John & the Ridiculous Hare

[Grey_Wolf]

Prologue

Once upon a time there was a little boy called John. John wasn’t very old, but unusually bright. He lived alone in a small house on top a sloping meadow. The meadow reached all the way down to the sea.
On the left, in a brush of low rosebushes and junipers, a witch lived in a red cottage. And on the right, where the meadow ended and the forest took over, a wizard lived in a tower of tin.
The wizard’s temper was unequalled. Sometimes he was very angry and sometimes only a little.. Sometimes he was very angry and sometimes just a little. When he was very angry, he was dangerous.
The witch was neither angry nor dangerous. She was, if anything, kind – at least towards John. John liked the witch very much. She used to tell him funny tales and stories when she wasn’t working with her secret experiments. The wizard also did experiments. Sometimes John saw a strange animal slip out of the tin tower. It was the wizard’s anteater.
John’s small house was very nice. It had a large white veranda, almost overgrown with wildwine. The wildwine climbled and twirled around the veranda railings and up along the corner pillars and along the gutter. And when the sun was shining, it made beautiful patterns upon the flowery seats of the whicker chairs.
John sat there often, scratching mosquito bites and meditating on the great problems and mysteries of life. He puckered his brow until he looked like a raisin in the face. Sometimes he didn’t think at all, and then he looked like a bun. Sometimes, when he meditated just a little, he looked like a raisin bun. But that’s not really true.
And now, if you promise that you won’t be as mean as you usually are, I will tell you about one of the times when John was interrupted in his thinking. And what happened after.

[Grey_Wolf]

CHAPTER ONE

It was an early summer evening. The sun was setting on the sea's horizon and the air was filled with exotic smells. In the rosebushes some crazy birds were still singing, and invisible little insects rustled about in the grass.
John was sitting on the porch as usual, having his eveningtea. He stirred in his cup thoughtfully. The geraniums were glowing. How calm and peaceful
it is, he thought, and felt very old and wise. A sound of admiration and of fear from thousands of leaves as the whispering wind braggered and swaggered.
Just then, the witch came leaping over the meadow. Crissing and crossing.
It really didn’t look as if she was sane. Now she had reached the ditch. She came bouncing over the bridge, skirt fluttering around her.Thud, thud it said. And the witch had disappeared into the high grass. A moment later she came jumping up along the path and seated herself on the veranda barrier.
- You’re in great trouble now, my little friend, if you do not help me soon, the witch puffed and laughed, but with a little luck you’ll probably make it, we shall hope. The wizard is incensed and terrible things may happen...
Long black clouds passed across the red sky, cutting the sun into large slices. A cold wind came from the sea. It moved in over the beach and the meadow and moved the grass in jerky waves. John hid his arms in the arms of his yersey.
"What happened?" he whispered.
The witch looked mysterious.
"Wait and listen carefully. Listen good." she said.
"As you undoubtedly know the wizard has had an old anteater in his kitchen to mix and stir amongst steam and smoke in bubbling pots and vessels. And to this day the anteater has been patient with everything. Today, this unfortunate day, when I had left my secret brew against colds to simmer in the pot by the corner of my house, the silly anteater came quietly pattering. But, quiet isn’t quiet for me." the witch waxed her ears."I suspected mischief and dashed out! Too late! The anteater’s long tongue was stirring swiftly in the pot. Then he took a sample, sneezed ten times and POOF! Thunder and bangs. The trees collapsed and the ground quaked."
"I thought it was a thunderstorm." said John.
"No, the witch said."It was the anteater Metusalem that exploded. He was reduced to a wet spot and that was all. The wizard came turning cart-wheels over stock and stone wondering if he might fire away some pieces. But, when I told him what had happened, he became so angry that he threw his hat to the ground and jumped on it and screamed: - To the anteater’s valley you must go at once, otherwise, my mother will be told who has been to blown to pieces (Metusalem was a gift from her to the wizard on his twenty-first birthday some years ago). Suddenly, he stopped and turned on his heels and hurried home, talking quietly to himself. He had probably invented a new sorcery rhyme and was afraid to forget the rhymes. And that was the whole story, the witch said and then she really tried to look helpless.
John tried to hit a mosquito.
"Well, he said, and now you want me to go to the anteater’s valley in your place, to hire an anteater. If I don’t, you’ll turn me into stone?"
"On the spot." the witch said."isn’t it exciting. Certainly, you must understand that I couldn’t possibly stand the sad eyes of the anteaters when they hear that a dear relative has exploded...?"
With a desperate couple of blazing rays, the sun tried to stay at the horizon. John was silent. He knew that the road to the anteater’s valley was long and dangerous.

[Grey_Wolf]

CHAPTER TWO

The following morning John locked the door and gave the key to the witch who was there to say goodbye and wish him good luck. She promised to sprinkle the geraniums every evening. Before John left the witch handed him a bubbled bot-tle and said:
- This will in no time at all cure your hunger, when your stomach is grumbling.
The content of the bottle was shimmering green. John thanked her and said goodbye and wandered off towards the sea. The sun shone and the western wind made waves in the high grass. The larks warbled constantly. He turned to wave, but the witch was already gone.
He looked at the small house with the geraniums in the windows and with the flourishing veranda, where the witch had been sitting all evening telling him a-bout the road to the anteater’s valley, while the where drinking jasmine tea, which the witch was excessively fond of. She had told him a long rhyme. John remembered it quite well although it changed rythm a couple of times. He rabb- led it out aloud to himself as he walked:
On the cold grey stone of the beach,
in the shadow of the alder’s reach,
you’ll find Elon Cone’s boat,
however the wind may gloat,
and the weather may be,
it will take you to the opposite shore,
where Sinanthro’pus’ forest you’ll see.
But don’t let anyone lead you astray,
‘cause if you in this forest get lost,
your life it may cost,
or you’ll be amongst those,
who, the knowledge of the way will lose.
‘Cause the forest is huge and dark,
where the mad Sinanthro’pus lives,
And beyond the forest, the gloomy moor
spreads out,
and it will soon make you wonder if you’ll
be heard if you shout.
Yes, it depends how far you can go,
at the end of the moor lies the high
mountains, though.

And what lies beyond I do not know.
The you will have no choice,
but to ask politely with calm voice,
for the road to the anteater’s valley.

John walked down towards the base of the slope with the smell of the sea in his nose and the shimmer of the waves in his eyes and the bottle with the witch’s, so far, best invention in his pocket. Down by the beach he stopped for a moment and gazed along the length of the alley of trees and bushes. The large serious tree over there must be the Alder. John had seen the tree many times before, but he hadn’t known that it had a name.
He walked towards the tree and he saw with astonishment that the tree bowed, as if it wanted to say: - Of course, I’m King Alder, what can I do for you?
John bowed very deeply. - Your Royal Highness, he said, I wonder if I may bor- row Elon Cone’s boat.
- Then you better ask Elon Cone, said a merry voice up in the tree.
John gave a start. - Well, he said, where may I find him?
- Nowhere, said the voice in the tree, but he may find you at any moment, if you don’t watch out.
John was just about to ask the voice in the tree what it meant, but in the same moment a terrific cracking, rustling, thudding and rattling erupted and some-thing fell down in front of his feet.
- Bang in the hill, somebody said and raised his hat, Elon Cone at your service.
- John, said John, I’d like to borrow your boat.
- Yes, I could have sworn on that, Elon Cone with the merry voice said, but first you’ll have to tell me a story, then you may borrow my boat.
The witch hadn’t mentioned this, John thought, completely at a loss and won- dering which story he could tell Elon.
- Have you ever heard the tale of Prince Flat under the table? he finally asked.
Elon Cone wrinkled his nose. - Ugh, yes, I’ve heard it a score of times, none any funnier than the last one. Now I want to hear something exciting.
John reflected. All the stories he could remember were to nice and innocent for Elon Cone. Then he suddenly remembered a story the witch had told him when he had the measles. Elon Cone jumped around a stone on one foot. It had been a very long time since he heard a story.
- Now I will tell you about Helvard And Halvard As Dinnerguests.
- Jeech, Elon Cone said, wrinkling his nose.
- Wait a moment and will tell you, John said.
And then he began telling his story.
Helvard And Halvard As Dinnerguests

