I had always lived in dread of water. When my friends practiced swimming I had always stayed away because my mother had made me promise her never to go swimming and I kept this promise very well.
On this day after spending a long time at the stream trying in vain to catch fish, my friends pulled off their clothes and leapt into the stream. I stood at the bank at the bank watching them. They jeered at me and called me “his mother’s son.” I was tempted to get into the water to prove to them that I was not the fool they took me for.
I was still gazing attentively at the stream when one boy, who had quietly crept behind me, gave me a push. I fell heavily into the water. I was in my clothes. Even if I knew how to swim, I would have been handicapped by my dress. But I couldn’t swim. I tried to shout but I took in a gulp of water each time.
I went deep down and it was dark. I was pushed up again and I saw daylight. It was then I heard the boys laughing at me. Down I went again felt I was going to drown and these wicked boys were going to continue laughing till I died. At that moment I remembered my mother and even my sister and felt sorry for them. They would weep and weep when I was gone. I felt sorry for myself. I was going to die so young. What was going to happen to my ambition when I had become food for the fishes? I remembered those things that always gave me joy and I missed them. My father would probably think that it was well that I was dead for I was always doing bad things. I blamed myself for running out of the house, and if I could have wept, I would have.
Then a hand gripped me by the waist and at first I wanted to hold tight to this hand. But when I knew that he was trying to save me I controlled myself. When I was pulled out, I was tired. I remained very quiet and I couldn’t quarrel with the boys who were still in the water laughing at me. Some of them wished have cured me of my fear. The boy who pushed me in said that I should go home and tell my mother. I wanted to be angry but I couldn’t. I had not much strength in me and at the same time I was overjoyed at being alive and safe again.
When I had regained my senses and I was strong once more, I decided to teach these boys some sense too. While they were still having their fun in the water, I collected their clothes at the bank of the stream and walked off to the deeper end of the stream. I knew they wouldn’t dare to swim so far because even elderly men feared that part of the stream. I cast all their clothes into the stream and watched them sail away. Then I called to the boys to see their clothes as they sailed down the stream.
I ran homeward. I ran into the house once again and sat down. My sister called mother to see my wet clothes. She said that she was sure I had been swimming for my eyes were red. I had rubbed some dust on my face and neck, my arms and legs and they no longer looked very fresh. But I could I could do nothing to my eyes.
The boys having failed to recover their clothes came to the village almost naked. They were furious and they made for our house. I saw them coming and I went to hide. When they came in, they made such a noise reporting the incident to my mother that my father woke up from his sleep. I was not aware all the time that he was in. He learned the story from the boys and when he called me, I came out of my hiding place and saw that he had his whip in his hand. I made for the door and hopped out. I then disappeared into the bush.
I knew I had made the situation worse for myself. I had run out on the spur of the moment and immediately I reached the bush, I regretted this. But there was no turning back. I felt very lonely and wanted to go back home but I feared what my father would do to me. I knew that the night would come and wondered where I was going to sleep. I walked farther and farther into the bush. I picked fruit after fruit but I did not need them. I was not in the mood for eating but when I felt thirsty, I quenched my thirst by eating an overripe pawpaw.
When it was almost dark, I returned to the back of our house in the village. I was so close to the house that I could hear my mother worrying about me. She had thought that I would come home before it was night but she was growing anxious now. She spoke to my father, she spoke to my sister, she spoke to herself, each time wondering what she would do. I was sorry for her and very much wished I could bring myself to come out of my hiding place. But I overhead my father threaten that he would teach me a lesson which I would not forget in a hurry and I could not face it.
Something later, I saw my mother carrying a clay lamp and, with my sister for company, go out of the house. I guessed that she went to the homes of all my friends asking if I was with them. When she came back, not having heard of me, she was afraid that I might come to some harm. She therefore went along the village calling out for me late in the night, pleading with me to come out of my hiding place. I was sorry for her. Tears stung my eyes but I did not come out. When she was tired of shouting, my mother gave up and went in. I knew she would not sleep a wink that night.
Soon, all grew quiet in the village. I could not remain in the bush for I feared the wild animals, snakes, and all sorts of danger. I came out of the bush thinking of passing the night in the shed where my mother made corn flour but I found that it was wet all over. Someone must have broken the pot of water.
I next went to a friend’s house and tapped on a window. It was the father’s voice that ring out, “Who’s there?” I took to my heels and once again I was in the bush but the same fear got me out very quickly. A new idea then came into my head.
