The giant grew angry and thought, “If I meddle with the crafty folk, it might turn out badly for me. I can strangle wolves and bears, but I cannot protect myself from these earthworms.”
“Listen, little fellow,” said he; “go back again, and I will promise you that for the future I will leave you and your comrades in peace, and if there is anything else you wish for, tell me, for I am quite willing to do something to please you.”
“Thou hast long legs,” said the drummer, “and canst run quicker than I; carry me to the glass-mountain, and I will give my followers a signal to go back, and they shall leave thee in peace this time.”
“Come here, worm,” said the giant; “seat thyself on my shoulder, I will carry thee where thou wishest to be.” The giant lifted him up, and the drummer began to beat his drum up aloft to his heart’s delight. The giant thought, “That is the signal for the other people to turn back.”
After a while, a second giant was standing in the road, who took the drummer from the first, and stuck him in his buttonhole. The drummer laid hold of the button, which was as large as a dish, held on by it, and looked merrily around. Then they came to a third giant, who took him out of the buttonhole, and set him on the rim of his hat.
Then the drummer walked backwards and forwards up above, and looked over the trees, and when he perceived a mountain in the blue distance, he thought, “That must be the glass-mountain,” and so it was. The giant only made two steps more, and they reached the foot of the mountain, where the giant put him down. The drummer demanded to be put on the summit of the glass-mountain, but the giant shook his head, growled something in his beard, and went back into the forest.
And now the poor drummer was standing before the mountain, which was as high as if three mountains were piled on each other, and at the same time as smooth as a looking-glass, and did not know how to get up it. He began to climb, but that was useless, for he always slipped back again. “If one was a bird now,” thought he; but what was the good of wishing, no wings grew for him.
Whilst he was standing thus, not knowing what to do, he saw, not far from him, two men who were struggling fiercely together. He went up to them and saw that they were disputing about a saddle which was lying on the ground before them, and which both of them wanted to have. “What fools you are,” said he, “to quarrel about a saddle, when you have not a horse for it!”
“The saddle is worth fighting about,” answered one of the men; “whosoever sits on it, and wishes himself in any place, even if it should be the very end of the earth, gets there the instant he has uttered the wish. The saddle belongs to us in common. It is my turn to ride on it, but that other man will not let me do it.”
“I will soon decide the quarrel,” said the drummer, and he went to a short distance and stuck a white rod in the ground. Then he came back and said, “Now run to the goal, and whoever gets there first, shall ride first.” Both put themselves into a trot; but hardly had they gone a couple of steps before the drummer swung himself on the saddle, wished himself on the glass-mountain, and before anyone could turn round, he was there. On the top of the mountain was a plain; there stood an old stone house, and in front of the house lay a great fishpond, but behind it was a dark forest. He saw neither men nor animals, everything was quiet; only the wind rustled amongst the trees, and the clouds moved by quite close above his head. He went to the door and knocked. When he had knocked for the third time, an old woman with a brown face and red eyes opened the door. She had spectacles on her long nose, and looked sharply at him; then she asked what he wanted. “Entrance, food, and a bed for the night,” replied the drummer.
“That thou shalt have,” said the old woman, “if thou wilt perform three services in return.”
“Why not?” he answered, “I am not afraid of any kind of work, however hard it may be.” The old woman let him go in, and gave him some food and a good bed at night.
The next morning when he had had his sleep out, she took a thimble from her wrinkled finger, reached it to the drummer, and said, “Go to work now, and empty out the pond with this thimble; but thou must have it done before night, and must have sought out all the fishes which are in the water and laid them side by side, according to their kind and size.”
“That is strange work,” said the drummer, but he went to the pond, and began to empty it. He baled the whole morning; but what can anyone do to a great lake with a thimble, even if he were to bale for a thousand years?
When it was noon, he thought, “It is all useless, and whether I work or not it will come to the same thing.”
So he gave it up and sat down. Then came a maiden out of the house who set a little basket with food before him, and said, “What ails thee, that thou sittest so sadly here?” He looked at her, and saw that she was wondrously beautiful.
“Ah,” said he, “I cannot finish the first piece of work, how will it be with the others? I came forth to seek a king’s daughter who is said to dwell here, but I have
