farmer nor any of the neighbouring gossips could find out: but as she took good care of the household and discharged her duties faithfully, she was allowed to keep her own secret. All the servants liked her, and the farmer thought himself very fortunate in having fallen in with such a housekeeper. She was of a quiet disposition, but always kind and obliging.

The farmer’s affairs were in a flourishing state: his sheep throve and multiplied, and he had nothing to annoy him except this, that he had great difficulty in getting shepherds to enter his service. The cause of this was not that the farmer treated his shepherds badly, but that, one after another, they were found dead in bed, on Christmas morning.

In olden times, it was the custom for the Icelanders, on Christmas Eve, to meet together at midnight for public worship; and any one who absented himself from church, on that occasion, was considered as much to blame as if he were keeping away on Christmas day itself. Those living up among the mountains, and who had long weary roads to go, had often great difficulty in getting to church in time; especially those who were not able to leave home before the Pleiades could be seen in the south-eastern heavens.

In this farm, the shepherds did not usually get home from work before that time, so that they generally missed the opportunity of attending the Christmas Eve service. Hildur never went on those occasions, as she preferred staying at home to watch the house—as is customary for some one to do on Christmas Eve—and attend to the preparations for the Christmas feast. She was always busily occupied in this way till the night was far advanced, so that the church-goers were back from the services and asleep in bed, before she retired for the night.

As often as Christmas morn came round, the farmer’s shepherd, whoever he might be, was found dead in bed. This strange fatality was well known over all the country side. No wonder, then, that shepherds were afraid of entering the farmer’s service, even though offered better wages than they could get elsewhere. No mark of violence was ever seen on the body of the unfortunate shepherd, so that no blame could be attached either to the farmer, or to any one in the house. At last the farmer declared that he could not find it in his heart to engage shepherds, with the prospect of certain death before them, and that he would, for the future, leave his sheep to take care of themselves.

When things had reached this pass, there came to him, one day, an active hardy man, who offered his services as shepherd.

“I am not so much in want of your services as to be willing to take you.”

“Have you engaged a shepherd for next winter?” asked the stranger.

“No, I have not,” replied the farmer, “but surely you have heard how sad has been the end of all that have been before you.”

“Oh yes, I’ve heard all about it; but their fate will not hinder me from taking care of your sheep, if you are only willing to engage me.”

At last, the farmer complied with his entreaties, and engaged him as shepherd. He soon shewed that he was in every respect fitted for the place. He was kind and obliging; and both able and willing to lend a hand at any farm work, so that he soon became a favourite with everybody.

Till Christmas-tide, nothing extraordinary happened. On Christmas Eve, the farmer went to church as usual with his domestics. The housekeeper alone stayed at home, and the shepherd was left in charge of the sheep. Towards evening the shepherd came in from his work, and after partaking of dinner, lay down to rest in bed. He took care, however, not to drop asleep; for, though free from fear, he thought it only prudent to keep awake. When the night was advanced he heard the church-goers come in, and take some refreshment before going to bed. Up till this time, he had not remarked anything unusual; but when the others had fallen asleep, he felt languid and weary. He was afraid lest he should be overpowered with sleep, and did his best to keep awake. A little while after, some one, whom he believed to be the housekeeper Hildur, stealthily approached the bed-side. Thinking he was asleep, she began to try to put something in his mouth. He felt certain that it must be a magic-bridle, and so, pretending to be quite unconscious of what was going on, he let himself be quietly bridled.

As soon as the bridle was on, she led him out very easily; mounting on his back, she rode away at a smart pace till they reached a yawning chasm in the earth. Then she dismounted beside a stone, and letting go her hold of the bridle, disappeared into the chasm. The shepherd did not want to lose sight of her, and so tried to follow; but he soon found that that was out of his power, so long as he had on the bridle. By dint however of rubbing his head against the stone, he got rid of the bridle, and leaving it behind, he threw himself into the chasm into which Hildur had sprung.

As far as he could judge, he had not gone very deep down till he saw Hildur again. She was then landed on a fine level meadow, along which she was walking quickly. From what he saw he came to think that all was not right with Hildur, and that she was not the woman she had seemed to be in the farmer’s house. In order to keep her from seeing him as he followed her over the plain, he took out of his pocket a stone which had the wonderful property of making him invisible so long as he held it in his hand. With this stone of darkness in his left-palm, he made after her as fast as he could, and kept close behind her the rest of the way.

After walking some distance over the plain, there appeared in sight a splendid palace of great size, towards which Hildur directed her steps. A great crowd of people came out to meet her. Foremost among them was a man dressed in purple and gold, who bade her welcome, at the same time calling her his beloved wife, and embracing her very affectionately. Those who attended him saluted her as their queen, and received her with every mark of respect. By the king’s side were two children, of eight or ten years of age, who ran joyfully into Hildur’s arms, and called her mother.

On entering the palace, Hildur was very honourably received. She was dressed in a royal robe, and had rings of gold put upon her hand. The shepherd followed the crowd into the palace, and took up his place where he could see all that was going on without running the risk of being found out. The furniture was rich and gorgeous beyond conception, so that he was completely dazzled with the sight.

In the principal saloon a table was set out and a feast prepared, the splendour of which cannot be described.

Hildur then made her appearance, magnificently attired, and sat down on the throne beside the king, while the other guests took their places on each side.

At the close of the feast, the table was removed, and soon the guests began to pass the time in dancing, or other amusements. The king and queen paid no heed to what was going on, but sat alone, engaged in a close conversation which seemed to the shepherd to be at once kind and sorrowful.

