The Brown Bear of Norway

Once upon a time there was a king in Ireland, and he had three daughters who were very lovely princesses. One day, as they were walking on the lawn with their father, the king began to joke with them and asked whom they would like to marry.

"I will marry the king of Ulster," said one. "And I will marry the king of Munster," said another. "And I," said the youngest, "will marry no one but the Brown Bear of Norway." Her nurse had often told her about an enchanted prince called the Brown Bear of Norway, and she had fallen in love with him.

Just the night before, she had dreamed of him, so his name was the first on her lips. Everyone laughed and teased the princess for the rest of the evening. But that very night, she woke up in a great hall lit by a thousand lamps.

The richest carpets covered the floor, and the walls were hung with cloth of gold and silver. The hall was filled with grand company, and there was the very handsome prince she had seen in her dreams.

In a moment he was on one knee before her, telling her how much he loved her and asking her to be his queen. She could not refuse him, and they were married that same evening.

"Now, my darling," he said when they were alone, "you must know that I am under an enchantment. A sorceress with a beautiful daughter wanted me to marry her daughter. But when I refused, the mother used her power over me and made me take the form of a bear by day. I will remain like this until a lady marries me of her own free will and endures five years of great trials."

The next morning the princess woke up and found her husband gone from her side. She spent the day very sadly. But as soon as the lamps were lit in the grand hall where she sat on a silk-covered sofa, the folding doors flew open, and he was sitting beside her. So they spent another happy evening. But he warned her that if she ever began to tire of him or stopped believing in him, they would be parted forever, and he would have to marry the witch's daughter.

She grew used to his absence during the day, and they spent a happy year together. At last a beautiful little boy was born. She was twice as happy as before because now she had her child to keep her company during the day when she could not see her husband.

One evening, as they sat by an open window because it was a warm night, an eagle flew in, grabbed the baby's sash in its beak, and soared into the air with him. The princess screamed and was about to throw herself out the window after the child, but the prince caught her and looked at her very seriously.

She remembered his warning and stopped herself from crying out or complaining. She spent another lonely year until a beautiful little girl was born. This time she decided to be very careful, so she never allowed a window to be open more than a few inches.

But all her care was in vain. One evening, as they were all happy and the prince was dandling the baby, a beautiful greyhound appeared, took the child from the father's hand, and was out the door before anyone could blink. This time the princess shouted and ran out of the room, but the servants in the next room declared that neither child nor dog had passed through. She felt somehow that it was her husband's fault, but she kept her temper and did not blame him.

When the third child was born, she kept all doors and windows tightly shut. Yet she could not keep the child. One evening they sat by the fire, and a lady appeared beside them. The princess stared in fright, and while she stared, the lady wrapped a shawl around the baby in its father's lap and either sank through the floor or went up the wide chimney. This time the mother stayed in bed for a month.

"My dear," she said to her husband as she began to recover, "I think I would feel better if I could see my father and mother and sisters again. Please let me go home for a few days." "Very well," he said. "When you wish to return, just say so before you lie down at night." The next morning she woke up in her old room in her father's palace. She rang the bell, and soon her mother, father, and married sisters surrounded her. They laughed and cried for joy to have her safe back.

In time she told them everything that had happened. They did not know what to advise. She still loved her husband and was sure he could not help letting the children go, but she was terribly afraid of having another baby taken from her.

Her mother and sisters consulted a wise woman who often brought eggs to the castle, for they had great faith in her wisdom. The woman said the only plan was to get the bear's skin that the prince had to put on every morning and burn it.

Then he would be a man both day and night, and the enchantment would end.

They all persuaded her to do it, and she promised she would. After eight days she felt such a longing for her husband that she wished to return that night. Three hours later she woke in her husband's palace, and he was watching over her. They were very happy to see each other, and they were joyful for many days.

She began to notice that she never saw her husband leave in the morning, and that every night just before bed he gave her a sweet drink from a gold cup. One night she pretended to drink but did not swallow a drop.

In the morning she kept her eyes nearly closed and saw him pass through a panel in the wall. The next night she put a few drops of the sleepy drink she had saved into her husband's night drink, and he slept soundly.

She got up after midnight, went through the panel, and found a beautiful brown bear's hide hanging in the corner. She took it downstairs to the parlour fire and threw it into the flames until it turned to ashes. Then she lay down beside her husband, kissed his cheek, and fell asleep.

If she lived a hundred years, she would never forget how she woke the next morning to find her husband looking at her with misery and anger. "Unhappy woman," he said, "you have separated us forever! Why could you not have patience for five years? Now I am forced to go to the witch's castle and marry her daughter. The skin that protected me is burned, and the egg-woman who gave you that advice was the witch herself. I will not blame you; your punishment will be hard enough without that. Farewell forever!"

He kissed her for the last time and hurried away. She called after him, but when she saw it was useless, she dressed and followed him. He never stopped or looked back, but she kept him in sight.

When he was on the hill, she was in the valley; when he was in the valley, she was on the hill. She was nearly exhausted when, just as the sun was setting, he turned up a lane and went into a little house.

She crawled after him, and inside she saw a beautiful little boy on his knees, with the prince kissing and hugging him. "Here, my poor darling," he said, "is your eldest child. And there," he pointed to a woman standing by with a smile, "is the eagle that carried him away." All her sorrow vanished as she hugged her child, laughing and crying.

The woman washed their feet and rubbed them with ointment that took away all the soreness and made them feel fresh.

The next morning, just before sunrise, the prince got up to leave. "Here," he said, giving her a pair of scissors, "is something that may help you. Whatever cloth you cut with it will turn into silk.

