Grimm's Household Tales

Once upon a time a countryman had a son who was as big as a thumb and did not become any bigger, and for several years he did not grow a hair’s breadth. Once, when the father was going out to plow, the little one said, “Father, I will go out with you.” “You would go out with me?” said the father. “Stay here. You will be of no use out there, and besides, you might get lost!” Then Thumbling began to cry, and for the sake of peace his father put him in his pocket and took him along. When he was outside in the field, he took him out again and set him in a freshly cut furrow. While he was there, a great giant came over the hill. “Do you see that great bogeyman?” said the father, for he wanted to frighten the little fellow into being good. “He is coming to fetch you.” The giant, however, had scarcely taken two steps with his long legs before he was in the furrow. He picked up little Thumbling carefully with two fingers, examined him, and without saying a word went away with him. His father stood by but could not utter a sound for terror, and he thought only that his child was lost and that as long as he lived he would never set eyes on him again.

The giant, however, carried him home and suckled him, and Thumbling grew and became tall and strong in the manner of giants. When two years had passed, the old giant took him into the forest, wanted to test him, and said, “Pull up a stick for yourself.” By then the boy was already so strong that he tore a young tree out of the earth by the roots. But the giant thought, “We must do better than that,” took him back again, and suckled him two years longer. When he tested him, his strength had increased so much that he could tear an old tree out of the ground. That was still not enough for the giant; he suckled him again for two years, and when he then went with him into the forest and said, “Now just tear up a proper stick for me,” the boy tore the strongest oak tree out of the earth, so that it split, and that was a mere trifle to him. “Now that will do,” said the giant. “You are perfect.” And he took him back to the field from which he had brought him. His father was there, following the plow. The young giant went up to him and said, “Does my father see what a fine man his son has grown into?”

The farmer was alarmed and said, “No, you are not my son. I don’t want you; leave me!” “Truly I am your son. Allow me to do your work. I can plow as well as you can, or even better.” “No, no, you are not my son, and you cannot plow. Go away!” However, as he was afraid of this great man, he let go of the plow, stepped back, and stood to one side of the piece of land. Then the youth took the plow and just pressed on it with one hand, but his grasp was so strong that the plow went deep into the earth. The farmer could not bear to see that and called to him, “If you are determined to plow, you must not press so hard on it. That makes bad work.” The youth, however, unharnessed the horses and drew the plow himself, saying, “Just go home, father, and tell my mother to prepare a large dish of food, and in the meantime I will go over the field.” Then the farmer went home and ordered his wife to prepare the food, but the youth plowed the field, which was two acres large, all by himself, and then he harnessed himself to the harrow and harrowed the whole of the land, using two harrows at once. When he had done it, he went into the forest, pulled up two oak trees, laid them across his shoulders, hung on them one harrow behind and one in front, and also one horse behind and one in front, and carried it all to his parents’ house as if it had been a bundle of straw. When he entered the yard, his mother did not recognize him and asked, “Who is that horrible tall man?” The farmer said, “That is our son.” She said, “No, that cannot be our son. We never had such a tall one; ours was a little thing.” She called to him, “Go away, we do not want you!” The youth was silent but led his horses to the stable and gave them some oats and hay and all that they wanted. When he had done this, he went into the parlor, sat down on the bench, and said, “Mother, now I would like something to eat. Will it soon be ready?” Then she said, “Yes,” and brought in two immense dishes full of food, which would have been enough to satisfy herself and her husband for a week. The youth, however, ate all of it himself and asked whether she had nothing more to set before him. “No,” she replied, “that is all we have.” “But that was only a taste. I must have more.” She did not dare to oppose him, and she went and put a huge cauldron full of food on the fire, and when it was ready, she carried it in. “At last, a few crumbs have come,” he said, and ate all there was, but it was still not sufficient to appease his hunger. Then he said, “Father, I see clearly that with you I will never have enough food. If you will get me an iron staff that is strong, and that I cannot break against my knees, I will go out into the world.” The farmer was glad, hitched his two horses to his cart, and fetched from the smith a staff so large and thick that the two horses could barely haul it away. The youth laid it across his knees, and snap! he broke it in two in the middle like a bean stalk and threw it away. The father then harnessed four horses and brought a bar that was so long and thick that the four horses could barely drag it. The son snapped this one in two against his knees, too, threw it away, and said, “Father, this can be of no use to me. You must harness more horses and bring a stronger staff.” So the father harnessed eight horses and brought one that was so long and thick that the eight horses could barely carry it. When the son took it in his hand, he broke off a bit from the top of it also and said, “Father, I see that you will not be able to get me any staff such as I want. I will not stay with you any longer.”

