“I saw it first,” one said.
“I saw it just as soon,” yelled another.
“What? I mean to have it. I was the one that first set eyes on it!” snarled a third.
They went on quarrelling over the egg and were quite ready to tear each other’s hair, but at long last they agreed to keep it all five of them and sit on it like the goose does, to hatch out the gosling. The first of them sat for a week like a broody goose and had an easy time of it. She didn’t have to work while the others toiled to feed themselves and her. Then one of them cursed her for being lazy in a goose’s way.
“You couldn’t twitter till you’d been in the egg a while yourself,” said the one who was brooding. “But in this egg there’s something human, I tell you. It seems to be mumbling “Herring and gruel and porridge and milk” over and over again. Now you can sit on it for a week, and the rest of us can feed you in turns.”
After the fifth woman had been sitting there brooding for a week, she could hear beyond doubt that there was s curious creature inside the egg. It went on shouting for “Herring and gruel and porridge and milk,” So she picked a hole in the eggshell. There burst forth a human child with a big head and a little body. The infant was as ugly as could be, not anything like a gosling.
He was such an ugly fellow from the start; they all became fond of him. But in a very short time he became so hungry that he ate all their food. Again and again when they made porridge and gruel enough for the six of them, the newcomer gulped down all of it. That’s why they didn’t want to keep him any longer. They said,
“That blasted imp!”
He walked far and asked for service on a farm in the pretty country. It so happened they were in need of a labourer. The old man who owned the farm, told him to clear stones from the fields. Rumble-Mumble picked up the stones well. He gathered big ones that made up several cart-loads each, and put the whole lot, both big and small, into his pockets. Soon he had finished his job and went back to the farm to find out what to do next.
The tall Rumble-Mumble goose-egg now emptied his pockets and threw all the stones in a heap, so the farmer could see he had done the work very well. But from this moment on the farmer felt he ought to watch his step with such a strong man. He told him he had better come in and have something to eat. This suited Rumble-Mumble. He cleaned up the meal at once. There was nothing left for anybody else. And still he wasn’t more than halfway satisfied.
Nobody could match him as a worker, but none matched him as an eater either. Feeding him was like pouring water through a sieve.
“A worker like that could eat a poor farmer out of house and home in three shakes of a lamb’s tail,” muttered the farmer to himself, and then he found no more work for him at all. It was best that Rumble-Mumble went to the king’s farm at once.
He did and was taken on. He found there was food and work enough. He was to do errands and do odd jobs. First he could split up a bit of firewood, they said. Rumble-Mumble set to work and sent the splinters flying from his chopping and splitting. He chopped up all the wood there was, timber and wood set aside for planks and tools, and when he had finished he came along and asked what they wanted him to do next.
“Finish chopping wood,” they said.
“There isn’t any more,” said Rumble-Mumble.
The bailiff came along with him and took a look at the woodshed. Rumble-Mumble had chopped up even the timber logs. The bailiff said this was a disgrace, and that Rumble-Mumble wouldn’t get a bite to eat till he had been to the woods and felled as much timber as he had split up into firewood.
Rumble-Mumble at once ran down to the forge and had the smith help him make an axe of 250 kilos or so. Off to the forest. He cut down mast-timber and everything else to be found in the woods of the king and those of his neighbours. He left the branches on, and the forests looked as though they had been swept down by a whirlwind. He piled a solid load on the sledge and harnessed all the horses in front. He tugged at their bridles to get the load moving, and then he pulled all their heads of by accident. So in the end he was forced to pull the load to the king’s farm himself.
The king and forester were standing in the porch when he arrived. They wanted to have a word with him about the way he treated woods, for the forester had been along there and seen it all. But when the king saw Rumble-Mumble dragging half the forest behind him, he lost his nerve. He got vexed, alarmed and all at once saw no reason to fall out with such a man.
They set about preparing food. In the meantime Rumble-Mumble was to bring in a load of wood for the cook. He stacked the whole wood-pile on a sledge, and wanted to pull it though the door. But he was a bit rough again, so that wall timbers were pushed askew, corners slipped out of joint and the whole building nearly fell down.
All the same, while this happened, they could manage to make twelve hubs of meal to a portion of porridge for Rumble-Mumble, and much less for the other men around. When the dinner was just about ready, they sent him to call in the men. He shouted so loud that he hills echoed all around as they often do in a thunderstorm, and yet Rumble-Mumble thought the men were too slow in coming. He had a quarrel with them and in so doing knocked the life out of twelve.
“Much more than twelve times twelve do,” said Rumble-Mumble.