Very near a house at the outskirts of the village there was a big clay pot. There was no water in it but it had a cover. I took off the cover and went inside and sat down comfortably. I replaced the lid and left enough space to let in air. Soon I was fast asleep and lost count of the time.
All of a sudden, water was pouring on me. I woke up with a start and shrieked. I heard someone throw away a pot of water, scream, and run. It was a woman. She was screaming and calling for help as she ran. Then the whole thing dawned on me.
This woman had awakened in the early hours of the morning, and had gone to the stream in the company of others to fetch water. Women usually did this on market days in order to get done with the housework in time. This woman was then pouring the water into the pot where I was enjoying my quiet sleep. She did not expect to find anyone in the pot. Therefore, when she heard me shriek she was badly scared and so she screamed and ran.
Now I was wide awake and I hurried out of the pot and was attempting to run away when a strange man gripped me. He was going to deal me some hard blows, when he realized that I was a little boy. I called out to him to leave me and gave him my name and story.
He dragged me to my father’s house, and knocked. When the door opened, he simply pushed me in and went away. I was drenched and shivering with cold and fear. My mother was overjoyed to see me and I thought my father showed some sign of relief. Even my sister came running from her sleep. She embraced me. Tears came down from her eyes. For once we were friends.
Nils Karlsson, the Elf
Bertil stood looking out the window. It was getting dark. It looked foggy, chilly, and nasty outside. He was waiting for Mama and Papa to come home. He was waiting so anxiously, it was strange they didn’t appear over there by the street lamp. Usually, he caught a first glimpse of them by the street.
Every day Mama and Papa went to the factory. Bertil was left alone in the apartment. Mama put food on the table so Bertil could eat when he got hungry. But it wasn’t any fun eating alone. On the whole, it was very boring to be alone all day with no one to talk to.
If only time wouldn’t go by so slowly! He didn’t know what to do with himself. He had gotten tired of his few toys a long time ago. He had looked through every book in the house. He couldn’t read yet. He was six years old.
It was cold in the room. Papa had made a fire in the fireplace in the morning, but by afternoon, almost all the warmth was gone. Bertil was cold. It was getting dark in the corners of the room, but he thought there was no use turning on the light. There was nothing for him to do anyway.
It was so sad, he decided to lie down on his bed to think about it. He had not always been alone, he had had a sister, Martha. But one day Martha came home from school, sick. She was sick for a week. Then she had died. He cried when he thought about it and about how lonely he was now.
It was right then that he heard them. Little pattering steps under his bed.
“Is this place haunted?” bertil wondered. He leaned over the edge of his bed. There, under the bed, stood a—yes, he was just like an ordinary little boy. The only thing was that he was no bigger than a thumb.
“Hi,” said the little boy.
“Hi,” said Bertil a bit shyly.
“Hi, hi,” said the little one.
Then no one said anything for a while.
“Who are you?” asked Bertil. “And what are you doing under my bed?”
“My name is Nils Karlsson, the Elf. I live here. Well, not under your bed exactly, but a flight lower down. You can see the entrance right over there in the corner.” He pointed at a large mouse hole under Bertil’s bed.
“Have you lived here long?” Bertil wondered.
“No, only a few days,” said the elf. “Before, I lived under the roots of a tree in the park. But when fall comes, one has had enough of camping and want to go back to town. I was lucky enough to rent this room from a mouse who was moving to her sister’s in Sodertalje. As a matter of fact, it’s awfully hard to find a small apartment.”
Yes, Bertil had heard that it was.
“I rent the room unfurnished,” explained the elf. “That’s the best way. At least, if you have some furniture of your own,” he added after a pause.
“Well, do you?” Bertil asked.
“No, that’s just it, I don’t,” said the elf looking worried. He shivered. “Brrr, it’s cold down at my place. But it’s cold up here too.”
“I’ll say,” said Bertil. “I’m about to freeze to death.”
“I have a fireplace,” said the elf. “But I don’t have any wood. Wood is so expensive nowadays.” He jumped up and down to try to get warm. Then he looked at Bertil and asked, “What do you do all day?”
“Well, nothing much,” said Bertil.
“Neither do I,” said the elf. “It’s quite boring being alone, isn’t it?”
“Very boring,” said Bertil.
“Want to come down to my place for a while?” the elf asked eagerly.
Bertil laughed. “Do you really think that I can get through that hole?”
“That’s the easiest thing in the world,” said the elf.
“You just touch that nail next to the hole and say ‘killevippen.’ Then you’ll be just as small as I am.”
“Are you sure?” said Bertil. “Can I get big again by the time Mama and Papa come home?”
“Sure,” said the elf. “You just touch the nail and say ‘killevippen’ once more.”