So he went away and said that he was a smith’s apprentice. He arrived at a village in which lived a smith who was a greedy fellow, who never did anyone a kindness but wanted everything for himself. The youth went into the smithy and asked whether he needed a journeyman. “Yes,” said the smith, and he looked at him and thought, “That is a strong fellow who will strike out well and earn his bread.” So he asked, “How much wages do you want?” “I don’t want any at all,” he replied, “only every two weeks, when the other journeymen are paid, I will give you two blows, and you must bear them.” The miser was heartily satisfied and thought he would thus save much money. The next morning the strange journeyman was to begin work, but when the master brought the glowing bar and the youth struck his first blow, the iron flew apart, and the anvil sank so deep into the earth that there was no bringing it out again. Then the miser grew angry and said, “Oh, but I can’t make any use of you; you strike far too powerfully. What will you take for the one blow?”

Then he said, “I will give you just a small blow, that’s all.” And he raised his foot and gave him such a kick that he flew away over four loads of hay. Then he sought out the thickest iron bar in the smithy for himself, took it in his hand as a stick, and went onward.

When he had walked for some time, he came to a small farm and asked the bailiff whether he did not require a head servant. “Yes,” said the bailiff, “I can make use of one. You look like a strong fellow who can do something. How much do you want a year as wages?” He again replied that he wanted no wages at all, but that every year he would give him three blows, which he must bear. Then the bailiff was satisfied, for he, too, was a covetous fellow. The next morning all the servants were to go into the woods, and the others were already up, but the head servant was still in bed. Then one of them called to him, “Get up, it is time. We are going into the woods, and you must go with us.” “Ah,” he said in a rough and surly way, “you may just go, then. I will be back before any of you.” Then the others went to the bailiff and told him that the head servant was still lying in bed and would not go into the woods with them. The bailiff said they were to wake him again and tell him to harness the horses. The head servant, however, said as before, “Just go there. I will be back before any of you.” And then he stayed in bed two hours longer. At last he got up from the feathers, but first he got himself two bushels of peas from the loft, made himself some broth with them, ate it at his leisure, and when that was done, went and harnessed the horses and drove into the woods. Not far from the woods was a ravine through which he had to pass, so he first drove the horses on and then stopped them, went behind the cart, took trees and brushwood, and made a great barricade, so that no horse could get through. When he was entering the woods, the others were just driving out of them with their loaded carts to go home. Then he said to them, “Drive on. I will still get home before you do.” He did not drive far into the woods but at once tore two of the very largest trees of all out of the earth, threw them on his cart, and turned around. When he came to the barricade, the others were still standing there, unable to get through. “Don’t you see,” he said, “that if you had stayed with me, you would have gotten home just as quickly and would have had another hour’s sleep?” He now wanted to drive on, but his horses could not work their way through, so he unharnessed them, laid them on top of the cart, took the shafts in his own hands, and pulled it all through, and he did this just as easily as if it had been loaded with feathers. When he was over, he said to the others, “There, you see, I have gotten over faster than you,” and drove on, and the others had to stay where they were. In the yard, however, he took a tree in his hand, showed it to the bailiff, and said, “Isn’t that a fine bundle of wood?” Then the bailiff said to his wife, “The servant is a good one. Even if he does sleep long, he is still home before the others.” So he served the bailiff for a year, and when that was over and the other servants were getting their wages, he said it was time for him to take his, too. The bailiff, however, was afraid of the blows that he was to receive and earnestly entreated him to excuse him from having them; rather than that, he himself would be head servant, and the youth should be bailiff. “No,” he said, “I will not be a bailiff. I am head servant and will remain so, but I will administer what we agreed on.” The bailiff was willing to give him whatever he demanded, but it was of no use; the head servant said no to everything. Then the bailiff did not know what to do and begged for two weeks’ delay, for he wanted to find some way of escape. The head servant consented to this