The Five Brothers

Once upon a time, long years ago, when giants still lived upon the

earth, there dwelt an old man and his wife in a small wooden hut,

sheltered from the rough winter winds by the tall mountains and rocks

that surrounded it. The world would have said they were very poor; but

they thought themselves rich, for they had five handsome, healthy boys,

who were the delight of their eyes. There was only a year’s difference

in age between the lads, and they were always together.

One day, the old couple went to cut grass on a slope some distance off,

leaving the boys alone at home. It was a bright, warm morning, and,

tired of playing indoors, the children went out into the little garden,

and soon their merry shouts were heard echoing from the hills.

Presently, up the path towards them came an old woman, feeble and lame.

“May an old woman beg for a draught of water?” she said, in a weak

voice.

Stopping their games at once, the eldest boy ran to the well, while the

others made her sit down by the door and rest. In a moment he was back

with a pitcher of cool, sparkling water.

“There, grannie,” he said, “that will refresh you. I let the bucket run

down ever so far, to make the water nice and cold.”

The old dame thanked him heartily, and, having quenched her thirst,

asked what their names were. The boys laughed merrily.

“We have no names,” they said. “We are all so near in age that we do

everything together; and when father or mother want anything they just

call out ‘Boys!’ and there we are, always at hand.”

“You have kind hearts,” the old woman said; “you are good to the aged

and feeble. I was nearly dying of thirst, and could not have gone

further without your help. Would that I could reward you as I should

like! Alas! I have not the power. But one thing I can do for you. You

shall no longer be nameless. I am going to bestow a name on each. You,

my young cup-bearer,” turning to the eldest boy, “shall be called

‘Watchwell;’ your brothers, ‘Holdwell,’ ‘Hitwell,’ ‘Spywell,’ and

‘Climbwell.’ May these names in the future bring you good fortune, as a

reward for your kindness to a poor old woman.”

Then she bade them good-bye, reminded them once more of their names,

told them to act up to them, and turned away down the path.

In the evening, when their parents returned, the boys related what had

occurred, and repeated the strange names they had been given. The old

people were much astonished, and asked where the stranger had come

from, and all particulars about her. But the boys could only tell what

had happened, and the whole thing would soon have been forgotten, had

it not been for the names. These they did not forget, and, strange to

say, the more they were used the more the owner of each name seemed to

develop the special quality that his name denoted, Watchwell, in

addition, constituting himself the general guardian of the five. Was

there a burden to carry, Holdwell’s strong arms were ready. Did the

parents require faggots for the winter, Hitwell would cut a pile, up in

the dark pine woods on the mountains, that gladdened their hearts. Not

a rabbit or bird could escape the keen eyes of Spywell, and by constant

practice little Climbwell could scale the steepest cliffs along the

fiord.

Years rolled on; the bright boys had grown up into tall, handsome young

men, and all this time they had never crossed the high rocky hills that

walled in their valley, never seen the great world that lay outside.

But, now that they were men, a great wish was rising in their hearts to

go forth from the old home and play their part among other men. The old

people gave them their blessing, and bade them continue to stand by one

another as they had ever done, for, if they only did that, there was

nothing they could not achieve.

And so the young men departed, following the steep track over the high

mountains at first, and then gradually leaving the hill country behind

them as they went ever onwards. Sometimes they rested at a farmhouse,

sometimes in a village, but nowhere did they find any permanent work.

Many a farmer would gladly have engaged Watchwell and Spywell to guard

his flocks, but he had no employment for Holdwell and Climbwell, and

when the two last could have joined the village lads in fishing or

seabird hunting, there was, again, no post for the other three. Still,

they would not be discouraged. They had stout hearts and strong limbs,

and the good fortune they sought must be found elsewhere. So on they

went, climbing high mountains and fording swift rivers, till at last

they entered an interminable dark pine wood with a tangled undergrowth

of brambles and tall ferns. Hitwell cleared a path before them, and at

length they emerged on a vast plain.

The sun was setting, and pouring a flood of crimson, gold, and purple

over the scene before them. The rays lit up the tall spires and high

grey walls of a large city, and turned the broad, flowing river that

encircled it into molten gold.

The brothers stood still entranced.

“It must be the city of the king,” cried Watchwell, at length.

“Yes,” said Spywell; “look, there is the royal flag flying on the tower

of the palace.”

They soon traversed the plain, and as darkness began to fall, they

arrived at the great drawbridge over the river, and were directed to

the palace by the warder. The king received them, and listened to their

request for employment in his service. The brothers were such fine,

handsome fellows that he was much taken with them as they stood before

him. They were very tall, and had bright blue eyes, and fair curling

hair. He told them that he could give employment to all five, if they

would remain throughout the winter at his court, and watch and guard

his daughters at the coming Christmas Eve.

“Do not, however, pledge yourselves to stay, until you learn the nature

of the task that lies before you,” he said. “For I have made a vow that

the life of the next man who fails in this duty shall be forfeited.

Perhaps you five brothers acting together can be more careful than

strangers. Now listen. Two years ago,” he went on, “I had five fair

daughters, but, alas! the Christmas before last my golden-haired Elma

disappeared mysteriously in the dead of night. Search was made in all

directions; no trace of her could be found. Last Christmas Eve the

princesses’ apartments were carefully watched and guarded; no strangers

were admitted, only old and faithful servants were near them. But when

morning came, Irene, my second daughter, was nowhere to be found, nor

was there any sign of her captors’ footsteps near the window of the

room where she slept. I have now made a vow, and I shall keep it; but I

also offer a reward. He who defends them faithfully this year shall wed

the next eldest princess who would without his care have disappeared,

and he shall be to me as a son. It will be death or honour. Choose,

young men, now, while you are still quite free.”