“How strange,” said Bertil. “Can you also get as big as I am?”
“No, I can’t, unfortunately,” said the elf. “But it would be nice if you came down to my place for a little while.”
“O.K.,” said Bertil. He crawled under the bed, put his finger on the nail, and said, “Killevippen.” Sure enough! There he stood in front of the mouse hole, as small as an elf.
“As I said before, my name is Nils,” said the elf and held out his hand. “Come on, let’s run down to my place.”
Bertil felt that something exciting and extraordinary was happening. He had a burning desire to enter the dark hole.
“Be careful when you walk down the stairs,” said Nils. “The handrail is broken in one place.”
Bertil walked with cautious steps down the little stone staircase. Just imagine! He hadn’t known that there were stairs there. They ended at a closed door.
“Wait, I’ll turn on the light,” said Nils. Then he opened the door and turned a switch. “It looks rather bare in here,” Nils said.
Bertil looked around at the little empty room with a window and a blue tile fireplace in one corner. “Yes, it could be cosier,” he admitted. “Where do you sleep at night?”
“On the floor,” said Nils.
“Gee, isn’t it cold?” Bertil said.
“You bet it is! It’s so cold that I have to get up and run around once every hour so I won’t freeze to death.”
Bertil felt sorry for Nils. At least he didn’t have to be cold at night. Suddenly he got an idea. “How stupid I am,” he said. “I can get you some wood.”
Nils grabbed Bertil’s arm. “Do you really think you could?” he said eagerly.
“Of course,” said Bertil. Then he looked a little worried. “But the worst is that I’m not allowed to light any matches.”
“That doesn’t matter,” Nils assured him, “If you get the wood, I’ll get it lighted.”
Bertil ran up the stairs. Them he touched the nail and—he had forgotten what he was supposed to say.
“What was I supposed to say?” he shouted down to Nils.
“Why, ‘killevippen,’ of course,” said Nils.
“Why, killevippen, of course,” said Bertil to the nail. Nothing happened.
“Golly, you should say only ‘killevippen,’ ” Nils called from below.
“Only killevippen,” said Bertil. Nothing happened.
“Good heavens,” cried Nils. “You mustn’t say anything but ‘killevippen.’ ”
Finally, Bertil understood. He said “killevippen” and became big again. It happened so quickly, he knocked his head against the bottom of his bed. He crawled out from under the bed and ran to the kitchen stove. There, he found a whole lot of used matches. He broke them into tiny pieces and piled them at the side of the mouse hole. Then he made himself small and called to Nils, “Come and help me with the wood!” Now that he was small, he was not strong enough to carry the wood by himself.
Nils came running and together they carried the wood downstairs and into the room and over to the fireplace. Nils was so happy, he jumped for joy. “Excellent wood,” he said. “Really excellent wood.”
He filled the fireplace and piled what was left in the corner.
“Now, I’ll show you something,” he said. He squatted in front of the fireplace and blew into it. Right away the wood started to crackle and burn!
“How practical,” said Bertil. “That sure saves a lot of matches.”
“You bet,” said Nils. “What a wonderful, wonderful fire. I haven’t been really warm a single time since last summer.”
They sat on the floor in front of the blazing fire and stretched their freezing hands toward the pleasant warmth.
“We have a lot of wood left,” said Nils happily.
“Yes, and when that’s gone, I can get as much more as you want,” said Bertil. He was happy too.
“Tonight, I won’t be so cold,” Nils said.
A little later Bertil asked, “What do you usually eat?”
Nils blushed. “Well, a little of everything,” he said uncertainly. “Whatever I can get hold of.”
“What have you eaten today?”
“Today,” said Nils, “today, I haven’t had anything to eat, as far as I can remember.”
“You must be terribly hungry,” Bertil exvalimed.
“Yes,” said Nils. “I am terribly hungry.”
“Why didn’t you say so, silly! I’ll get something right away.”
“If you do that,” Nils said, “I’ll like you as long as I live.”
Bertil was halfway up the stairs already. Quickly, quickly, he said, “Killevippen.” Quickly, quickly, he ran to the pantry. He look a little piece of cheese, a tiny piece of bread on which he spread some butter, and a meatball, and two raisins. He piled piled the food next to the mouse hole, made himself small, and shouted, “Come and help me with the food!”
He didn’t have to shout because, sure enough, Nils stood waiting. They carried it down. Nil’s eyes sparkled like stars.
Bertil felt hungry too. “Let’s start with the meatball,” he said.
The meatball was almost as large as Nils. They started eating it, each from his side, to see who would reach the middle first. Nils did.