delay. The bailiff summoned all his clerks together, and they were to think the matter over and give him advice. The clerks pondered for a long time, but at last they said that no one was sure of his life with the head servant, for he could kill a man as easily as a midge. They also said that the bailiff ought to make him get into the well and clean it, and that when he was down below, they would roll up one of the millstones that was lying there and throw it on his head, and then he would never return to daylight. The advice pleased the bailiff, and the head servant was perfectly willing to go down the well. When he was standing down below at the bottom, they rolled down the largest millstone and thought they had broken his skull, but he called out, “Chase those hens away from the well. They are scratching in the sand up there and throwing the grains into my eyes, so that I can’t see.” So the bailiff called, “Shoo, shoo,” and pretended to frighten the hens away. When the head servant had finished his work, he climbed up and said, “Just look what a beautiful necktie I have on,” and there it was, the millstone that he was wearing around his neck. The head servant now wanted to take his reward, but the bailiff again begged for two weeks’ delay. The clerks met together and advised him to send the head servant to the haunted mill to grind grain by night, for from there, as yet, no one had ever returned alive in the morning. The proposal pleased the bailiff. He called the head servant that very evening and ordered him to take eight bushels of grain to the mill and grind it that night, for it was needed. So the head servant went to the loft, put two bushels in his right pocket and two in his left, and took four in a bag, half on his back and half on his chest, and, loaded in this way, went to the haunted mill. The miller told him that he could grind there very well by day but not by night, for the mill was haunted, and that up to then, anyone who had gone into it at night had been found lying dead inside in the morning. He said, “I will manage it. Just go away to bed.” Then he went into the mill and poured out the grain. About eleven o’clock he went into the miller’s room and sat down on the bench. When he had sat there a while, a door suddenly opened, and a large table came in, and wine and roasted meats placed themselves on the table, and much good food besides, but everything came by itself, for no one was there to carry it. After this the chairs pushed themselves up, but no people came, until all at once he saw fingers, which handled knives and forks and laid food on the plates, but with this exception he saw nothing. As he was hungry and saw the food, he, too, placed himself at the table, ate with those who were eating, and enjoyed it. When he had had enough and the others had also completely emptied their dishes, he distinctly heard all the candles being suddenly snuffed out, and as it was now pitch dark, he felt something like a slap on the ear. Then he said, “If anything of that kind comes again, I will strike out in return.” And when he had received a second slap on the ear, he, too, struck out. And so it continued the whole night. He took nothing without returning it but repaid everything with interest, and he did not lash out in vain. At daybreak, however, everything ceased. When the miller had gotten up, he wanted to check on him and wondered whether he was still alive. Then the youth said, “I have eaten my fill and have received some slaps on the ears, but I have given some in return.” The miller rejoiced and said that the mill was now released from the spell, and he wanted to give him a lot of money as a reward. But he said, “I will not have any money; I have enough of it.” So he took his flour on his back, went home, and told the bailiff that he had done what he had been told to do and would now have the reward agreed on. When the bailiff heard that, he was seriously alarmed and beside himself; he walked back and forth in the room, and drops of perspiration ran down his forehead. Then he opened the window to get some fresh air, but before he knew it, the head servant had given him such a kick that he flew through the window out into the air, and so far away that no one ever saw him again. Then the head servant said to the bailiff’s wife, “If he does not come back, you must take the other blow.” She exclaimed, “No, no, I cannot bear it,” and opened the other window, because drops of perspiration were running down her forehead. Then he gave her such a kick that she, too, flew out, and because she was lighter, she went much higher than her husband. Her husband called, “Do come to me,” but she replied, “You come to me. I cannot come to you.” And they hovered about there in the air and could not get to each other, and whether they are still hovering about or not, I do not know, but the young giant took up his iron bar and went on his way.