The Blue Belt

There was once an old beggar woman who went out begging with her little boy. When her bag was full, she set off across the hills for home. They had gone a little way up the hillside when they came upon a small blue belt lying where two paths met, and the boy asked if he could pick it up.

“No,” said his mother. “There may be witchcraft in it.” And with threats she made him follow her. But a little farther on, the boy said he had to step off the road for a moment, and his mother sat down on a stump to wait. The boy was gone a long time, for as soon as he was out of sight among the trees, he ran back to where the belt lay, picked it up and tied it around his waist. At once he felt so strong that he could have lifted the whole hill.

When he came back, the old woman was furious and wanted to know what had taken him so long. “You don’t care how much time you waste, though you know night is coming and we must cross the hill before dark!” So on they trudged, but about halfway across, the old woman grew tired and said she must rest under a bush.

“Mother dear,” said the boy, “may I climb to the top of this high rock while you rest and see if there are any people nearby?” Yes, he might. When he reached the top, he saw a light shining in the north, and he ran down and told his mother. “We must go on, Mother. We’re near a house, for I see a bright light close by in the north.”

She got up, shouldered her bag and set off to see, but they had not gone far when a steep cliff rose right across their path. “Just as I thought!” said the old woman. “Now we can’t go a step farther. A fine bed we’ll have here!”

But the boy took the bag under one arm and his mother under the other and ran straight up the steep rock with them. “Now don’t you see? We’re close to a house! Don’t you see the bright light?”

But the old woman said those were no human folk but trolls, for she knew the whole forest far and near, and there was not a living soul in it until you were well over the ridge and down the other side. Still they went on, and soon they came to a big house painted all red. “What’s the use?” said the old woman. “We don’t dare go in, for trolls live here.”

“Don’t say that. We must go in. There must be people where lights shine like this,” said the boy. In he went, with his mother behind him, but he had scarcely opened the door when she fainted, for there on the bench sat a huge, stout man at least twenty feet tall.

“Good evening, Grandfather!” said the boy.

“Well, I’ve sat here three hundred years,” said the man on the bench, “and no one has ever come and called me Grandfather.” The boy sat down beside him and began chatting as if they were old friends.

“But what’s the matter with your mother?” said the man after a while. “I think she’s fainted. You’d better see to her.” So the boy took hold of the old woman and dragged her along the floor, which brought her round. She kicked and scratched and thrashed about, and at last she sat down on a pile of firewood in the corner, so frightened she hardly dared look at anyone.

After a while the boy asked whether they could stay the night. “Yes, of course,” said the man.

They went on talking, but the boy soon grew hungry and asked whether they could have food as well as a bed.

“Of course,” said the man. After a while he got up and threw six loads of dry pine on the fire, which made the old woman even more afraid.

“Oh! Now he’s going to roast us alive,” she wailed from her corner.

When the wood had burned down to glowing coals, the man got up and strode out of the house. “Heaven help us! What a bold heart you have,” said the old woman. “Don’t you see we’re among trolls?”

“Nonsense!” said the boy. “What harm if we are?”

Soon the man came back with an ox so big and fat that the boy had never seen anything like it. He struck it down with one blow of his fist, picked it up by all four legs and laid it on the glowing coals, turning it over and over until it was roasted brown. Then he took a huge silver platter from the cupboard and laid the ox on it, and the platter was so big that no part of the ox hung over the edge. He set it on the table, went down to the cellar for a barrel of wine, knocked out the top and set the barrel on the table too, with two knives, each six feet long. Then he told them to sit down and eat.

The boy sat down first and his mother after him, but she began to whimper and wonder how she could ever use such knives. Her son picked one up and carved slices from the ox and set them before her. When they had eaten a while, he lifted the barrel down to the floor with both hands and told his mother to drink, but it was still too tall for her, so he lifted her up to the rim while she drank. As for himself, he climbed up and hung inside the barrel like a cat while he drank. Then he put the barrel back on the table and thanked the man for the good meal, and told his mother to thank him too, and frightened as she was, she did not dare refuse.

The boy sat down beside the man and chatted, and after a while the man said, “Well, I must have a bit of supper myself.” He went to the table and ate the whole ox, hooves, horns and all, drained the barrel to the last drop and went back to his bench. “As for beds,” he said, “I’m not sure what to do. I have only one bed and a cradle. But we could manage if you slept in the cradle and your mother had the bed over there.”