Nils wanted to save the cheese. “Because, each month I have to give the mouse a piece of cheese for the rent. Otherwise I’ll be evicted.”
“We’ll take care of that,” said Bertil. “Go ahead and eat your cheese.”
Then each nibbled at a raisin.
Nils said he was going to save half his raisin until the next day. “Then I’ll have something to eat when I wake up,” he said. “I’m going to lie down front of the fire,” he continued.
Suddenly Bertil cried out, “I know something wonderful!” in a flash he had disappeared up the stairs.
Some time went by. Then Nils heard Bertil calling, “Come and help me with the bed!” Nils rushed upstairs.
There Bertil was, with the prettiest little white bed. He had taken it from Martha’s old dollhouse. Her smallest doll had slept in that bed, but Nils needed it more.
“I’ve brought some cotton for you to lie on and a piece of the green flannel Mama used for my new pajamas. You can use it as a blanket.”
“Oh,” said Nils. He couldn’t say more. After a while, he said, “I’ve never slept in a bed. I would very much like to go to bed right away.”
“Sure, why don’t you?” said Bertil. “Mama and Papa will be coming home any minute now so I have to leave anyway.”
Nils undressed quickly, ran over to the bed, snuggled down in the cotton, and pulled the flannel blanket over his ears.
“Oh,” he said again. “I’m so full. And completely warm. And very sleepy.”
“Bye now,” said Bertil. “I’ll be back tomorrow.” Nils didn’t hear him. He was fast asleep.
The next day Bertil could hardly wait for Mama and Papa to leave. Usually Bertil stood in the hall, said good-by, and looked sad. But not today. As soon as the front door closed, he crawled under the bed and went down to Nils’s. Already, Nils was up and had made a fire in the fireplace.
“You don’t mind, do you?” he asked.
“Of course not,” said Bertil. “You can make as many fires as you want.” Then he looked around the room and said, “Nils, sit down over there by the stairs and you’ll get a surprise. Cover your eyes! You mustn’t peek.”
Nils covered his eyes. He heard Bertil scraping and making a lot of noise with something on the floor upstairs.
“Now, you may look,” said Bertil. And, well, didn’t there stand a table, a corner cupboard, two little armchairs, and two wooden stools!
“Well, I never!” said Nils. “Are you a magician?”
No, Bertil wasn’t that, of course. He had brought them from Martha’s dollhouse. He had brought a striped rag carpet too. First they spread the carpet. It covered most of the floor.
“My, how cosy it looks,” said Nils.
It looked even nicer when the cupboard was in the corner, the table was in the middle of the room with the two armchairs next to it, and the two stools were in front of the fire.
“Imagine that one can live so elegantly,” said Nils with reverence.
Bertil also thought it was elegant. Much more elegant than upstairs in his own home.
They sat in the armchairs and talked.
“Now, I should be a little elegant too,” said Nils. “And not as dirty as I am.”
“Why don’t we take a bath?” Bertil suggested. He got a jelly dish and filled it with clean, warm water. Two little pieces from an old, ragged Turkish towel made bath towels. Quickly, they threw off their clothes and jumped into the bathtub. It was wonderful.
“Please scrub my back,” said Nils.
Bertil did. Then Nils scrubbed back. Then they splashed water at each other. Later they rolled themselves in the bath towels and sat on the stools in front of the fire and told each other everything about everything. Bertil ran upstairs for some sugar and a tiny piece of apple which they roasted over the fire.
Suddenly Bertil remembered. Mama and Papa would soon be home. He hurried to put on his clothes. So did Nils.
“It would be fun if you came along upstairs,” Bertil said. “You could hide inside my shirt pocket so Mama and Papa wouldn’t see you.”
Nils thought that was an exciting idea. “I’ll be quiet as a mouse,” he said.
“What in the world? Your hair is wet,” said Mama as the family sat at the dinner table.
“Yes, I’ve taken a bath,” said Bertil.
“Taken a bath,” said his mother. “Where did you take a bath?”
“In that,” said Bertil. He laughed and pointed to the dish filled with jelly on the table.
Mama and Papa thought he was joking.
“What fun it is to see Bertil in a good mood again,” said Papa.
“Yes, my poor boy,” said Mama. “It’s too bad that he has to stay here alone all day.”
Bertil felt something moving inside his shirt. Something warm. Something mighty warm.
“Don’t feel badly about that, Mama,” Bertil said, “because I have so much fun when I’m by myself.”
Then he put his finger inside his shirt and gently patted Nils Karlsson, the Elf.