Once upon a time there were two poor children, of whom none was richer than the other. The were called Helvard and Halvard and looked like peas out of the same pod, but Halvard was the smaller pea. One day when they were chasing their father’s skinny goats who had gone astray up into the mountains, a vicious little devil jumped out from behind a rock and hissed:
- I’m the little giant Jeromy and I’m gonna put you into this sack and take you home to the cave where we live, and then my big brother Justus is going to get quite a meal.
Very flattering, Halvard thought.
And in a flash he and Helvard were caught in the sack. It was dark and tight inside and the sack thumped against the little giant Jeromy’s sharp back. And soon they arrived at the cave where the giants lived. The little giant Jeromy dragged the sack containing Helvard and Halvard into the cave, and watching expectantly, the giant Justus licked his lips in anticipation. When his little bro-ther finally succeeded in untieing the knots and emptied the contents of the sack on the cold floor of the cave, Justus was drooling like mad and with a brutal laugh, he proclaimed:
- Aaa, hahaaa! Small, small human children. You’ve done well, little brother.
And then he kicked his brother out through the cave-entrance and shouted:
- Run out into the forest and take the axe with you, so that we soon may have a merry fire under great black pot.
- I’m dashing, big brother, the little giant Jeromy squeaked and ran into the forest.
- Well, don’t you feel honoured being our dinner-guests? the giant Justus wondered and pinched Halvard’s arm. - You’re a thin little bugger and your brother doesn’t look any fatter, but if you’re done well enough you’ll probably do.
I’ll try to taste real bad, Halvard thought. Helvard seemed to have given up all hope of rescue.
- If I only knew how to prepare you.
The giant scratched his head, then he took an old, greasy cookery-book from a shelf nearby, where forgotten sandwiches amongst other things protruded from it’s pages like imaginative bookmarks. The giant turned the pages back and forth and seemed unable to make up his mind.
- If you don’t make up your mind soon we’re gonna go bad, Halvard said, we’ll probably go mouldy.
- I know, I know, the giant answered, but don’t rush me. And then he conti-nued turning the pages in his illustrated cookery-book.
- Well, keep on your pondering, Helvard said, because, we’re, so to speak, your last meal.
- My last meal? the giant Justus grumbled and grew pale, my?
- Yes. Yours. Didn’t you know, that we’re inedible, Halvard said.
- Of course, we’re delicious, but we’re also very poisonous, said Halvard and immediately looked happier.
- Lethaly poisonous, Halvard said.
The giant Justus now looked positively sick.
- Your brother is trying to poison you, Helvard explained.
- In cold blood, Halvard added.
The giant Justus’ face changed from pale to dark red. And with a yell he flew out of the cave and dashed into the forest.
If the giant Justus ever got hold of the little giant Jeromy, and what then happened the story doesn’t tell. But Halvard and Helvard plundered the cave, which, naturally, was filled with gold and jewels, because that’s what giants and trolls usually hoard up, and then they went into town and bought candy for the lot. And they shed no tears over the little giant Jeromy whom they had pointed out as greater crook than he really was...
- ...And that was the end of the story, John said. - Was it good enough.
Elone Cone shifted his gaze from somewhere beyond the sea and looked at John.
- I’ve heard worse, he said, the boat is yours.
Then he got up and put to dirty fingers in his mouth and whistled, and a mo- moment later the King Alder lifted his branches and there where raining sand and shells. And there the boat lay in a hole in the sand. It was small, slender and silvergrey. Elon and John pushed the boat into the water and John step-ped aboard.
- Pleasant journey, Elon said, as the boat drifted away, now I will go and tell the story to my cousins.
A head wind was blowing, but as soon as John had set sail the wind turned as if by magic. Elon Cone and King Alder were waving there goodbyes from the shore.

[Grey_Wolf]

CHAPTER THREE

The little boat danced over the waves, and John thought that he had never felt better. But he would soon change his mind, because after sailing for an hour with small-bubbling waves and a caressing wind, the gulls suddenly fell silent... Dark clouds rose over the horizon and came forth upon the sky above the sea. The sky was dark violet. The sea was smooth as glass and very sil-ent. It was a terrible, sinister silence, which made John cold with terror for what might come, and he made himself into a bundle on the bottom of the boat, making himself very, very small. Then the storm came howling out of nowhere, throwing the boat forward with a mighty shove, so that John was thrown in under the stern-thwart. He stayed put with his hands around his head. He had hurt himself quite badly. Magnificent stars and suns did a twir-ling dance in front of his eyes, and John thought that if he survived he would probably sport the bump of his life. The stars and the suns lost their quality after a while and soon went out all together. But the storm increased in fero-city. Soon the grey sea was boiling furiously and threw great white torrents over the small vessel, which was now literally flying over the wavetops. The sail had swelled up into a huge bubble and it shone coldly against the pitch-black sky. John was soaked and freezing blue.
Thus was Elon Cone’s boat, with at terrifÃ*ed John aboard, chased hour upon hour at a terrific speed by the howling storm. until the boat hit the opposite shore with a pitiable crunch and was smashed to pieces against the stony beach at the end of the sea, and a soaking wet John crawled up on the beach. All the way to the edge of the forest he crawled and there he sat up under a tall and bitter fir-tree. He felt rather bad and would surely had died or at least caught pneumonia, if he hadn’t found the bottle that the witch had given him. It was still in one piece, and John took a gulp of the contents, which now was red as lingonjuice. Strange, he thought, and went to sleep. He slept soundly while the storm lasted.

When he woke up the storm had quieted down and the waves came rolling in in well-ordered breakers. John still felt beaten black and blue and hungry, so he took a long draught of the bottle. The brew had now turned an unappe-tizing blue. His head still hurt, but he couldn’t find any bump to sport. That was just as well, John thought. Because there is nobody here to sport it for anyway. He rose with difficulty and ventured into the dark, soughing forest, leaving behing him the roaring sea and the stony beach which was littered with the splinters of Elon Con’s boat.

John kept on walking for a very long time and he seldom stopped for a rest. The night came. The forest was dense and difficult to pass through, because of the billowing moss between the gloomy and endlessly tall fir-trees. John made his way carefully. He knew that the moss could be hiding dangerous cracks and fathomless hollows. He looked around. In every direction the forest looked the same. Straight, bare, tall and grey stems with a roof of twigs at the top. One tree was the exact copy of the next and the mossy hillocks repeated themselves indefinitely. John thought the trees were moving. They hindered
him, they were his enemies. Then he thought: Trees can’t move like that, I’m probably just imagining it. But he wasn’t really sure that that was the case. The grey stems came pattering on their crooked roots from every direction. It was then he heard it... It came to him from a place far away in the forest. A faint laugh and hidious beyond description... John had stopped in his tracks and was just about to turn back, when he remembered some lines from the rhyme:
Don’t let anyone lead astray,
‘cause if you in this forest get lost,
your life it may cost.
No, no, he thought, in this forest you must not let yourself be frightened into taking other paths. And then he continued on his way.
For a long time he sneaked forward in the direction from which the laugh had come, and all the time he felt like he was being watched. Then it came back. Much closer this time. The fir-trees swayed in a menacing way. He be-gan running then. He ran straight towards the laugh which now filled the en-tire forest. He ran and fell and rose and ran, until the ground suddenly collap-sed and he fell through a hollow with a lot of moss and stones falling with him. He thought he fell eternally.