“Thank you kindly, that will do nicely,” said the boy, and he undressed and lay down in the cradle, which, to tell the truth, was as big as a four-poster bed. “Well,” he thought, “I’d better not go to sleep yet. I’ll lie awake and listen to what goes on tonight.”

After a while the man began to talk to the old woman, and at last he said, “We two could live here very happily together, if only we were rid of that son of yours.”

“Do you know a way to get rid of him? Is that what you’re thinking?” she said.

Nothing easier, he said; at any rate, he would try. He would ask the old woman to stay and keep house for him for a few days, and then he would take the boy up the hill to cut cornerstones and roll a great boulder down on him. The boy lay there and heard every word.

The next day the troll, for a troll he plainly was, asked the old woman to stay and keep house for a few days, and later he took a great iron crowbar and asked the boy if he would like to come and cut some cornerstones. With all his heart, said the boy, and off they went. When they had split a few stones, the troll told the boy to go down below and look for cracks in the rock, and while he did, the troll worked away with his crowbar until he heaved a whole crag loose, and down it came rolling toward the boy. But the boy held it back until he could step aside and then let it roll on.

“Oh!” said the boy. “Now I see what you mean to do with me. You want to crush me. You go down and look for cracks, and I’ll stay up here.” The troll did not dare disobey, and the boy rolled a great rock down that landed on the troll and broke his leg. “Well, you are in a sorry state,” said the boy. He strode down, lifted the rock off and freed him, and then he had to carry him home on his back. He ran with him as fast as a horse, jolting him so that the troll howled and shrieked, and when they got home, the troll had to be put to bed, and there he lay in a sorry plight.

That night the troll began talking to the old woman again, wondering how they could be rid of the boy. “Well,” she said, “if you can’t think of a plan, I’m sure I can’t.”

“Let me see,” said the troll. “My brother has twelve lions in a garden. If they could get hold of the boy, they would make short work of him.”

The old woman said it would be easy to send him there. She would pretend to be sick and say that nothing but lion’s milk could cure her. The boy lay there and heard it all, and when he got up in the morning, his mother said she was much worse than she looked and would never get well unless she had some lion’s milk.

“Then I’m afraid you’ll be sick a long time, Mother,” said the boy, “for I don’t know where any can be found.”

“Oh, if that’s all,” said the troll, “there’s plenty of lion’s milk, if only someone would fetch it.” He told the boy that his brother had a garden with twelve lions in it and that he could have the key if he wanted to milk them. So the boy took the key and a milk pail and set off. When he unlocked the gate and went in, all twelve lions reared up on their hind legs, roaring at him. But the boy grabbed the biggest one by the front paws and swung it about and wrestled it against stumps and stones until it lay beaten and helpless. When the others saw that, they were so afraid that they crept up and lay at his feet like puppies. After that the eleven other lions followed him wherever he went, and when he got home, they lay down outside the house with their front paws on the doorstep.

“Now you’ll soon be well, Mother,” said the boy as he came in, “for here is the lion’s milk.” He had milked just a drop into the pail. But the troll, lying in bed, swore it was a lie; the boy was not the sort who could milk lions. When the boy heard that, he made the troll get out of bed and threw open the door, and the lions leaped up and seized the troll, and the boy had to make them let go.

That night the troll talked with the old woman again. “I don’t know how to get rid of this boy. He’s so terribly strong. Can’t you think of something?”

“No,” said the old woman. “If you can’t, I’m sure I can’t.”

“Well,” said the troll, “I have two brothers in a castle who are twelve times as strong as I am. That’s why they threw me out and I had to make do with this farm. Around their castle is an orchard, and whoever eats its apples sleeps for three days and three nights. If we could get the boy to fetch the fruit, he couldn’t help tasting it, and as soon as he fell asleep, my brothers would tear him apart.”

The old woman said she would pretend to be sick and say she could never be well again unless she tasted those apples. The boy lay and listened to it all. In the morning the old woman was so ill she could only moan and sigh. She would never get well, she said, unless she had some apples from the orchard by the castle where the man’s brothers lived, but she had no one to send.

