The Wonderful Adventures of Nils

Sunday, March twentieth.

Once there was a boy. He was⁠—let us say⁠—something like fourteen years old; long and loose-jointed and towheaded. He wasn’t good for much, that boy. His chief delight was to eat and sleep; and after that⁠—he liked best to make mischief.

It was a Sunday morning and the boy’s parents were getting ready to go to church. The boy sat on the edge of the table, in his shirt sleeves, and thought how lucky it was that both father and mother were going away, and the coast would be clear for a couple of hours. “Good! Now I can take down pop’s gun and fire off a shot, without anybody’s meddling interference,” he said to himself.

But it was almost as if father should have guessed the boy’s thoughts, for just as he was on the threshold⁠—ready to start⁠—he stopped short, and turned toward the boy. “Since you won’t come to church with mother and me,” he said, “the least you can do, is to read the service at home. Will you promise to do so?”

“Yes,” said the boy, “that I can do easy enough.” And he thought, of course, that he wouldn’t read any more than he felt like reading.

The boy thought that never had he seen his mother so persistent. In a second she was over by the shelf near the fireplace, and took down Luther’s Commentary and laid it on the table, in front of the window⁠—opened at the service for the day.

While he sat there and waited for the thief to make his appearance, he began to wonder what that dark shadow was which fell across the edge of the chest. He looked and looked⁠—and did not want to believe his eyes. But the thing, which at first seemed shadowy, became more and more clear to him; and soon he saw that it was something real. It was no less a thing than an elf who sat there⁠—astride the edge of the chest!

To be sure, the boy had heard stories about elves, but he had never dreamed that they were such tiny creatures. He was no taller than a hand’s breadth⁠—this one, who sat on the edge of the chest. He had an old, wrinkled and beardless face, and was dressed in a black frock coat, knee-breeches and a broad-brimmed black hat. He was very trim and smart, with his white laces about the throat and wristbands, his buckled shoes, and the bows on his garters. He had taken from the chest an embroidered piece, and sat and looked at the old-fashioned handiwork with such an air of veneration, that he did not observe the boy had awakened.

The boy was somewhat surprised to see the elf, but, on the other hand, he was not particularly frightened. It was impossible to be afraid of one who was so little. And since the elf was so absorbed in his own thoughts that he neither saw nor heard, the boy thought that it would be great

On the wooden boardwalk in front of the cottage, hopped a gray sparrow. He had hardly set eyes on the boy before he called out: “Teetee! Teetee! Look at Nils goosey-boy! Look at Thumbietot! Look at Nils Holgersson Thumbietot!”

Instantly, both the geese and the chickens turned and stared at the boy; and then they set up a fearful cackling. “Cock‑el‑i‑coo,” crowed the rooster, “good enough for him! Cock‑el‑i‑coo, he has pulled my comb.”

“Ka, ka, kada, serves him right!” cried the hens; and with that they kept up a continuous cackle. The geese got together in a tight group, stuck their heads together and asked: “Who can have done this? Who can have done this?”

But the strangest thing of all was, that the boy understood what they said. He was so astonished, that he stood there as if rooted to the doorstep, and listened. “It must be because I am changed into an elf,” said he. “This is probably why I understand bird-talk.”

He thought it was unbearable that the hens would not stop saying that it served him right. He threw a stone at them and shouted:

She turned, very haughtily, toward the goosey-gander. “Understand, Mr. Tame-goose, that I am Akka from Kebnekaise! And that the goose who flies nearest me⁠—to the right⁠—is Iksi from Vassijaure, and the one to the left, is Kaksi from Nuolja! Understand, also, that the second right-hand goose is Kolmi from Sarjektjakko, and the second, left, is Neljä from Svappavaara; and behind them fly Viisi from Oviksfjällen and Kuusi from Sjangeli! And know that these, as well as the six goslings who fly last⁠—three to the right, and three to the left⁠—are all high mountain geese of the finest breed! You must not take us for landlubbers who strike up a chance acquaintance with any and everyone! And you must not think that we permit anyone to share our quarters, that will not tell us who his ancestors were.”

When Akka, the leader-goose, talked in this way, the boy stepped briskly forward. It had distressed him that the goosey-gander, who had spoken up so glibly for himself, should give such evasive answers when it concerned him. “I don’t care to make a secret of who I am,” said he. “My name is Nils Holgersson. I’m a farmer’s son, and, until today, I have been a human being; but this morning⁠—” He got no further. As soon as he had said that he was human the leader-goose staggered three steps backward, and the rest of them even farther back. They all extended their necks and hissed angrily at him.

“I have suspected this ever since I first saw you here on these shores,” said Akka; “and now you can clear out of here at once. We tolerate no human beings among us.”

But when he straightened himself up once more he was perfectly astounded, for two paces away from him stood a high, dark wall with a big, turreted gate.

The moment before, when the boy bent down, the sea lay there⁠—shimmering and smooth, while now it was hidden by a long wall with towers and battlements. Directly in front of him, where before there had been only a few seaweed banks, the big gate of the wall opened.

The boy probably understood that it was a spectre-play of some sort; but this was nothing to be afraid of, thought he. It wasn’t any dangerous trolls, or any other evil⁠—such as he always dreaded to encounter at night. Both the wall and the gate were so beautifully constructed that he only desired to see what there might be back of them. “I must find out what this can be,” thought he, and went in through the gate.

In the deep archway there were guards, dressed in brocaded and purred suits, with long-handled spears beside them, who sat and threw dice. They thought only of the game, and took no notice of the boy who hurried past them quickly.

Just within the gate he found an open space, paved with large, even stone blocks. All around this were high and magnificent buildings; and between these opened long, narrow streets. On the square⁠—facing the gate⁠—it fairly swarmed with human beings. The men wore long, fur-trimmed capes over satin suits; plume-bedecked hats sat obliquely on their heads; on their chests hung superb chains. They were all so regally gotten up that the whole lot of them might have been kings.