[Grey_Wolf]

CHAPTER FOUR

Everything was quiet and tranquil. John had stopped falling. He sat up and looked around, but there wasn’t much for him to see. He couldn’t really see anything. It was pitchblack around him.
- So you have finally awakened, said a grumbling voice somewhere in the darkness.
- W - where am I? Who are you? John asked, feeling rather afraid, wishing that he wasn’t awake.
- You’re in my winterlair and I’m the great bear Baltsar, the grumbling voice said, half the forest was following you when you came tumbling down on me. You fell asleep and I woke up. Thanks a lot, otherwise I would have slept all through summer. John heard the bear Baltsar snuffing and sniffing in the air.
- By Jove, June is fare gone. And I’m ravenous. The bear scratched his head with his winterlong claws. - Tell me, are you by any chance Mother’s Little Olle?
- No, said John, my name is John.
- Well, the bear Baltsar said, disappointed, then I just have to go out by my- self to pick berries. But tell me, my little friend, where are you bound?
John quickly told his story.
- Hehehe! the bear laughed, when John told him about the horrible laugh he had heard in the forest. - The old ape Sinan’thropus loves to frighten people. His laughter is human, but unpleasant.
And then John was allowed to ride on the broad back of the great brown bear Baltsar all the way out of the forest. At the edge of the forest John thanked the bear and climbed down to begin his long journey across the moor, while the great bear Baltsar went looking for blueberries in the middle of June.

The moor really was gloomy. John kept on walking for hours across the mono- tonous vegetation of heather and moss. There were heather and moss, heat-her and moss all over the place, until it disappeared in the fog, which came flowing softly in over the moor in grey veils, and made everything uniformally grey and moist. Suddenly, John collided with something that protruded from the ground. At first, John thought that he had returned to the forest. Then he thought that it might be a sign-post for lonely travellers of the moor. But then the fog eased for a moment and he saw that it was a trimmed fir-tree turned upside down. - Strange, John said to himself. Soon he found another one. And another one. Finally there was an entire forest of them, and that started John thinking that it might be something wrong with Him. The strange forest soon ended and the monotonous moor continued.
The evening came and then the night and John lay down to sleep in th heat-her. He fell asleep immediately and slept soundly all night.
Early the new morning he woke up, feeling very fit and thoroughly rested, he continued his journey. The fog was still there, but it eased up after a while, and John found himself standing at the base of a mountain.
He looked around. Above the moor, the fog was dancing it’s veiled dance. And high above the fir-trees on the mountainside black birds flew around in circles. The mountain was immense and very gloomy and behind and on both sides of it rose even higher mountains. This must be the Blue Mountains. John didn’t feel particularly happy when he thought about how many days and nights it would take him to pass these mountains. The birds continued there circling. all the time uttering mourning calls. Suddenly, a hoarse voice could be heard above him.
- What are you goggling at?
John gave a start. The mountain had awakened. It blinked with it’s sleepy eyes and yawned so that the fir-trees bent. The birds fled, but they soon re-turned.
John plucked up his courage.
- That was a stupid question, he said.
The mountain’s blinking got even worse and it seemed a triffle confused.
- Well, mmnh. Yeah, that it was. I’m not really myself at this time on Monday mornings.
Blame that, John thought, but was silent. Pause. The mountain picked up a fir-tree and started chewing on it in a disinterested manner. John stared at him in fascination.
- Where do you come from, if one dare ask? The mountain dared to ask and continued to chew at the branches at the middle of the fir-tree. Now and then it spat out some cones. John hesitated from answering. He almost got hungry from watching all this chewing.
- From home, he finally said.
- Very funny, the mountain commented, sucking at the stem of the fir-tree.
- And you’re on your way to?
The mountain screwed his left eye shut and spat with great splendour which gave evidence of long practice.
The stem of the fir-tree whistled through the air almost cutting off the tail- feathers of the biggest of the birds. A moment later a thump was heard way out on the moor. Now John found out the truth about the trimmed and upside down turned forest. - Boom again, John heard the mountain mumble.
- It’s my little morning pastime, the mountain said, embarrassed. - The fir- trees are growing something dreadfully and I don’t want to get overgrown. That would look tardy. And you were on your way to?
John told the mountain where he was going.
- To the Anteater’s Valley! Well, well, that wasn’t bad. That’ll be no Sunday’s walk, the mountain said, but I will help you part of the way.
True enough, John thought, because it’s going to be a Monday’s walk to be-gin with. But out aloud he said:
- Thanks a lot, but how are you going to do that?
- That’s simple! The mountain said. - I’ll throw you over my left shoulder. That’s for luck.
That’s the silliest thing I’ve ever heard, John thought. But soon he had other things to think about, because in the next moment, his blood gushed down into his feet and the air whistled around his ears.
- Have a pleasant journey! He heard the mountain shout far below and be-hind him. I never had time thank him, John thought. How will this end? I wish I was back home on the veranda.

[Grey_Wolf]

CHAPTER FIVE

After a while the speed slacked and John discovered that flying wasn’t a bad way to travel. It must look very silly, he thought. The only things that wor- ried him were how and when he was to land
A magpie, flying in the sam direction, suddenly appeared in fron of him. John, who was travelling too fast to give way, soon understood that he would collide with the bird if he didn’t hail it.
- Get out of the way! He yelled as loud as he could. The magpie twitched in fright and fluttered, hystericly screeching, in another direction, just as John swished by.
- I’m terribly sorry, but...
- That, at least, wasn’t any relative of mine! The magpie yelled adn wobbled in the air. She looked like a torn umbrella in autumn-storm. Soon, she was just a small black spot far behind him.

He flew over mountains. Wooded mountains and bare mountains. The speed had been further reduced and now he was going downwards. In front of him a hardwood forest spread out. A beautiful hardwood forest, he thought, but that doesn’t help me much, now when I’m going to die.
But John was wrong. He didn’t die. He made a splendid landing in an enorm- ous, swaying tree-top. He swung there for a while and then he slid down to the ground. Below the dense roof of the forest, the shadows lay deep. But here and there, small fascicles of green sunbeams could be seen. The ground was covered in short, soft grass which was nice to walk on. It was smooth and flat as a well-laid floor. In thick clusters there grew large shimmering flowers which changed colours incessantly. Beautiful little birds with the most peculiar plumages, flew back and forth beneath the green roof of the forest, and the light, which brightness was changing incessantly, reminded John of a gigantic caleidoscope. He found a path, which wound itself between the trees and dis- appeared in the dusk in front of him. He devoutedly followed it deeper and deeper into the forest. In the shadows, luminous eyes followed his every move, but that frighten him, because the mood of the forest wasn’t hostile.
The path wound itself in very strange curves and bends. Sometimes it made a half-ditch around a tree and sometimes a figure of eight. The clusters of flo- wers became more frequent and appeared taller and tangled lianas crissed and crossed between the branches of the trees in colourful spirals. Suddenly,
the path came to an end. John kept on walking, hoping that it would reap- pear further on. But all he could find was ant-routes, making weird patterns in the grass. Then he looked to the left and he looked to the right and then he looked just about everywhere, but his insistant looking around only resulted in back-ache, an unusual malady for his age. When he had been standing there for a while, thinking, he went back to the place where the path had ended, but he found nothing. It had disappeared completely. John turned about again. I can’t go on like this for the rest of my life, John thought. And then he walked for a very long time as straight as he could through the forest.
The scent of the flourishing forest was heavy and anaesthetic and the sing-ing of the birds became a soporific lullaby.