While the king and queen were thus occupied, three children, younger than those before mentioned, came forward, and their mother Hildur, who received them kindly, took the youngest on her knee and fondled it. But, as the child was restless and uneasy, she set it down again. She then drew a ring from her finger, and gave it to the child as a plaything. The child amused itself for some time with it, and then dropped it on the floor. The shepherd, who was standing close by, at the time, hastily snatched it up and put it into his pocket, without being observed by any one. As soon as the ring was missed, a careful search was made for it, but, to the great astonishment of everybody but the shepherd, it was nowhere to be found.

As the night was now far advanced, the queen—Hildur—began to prepare for her departure. Those present were sorry to see this, and begged her to stay longer with them. The king also added his entreaties, but all without effect. Before this time, the shepherd had noticed an ill-looking woman, who sat all alone in a corner of the room. She was the only one that had failed to give Hildur a joyful welcome to the palace, or ask her to prolong her stay. As soon as the king saw that Hildur was bent on going, he stepped up to this old woman, and said, “Take back your words, mother! at my humble entreaty, so that my queen may no longer be bound to absent herself from home, and from those nearest and dearest to her.”

The old woman replied angrily, “All my words shall stand, I will by no means retract them.”

With a sorrowful heart, he went back to the queen, and, folding his arms around her, begged her in words of kindness not to leave him again.

“Alas,” said she, “I cannot stay here, in consequence of the spell by which your mother has bound me, and who knows if I shall ever see you more.”

She then told him she had killed so many men it could no longer be concealed, and that she would certainly be punished, even though what she had done was sore against her will.

While she was lamenting her unhappy lot, the shepherd, seeing how matters stood, made the best of his way out of the palace, and went straightway to the bottom of the chasm. He reached the top, with the greatest ease. After that, he put the stone of darkness in his pocket, and putting the bridle in his mouth again, waited patiently on Hildur. It was not long before Hildur made her appearance, looking very sorrowful. Taking a hold of the bridle, she mounted on his back and rode quickly back to the farm.

On her arrival she laid the shepherd quietly in bed, and unbridled him, and then slipped away to her own bed, where she lay down to sleep. Although the shepherd had been all this time wide awake, he feigned sleep so well that Hildur was quite deceived. After she had gone to bed, he was no longer on his guard, but fell asleep, and as might be expected slept till it was broad day. The farmer was astir early in the morning, for he was anxious to know if this Christmas, like so many that was gone, was to be a season of mourning in place of a season of rejoicing. The most of the servants got up early too, but, while they were dressing, he went quietly to the shepherd’s bed, and touching him with his hand, found that he was alive and apparently well. This rejoiced the heart of the farmer, who falling down on his knees, praised God loudly for his great goodness. The shepherd, shortly after, got up in the best of health. As soon as he was dressed, the people of the house gathered about him, to ask if anything unusual had befallen him during the night.

“Nothing,” said he, “except that I had a very wonderful dream.”

“What kind of a dream?”

The shepherd began with the tale, as it is here told; how Hildur came to his bed and bridled him; and every thing exactly, as far as he could recollect. When he had done, all were silent except Hildur, who said,

“If you tell the truth, show us some token to prove what you say.”

The shepherd, noways daunted by this demand, shewed them the ring, which he had picked up from the floor of the fairy palace during the night, and said,

“Though I am not bound to bring forward proofs, I can easily do so, for there is token sufficient that I have been with the fairies. Is not that your ring, Queen Hildur?”

“To be sure it is,” replied Hildur “and may good fortune ever attend you, for you have delivered me from the spell by which my cruel mother-in-law bound me, and through which I have been compelled to do so many bad deeds which my soul abhorred.”

Then queen Hildur told her story as follows. “I was a fairy maid of low degree, but the present fairy king fell in love with me. The marriage was so displeasing to his mother, that she became furious with rage and told him that he would have to part with me soon, and that, after that, we could enjoy each other’s society only at rare intervals and for a short time together. But me she bound with such a spell, that I was forced to become a servant in the world of woe, and, every Christmas Eve, to kill a man. I was to bridle him when asleep, and ride on his back along the same road that I took with the shepherd last night in going to meet the king. This I was to do till I was convicted of murder and put to death, unless, before that, I should fall in with a man so courageous as to dare to go with me to the world of Fairies, and then be able to show plain proofs that he had been there and seen what was done. Now, it is clear that all the other shepherds of this farmer have suffered death for my sake, but, as it was not in my power to prevent it, I hope their deaths will not be laid to my charge. This stout-hearted man is the first who dared to venture into the dark road that leads to Fairyland. I shall yet reward him for delivering me from the spell of my cruel mother-in-law. I thank you all for your kindness to me, during the years I have been among you. But I must stay here no longer, for I long for my proper home.”

After these words Queen Hildur disappeared, and since then, she has never once been seen in the world of mankind.

Of the shepherd, it is told, that he married and settled down on a farm, in the following spring. He was generously treated by the farmer, who, when they parted, stocked his farm free of all cost to him. Ere long he became noted as one of the best farmers of the neighbourhood, and was often called upon for his advice and assistance in matters of difficulty. He was beloved by all, and successful beyond all his expectations in whatever he undertook. None of his neighbours could boast of such thriving flocks and herds as his. But his wonderful good fortune did not make him proud, for, as he often said, he owed all his success to Hildur the Fairy Queen.