The Danish peasantry of the present day relate many wonderful things of
an ancient hero whom they name Holger Danske, _i.e_. Danish Holger,
and to whom they ascribe wonderful strength and dimensions.

Holger Danske came one time to a town named Bagsvoer, in the isle of
Zealand, where, being in want of a new suit of clothes, he sent for
twelve tailors to make them. He was so tall that they were obliged to
set ladders to his back and shoulders to take his measure. They measured
and measured away, but unluckily a man, who was on the top of one of the
ladders, happened, as he was cutting a mark in the measure, to give
Holger's ear a clip with the scissors. Holger, forgetting what was going
on, thinking that he was being bitten by a flea, put up his hand and
crushed the unlucky tailor to death between his fingers.

It is also said that a witch one time gave him a pair of spectacles
which would enable him to see through the ground. He lay down at a place
not far from Copenhagen to make a trial of their powers, and as he put
his face close to the ground, he left in it the mark of his spectacles,
which mark is to be seen at this very day, and the size of it proves
what a goodly pair they must have been.

Tradition does not say at what time it was that this mighty hero
honoured the isles of the Baltic with his actual presence, but, in
return, it informs us that Holger, like so many other heroes of renown,
"is not dead, but sleepeth." The clang of arms, we are told, was
frequently heard under the castle of Cronberg, but in all Denmark no one
could be found hardy enough to penetrate the subterranean recesses and
ascertain the cause. At length a slave, who had been condemned to death,
was offered his life and a pardon if he would go down, proceed through
the subterranean passage as far as it went, and bring an account of what
he should meet there. He accordingly descended, and went along till he
came to a great iron door, which opened of itself the instant he knocked
at it, and he beheld before him a deep vault. From the roof in the
centre hung a lamp whose flame was nearly extinct, and beneath was a
huge great stone table, around which sat steel-clad warriors, bowed down
over it, each with his head on his crossed arms. He who was seated at
the head of the board then raised himself up. This was Holger Danske.
When he had lifted his head up from off his arms, the stone table split
throughout, for his beard was grown into it.

"Give me thy hand," said he to the intruder.

The slave feared to trust his hand in the grasp of the ancient warrior,
and he reached him the end of an iron bar which he had brought with him.
Holger squeezed it so hard, that the mark of his hand remained in it. He
let it go at last, saying--

"Well! I am glad to find there are still men in Denmark."

Gold is called by the poets the meal of Frothi, and the origin of the
term is found in this story.

Odin had a son named Skioldr who settled and reigned in the land which
is now called Denmark, but was then called Gotland. Skioldr had a son
named Frithleif, who reigned after him. Frithleif's son was called
Frothi, and succeeded him on the throne. At the time that the Emperor
Augustus made peace over the whole world, Christ was born, but as Frothi
was the most powerful of all the monarchs of the north, that peace,
wherever the Danish language was spoken, was imputed to him, and the
Northmen called it Frothi's peace.

At that time no man hurt another, even if he found the murderer of his
father or brother, loose or bound. Theft and robbery were then unknown,
insomuch that a gold armlet lay for a long time untouched in
Jalangursheath.

Frothi chanced to go on a friendly visit to a certain king in Sweden,
named Fiolnir, and there purchased two female slaves, called Fenia and
Menia, equally distinguished for their stature and strength. In those
days there were found in Denmark two quern-stones of such a size, that
no one was able to move them, and these mill-stones were endued with
such virtue, that the quern in grinding produced whatever the grinder
wished for. The quern was called Grotti. He who presented this quern to
Frothi was called Hengikioptr (hanging-chops). King Frothi caused these
slaves to be brought to the quern, and ordered them to grind gold,
peace, and prosperity for Frothi. The king allowed them no longer rest
or sleep than while the cuckoo was silent or a verse could be recited.
Then they are said to have sung the lay called Grotta-Savngr, and before
they ended their song to have ground a hostile army against Frothi,
insomuch, that a certain sea-king, called Mysingr, arriving the same
night, slew Frothi, taking great spoil. And so ended Frothi's peace.

Mysingr took with him the quern, Grotti, with Fenia and Menia, and
ordered them to grind salt. About midnight they asked Mysingr whether he
had salt enough. On his ordering them to go on grinding, they went on a
little longer till the ship sank under the weight of the salt. A
whirlpool was produced, where the waves are sucked up by the mill-eye,
and the waters of the sea have been salt ever since.

The hill-people are excessively frightened during thunder. When,
therefore, they see bad weather coming on, they lose no time in getting
to the shelter of their hills. This terror is also the cause of their
not being able to endure the beating of a drum. They take it to be the
rolling of thunder. It is, therefore, a good recipe for banishing them
to beat a drum every day in the neighbourhood of their hills, for they
immediately pack up, and depart to some quieter residence.

A farmer lived once in great friendship and concord with a hill-man,
whose hill was in his lands. One time when his wife was about to have a
child, it gave him great perplexity to think that he could not well
avoid inviting the hill-man to the christening, which might, not
improbably, bring him into ill repute with the priest and the other
people of the village. He was going about pondering deeply, but in vain,
how he might get out of this dilemma, when it came into his head to ask
the advice of the boy that kept his pigs, who had a great head-piece,
and had often helped him before. The pig-boy instantly undertook to
arrange the matter with the hill-man in such a manner that he should not
only stay away without being offended, but, moreover, give a good
christening present.

Accordingly, when it was night, he took a sack on his shoulder, went to
the hill-man's hill, knocked, and was admitted. He delivered his
message, gave his master's compliments, and requested the honour of his
company at the christening. The hill-man thanked him, and said--

"I think it is but right I should give you a christening present."

With these words he opened his money-chests, bidding the boy hold up his
sack while he poured money into it.

"Is there enough now?" said he, when he had put a good quantity into it.

"Many give more, few give less," replied the boy.

The hill-man once more fell to filling the sack, and again asked--

"Is there enough now?"

The boy lifted the sack a little off the ground to see if he was able to
carry any more, and then answered--

"It is about what most people give."

Upon this the hill-man emptied the whole chest into the bag, and once
more asked--

"Is there enough now?"

The guardian of the pigs now saw that there was as much in the sack as
he would be able to carry, so he answered--

"No one gives more, most people give less."

"Come now," said the hill-man, "let us hear who else is to be at the
christening."

"Ah," said the boy, "we are to have a great many strangers and great
people. First and foremost, we are to have three priests and a bishop."

"Hem!" muttered the hill-man; "however, those gentlemen usually look
only after the eating and drinking; they will never take any notice of
me. Well, who else?"

"Then we have asked St. Peter and St. Paul."

"Hem! hem! However, there will be a bye-place for me behind the stove.
Well, and what then?"

"Then Our Lady herself is coming."

"Hem! hem! hem! However, guests of such high rank come late and go away
early. But tell me, my lad, what sort of music is it you are to have?"

"Music," said the boy, "why, we are to have drums."

"Drums!" repeated the troll, quite terrified. "No, no! Thank you. I
shall stay at home in that case. Give my best respects to your master,
and I thank him for the invitation, but I cannot come. I did but once go
out to take a little walk, and some people began to beat a drum. I
hurried home, and was but just got to my door when they flung the
drum-stick after me, and broke one of my shins. I have been lame of that
leg ever since, and I shall take good care in future to avoid that sort
of music."

So saying he helped the boy to put the sack on his back, once more
charging him to present his best respects to his master.