After dinner he was sent to the barn to thresh corn. He lifted the ridge-pole off the roof to use as a flail, and when the roof started collapsing, he took a giant spruce with all its branches on and put it along the ridge of the roof instead. And then he threshed grand and straw and hay all together. It didn’t turn out well. Both corn and chaff were whirled through the air and spread like a cloud over all the farm.
When he had almost got the threshing done, an enemy invaded the country. So now the king was at war. He asked Rumble-Mumble to take some men with him, march against the enemy and meet him in battle, for the king was sure the enemy would kill him.
All the better, thought the king, the sooner I get rid of him.
But Rumble-Mumble had to have a good, solid club. The smith forged a club that weighed 100 kilos, and Rumble-Mumble said it was good enough to crack nuts with. Then the smith forged a club of 250 kilos. Rumble-Mumble said it was good enough to sole shoes with. Anyhow, the smith said it was the biggest job his men could do. And so Rumble-Mumble made a club of 2000 kilos, that is two tons. It took a hundred men to turn it on the anvil. He could make do with this new club. He also had to have a knapsack. They made it out of fifteen oxhides and packed it with food. Off he tramped with his club on his shoulder.
But the enemy wouldn’t wait, started firing at once, and bullets showered down on him. But both lead and steel bounced off him, and besides his knapsack gave plenty of cover.
“I can do without all this firing and shooting,” said Rumble-Mumble.
And yet they went on. They even started throwing grenades and shooting cannonballs.
“There’s no need to tickle me,” he said each time one touched him. Then he got a grenade stuck in his throat.
“Ugh,” he said and spat it out. Next there came a chain-shot that cut through his butter-box, and then another chain-shot carried off a sandwich he was holding in his hand.
“That does it,” he muttered. Angrily he jumped up, seized his big club and drummed it on the ground. He asked them if they meant to keep on blowing the bread out of his mouth with their pea-shooters. He beat on the ground so that hills and mountains trembled and the enemy were scattered. That was the end of that war, for all we know.
“Go off to old Nick (the devil) and collect the rent at once,” he said. Off went lonely Rumble-Mumble with his sack on his back and his dear club on his shoulder. He made a quick journey out of it, but when he got there, old Nick was busy hearing the catechism for confirmation. None was at home but his mom, and she had never heard of any rent owing. He had better come back some time later, she suggested.
“No matter what, I’ll wait till I’ve got the rent I was sent for,” he insisted.
Time began to drag after he had had his meal. That’s why he called to old Nick’s mom once again. She had to pay up straight away. She refused. She wouldn’t pay the rent. Then he darted up to the top of a great pine outside the gate of hell, and bent and twisted it lie a willow wand and asked her whether she would pay anyhow.
She dared not do otherwise. In a thrice she found as many coins as he could carry in his sack. He set off towards the king’s farm. No sooner had he left than old Nick came back home. He was soon told what Rumble had done, and that he had made off with a big sack of his money, and set out in a big hurry to catch up. But first he took the time to wallop his own dear mother quite a bit for letting go of all that money.
old Nick soon drew near to Rubmle-Mumble. The devil carried no sack, and could fly through the air when he so chose. Rumle-Mumble on the other hand had to keep to the ground with his heavy sack. But when old Nick came hurrying at his heels, he put a spurt on and racked along as fast as he could, brandishing his club to keep him off.
They ran on and on, Rumble-Mumble holding the handle tight and old Nick grabbing at the head of the club, till they came to a very deep valley. There Rumble showed himself capable of leaping from mountain top to the other. old Nick flew after him over the valley in such as rush that he dashed foolishly against the club and tumbled down into the valley and broke off his foot. There he lay.
“So what do you want me to do next?” he asked.
Rumble-Mumble packed some bundles of food in his knapsack and off he went once more. He travelled a long, long way over wild hills this time, till he came to some tall, wild-looking rocks. They were the castle of the troll he was after. But the troll was nowhere to be seen, the rocks were shut, and Rumble-Mumble couldn’t find a way in.
He fell in with some quarry men who were quarrying stone in this district. He set about to help, and they had never had such help before. He broke up the mountain face and split the rocks and sent boulders as big as houses toppling down.
When it was time for him to rest and have his dinner, he went to open one of his bundles and found it had all been eaten up by someone.
The first day was soon passed, and on the second the same thing happened; someone stole his food. But on the third day Rumble-Mumble set out to break stones, he took the third bundle with him. And he was careful to lay down behind it and pretend to be sleeping.
