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The Water-Sprite and the Violin

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Scandinavian legends are rich in stories of the sprites who live in the mountains and rivers, strange beings who are interested in the affairs of people and sometimes help to decide their fate.

The water-sprite was the spirit of music. Those who learnt from him to play the violin could make it play in tones which touched the hearts of all who heard it!

A water-sprite once decided to help an unhappy youth whose name was Helge. He often walked near the river in which the sprite lived. The sprite overheard Helge's secret whispers and knew that he wanted to die.

Young Helge was walking slowly by the river’s bank one summer evening; he was thinking his sad thoughts and did not see the flowers under his feet. He was thinking of his lost bride.

He closed his eyes and imagined that everything was as it was one year back on just such a warm evening. Now they are sitting on the bank with Astrid. They are full of hope and happiness. It is late and they must part.

He opened his eyes and whispered: “My poor Astrid, after that summer evening I did, not see you again. You disappeared, and your parents and I could not find you although we looked for you high and low. Where can you be?”

“Was it the water-sprite’s trick?” he thoughts “Did Astrid follow him to his home beneath the waters, where she was enchanted by his music and did not want to return to her forgotten home?”

As Hedge was walking along the bank a beautiful soft sound stole into his ear —the sweet sad tones of a violin.

He looked across the river and saw an astonishing sight. On a rock close to the bank sat a beautiful girl with long golden hair, in her hands she held a violin which looked as if it was made from a ski. She nodded and played on. First the music sounded like wedding bells, then like a warlike march, then like a funeral tune.

As Helge listened he thought that he heard all the sorrow of his heart in the music. And someone’s voice whispered to him:

“When you go home take up what lies before your door; from it make yourself a violin, then play what you have heard here and the gift of music shall be yours. Good-bye!”

Then the sound of the violin and the voice faded.

Helge looked across the river again. The beautiful girl disappeared. Was it all a dream? When he was walking home he looked before him and did not see anything. At last he felt that his foot hit against something which lay across his doorway. When he looked down he saw a ski of a strange shape. As he stood and looked at it the words “Take up what lies before your door” sounded in his ears, and he remembered the voice of the beautiful girl on the bank of the river.

He began his work and shaped a perfect violin. In the quiet of the early morning he began to play and his melody was better than the music of great masters.

His love for the lost Astrid now lived in the violin. He had life and hope again as they returned to him with the gift of music.

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