Once upon a time, long years ago
there lived a peasant and
his wife, who led a quiet,
busy life on their little
farm at the foot of a mountain.
While the wife was busy indoors with her housework,
her husband watched his flocks in the fields,
or sometimes wandered up the mountain-side to hunt
for game, which he would carry home for dinner.
One day he had strayed farther than usual, and
found himself on the top of the mountain, where
the ground was covered with ice and snow. All at
once he came upon a high arched doorway opening
into a great glacier, and he passed through to see
whither it might lead.
The passageway widened out into a wonderful cavern,
like a broad hall, sparkling with precious stones,
and long, shining stalactites, that looked like icicles
of marble. In the midst stood a beautiful goddess,
surrounded by fair maidens, all dressed in silvery
robes, and crowned with flowers.
The shepherd was so overcome by the wonder of
this sight that he sank upon his knees. Then the
goddess stretched forth her hands and gave him her
blessing, telling him to choose whatever he wished,
to carry home from the cavern. The man was no
longer afraid when he heard her kind voice speaking
to him, so he looked about, and at last humbly asked
to have the pretty blue flowers which the fair one
held in her hand.
The lovely goddess Freya smiled kindly, and told the
poor shepherd he had made a wise choice. She
gave him her bunch of blue flowers, with a measure
of seed, saying to him, “You will live and be prosperous
so long as the flowers do not fade.”
The peasant bowed thankfully before the goddess,
and when he rose she had vanished, and he was alone
on the mountain-side, just as usual, with no cavern,
no sparkling stones, and no fair maidens to be seen.
If it had not been for the pretty blue flowers and the
measure of seed in his hand, he would have thought
it all a dream.
He hurried homeward to tell his wife, who was
angry when she heard the story, for she thought he
had made such a foolish choice. “How much better
it would have been,” said she, “if you had brought
home some of those precious stones you tell about,
which are worth money, instead of these good-for-nothing
flowers!”
The poor man bore her angry words quietly, and
made the best of what he had. He went to work at
once to sow his seeds, which he found, to his surprise,
were enough to plant several fields.
Every morning before he led his flock to pasture,
and on his way home at night, he watched the little
green shoots growing in his fields. Even his wife
was pleased when she saw the lovely blue blossoms
of the flax opening; then, after they had withered and
fallen, the seeds formed. Sometimes it seemed to the
good man, as he stood in the twilight looking over
his field, that he saw a misty form, like the beautiful
goddess, stretching out her hands over the field of
flax, to give it her blessing.
When at length the seeds had ripened, Freya
came again to show the peasant how to gather his
harvest of flax, and to teach his wife to spin and
weave it into fine linen, which she bleached in the
sun. The people came from far and near to buy the
linen, and the peasant and his wife found themselves
busy and happy, with money enough and to spare.
When they had lived many years, and were growing
old among their children and grandchildren, the
peasant noticed one day that the bunch of blue flowers,
given to him so many years before, and which
had always kept bright, were beginning to fade;
then he knew he had not much longer to stay.
He climbed slowly up the mountain-side, and found
the door of the cavern open. A second time he
went in, and the kind goddess Freya took the
peasant by the hand, and led him away to stay
with her, where she always took care of him.
Freya was the queen of the gods, and she helped
her husband, Odin, govern the world. It was her
part to look after the children, and help the mothers
take care of their families.
Compiled From Sources In The Public Domain.
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Smiles & Good Fortune,
Teresa
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It
is not wealth one asks for, but just enough to preserve one’s dignity,
to work unhampered, to be generous, frank and independent. W.
Somerset Maugham (1874-1965) Of Human Bondage, 1915