It was already morning when John finally woke up. He was hungry, but the witch’s magic potion, which now was faintly violet, soon took care of that.
A hare came bounding amongst the trees towards him. It was an exception- ally large hare and with an exceptionally long neck, and he looked exceedingly ridiculous.
- Hellollollollohello! The hare said, his ears swaying so much that John be-came quite dizzy. - I’m the hare that can jump from here to there.
To prove his point, the hare jumped straight up in the air and disappeared for a while, and then he came back he landed with a sharp crack, scaring some ants who were standing to close into a hasty and shrieking retreat.
- That’s strengthsapping if anything, the hare said, but it’s a bluff, really.
You keep up your chattering, John thought, but I’m not listening, because if I do I will probably become just as crazy as you are.
The hare kept up his chattering, but John only listened with half an ear.
- ...and you’re probably going as far as you can go, little Joe, the hare asked.
- My name is John, John said, and this path is a dead end. And then he tho-ught, I might as well tell this ridiculous hare about my mission, but he prob-ably won’t understand a word, anyway.
The ridiculous hare listened carefully, and just as John had thought, he didn’t understand a iota. But when John had finished his story, the hare said:
- And I’m the hare that can jump from here to there. Oh! Let me be the one telling them the sad news, please, ple...
- It’s fine by me, John said, plainly relieved.
- Marvelous! Marvelous! The hare shrieked, jumping around like an old rock-ingchair. And when he had calmed down a little, he asked John to climb up on his back and hold on to his ears as hard as he could.
- My ears, of course, the ridiculous hare said, laughing so much that he almost toppled over.Then he took off at a speed almost equal to that of John’s flight. It bore off in a terrific hurry through the forest causing a rain of flow-ers and leaves. John bounced up and down and his teeth was chattering. The hare ran on at the same speed without becoming the least bit tired. Finally, the hare became just a little out of breath and stopped for a rest.
- That’s exhausting, said John.
- Yes, it is, the hare agreed.
A tiny hedgehog came pattering across the path. It stopped and looked curi-ously at them.
- Oh! A Hedgehog, the ridiculous hare said. - That reminds me of a song I was taught as a child. It goes something like this:
Once upon a time there was a hedgehog,
who was a terrible wog.
He had a bath in a tureen,
of which lustre he had never before seen.
A tureen is not for baths,
neither is it for laughs.
That our long-quilled friend found out,
and then he let out a shout.
The tureen broke,
and then it went up in smoke.
The hedgehog snorted, contemptously.
- I never have baths. I hate water and the song, for that matter, was very sil-ly, he said, and then he disappeared into the shadows beneath the flowers, his quills raised in discomfort.
- He didn’t like poetry, apparently, the hare remarked. - But now we better get going.
And then they bore off again through kilometer upon kilometer of flourishing forest. Gradually, the forest descended a meadow and the hare slowed down a little.
- We’ll be there soon, he yelled.
They were still travelling downwards and the forest was growing thinner. And so, Hey presto! They had arrived. The forest opened up in a glade, in which a group of anteaters were poking around in the ground. The hare braked quick-ly, throwing John head first into the centre of the group. But the anteaters calmly kept on poking. They must have the toughest nerves in the world, John thought. The hare stepped forward and made a dramatic gesture.
- My dear, dear anteaters, he began pathetically. - It had fallen upon my shoulders to, as lenient as I can, deliver the sad news to you. A dear relative, a friend then needed, a faithful mixer, the anteater Metusalem, has gone to the happy hunting-grounds. The ridiculous hare stepped back with a theatrical gesture, inclining his head respectfully.
The anteaters looked distantly at the hare and the oldest of them, a long-haired giant spoke:
- Well, well, Betusaleb. Ah am brobably de obly one who rebebbers dat fat ol’ bugger.
- Bid he eat hibself to beath? Squeaked on of the smaller anteaters.
- Hush, chilb! Chilbren shouldn’t speak of such thigs! One of the larger ones said and seated himself on the one who had been to outspoken. Nobody see-med especially interested in the fact that Metusalem had passed away. A large anteater with a motherly look put her paws together and spoke:
- My dear chilbren, you bust be huggry after you logg journey. Blease, helb yourselbes. And then she pointed with her long tounge around the glade. Now, John and the hare noticed that the trees and bushes were filled with every kind of fruit. They bore fruit all year around.
John and the hare ate so much that they almost blew. The food was better than the colourchanging brew. John had becom fed up with it the first days. The hare was sulking a little because of the anteaters’ cool manner when he told them about the death of their relative. But, after a while he forgot about the matter and fell contentedly asleep in the shadow of a banana-peachtree.

[Grey_Wolf]

CHAPTER SIX

While the ridiculous hare slept John began silently talking with the old ant- eater, but he was soon interrupted by someone who came whistling through the forest. The happy tune came closer, and then a tall, lean figure with a white beard wrapped around his neck, appeared between the trees. He wore a grey sweater with darned elbows and pale blue trousers with large paint stai-nes. On his head he wore a crown of paper.
- Look! It’s Kigg Klas! The old anteater exclaimes. - Howby, you old joker. And then he and all the other anteaters bowed for the old joker.
The ridiculous hare had been awakened by the commotion and wondered if everybody except he had gone crazy, but John explained that that could never be the case. John and the hare also bowed for King Klas, who in spite of his attire, made a regal impression.
- By all means, the King said, looking down on all the arched backs. - Watch out so that you won’t stay that way. You can never tell when a humourous magician might come by. When he turned to John and the ridiculous hare and said:
- I hope you’re not disappointed, but this is the way I’m usually dressed. Er-minebordered purplecape looks good, but it’s hardly practical. Especially when I’m painting the castle. May I have the honour and pleasure of your company this evening? The ‘eaters are welcome as usual.
And then they wandered off towards the castle, with King Klas in the lead, pleasantly chatting with John and the hare. But he didn’t ask them why they had come.
- You neededn’t be afraid of getting paint on your clothes, King Klas said, I’m only painting the outside of the castle for the moment. It’s to be pink. Isn’t it dreadful? The horrible dragon demands it. The princess wanted an azure cas-tle, the King sighed, the demands of the terrible dragon become harder to comply with each passsing day.
The forest soon came to an end and they found themselves at one end of a large green meadow with innumerable hills.
- Well, what do you think? Isn’t it dreadful? The King asked, pointing to a wooden castle, which rose as a lighthouse on one of the hills. One half of it was painted pink and the other half was of some indefinite colour and it look-ed awful.
- It would look better in azure, John said.
- Yes, the hare said, with white spots.
King Klas looked very happy. - Then you agree with the princess, he exclai- med. The Queen rather wanted a new holiday castle. As you have understood,
this is really our summercottage. My brother Knut rules while I’m on vacation. He’s really a better regent than I am... King Klas kept looking around anxious-ly. - Now we better watch out for the dragon, he said.
The group of ‘eaters paled and packed themselves together. They padded a-long on their toes. Silently and in step. John and the hare walked close upon the King’s heals, because they were very frightened. There were still a couple of hills left to go. The dragon could lie in wait just about anywhere. Suddenly, they heard a horrid roar behind them.
- The dragon! The King yelled. - Dash to the castle! Save yourselves, every which way you can!
And they ran very, very fast into the castle and closed the gate. BANG!
- You ran away from your work, you rascal! The dragon roared, outside. - If you do it again, I’ll pour the paint down your chimney. And then they heard the dragon shuffle away, angrily whisking his tail in the grass.
- He has delusions of grandeur, the King said. - Now I will introduce you to the princess and the Queen. And with that they went looking for the princess and the queen.

