The Three Billy-Goats Gruff

Intro

High in the Norwegian mountains three billy goats named Bruse want the sweet hillside grass. Between them and the pasture stands a plank bridge — and under it, a troll. Collected by Asbjørnsen and Moe in Norske Folkeeventyr; carried into English by George Webbe Dasent (who gave them the surname “Gruff”). Norwegian, not a misfiled Indian nursery piece. For ages 3–5 / 6–8.

Story

The three brothers — a small one, a middling one, and a great shaggy elder with horns like curved oak roots — shared one ambition: climb to the hillside pasture and grow fat. Valley grass near the farm was thin by midsummer; the real feast lay up the slope. Their problem was the river crossing. Under the plank bridge, in the cold churning shadow, lived a troll — eyes as big as saucers, nose as long as a poker, ravenously hungry and slow of wit.

The smallest went first. His hooves on the planks made the sound every listening child waits for: trip, trap, trip, trap. Up roared the troll: “WHO’S THAT tripping over my bridge?” “It is only I, the smallest Billy-Goat Bruse, and I’m going up to the hillside to make myself fat,” said a voice as thin as a reed. “Now I’m coming to gobble you up!” “Oh no, pray don’t take me. I’m too little, that I am. Wait a bit till the second Billy-Goat Bruse comes. He’s much bigger.” The troll weighed a small mouthful against a promised larger one and let the little goat trot safely across.

A little later the second goat stepped on: TRIP, TRAP, TRIP, TRAP. Same question, same threat. The middle goat answered exactly as his brother had: wait for the big Billy-Goat Bruse — much bigger. Again the troll let him pass. He had now refused two meals on the strength of a promise. His hunger had not lessened; it had been stretched and sharpened by waiting. The trap was set, and only the creature under the planks could not see it.

Then came the big billy goat Bruse. The bridge did not go trip-trap — it groaned and creaked, for he was so heavy the timbers complained. When the troll demanded who was crossing, the answer was a deep roar: “It’s I! The big Billy-Goat Bruse!” The troll scrambled up crying that now, at last, he would gobble him up.

The great goat did not argue and did not flee. He lowered his head. With two great horns and hard hooves he charged, put out the troll’s eyes, broke him to pieces bones and all, and tossed him into the rushing water below. Then he walked calmly up to the hillside. By holding out for the biggest meal, the troll had guaranteed himself an opponent he could not beat.

There the three brothers ate the sweet mountain grass until they grew so fat they could scarcely walk home. Many tellings close with a teasing little verse: Snip, snap, snout — this tale’s told out.