The boy was ready to go that very moment, and the eleven lions went with him. When he reached the orchard, he climbed an apple tree and ate as many apples as he could, and he had hardly climbed down when he fell into a deep sleep. But the lions lay around him in a ring.

On the third day the troll’s brothers came, not in human shape but snorting like wild horses, demanding to know who dared to be there and swearing they would tear him into tiny pieces. But up rose the lions and fell on the trolls, and when they had finished them off, they lay down around the boy as before. The boy did not wake until late in the afternoon. When he got up on his knees and rubbed his eyes, he wondered what had been going on, for he saw hoofprints all around.

As he went toward the castle, a young woman who had seen everything looked out of a window. “You may thank your lucky stars you weren’t awake for that fight,” she said, “or you would surely have lost your life.”

“What, me lose my life? I don’t think there’s any fear of that,” said the boy.

She begged him to come in so that she could talk with him, for she had not seen a human face since she came there. When she opened the door, the lions wanted to come in too, but she was so frightened that she screamed, so the boy let them lie outside. The two of them talked and talked, and the boy asked how she had come to live with the trolls. She had never wanted to, she said. They had carried her off by force, and she was the daughter of the King of Arabia. At last she asked him what he wanted to do: should she go home, or would he marry her? Of course he would marry her, and she should not go home.

Then they went around the castle and came to a great hall where the trolls’ two huge swords hung high on the wall. “I wonder if you’re strong enough to swing one of those,” said the princess.

“Who, me?” said the boy. “It would be a fine thing if I couldn’t.” He stacked two or three chairs on top of each other, jumped up, touched the biggest sword with his fingertips, tossed it into the air and caught it by the hilt, and as he leaped down, he struck the floor with it so hard that the whole hall shook. From then on he carried the sword under his arm wherever he went.

When they had lived a little while in the castle, the princess felt she should go home and let her parents know what had become of her, so they loaded a ship, and she sailed away.

After she had gone and the boy had wandered about a bit, he remembered that he had been sent on an errand to fetch something for his mother’s health. “The old woman wasn’t really so sick; she’s surely fine by now,” he told himself, but still he thought he ought to go and see how she was. So he went and found both the man and his mother fit and well.

“What a shabby hut you live in,” said the boy. “Come with me to my castle, and you’ll see what a fine fellow I am.” They were both ready to go, and on the way his mother asked him how he had become so strong.

“If you must know, it’s from that blue belt that lay on the hillside the time you and I were out begging,” said the boy.

“Do you still have it?” she asked. Yes, he did. It was tied around his waist. Might she see it? Yes, she might, and he opened his jacket and shirt to show her.

Then she grabbed it with both hands, tore it off and wound it around her fist. “Now,” she cried, “what shall I do with a wretch like you? One blow and I’ll knock your brains out!”

“That’s far too easy for such a scamp,” said the troll. “No, let’s blind him first and then set him adrift in a little boat.”

So they took away his sight and set him adrift, in spite of all his pleading and tears. But as the boat drifted, the lions swam after it, took hold of it and pulled it ashore on an island, where they set the boy down under a fir tree. They caught game for him and plucked birds and made him a bed of feathers, but he had to eat his meat raw, and he could not see.

One day the biggest lion was chasing a hare that was blind, for it ran straight over stumps and stones, until it crashed into a fir stump and tumbled head over heels across the field right into a spring. But when it came out of the spring, it could see its way perfectly and escaped. “Aha!” thought the lion, and it dragged the boy to the spring and dunked him in head over heels. As soon as his sight came back, he went down to the shore and signaled to the lions to lie close together like a raft, and he stood on their backs while they swam with him to the mainland.

When he reached the shore, he went into a birch grove and told the lions to lie still. Then he crept up to the castle like a thief to see if he could lay his hands on his belt. He peeped through the keyhole and saw his belt hanging over a door in the kitchen. He crept softly across the floor, for no one was there, and as soon as he had hold of the belt, he began to stamp and kick about as if he were wild. Just then his mother came rushing out. “Darling, my dear little boy! Do give me the belt!” she said.

“No, thank you,” said he. “Now you shall have the punishment you meant for me.” And he dealt with her just as she had meant to deal with him. When the old troll heard this, he came in and begged and pleaded for his life.