On entering the kitchen, they found the Queen standing by the stove stirring in a pot where something black and mysterious was boiling. A heavy secretive smell rose from the pot, filling the kitchen. The princess was sitting by the kit- chentable playing patience. King Klas introduced John and the ridiculous hare.
- How nice, the Queen said, we haven’t had visitors from afar for a long time. She was smiling all over, and her face was red from the heat of the stove, and John thought she looked very nice. - Have the dragon been rude again? We heard him roar.
- Yes, the King said.
The princess put the cards down, rose and approached to take a look at the guests. She stood there for a good while looking at the hare. Then she said:
- You’re rather large, aren’t?
- Yes, I’m unusually large and ridiculous for my age, the hare said (Getting ready for an enormous jump). - ‘Cause I’m the hare that can jump from he...
- Not now, John exclaimed, stopping the ridiculous hare. - You wouldn’t want to get stuck in the ceiling like an uppside-down pancake.
- You’re funny, both of you, the princess said. - Let’s go outside and tease the dragon. John and the hare looked very frightened, but King Klas became very angry.
- How many times do I have to tell you, the dragon is not to be trifled with.
- Many, many times, the princess said, laughing. And when she laughed, John thought that she was the prettiest princess he had ever seen (But to tell the truth he hadn’t seen that many). Though she didn’t look like one migth imagine a real princess would look like. And the Queen didn’t look like a real queen, either. The princess didn’t wear a sixty foot silk dress made up with lace and creased ribbons, and she wasn’t wearing a crown with pearls on her curly, golden hair. And she wasn’t pale and frail like a porcelin doll, either. No, she wore a red and white chequered dress, and her chestnutbrown hair was braided into a garland. And furthermore she looked unusually healthy and spoiled.
King Klas had been silent for a while, standing deep in thought and then he sighed and said:
- If the dragon can not be put at bay,
We can no longer stay
here in this beautiful palace
which, I due to the dragon’s malice,
have been forced to paint sickly pink.
How low can one sink?
Yes, if the dragon had never been.
I, King Klas, would paint by hand
every colour I could stand
without giving heed
to the dragon’s need
of studipidity
and his atrocious insipidity.
Oh, if I only could in brightest hue
paint the castle heavenly blue.
King Klas sighed again and he looked very tired and sad. - I’ve tried every-thing, he said, from flattering and sweets to curses and DDT.
- Have you tried rat-traps? The hare asked.
- Yes, the King said, but that was stupid, because now the dragon wants che-ese every day.
- The dragon almost looks like an overgrown rat, the princess said. She was standing by an anteater, scratching his head. He whisked his tail in a good-natured manner.
- Illbread and ravenous is the dragon, purred the anteater.
King Klas went to the door. - No, the dragons nowadays haven’t got any manners, he said. - My grandfather used to tell me about the time when the dragons still guarded vast treasures of gold and jewels. Our dragon just spends his day hunting rabbits when he isn’t colouring. Pardon me, but I have
to go out and paint.
King Klas went out to paint and John and the hare sat down at the table to think the matter of the dragon carefully over. The princess went back to her patience playing.The Queen stirred thoughtfully in the pot. Nobody could make liqourice sweets like her. She was singing a monotonous and incompre-hensible song. Once in a while she would take a sample and tilt her head back, her eyes twinkling. - Aah! She said to herself. - They’ll soon be ready. I’ve a feeling they’ll be extra tasty this time.
The anteaters lay scattered about the floor, dreaming about the dragon. Some flies were buzzing around the window, dizzy from the smell of liqourice.
They didn’t care about the dragon.

[Grey_Wolf]

CHAPTER SEVEN

John watched the princess’ tiny hands as she turned the cards, doing it so slowly as if there were small beasts hidden beneath every single one of them.
- You’re cheating, the hare said.
- Yes, the princess said, but I’m very clever at it.
John was thinking real hard, finally he said:
- Now I have, as the King, thought about everything and have come to the conclusion that the silliest sollution is the best one. We’ll do it the St George did it.
- Then you mean, on horseback with a lance and a sword, the hare said.
- Yes, John said, I think so. Then we’ll see what he’s worth. We don’t have a horse, but a hare is probably just as good.
- You’re joking, aren’t you, the hare said, faintly.
- No, John said, I’m terribly serious today.
- Oh! What a romantic notion, the princess chirped, doing a dainty dance on the kitchenfloor, clapping her hands.
- Exactly as in my grandfather’s days, King Klas said through the chimney.
- I’ll be down in a moment. I’ll just have to put the lid back on the paintcan.
- Now you put your foot in it, the hare whispered in despair.
- I hope you won’t come to any harm, the Queen said.
- We’ll probably make it, John said, but he sounded unsure, and this irritated him.
- It would, if anything, be a very honourable death, the hare said. You will build monument in our honour, won’t you?
- Don’t become sentimental now, the princess said. - You’ve got more impor-tant things to think about...
Then a terrific rattling noise suddenly erupted and something came sliding down the staircase up to the attic and hit the wall with a faint thud and a cloud of dust. When the dust settled, this something made itself presentable, as well as it could, and it turned out to be the King.
- Oh, dear! Are you all right? The Queen shouted and rushed forward.
- I’m all right, quite all right, King Klas replied and brushed the dust off his clothes. - I came in through the skylight window and stumbled on this. And now they saw the long lance that had slid along him as he fell. It’s sharp end was still quivering, firmly embedded in the wall.
- Give me a hand, the King said.
And they all pulled the lance out of the wall. It was a splendid and terrifying weapon. It was three meters long and of polished ash, and at the point of it the deep blue blade was gleaming in a menacing way.
- With this lance, King Klas said, with this lance, the honourable Fra’ximus, my great grandfather, the horrible King Clemence defeated the notorious dra- gon of the Thundervalley, and the blade didn’t rust at all. You do know that dragonblood usually corrode everything it touches?
- And I who can’t stand the sight of blood, the hare wailed.
At that very moment, a clicking sound could be heard from the cuckoo clock, and the cuckoo flew out.
- Cuckoo! Cuckoo! Twelve times Cuckoo! and then it clattered back into the clock.
And the anteaters were shaking with laughter.
- They think it’s just as funny every time it happens, the princess explained.
- In about two hours the dragon will have his siesta, the King said, then you shall attack, shouting loudly, so that he’ll be a little dizzy.
- A little is probably enough. Does he like to be awakened? The hare wonde-red.
- Certainly not, the King said, but it would be unsporting to run him through while he sleeps. That, by the way, is impossible. He’s a very light sleeper.