The mountain opened while he lay in ambush like that. Suddenly a troll with seven heads came out and started to gobble the food in Rumble-Mumble’s bundle. Rumble-Mumble rose rather quickly and struck all the eating heads off with one blow of his club. That was the end of it. He went inside the mountain through the wide open portals the troll had left. well inside he found a horse eating from a tub of red-hot embers, and behind it was a tub of oats.
“I can’t turn around. I’m bound. That’s why,” said the horse.
“I can turn you around,” said Rumble-Mumble.
“Is that really so?” said Rumble-Mumble, halfway doubting. Yet he did as he was instructed. All once the horse became a fair young man. He told Rumble-Mumble he had been bewitched and changed into a horse by that ugly monster. He also helped Rumble-Mumble to find the sword the troll had hidden at the bottom of the bed. In that bed the troll’s own mama lay snoring away.
They set off towards the king’s farm across the sea. The troll’s mama awoke a little after that, and found out what had taken place. She hurried down to the water, but could not catch them. They were too far away as they sailed off in the only boat around. In a rage she began drinking the water. She drank so much that the level of the water sank. She didn’t manage to drink up all the ocean, so in the end she burst.
“What else was to be expected?” Rumble-Mumble wondered as he sailed on, “I know a bit of that.”
Rumble-Mumble sent word to the king as soon as they had landed near his place. The king could come and get his sword. He sent four horses, but they could not move it. He sent eight and then he sent twelve, and still the sword stayed where it was. They couldn’t make it stir and move. Rumble-Mumble picked it up and carried it along to the king’s farm himself. The king couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw that one again. But he made a fine speech.
After it, Rumble-Mumble asked for more work. He was told to go to an enchanted castle where none dared stay. He was to make his home there till he had built a bridge over the sound nearby, so that people could get across. The king would reward him well, he said. He would even give Rumble-Mumble his own daughter for it.
That looked promising, so Rumble-Mumble agreed to the bargain, although none had ever come back from the enchanted castle alive. The king was quite certain that this time he had got rid of him. Rumble-Mumble set off. Along with his food he took with him a good hard stump of pine, a small axe, a wedge, and some kindling wood and little else from the king’s farm.
He reached the sound. The river was full of ice, but the feet of Rumble-Mumble were firm enough for wading there anyway, so he crossed safely to the other side. He got into the castle at once. Rumble-Mumble warmed himself by the fire and had his supper. He felt ready for a night’s sleep, but all of a sudden he heard a terrible din. The whole castle was being turned upside down. All he could see was a gaping jaw as big as the doorway. It was the devil in one of his guises.
“We must cut some wood,” said Rumble-Mumble, who was in luck and needed to see to play. He didn’t want to stop. so he struck the stump of pine with his axe so as to cleave it, but the old log was gnarled and tough. It wouldn’t split.
Rumble-Mumble understood at once he had an excellent opportunity to try out he head of his axe on the back of the devil and have the time of his life. The devil begged to get freed, but Rumble-Mumble refused to listen till the devil had promised he would never come and harry anyone there again ever after. He also took an oath that he would build the bridge over the sound so that people could cross it safely summer as winter. The devil’s great project was to be ready as soon as the ice in the river melted.
“Those are hard terms,” said the devil. Anyhow, he had no choice if he wanted to be free. In the end he wanted no other bargain, no more deals. And Rumble-Mumble agreed at last.
The devil was set free and sped off and away towards hell – it happened to be his only home. Rumble-Mumble went to bed to sleep and was still asleep rather late next day, as the king came along to see if he lay torn to pieces. Instead he saw gold and silver enough to wade in it. Sacks of the stuff lay heaped along walls, and in the bed Rumble-Mumble lay snoring.
“Heaven help me and my daughter,” said the king, readily seeing his mistake: Rumble-Mumble was alive and kicking. A wonderful job had he done. Yet the king insisted that there could scarcely be a wedding till after the bridge stood complete.
Then one day it happened. The bridge stood all finished, just as the devil had promised on his life. Rumble-Mumble wanted to take the king with him to try out the bridge, but the king didn’t like that new idea.
“Oh no, thanks! I won’t that!” the king said. And to himself he whistled,
None else could understand them, so he grabbed his staff at once and hurried away to one of his very distant cottages in the far-away mountains, where he wanted to settle as a hermit to make amends by building a good cloister.
He also allowed the big Rumble-Mumble to take over and run the farm and country from that blissful moment, for as the king later said in his cottage, “I had the good fortune to wed my daughter to a man with an enormous appetite. It will bring many blessings.”
Snip snap snout, that wedding came about.