The tempest in a teacup (and other folktales from Norway)
Dear reader, I recently returned from a trip to Norway and wanted to share some folktales I heard there. Before going, I knew very little about the country's history or culture. These stories helped me understand so much more than any history class could. They gave me a glimpse into what the Norwegian “pop culture” of the time would be, and the things that really resonated with the people. Many of the stories I heard involved ghosts, apparitions, and strange happenings in the North Sea.
Ingeborg, the witch, was known throughout the land for her magical abilities, but she rarely interfered in the affairs of mortals. However, when she heard that King Harald and his sister, Princess Solveig, were planning to sail to Scotland, she knew she had to act.
For years, Ingeborg had warned the king of the dangers of such a journey. The North Sea was a treacherous place, and the Scots were known to be a cunning and untrustworthy people. But Harald, young and impetuous, was determined to go. Ingeborg knew that she could not stop the king from sailing, but she could make the journey as unpleasant as possible. She brewed a powerful potion, filled a teapot with it, and whispered a spell over the steaming liquid.
As the king and his sister set sail, the weather began to turn. Dark clouds gathered overhead, and the wind howled with such force that the ship was tossed about like a toy. The sailors were terrified, and the king and princess were seasick and miserable. But it was the teapot that caused the most trouble. As the ship tossed and turned, the potion inside the teapot slopped and spilled. The waves were so high that they threatened to swamp the vessel.
The king and princess were terrified, but they clung to each other, hoping against hope that they would survive. Just when it seemed that all was lost, the storm suddenly abated. The clouds parted, revealing a clear blue sky. The king and princess were safe.
Ingeborg had hoped that her tempest in a teapot would dissuade King Harald from his foolish journey to Scotland. But the king, enraged by the storm and the near-disaster it caused, was determined to find the culprit. With the help of his advisors, Harald traced the storm back to Ingeborg's village. He sent his soldiers to arrest the witch, and she was brought before the king.
Ingeborg tried to explain her actions, claiming that she had only wanted to protect the king and his sister from harm. But Harald was not convinced. He believed that Ingeborg had deliberately tried to harm him, and he sentenced her to death. Ingeborg was executed, her body burnt at the stake. But as the flames consumed her, she uttered a chilling curse. She swore that her spirit would haunt the Akershus, the king's castle in Oslo, until the day he regretted his actions.
And so it came to pass. After Ingeborg's execution, strange things began to happen at the castle. Doors would slam open and shut of their own accord, and ghostly footsteps could be heard echoing through the halls. The king and his family were terrified, but they dismissed the strange occurrences as the work of overactive imaginations.
One night, as the king lay asleep in his bed, he felt a cold chill run down his spine. He opened his eyes and saw a figure standing at the foot of his bed. It was Ingeborg, her face twisted in a mask of anger and resentment.
"You have paid the price for your sins," she whispered. "Now, you must suffer for eternity."
The king screamed, but Ingeborg was gone. From that day forward, the king was haunted by visions of the witch. He spent the rest of his days in fear, haunted by the ghost of the witch he had wronged.
They say she haunts the old chapel, the Lady in White. Her ghost, ethereal and pale, drifts through the stone walls, her mournful eyes fixed on a spot in the stained glass. They say she was a young noblewoman, betrothed to a brave knight who went off to war and never returned. Heartbroken, she spent her days in the chapel, praying for his safe return.
The chapel had fallen into disrepair over the years. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling, and the pews were covered in dust. She would spend hours there. One cold winter night, a blizzard raged outside. The chapel was deserted, save for the young woman, kneeling in prayer. The wind howled, rattling the windows and doors. The candles flickered in the draft, casting strange shadows on the walls.
As the storm raged on, she heard a faint scratching at the door. She rose to her feet and flung the door open. The wind howled, carrying with it a single snowflake. And in the snowflake, she saw the reflection of a knight's helmet, tarnished and battered.
Her heart shattered once more. From that day forward, they say her ghost haunts the chapel, forever searching for the knight who never came home.
They say that deep in the old town, there's a blacksmith's forge that's haunted by the ghost of its former owner. Old man Ole, as they called him, was a gruff and solitary man, known for his skill with hammer and anvil. He lived alone in his forge, his only companion the clang of metal against metal.
One cold winter night, a traveller sought shelter in Ole's forge. The man was weary and frostbitten, and Ole, despite his gruff exterior, took pity on him. He nursed the traveller back to health, tending to his wounds and providing him with a warm place to sleep. When the traveller was well enough to continue his journey, he thanked Ole and offered him a gift. But Ole refused, saying that he had only done what any decent person would do. The traveller insisted, and finally, Ole accepted a small pouch of gold.
That night, as Ole sat by his hearth, counting the gold coins, he felt a strange chill. He looked up and saw a figure standing in the doorway. It was the traveller, but his face was pale and gaunt. "You've betrayed me," the traveller said, his voice cold and icy. "You took my gold and left me to die." Ole was terrified. He tried to explain, but the traveller would not listen. With a chilling laugh, the traveller vanished, leaving Ole alone in the darkness.