A FEW large lizards were
running nimbly about in the clefts of an old tree; they could
understand one another very well, for they spoke the lizard
language.
“What a buzzing and a rumbling there is in the elfin hill,” said
one of the lizards; “I have not been able to close my eyes for two
nights on account of the noise; I might just as well have had the
toothache, for that always keeps me awake.”
“There is something going on within there,” said the other
lizard; “they propped up the top of the hill with four red posts,
till cock-crow this morning, so that it is thoroughly aired, and the
elfin girls have learnt new dances; there is something.”
“I spoke about it to an earth-worm of my acquaintance,” said a
third lizard; “the earth-worm had just come from the elfin hill,
where he has been groping about in the earth day and night. He has
heard a great deal; although he cannot see, poor miserable creature,
yet he understands very well how to wriggle and lurk about. They
expect friends in the elfin hill, grand company, too; but who they
are the earth-worm would not say, or, perhaps, he really did not
know. All the will-o’-the-wisps are ordered to be there to hold a
torch dance, as it is called. The silver and gold which is plentiful
in the hill will be polished and placed out in the moonlight.”
“Who can the strangers be?” asked the lizards; “what can the
matter be? Hark, what a buzzing and humming there is!”
Just at this moment the elfin hill opened, and an old elfin
maiden, hollow behind,1
came tripping out; she was the old elf king’s housekeeper, and a
distant relative of the family; therefore she wore an amber heart on
the middle of her forehead. Her feet moved very fast, “trip, trip;”
good gracious, how she could trip right down to the sea to the
night-raven.2
“You are invited to the elf hill for this evening,” said she;
“but will you do me a great favor and undertake the invitations? you
ought to do something, for you have no housekeeping to attend to as
I have. We are going to have some very grand people, conjurors, who
have always something to say; and therefore the old elf king wishes
to make a great display.”
“Who is to be invited?” asked the raven.
“All the world may come to the great ball, even human beings, if
they can only talk in their sleep, or do something after our
fashion. But for the feast the company must be carefully selected;
we can only admit persons of high rank; I have had a dispute myself
with the elf king, as he thought we could not admit ghosts. The
merman and his daughter must be invited first, although it may not
be agreeable to them to remain so long on dry land, but they shall
have a wet stone to sit on, or perhaps something better; so I think
they will not refuse this time. We must have all the old demons of
the first class, with tails, and the hobgoblins and imps; and then I
think we ought not to leave out the death-horse,3
or the grave-pig, or even the church dwarf, although they do belong
to the clergy, and are not reckoned among our people; but that is
merely their office, they are nearly related to us, and visit us
very frequently.”
“Croak,” said the night-raven as he flew away with the
invitations.
The elfin maidens we’re already dancing on the elf hill, and they
danced in shawls woven from moonshine and mist, which look very
pretty to those who like such things. The large hall within the elf
hill was splendidly decorated; the floor had been washed with
moonshine, and the walls had been rubbed with magic ointment, so
that they glowed like tulip-leaves in the light. In the kitchen were
frogs roasting on the spit, and dishes preparing of snail skins,
with children’s fingers in them, salad of mushroom seed, hemlock,
noses and marrow of mice, beer from the marsh woman’s brewery, and
sparkling salt-petre wine from the grave cellars. These were all
substantial food. Rusty nails and church-window glass formed the
dessert. The old elf king had his gold crown polished up with
powdered slate-pencil; it was like that used by the first form, and
very difficult for an elf king to obtain. In the bedrooms, curtains
were hung up and fastened with the slime of snails; there was,
indeed, a buzzing and humming everywhere. |