When the sun rises, I will lose all memory of you and the children, but at sunset I will remember again. Farewell!" He went on his way, and she followed, leaving her boy behind. That day was like the day before: their shadows went before them in the morning and followed them in the evening.

He never stopped, she never stopped. As the sun set, he turned up another lane, and there they found their little daughter. They were full of joy until morning, and then the third day's journey began.

Before he left, he gave her a comb and told her that whenever she used it, pearls and diamonds would fall from her hair. He would remember from sunset to sunrise, but from sunrise to sunset he traveled under the charm and never looked back.

That night they came to where the youngest baby was. The next morning, just before sunrise, the prince spoke to her for the last time. "Here, my poor wife," he said, "is a little hand-reel with gold thread that never ends, and half of our wedding ring.

If you ever reach my house and fit your half-ring to mine, I will remember you. There is a wood yonder; the moment I enter it, I will forget everything that ever happened between us, as if I were born yesterday. Farewell, dear wife and child, forever!"

Just then the sun rose, and he walked toward the wood. She saw the wood open before him and close behind him. When she came up, she could no more enter than if it were a stone wall. She wrung her hands and wept. But then she remembered her three gifts and cried out, "Wood, I charge you by my magic scissors, comb, and reel—let me through!" The wood opened, and she walked along a path until she came in sight of a palace, a lawn, and a woodcutter's cottage at the edge of the wood nearest the palace.

She went into the cottage and asked the woodcutter and his wife to take her in as a servant. At first they were unwilling, but she said she would ask for no wages and would give them diamonds, pearls, silk, and gold thread whenever they wished. So they agreed to let her stay.

Soon she heard that a young prince had arrived and was living with the young mistress of the palace. He rarely went out, and everyone who saw him spoke of how silent and sorrowful he was, like someone searching for something lost.

The servants at the big house noticed the beautiful young woman at the cottage and began to annoy her with their rudeness. The head footman was the worst. At last she invited him to come for tea. He was delighted and boasted about it in the servants' hall.

That evening he came to the cottage, and she led him to her sitting room. He sat down stiffly and talked grandly about the doings at the castle while she prepared tea and toast. "Oh," she said to him, "would you reach out the window and cut me a sprig of honeysuckle?" He eagerly put his head and hand out.

She said, "By the power of my magic gifts, let a pair of horns sprout from your head and stick fast!" Immediately the horns grew from his ears and met at the back. How the poor wretch bawled and roared!

The other servants soon came from the castle and laughed, cheered, and beat on pots and pans. The footman cursed and swore, his eyes nearly popping out, his face black, and his legs kicking behind him like mad.

At last she pitied him and removed the charm. The horns fell to the ground. He would have killed her on the spot, but he was too weak, and his fellow servants carried him up to the big house.

Some way the story reached the prince, and he strolled down to the cottage. She wore only a countrywoman's dress as she sat sewing at the window, but it did not hide her beauty. The prince looked at her and felt puzzled, like someone trying to remember a dream.

The witch's daughter also heard and came to see the strange girl. She found her cutting out a gown pattern from brown paper. As she cut, the paper turned into the richest silk ever seen.

The witch's daughter watched greedily and said, "What would you take for that scissors?" "I will take nothing," she replied, "except to spend one night outside the prince's chamber." The proud lady flared up and was about to say something terrible, but the scissors kept cutting, and the silk grew richer and richer every inch.

So she promised what the girl had asked.

That night the princess was let into the palace. She lay down outside the prince's room, but he was in such a deep sleep that nothing could wake him. She sang this verse, sighing and sobbing, all night long, but it was in vain:

"Four long years I was married to thee; Three sweet babes I bore to thee; Brown Bear of Norway, turn to me."

At dawn the proud lady came and led her away. The horned footman stuck out his tongue at her as she left.

So far there was no luck. The next day the prince passed by again and looked at her kindly, greeting her as a prince might greet a farmer's daughter. Soon the witch's daughter passed by and found the princess combing her hair, with pearls and diamonds falling from it. They made another bargain, and the princess spent another sorrowful night, leaving at daybreak while the footman enjoyed his revenge.

On the third day the prince stopped to talk to her. He asked if he could do anything to help her. She asked him if he ever woke at night. He said he often did, but the last two nights he had heard a sweet song in his dreams and could not wake.

The voice seemed like one he had known and loved long ago in another world. "Did you drink anything before bed?" she asked. "Yes," he said. "The two evenings my wife gave me something to drink." "Then," she said, "if you wish to oblige me, do not drink anything tonight." "I will not," he promised, and went on his way.

Soon the witch's daughter came and found the princess using her hand-reel, winding endless gold thread. The third bargain was made.

That evening the prince lay on his bed at twilight, his mind troubled. The door opened, and his princess walked in. She sat by his bedside and sang:

"Four long years I was married to thee; Three sweet babes I bore to thee; Brown Bear of Norway, turn to me."

"Brown Bear of Norway?" he said. "I don't understand." "Don't you remember, prince, that I was your wife for four years?" "I do not," he said, "but I wish it were so." "Don't you remember our three children, who are still alive?" "Show them to me. My mind is all confused." "Look for the half of our wedding ring that hangs around your neck, and fit it to this." He did so, and at that moment the charm was broken. His memory returned fully. He threw his arms around his wife's neck, and both burst into tears.

Suddenly they heard a great cry outside. The walls of the castle split and cracked. Everyone fled. The prince and princess left with the rest. When they were all safe on the lawn, the building collapsed, making the ground tremble for miles. No one ever saw the witch and her daughter again. Soon the prince and princess brought their children to them, and they set out for their own palace. The kings of Ireland, Munster, and Ulster and their wives came to visit them. May everyone who deserves it be as happy as the Brown Bear of Norway and his family.