“Well, you may live,” said the boy, “but you shall have the same punishment you gave me.” So he blinded the troll and set him adrift on the sea in a little boat, but the troll had no lions to follow him.

Now the boy was all alone, and he went about longing and longing for the princess. At last he could stand it no longer; he must go and find her, his heart was so set on her. So he loaded four ships and set sail for Arabia. For a while they had a fair wind and fine weather, but then they were becalmed beside a rocky island. The sailors went ashore to pass the time, and there they found a huge egg, nearly as big as a small house. They began to pound it with big stones, but they could not crack the shell. The boy came up with his sword to see what all the noise was, and thinking it nothing to crack an egg, he struck it once, and the egg split, and out came a chick as big as an elephant.

“Now we have done wrong,” said the boy. “This could cost us all our lives.” He asked his sailors whether they could sail to Arabia in twenty-four hours with a good wind. Yes, they could, they said, and they set sail with a fine breeze and reached Arabia in twenty-three hours. As soon as they landed, the boy ordered all the sailors to bury themselves up to their eyes in a sandhill, so that they could barely see the ships, while he and the captains climbed a high rock and sat down under a fir tree.

Soon a gigantic bird came flying with an island in its claws. It dropped the island on the fleet and sank every ship. Then it flew over the sandhill and beat its wings so hard that the wind nearly blew the sailors’ heads off, and it swept past the fir tree with such force that it spun the boy around. But he was ready with his sword, and with one blow he brought the bird down dead.

Then he went into the town, where everyone was rejoicing because the king had his daughter back. But now the king himself had hidden her away and promised her hand to anyone who could find her, even though she was already promised to the boy. As the boy walked along, he met a man selling white bearskins, so he bought one and put it on, and one of the captains led him about on an iron chain. Into the town they went, and the boy began to play tricks.

Soon the news reached the king that there had never been such fun in the town, for here was a white bear that danced and capered whenever it was told. A messenger came to say the bear must come to the castle at once, for the king wanted to see its tricks. When it arrived, everyone was afraid, for they had never seen such a beast, but the captain said there was no danger as long as no one laughed at it. If they did, it would fly at them. Hearing that, the king warned the whole court not to laugh.

But while the fun was going on, one of the king’s maids came in and began to laugh and make fun of the bear. The bear sprang at her with a terrible roar, and she ran screaming from the hall and did not stop running until she was far away. The whole court was in an uproar, and the captain made the most fuss of all.

“Nonsense,” said the king. “She should have done as she was told. Besides, it’s my affair, not yours.”

When the show was over, it was late at night. “There’s no point in going so late,” said the king. “The bear had better sleep here.”

“Perhaps it could sleep by the kitchen fire,” said the captain.

“No,” said the king, “it shall sleep up here, on pillows and cushions.” So a great heap of pillows and cushions was brought, and the captain was given a bed in a side room.

But at midnight the king came with a lamp in his hand and a big bunch of keys and led the white bear away. Through gallery after gallery he went, through doors and rooms, upstairs and downstairs, until at last he came to a pier that stretched out into the sea. Then the king began to pull and push at posts and pegs, this one up and that one down, until a little house floated up to the water’s edge. There he kept his daughter hidden, for she was so dear to him that he wanted no one to find her.

He left the bear outside while he went in and told her how it had danced and played its tricks. She said she was afraid and did not dare look at it, but he persuaded her there was no danger as long as she didn’t laugh. So they brought the bear in and locked the door, and it danced and played its tricks. But just when the fun was at its height, the princess’s maid began to laugh. The bear sprang at her with a roar, and she fled shrieking into the next room and hid there, and the princess began to cry.

“Nonsense!” said the king. “All this fuss over a silly maid! But now I think the bear had better stay here until morning, for I don’t care to lead it back through all those galleries and stairs at this time of night.”

“Well,” said the princess, “if it sleeps here, I certainly won’t.” But just then the bear curled up and lay down by the stove, and at last it was settled that the princess would sleep there too, with a light burning.

As soon as the king had gone, the white bear came and asked her to undo his collar. The princess was so scared she nearly fainted, but she felt around until she found the collar, and she had hardly undone it when the bear pulled off its head. Then she knew him, and she was so happy there was no end to her joy, and she wanted to tell her father at once that her rescuer had come. But the boy would not hear of it; he wanted to win her fairly. So in the morning, when they heard the king rattling the posts outside, the boy pulled the bearskin on and lay down by the stove.