“We will stay and guard the princesses,” they cried with one voice. “It

is a task that will call all our qualities into full play. No robber

can escape the eyes of Spywell, Holdwell will act up to his name, till

Climbwell and Hitwell reach him, and I,” and Watchwell drew himself up

proudly, “I will be the one to forfeit my life if we fail.”

So they remained at the court, and became great favourites with the

king, who began to feel almost sorry that he had imposed sentence of

death on the man who should fail to defend his daughters. He,

therefore, determined to do what he could to make them safe, and caused

a great tower to be built on to the palace with thick walls and windows

very high up, and here the princesses were to sleep on Christmas Eve.

And now the time drew near. As usual great festivities were held for

several days. On the last night, when the dancing and merry-making were

all over, the three princesses—Frida, Ida, and Meya—were led to the

tower by the king, attended by their ladies. As they lay down on the

big couch, covered with silken embroideries, he bade them a last good

night, and charged the five brothers to guard them with their lives.

Then he left the tower, double locking the great iron door that led

into the rest of the castle. All was still. The brothers lay down on a

rough bench in the ante-chamber, but the door of the princesses’ room

was wide open, and a lamp was kept burning there.

It had been a long and tiring day, and the younger brothers were soon

fast asleep. But Watchwell never closed an eye. Wrapped in his long

cloak, he leant against the wall and watched.

The night drew on. But what was that? He thought he saw a dark shadow

slowly approach the window of the princesses’ room. As he looked, a

monstrous hand opened the lattice, and stretched out gropingly towards

the couch on which the king’s daughters lay asleep.

Watchwell touched his brothers. In an instant Holdwell had grasped the

mysterious hand so tightly that the owner could not move it; and

Hitwell, with one blow of his sword, severed it from the wrist. A

terrible wild cry of pain and baffled anger filled the air, and,

looking forth, the brothers saw a fearful giant striding rapidly away

from the palace, and shaking his remaining hand threateningly towards

the tower. The noise had aroused the king, who was quickly on the spot,

while Watchwell and his brothers hurried after the monster. Faster and

faster he went, seeing he was pursued, but, though he was speedily out

of sight, Spywell’s keen eye traced his footsteps all the way.

On, on, on, they went, till at last they came to the foot of a high

mountain. Steep and precipitous before them the sides rose up—no

foothold to be seen anywhere. Climbwell, however, never hesitated. He

showed his brothers a strong silken cord that he always carried with

him, then, making a bold spring to a tiny ledge he had noticed, he

commenced to climb, never taking a false step, till he reached the

summit in safety. Then, lowering the silken rope, he drew up his

brothers one after the other.

When they reached the top they found an enormous cavern, and just

inside the entrance sat a huge giantess, on a low stool, crying

bitterly. The brothers asked what ailed her.

“What matters it to you?” she said, and cried more than ever. But at

last she told them that the previous night her husband had lost one of

his hands, and she feared he would die, he was in such terrible pain.

Then they told her that they could heal her husband if she would let

them in, but “no one,” they said, “must be there but ourselves; we must

bind all others lest they should find out the secret of our healing

power.”

The giantess, who was quite as wicked as her husband, and had hoped to

entice these young men, by her pretended grief, into the cavern, so as

to provide a dinner for herself and her husband, did not at all like

the suggestion of being bound. But she thought, perhaps, they might be

able to heal her husband first, so she submitted for the moment,

comforting herself with the hope that she could easily break the rope

and set herself free when the young men had cured her husband.

Holdwell bound her with Climbwell’s strong silken rope, and then they

passed into the inner cavern. The giant was lying on his couch, and

gave a howl of rage when he saw them. But, crippled by the loss of his

hand, he was no match for the young men, who speedily put an end to

him. Then they also killed the wicked giantess, who had quite a heap of

human bones beside her, and proceeded to explore the inner cavern. They

thought it might, perhaps, contain some hidden treasure. But nothing

was to be found, and they were on the point of leaving, when Spywell

descried a small door cunningly let into the rock. Speedily breaking it

open, a subterranean passage was seen, leading to another cavern, and

there they discovered the two lost princesses—Elma, very pale and

emaciated; whilst Irene, who had not been imprisoned so long, was more

rosy and not so thin. The giant had evidently intended securing all

five princesses before eating them.

The king’s daughters were greatly overjoyed when they saw their noble

deliverers, and heard that they were prisoners no longer. They quickly

departed, Spywell and Climbwell having discovered an easier road for

them to return by.

They arrived at the palace as night was falling, and the joy of the

king at having his five daughters united once more can well be

imagined.

A great banquet was hastily prepared, and before the assembled nobles

and guests he related the brave deeds of Watchwell and his brothers,

and announced that he had decided to wed his five daughters to the five

heroes. “It is but right and fitting that men such as these, brave,

noble and true, should reign over this land when I am gone,” he said,

“and to whom could I more worthily entrust my dear daughters than to

those who have saved their lives?”

Never was there so magnificent a wedding-feast. It lasted a whole

month, and the dresses of the five princesses were perfect marvels of

gold and silver embroidery and precious stones. Then to each brother

was appointed a position in the State which would call his special

quality into play. They lived long and happily with their respective

wives, greatly beloved and honoured by all, and when at length the old

king died, Watchwell succeeded to the throne, and his wise and good

reign, together with his beautiful and beloved Queen Elma, is still

spoken of to this day.