[Collected in Seljord, Telemark, Norway, in 1912 or 1913 by Kjell Flatin]
One summer, Olav Lonar was fishing up in the mountains far to the north. There were plenty of fish in the waters where he had fishing rights, but there was no denying that others fished there after it was dark, and Olav usually remained up there for long periods at a time, to chase away the thieves. He stayed in an old seter.
One evening as he was about to go to bed he first had to go outside on an errand. He went out the door, but before he knew where he was, he found himself standing inside a big, richly furnished room. He was bewildered. A fire was burning on the hearth, and around the walls gleamed silver goblets, pewter plates, and copper kettles. Over by the hearth sat an old man and an old woman. A beautiful young maiden went back and forth. She put food and drink of the very best sort on the table and invited Olav to sit down. But he understood that something was wrong here, and he dared not eat or drink.
“You needn’t be afraid to eat and drink here,” said the old fellow over by the hearth. “We won’t do you any harm. You shall leave here as freely as you came.”
The maiden was quite sweet tempered; she stole a glance at Olav every now and then, and he thought he had never seen such a beautiful girl before. But he sat there like a block of wood and was not able to utter a word, nor would he eat and drink anything either. All at once, and he did not understand how it had happened, he was standing outside the door of his seter again. Everything was dark and cold, and there was barely a faint glow in the coals over in the hearth. For his part, he thought he had only been outside for a little while. But when he went to look, the big birch logs had burned up and only a few coals were left. He had put them on the fire for the night before he went out, and now he understood that it must have been some time ago. He went to bed and had a quiet, restful sleep.
But the maiden he had seen that evening was never out of his thoughts, no matter where he went. He tried to get her out of his mind, but it was no use. All that autumn and winter he went about like a half-wit, and was changed beyond recognition. He did not open his mouth and appeared not to see or hear.
The next summer he was up there again, keeping an eye on the fish. Then one evening he went outside the door. Before he knew it, he found himself in the same room with the old couple and the young maiden he had met the previous summer. Everything happened as before. The maiden went back and forth and was so fine and beautiful that she was a joy to behold. She put the very best food and drink on the table, and now Olav was not careful any longer. He sat down at the table and helped himself. Now the old couple started to speak, and said that they had thought of giving their daughter, the beautiful young maiden, to Olav. And they promised that good fortune and prosperity would follow him and his family all their days. Olav thought he had never heard anything better, and so they were engaged—he and the tusse girl. Her name was Torgun.
Olav stayed up in the mountains a long time that summer, and the people back home almost gave up waiting for him. But late in the autumn, when he came down, Torgun was with him.
Folks in the parish were not a little surprised that Lonar had found a wife. No one knew where she was from or whether she had any kinfolks. Then the wedding was held, and Olav was married to Torgun in the church. At the wedding people noticed that she had a long tail, and then they understood who she was. But when she went in through the church door, the tail fell off, and Olav never saw anything of it again.
They all thought Torgun was the prettiest and finest looking woman they had ever seen. She was quiet spoken and did not put on airs; she was careful not to do anything wrong and was kind to rich and poor alike. Poor folks who came to the farm begging for food were never turned away; they never left without having something to take with them. She was known for her kindness, and poor folks came from far and wide. Everything prospered after Torgun came there. The cows gave more milk and were so fat and sleek that no one had ever seen anything like it.
The first winter they were at Lonar, she and Olav had a falling-out about what to do with the newborn calves. Olav wanted to follow the old custom of breeding the prettiest calves, but Torgun insisted that they be butchered.
“What are you thinking of, woman? Do you want to take the lives of the ones that’ll make the best cows!” said Olav.
“Don’t worry about that,” said Torgun.
In the spring, when they let out the animals, Olav was not a little surprised, for every one of the cows had a fine calf with her.
“How in all the world can this be,” said Olav, “when we’ve butchered all the calves?”
“Every cow has two calves, but my mother won’t take any away from us!” said Torgun. The calves grew and thrived, and became big, splendid looking cows, and no one had ever seen anything like the herd they had at Lonar.
Olav was not nice to his wife. He was quarrelsome and ill-tempered and scolded her from morning till night. She kept quiet and never made a fuss about it. But one Sunday Olav and Torgun were going to church. Olav was out in the yard struggling with the horse. He wanted to put on a horseshoe, but he could not get it to fit the way it should. He cursed and swore and carried on as if he were out of his mind. Torgun could not stand hearing anyone swear, and now she went out to Olav and stood staring at him for a while. Then she took the horseshoe and wadded it up with her bare hands. Then she straightened it out again, fitted it to the hoof, and bent it a little more at the ends.
“This is the way a horseshoe should fit,” she said, and looked sharply at Olav.
“You’re more than a woman, Torgun,” said Olav. “As bad as I’ve been to you more than once, and you haven’t hauled off and given me a thrashing! I think that’s strange.”
“I’ve got better sense,” said Torgun.
After this, Olav was a different person. He never swore so Torgun could hear it, and was accommodating and kind to her in every way. Torgun and Olav became very rich. They had good luck with everything they did, and there was such prosperity and everything grew so well at the farm that it was downright strange to see. Their descendants were also rich, and have lived in Lonar parish until now, and Torgun’s name has remained in the family.