“Well, has it lain still?” asked the king.

“I should think so,” said the princess. “It hasn’t turned over or stretched even one time.”

When they got up to the castle, the captain led the bear away, and the boy threw off the skin, went to a tailor and ordered clothes fit for a prince. When they were ready, he went to the king and said he wanted to try to find the princess.

“You’re not the first to want that,” said the king, “but they have all lost their lives, for anyone who tries and can’t find her within twenty-four hours must die.”

Yes, the boy knew all that. Still, he wanted to try, and if he couldn’t find her, that was his own lookout. Now, in the castle a band played sweet music and lovely young women danced, so the boy danced away. When twelve hours had gone by, the king said, “I’m truly sorry for you. You’re such a poor searcher that you will surely lose your life.”

“Nonsense!” said the boy. “While there’s life, there’s hope! We have plenty of time.” And he went on dancing until only one hour was left. Then he said he would begin to search.

“It’s no use now,” said the king. “Time is up.”

“Light your lamp and bring your big bunch of keys,” said the boy, “and follow me wherever I go. There is still a whole hour.”

So the boy went the same way the king had led him the night before, and he made the king unlock door after door until they came down to the pier that ran out into the sea. “It’s all useless, I tell you,” said the king. “Time is up, and this only leads out into the sea.”

“Five more minutes,” said the boy, pulling and pushing at the posts and pegs, and up floated the little house.

“Now time is up!” bellowed the king. “Come here, headsman, and take off his head!”

“No, no!” said the boy. “Wait a moment. There are still three minutes! Out with the key, and let me into this house.”

But the king stood fumbling with his keys to waste time, and at last he said he didn’t have a key.

“Well, if you don’t, I do,” said the boy, and he gave the door such a kick that it burst into splinters.

The princess met him at the door and told her father that this was her rescuer, whom her heart was set on. So she married him, and that is how the beggar boy came to marry the daughter of the King of Arabia.

About this story

“The Blue Belt” comes from George Webbe Dasent’s Popular Tales from the Norse (1859), his translation of the Norwegian folk tales of Peter Christen Asbjørnsen and Jørgen Moe. A magic belt that gives its wearer enormous strength appears in Norse myth too, where the god Thor wears a belt of power.

This is a violent adventure for older readers: the mother plots against her son, he is blinded and abandoned, and he later takes brutal revenge. Dasent describes the largest lion’s death graphically; this adaptation softens that episode to a beating, after which the other eleven lions continue with the boy. The healing spring is a magical event, not a treatment for loss of sight. The boy wins through thanks to his courage, his loyal lions and a healing spring, and at the end he uses his wits as much as his strength.

Read the original: Popular Tales from the Norse (Project Gutenberg)

For older readers: includes attempted murder by a parent, animal cruelty, blinding, abandonment, violent revenge and threats of execution.

What the belt cannot do

The belt makes the boy powerful, but it cannot protect him while he sleeps, prevent his mother from taking it, or guide him after he loses his sight. The lions perform those tasks. Their help does not begin as a simple reward for kindness: he first terrifies them by attacking the largest lion. Their later care is an important change in the relationship, rather than proof that his earlier cruelty was necessary or good.

The last contest is different from a fight with a troll. The king controls the doors, the keys and the time, and tries to withhold access after the boy has solved the hiding place. Remembering the route matters as much as strength. The princess then speaks for herself, naming her rescuer and her wish to marry him, which challenges her father’s attempt to keep her hidden.

Track changes in power

Choose the orchard, the drifting boat and the locked house. In each scene, list what the boy cannot do alone and who or what makes the difference. Compare the king’s claim that time is up with the boy’s remaining minutes: how does the story show that an apparently clear rule can be manipulated by the person enforcing it?

Talk about it

• How did the blue belt change the boy’s life?
• How does the lions’ later care for the boy differ from the frightened submission with which their relationship begins?
• Why do you think the boy wanted to win the princess fairly instead of telling the king who he was?

Related stories

• The Widow’s Son — another boy who escapes a troll and wins a princess
• East of the Sun and West of the Moon — another white bear who is more than he seems
• Soria Moria Castle — another Norwegian hero who rescues a princess from trolls