At precisely two o’clock John and the hare stood at ready by the castle. The King and the Queen and the princess were standing in the watchtower. The anteaters, who found no room up there, formed a cheering section on the flat- roof a little further down. They were all very jolly, but also very tense. And it was very hot, but John and the ridiculous hare were soaked in cold sweat.
- F - f - first a practice run around the castle, John stuttered, and the ridicu-lous hare leaped around the castle three times. John kept a sharp look out for the dragon...
There! One of the hills was spiny and grey. The ridiculous hare had stopped running abruptly. Now they saw the dragon very clearly. He was huge. The hare felt his legs shaking a bit, and John thought that the lance felt as heavy as if it was made of lead.
- This is the point of no return, he said. We have come this far, so we can’t chicken out now. Let’s attack!
- Well, well, the hare squealed and dashed off towards the dragon.
- Battle and Victory! John shouted (this he had read in an adventure novel once) and he put the lance down. It had a streamer attached at the sharp end. DEATH TO THE DRAGON it read.
- Hurrah for John, with a will
you will make a certain kill.
Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!
... the claque of supporters on the flatroof shouted. Then the shouts of hur-rah ceased. Everybody screamed at the top of their lungs, because the dragon was awake now. He rose, spiny, drowsy and furious.
The hare just increased his speed. He ran over the hills like he was on fire. The dragon was standing still, waiting for them. It snorted fire and foulsmel- ling smoke. Now the distance was fifty meters. Now forty meters. Now thirty meters. The dragon flapped it’s wings. The dragon took off with some heavy wingbeats and rose into the sky. The sun became pale. The sky clouded over. The screaming from the castle had ceased.
At first it seemed like the dragon was trying to escape and the jolly shouting resumed, but soon the audience became silent again, because the dragon tur- ned in a wide arc. With sinister slowness and in a superior manner the dragon plunged, roaring, down at John and the hare. The dragon grew bigger and big- ger. It became darker than the darkest night. They turned and ran, in panic. The hare had never run this fast before. But the dragon didn’t fly any worse than the hare ran. John lost control of the lance and it began swaying up and down. The dragon wasn’t far behind and he was flying very low above the gro- und.
Now the shouting from the castle was deafening. This much shouting prob-ably hadn’t been heard at a castle before. The swaying of the lance became worse and suddenly...! Before John knew what was happening the point of the lance buried itself deep in the ground and John, who’s grip on his end of the lance was cramplike, was lifted off the hare’s back, following the lance as it swung forward in strained arc. And then he lost his grip and fell. Meanwhile the lance swung back violently.
John stayed put, his eyes shut tight, while he waited for a quick death, but instead he heard shouts of hurrah. He opened one eye. Yes! The shouts from the castle really were shouts of hurrah. The sun was shining again and every- thing that wasn’t tied down was thrown up in the air in jubilation. The air was full of gardenfurniture, balls, umbrellas, hats and laundry, which the anteaters threw up in their whirl of happiness. Now John saw what had happened. The dragon had been banged in the head by the back-swing of the lance, and he lay there completely knocked out. Flat on his belly with his legs and tail point- ing in every direction. The lance of King Clemence, the honourable Frax’imus, swayed back and forth slowly.
The ridiculous hare came leaping to the place where John sat without John noticing it.
- We did well, didn’t we, the hare said, merrily.
- Oh! John exclaimed, giving a start. - You scared me. Don’t you know that it’s dangerous to come sneaking up from nowhere like that? And then he laug- hed. - Yes! We really did well. Thanks a lot! We were very lucky.
- Skill, the hare said, skill and courage.

[Grey_Wolf]

CHAPTER EIGHT

The Queen was the only one who kept her cool. Now she came running out of the castle with a laundry cord. The dragon must be tied down before he comes to. All of them helped her in tieing hundreds of knots. They tied him down carefully and when they were through, the dragon looked like a badly done ball. Then they all went into the castle to drink raspberryjuice and eat buns.
They talked and laughed and praised John and the hare for their incredible courage, and the ridiculous hare told them that their plan had been success- ful down to the smallest detail. The princess’ eyes shone in admiration for John, and he did his best not to look embarrassed. The King explained in a very moved voice that in the evening there would be a great feast in honour of John and the ridiculous hare.

Thus begun the preparations for the great party. Everybody made them-selves useful. The anteaters were sent to the flourishing forest. They were ex- perts at picking flowers with their long tongues. The great hall of the castle would be covered from wall to wall with flowers.
The King, the princess, John and the ridiculous hare went out to cool off and have a look at the dragon.
The dragon had just awakened and looked very helpless.
- That’s what happens to people who force other people to do their will, the princess said, waving admonatorly with her forefinger as she had seen her mother do. - Shame on you!
The dragon felt miserable indeed. I’m useless now, he thought. And then something very strange happened. The dragon started shrinking. It shrank and shrank until it wasn’t larger than a squirrel. Then he stopped shrinking.
- Oh! How cute he is, the princess exclaimed. - May I have him?
John carried the dragon into the kitchen. The princess spoke of what she would do to the dragon all the time.
- I can keep him in a golden cage, she said, and he’ll have a skyblue ribbon around his tail. What a pretty little dragon he’ll be. The princess, laughed and patted spitting and hissing dragon.
- My usual bad luck! He squeaked. - I was born with it. Can’t I at least get a pink ribbon?
- Sure, sure, the princess said, putting the dragon down on the floor. - When you’ve had a week of good behaviour. And then she went to the windows to pick some dead leaves from the flowers.
- Oh, bother, bother, the dragon said and crawled in under the stove. At that very moment, the Queen came into the kitchen with a bowl full of liqourice sweets which she had left outside to cool.
- They’re exceptionally good this time, she said, but... She broke off and sta-red, terrified, at the slot under the stove, where something grey was sneaking around. And then she said:
- There’s a rat under the stove. Where’s the broom?
- It’s just the dragon, John said.
- Exactly, the dragon, the King said.
- Isn’t he cute? The princess asked.
The Queen felt a little weak and had to sit down for a while. - That’s the weirdest thing I’ve ever heard, she said.
- That’s what became of him after he lost his selfconfidence, the hare said.
- He was 99 per cent selfconfidence.
- Poor wretch, the Queen said, inclining her head. Then she lay down on her knees, holding a liqourice sweet, trying to tempt the dragon.
- Oh, you little ugly brute,
you’re not especially cute.
Even though you’re ugly, I dare say,
that I like you anyway.
You shall be in service here,
make a lovely atmosphere.
And light a warming fire,
then the need for warth is dire.
You’ll get some liqourice at least,
that is good for your tummy,
and makes you so jolly and chummy.
The dragon looked suspiciouosly at the Queen from under the stove. And then, he quickly lashed out for the sweet and slid back into the shadown un-der the stove. Soon, a satisfied smacking could be heard, and after a while the dragon crawled forward completely, wanting more. He now stayed put in the middle of the floor, becoming more and more goodnatured. In the end he flew up and seated himself on the Queen’s hand.
- Pardon me, but I must prepare dinner, the Queen said.
- By all means, the dragon replied. - And as you said I can light the fire.
After some time, the dragon regained his selfconfidence, but never his origi-nal size and wickedness. He began to feel comfortable in his new size. He had always wanted to know what the castle looked like on the inside, and now he flew around, dizzy with the joy of new discoveries, in and out of all the room of castle. When he grew tired of that, he hunted flies, discovering that they were much more fun to hunt than rabbits. Rabbits can’t fly, as you all know.
The party really was tremendous. They ate and drank and laughed and shou-ted. King Klas was an expert at telling funny stories which everybody had heard before, but he told them incorrectly so that they became twice as fun-ny. In honour of the day the King and the Queen and the princess had dressed themselves up, so that they at last looked like a real royal family. They were dressed in silk and lace and velvet and ermine and finary and frills, and they shone of gold and precious stones. John and the ridiculous hare shone too. They had been dubbed Knights of the Azure Blue Castle, and even the dragon had cheered.
John thought that it was like he was back in the enchanted flourishing forest. The entire hall was covered in flowers. Faint, shimmering flowers and glowing, dark flowers and flowers of all shapes and colours mixing in a sparkling whirl-wind, spreading their soft scents over the merry company. The party got mer-rier and merrier and the Kint made a speech every other minute. In the end they carried the large table out in the open air, a table loaded with fruits and pancakes, and continued their merrymaking out on the flatroof. The dragon drank kerosene and made a fine fireworksdisplay, far above the castle. All of cheered and applauded, and the ‘eaters sang christmas carols until sunrise.
And when the first rays of the rising sun crept over the forest, and the birds woke up and began singing, everyone of the merrymakers said good night and went to bed.

[Grey_Wolf]

CHAPTER NINE

John and the ridiculous hare were obliged to stay at the castle for a whole week, before the King, the Queen and not the least, the princess agreed to let them go home. John helped King Klas paint the castle azure blue, while the dragon sat on the chimney watching them,
Early one morning, the hour of parting was at hand, and the princess had decided that she and John should get married when they got older. After many a goodbye and promises to be heard from when they finally arrived back home, John and the ridiculous hare finally left. The anteaters had already left.
John had spoken with the old, long-haired anteater, and asked him if any of the other ‘eaters would like to go to work as mixers for the wizard, with free tasting as fringe benefit. But then there was a great commotion. All the ant-eaters wanted to be hired. And the free tasting sounded immensely attractive and none but the oldest had ever seen a real live wizard before. John saw no other way out but to hire all of them. I’m going to miss them, King Klas said, but you’ll come and visit us now and then, won’t you. And the princess can play with the dragon now.
The anteaters had wanted to leave without delay, and John had hardly fini-shed describing the way home before the lot of the ‘eaters had said goodbye and be seeing you and disappeared.

At last John and the ridiculous hare were on their way home. The ridiculous hare had decided to take John all the way home on his back. And he ran fast, because when the sun was at it’s highest point they had already left the flour- ishing forest far, far behind. When they came to the mountains, the hare ex- plained that he wasn’t any mountaingoat, so they had to make a detour. The detour was long and difficult, but the hare was indefatigable, and finally they arrived at the sea. The anteaters were nowhere to be seen. The beach was empty, and the sea was calm and neither sails, nor smoke could be seen at the horizon.
The hare sat down on a stone and John wandered off along the beach, deep in thought. - I should have thought of this before, he said to himself. - How does one cross the sea without a boat? John stopped and picked up a roll of white birchbark, which lay there shimmering in the sunlight. A short distance away a burnt piece of was stuck between the rocks.
John broke off a branch and ran to the hare, who had fallen asleep.
- Wake up! John yelled. - Now we’ll send a message in a bottle. And with that he sat down and began writing with the cole on the birchbark. HELP! JOHN AND THE HARE AT THE END OF THE SEA. There wasn’t enough space for any more words.
John pushed the message into the bottle he had gotten from the witch, which now was empty. He sealed it again and threw it as far as he could out into the sea. The bottle splashed down and swam away.
- The witch’s inventions certainly are magical, the hare said. John stared after the bottle as it disappeared in the distance.
- Yes, they certainly are, he said. - And now we only have to wait.
And waited they did.
The entire day they waited. But it was only the night that came.

The following morning a column of smoke could be seen far out at sea. Little by little they saw that there was a boat, too. It was a small steamboat. John and the hare cheered, and it wasn’t too early. The little boat really was com-ing closer, and soon it was so close that John could see who was at the helm.
- What do you think of my new boat? Elon Cone asked as he jumped ashore holding the painter. - I hope you haven’t fared to badly. Your messagebottle only arrived just as I had delivered the anteaters. This is my second trip with my new boat to the end of the sea.
- Your new boat looks very nice, John and the ridiculous hare said and clim-bed aboard. They had discovered that the boat was laden with pancakes. The witch had baked them. And on a large barrel there could be read THE WITCH’S BEST RASPBERRY JAM. John and the hare were ravenously hungry, and ate enourmous amounts. Elon Cone just watched them. He had eaten a fifth on the way back and he was rather full.

And so they finally came home, without any more adventures and were met by a merry group of ‘eaters. They very much enjoyed their work in the wiza-rd’s factory. John was perplexed.
- I didn’t know that the wizard had a factory, he said.
The anteaters began explaining, all at once. There was an incredible hulla-balloo. John asked the oldest anteater to speak. The long-haired anteater told him that when Elon Cone had met them at the end of the sea, he told them that by a lucky coincidence the witch had invented the best cure of the com-mon cold in the world, and that the wizard had seen a potential profit in the invention and married her right away. So when the anteaters arrived they im-mediately began building a factory. And the wizard used his magic here and there and soon the medicinefactory was ready, and the manufacture of the best cure of the common cold in the world could begin. That simple it had been. And the wizard was a nice fellow, the old anteater concluded.
The witch and the nice fellow naturally became very pleased when they saw that John still was in one piece. And John introduced the ridiculous hare to them, and he became twice as ridiculous because of all the attention he was getting.
And John and the ridiculous hare became part-owners in the factory and John had a drugstore of his own. And the ridiculous hare handled the trans- ports from the factory to the store, and on the way the medicine was shaken
so much that it never calmed down. The customers were very pleased. They came running from every direction. John could never imagine that there were so many people with colds and sore throats. Soon, the factory made huge pro- fit, and John and the ridiculous hare could often take a break and sit on the veranda, drinking tea.
Occasionally, the anteaters came on a visit.
One evening, when all of them sat on the veranda telling funny stories. Elon Cone came walking along the path with one hand behind his back.
- If you tell me a new story, I’ll tell you what I have behind my back, he said.
- Go ahead, John said. - What do you have behind your back?
- My hand, Elon Cone replied.
The anteaters almost collapsed with mirth. They thought that Elon Cone was hilarious.
But Elon Cone really had something in his hand. It was the magic bottle. It had faint colour in spite of the fact that it was empty. John took it and put it in the cupboard, where he kept his glass carafes and porcelain statues and his collection of shells, as a memory of his journey to the anteaters’ valley. He knew that the next time he looked at it, it would shine faintly in another col-our. John wondered which. And then he went out to the others to tell the pro- mised tale in the mild light of the paraffinlamp.
You would probably liked to have heard John’s tale, and you might like to know what happened to him then he grew older, if he married the princess, and if the ridiculous hare was promoted from errandboy to managing director, and Elon Cone became a shipping magnat and so on. But that much wouldn’t be wise to put in one and the same tale. Good Night!


THE END

[Nurvingiel]

I think I've read this story through once before, and I think it's quite a good translation. I have some nitpicks for the prologue. Some of them are minor grammatical errors, and some just sound better (IMO) the way I suggest.

Prologue Nitpicks
(Original italicized, suggestions normal.)

He lived alone in a small house on the top a sloping meadow. The meadow reached all the way down to the sea.
… a small house on top of…


On the left, in a brush of low rosebushes and junipers, there lived a witch in a red cottage.
… junipers, a witch lived in a red cottage.

And on the right, where the meadow ended and the forest took over, there lived a wizard in a tower of tin.
… a wizard lived…

The wizard had a very unequable temper. Sometimes he was very angry and sometimes just a little.
The wizard’s temper was unequalled. Sometimes he was very angry and sometimes only a little.

She was, if anything, kind. In any case towards John.
She was, if anything, kind – at least towards John.


She used to tell him funny tales and stories when she didn’t work with her secret experiments.
… when she wasn’t working…

The wizard did also experiment.
… experiments.

Sometimes John saw a strange animal slip out of the tintower.
… tin tower. (Watch out for svenskaettordsjukan! :D )

The small house that John lived in was a very nice house.
John’s small house was very nice.

It had a large white veranda which was almost overgrown with wildwine.
It had a large white veranda, almost overgrown with wildwine.


The wildwine dimbled and twirled around the veranda barrier and up along the cornerpillars and along the gutter.
The wildwine climbled and twirled around the veranda railings and up along the corner pillars and along the gutter.

And when the sun was shining, it made beautiful patterns upon the flowerly seats of the whickerchairs.
… upon the flowery seats … wicker chairs.

John sat there rather often scratching mosquitobites. Then he meditated upon the great problems and mysteries of life, and he puckered his brow until he looked like a raisin in his face.
John sat there often, scratching mosquito bites and meditating on the great problems and mysteries of life. He puckered his brow until he looked like a raisin in the face.

Sometimes he didn’t think at all and then he looked like a bun.
Sometimes he didn’t think at all, and then he looked like a bun.

And sometimes when he meditated just a little he looked like a raisinbun.
Sometimes, when he meditated just a little, he looked like a raisin bun.

And now, if you promise that you won’t be as mean as you usually are, I will tell you of one of the times when John was interrupted in his thinking.
… I will tell you about one of the times…

And what then happened.
And what happened after. (Neither the original nor the suggestion are complete sentences, but I think it works.)


There's a few style suggestions, one or two comma usage moments, and a few cases of Swedishonewordosis. ;)
What do you think?

As I said before, I think translation is great. I just think these suggestions might add an extra bit of proffesional shine. :)

[Nurvingiel]

Chapter One Nitpicks
(Original italicized, suggestions normal.)

It was an early-summerevening.
It was an early summer evening.


The sun was setting in the sea and the air was filled with exotic smells.
(This sentence isn’t wrong, but “in� the sea? Maybe beyond the sea’s horizon?)


John was as usual sitting on the porch having his eveningtea.
John was sitting on the porch as usual, having his evening tea.


He stirred thoughtfully in his cup.
He stirred his cup thoughtfully.


How calm and peaceful it is, he thought, and he felt very old and wise.
How calm and peaceful it is, he thought, and felt very old and wise.


A sound of admiration and of fear from thousands of leaves as the whispering wind braggered and swaggered.
The wind was in the trees, and a sound of admiration and fear came from thousands of leaves as the whispering wind bragged and swaggered.


Just then, the witch came leaping over the meadow. Crissing and crossing.
Just then, the witch came leaping over the meadow, crissing and crossing.


Boun- cing over the bridge she came, the skirt fluttering around her.
She came bouncing over the bridge, skirt fluttering around her.


- You’re in great trouble now, my little friend, if you do not help me soon, the witch puffed and laughed, but with a little luck you’ll probably make it, we shall hope. The wizard is incensed and terrible things may happen...
I’m not fond of this type of formatting for dialogue, but it is a correct method.


Across the red sky long black clouds passed, cutting the sun in large slices.
Long black clouds passed across the red sky, cutting the sun into large slices.


John hid his arms in the arms of his yersey.
spelling: jersey.

- What’s happened? he whispered.
- What happened? he whispered.


The witch looked mysterious. - Wait and listen carefully. Listen…
(I think there should be a new paragraph after “mysterious.�)

But, quiet isn’t quiet for me, the witch waxed her ears. I suspected…
But, quiet isn’t quiet for me, the witch cleaned her ears.
- I suspected…


The he took a sample, sneezed ten times and POOF!
Then he took a sample, sneezed ten times and POOF!

He was redu- ced to a wet spot and that was all. The wizard came turning cart-wheels over stock and stone wondering if he might fire away some pieces.
… reduced … cartwheels
(What do you mean by “fire away some pieces.�?)


But, when I told him what had happened, he became so angry that he threw his hat to the gro-und and jumped on it and screamed:
But, when I told him what had happened, he became so angry that he threw his hat to the ground and jumped up and down on it screaming:


Now, at this point the dialogue is confusing, because the witch is telling John what the wizard had told her. If we use this style of formatting then it's much easier to know who's speaking:
"Oh no, it's the anteater!" said John, pointing. "There it is!"
"I don't see it," said the witch.
But it's right in front of her, John thought. She must be a bit mad.

(I just made that up.) I'll reformat part of the witch's tale to show you (including some suggested edits):

"No," the witch said, "It was the anteater Metusalem that had exploded. He was reduced to a wet spot and that was all. The wizard came turning cartwheels over stock and stone wondering if he might fire away some pieces. But, when I told him what had happened, he became so angry that he threw his hat to the gro-und and jumped on it and screamed, 'To the anteater’s valley you must go at once, otherwise, my mother will be told who has been to blown to pieces.' Metusalem was a gift from her to the wizard on his twenty-first birthday some years ago. Suddenly, he stopped and turned on his heels and hurried home, talking quietly to himself. He had probably invented a new sorcery rhyme that he was afraid to forget. And that's the whole story," the witch said, then she really tried to look helpless.
John tried to hit a mosquito. "Well," he said, "And now you want me to go to the anteater’s valley in your place, to hire an anteater. If I don’t, you’ll turn me into stone?"
"On the spot!" the witch said, "Isn’t it exciting. Certainly, you must understand that I couldn’t possibly stand the sad eyes of the anteaters when they hear that a dear relative has exploded...?"

What do you think? And one last sentence from the end:

With a desperate couple of blazing rays the sun was trying to stay at the hori-zon.
With a desperate couple of blazing rays, the sun tried to stay at the horizon.

[Nurvingiel]

Feedback on the feedback is needed for the chapter one nitpicks...

What do you think of my suggestion for the dialogue? If you like it, I'll use it in all the edits. If not I'll leave it as is.

(However, in that case I feel that the witch's tale is needlessly confusing. That's not really your fault though, and that's why I'm not fond of that way of formatting.)

Also I noticed one thing about the anteater's name. Metusalem is very close to the Biblical name Methuselah. Is that a coincidence or should the name be translated too?

:confused: :)

[Grey_Wolf]

Feedback on the feedback is needed for the chapter one nitpicks...

What do you think of my suggestion for the dialogue? If you like it, I'll use it in all the edits. If not I'll leave it as is.

(However, in that case I feel that the witch's tale is needlessly confusing. That's not really your fault though, and that's why I'm not fond of that way of formatting.)

Also I noticed one thing about the anteater's name. Metusalem is very close to the Biblical name Methuselah. Is that a coincidence or should the name be translated too?

:confused: :)


I think the author chose that name for the biblical reference.

[Nurvingiel]

Do you think the spelling of the name should be translated into the English spelling? (Of course, the name's origins aren't in English, but Methuselah is the English way to spell it. :) )

What do you think about the dialogue thing? (You know what I think by now. ;) I admit to my Canadian formatting bias. All the French books I read had the dash to indicate dialogue though.)

[Grey_Wolf]

Do you think the spelling of the name should be translated into the English spelling? (Of course, the name's origins aren't in English, but Methuselah is the English way to spell it. :) )

What do you think about the dialogue thing? (You know what I think by now. ;) I admit to my Canadian formatting bias. All the French books I read had the dash to indicate dialogue though.)

Even though it may look confusing i think u can leave it be because the witch sometimes appears a bit crazy.

[Nurvingiel]

The witch can appear crazy with the quotation markes-style formatting, the only difference is the reader will know what the heck's going on. ;) No biggie though. (It's not the words that will change, just the - into some " ".)

EDIT:
Okay, this is what I mean, and then I'll stop beating you over the head with it. :D

A bit confusing:

- Let me tell you what happened to me last week, said Emily.
- I'd love to hear it, said Anders.
- My mom said, Emily continued, and I believe her exact words were, Don't put your hand into machinery, even if you think it's stopped. This proved to be good advice since someone could restart the machine without knowing your hand is still in there.


Quite clear:

"Let me tell you what I learned last week," said Emily.
"I'd love to hear it," said Anders.
"My mom said," Emily continued, "And I believe her exact words were, 'Don't put your hand into machinery, even if you think it's stopped.' This proved to be good advice since someone could restart the machine without knowing your hand is still in there."

[Grey_Wolf]

ok!

I'll go thru the text and change - to " ". :)