--- title: Improvement Era description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930. authors: - Nephi Anderson collections: - periodicals tags: - magazine - improvement-era periodical: Improvement Era volume: 5 number: 1 published: 1901-11 publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations publisher_place: Salt Lake City language: en type: magazine reference: 'Nephi Anderson, "The Castle Builder I," *Improvement Era* 5, no. 1 (November 1901): 21–28.' source: url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera0501unse transcription: Transcribed from the Internet Archive scan of each issue (the item for each issue is named in the issue's own source); unnumbered advertising leaves are omitted, printed page numbers are kept as page markers. identifier: improvementera0501unse start_page: 21 end_page: 28 rights: status: public-domain basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1901-11) source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera0501unse publication_year: 1901 note: The Internet Archive item metadata carries a blanket "© Copyright by Intellectual Reserve, Inc." notice. The library owner judged it inapplicable because this issue was published in 1901, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright. --- # The Castle Builder I THE CASTLE BUILDER. BY NEPHI ANDERSON, AUTHOR OP ADDED UPON,"» "nMARCUS KING, MORMON," ETC. Dream, youth! dream nobly and manfully, and thy dreams shall be thy prophets.— Lord Bulwer Lytton. PART FIRST. i. The hill from the inland side was not hard to climb, so the boy made rapid progress, springing from rock to grassy plat, and step- ping lightly from boulder- to moss-covered ledge. The promon- tory which he was climbing jutted from the main chain of the Dovre mountains out towards the ocean; but before it reached the sea it had been surrounded by an intricate tangle of fjords, so it was yet many miles inland. But in its eternal battle with the seaward elements, it had become scarred and seamed, and the forests of pine which covered the main chain had found but small foothold on the bare, weather-beaten promontory. The boy at last reached the summit, and, as he stood panting, he lifted a rugged cap from a mop of straggling brown hair. The boy took deep draughts of the bracing breeze that swept over the hill from the ocean. It was about noon. A sweet May morn- ing had awakened wild nature, and coaxed her into her loveliest mood. The sun was pleasantly warm. The boy stood erect, and looked out towards the open sea which lay beyond the fjord and a group of islands; then his eyes traced the long arm of the sea winding up into the land, until it was lost behind a distant wooded point; then landward he gazed, and there appeared naught but ridges upon ridges, covered with dark forest growth, broken now 22 IMPROVEMENT ERA. and then with a green valley, checkered into farms and dotted with red-roofed houses; but his gaze turned seaward again, and there it seemed to linger. The boy had big, grey-blue eyes, and although he seemed to fix them on a long trail of black smoke on the horizon, caused by some passing steamer, the stare was intense, as though looking longingly farther yet into the mysterious depths of space. The tinkle of a sheep'sbell, which came up from a grassy slope below, suddenly awoke the boy from his reverie, and he hastened down again to where a small flock of sheep was quietly taking its noon rest. As the sheep would be content for yet another hour or two, the young shepherd betook himself down to the fjord, under the ledge, where the warm sun shone brightly against the rocks. A smooth beach of sand stretched along at the base of the cliff, broken into now and then by confused masses of stone which had come down from the upper slopes. Here, then, was an ideal place in which to play. Outside was the ocean, often fierce and wild, and so savage that it beat to pieces the frail ves- sels made by human hands entrusted to its care; but here inside, protected by a barrier of islands, the waters of the fjord were calm and beautiful, reflecting the blue sky and gray cliffs in their still depths. Outside represented the harsh, unfeeling, grown-up world of men and women; inside was the sweet, trustful, sunshine-bathed world of childhood. The boy sat down in the sand, up farthest towards the rocks where it was warm and dry. The sand was clean—it would not soil his clothing, made, both trousers and shirt, of a coarse hempen cloth. — His shoes showed patch upon patch but his stockings were of wool, fine and warm. The wearer certainly had a good grandmother living somewhere within reach. The boy dug in the sand with his birch stick. Then he wrote names in the smooth places. The sheep remained quiet, and so he wandered along the beach until he came to a beautiful nook where a mass of smooth stones lay against the cliff. He lifted one, and admired its clean-cut edges and corners; then it occurred to him what fun it would be to build a house with these stones so well formed to the purpose. With his stick, he outlined a three-roomed building, and began at once laying the foundation with the largest THE CASTLE BUILDER. 23 stones, as he had seen the mason at home do. To make something, to build, is such pleasure, and the boy entered into his work with eagerness, though it was but' the building of a play-house by the sea. For a whole hour he worked, though it seemed but a few min- utes to him. The walls arose gradually, and he succeeded very well in placing proper openings for windows and doors. Once in a while he would step back a short distance to survey his work, and then he was reminded of the pictures of ancient castles he had seen in a geography at school. There were no glass windows in them, and, of course, there could be none in his. If he could only raise that wall to make it look like one of those towers, with open- ings or spaces in the top, the effect would be quite grand. And then, the builder contemplated laying out grounds around his minia- ture castle, and enclosing the whole with a fence, or, better still, with a high stone wall. Thus the boy worked and mused, and did not hear the tinkle of the sheep-bell up the hill-side. The afternoon was warm, the sky continued free from clouds, the small waves of the fjord lapped softly on the sands. In a niche above him, some soil had lodged, and in this, a bunch of tall grass and a slender willow had found root. Two birds were making a nest in this secluded spot, and were happy over their work; but their chirps and calls did not dis- turb the boy-builder. He did not hear the patter of feet coming towards him from the other side of the projecting ledge, neither did he see the little girl's head as it peered around a large boulder, watching him as he worked. When his back was turned, the girl cautiously picked up a pebble and tossed it into the roofless castle. The builder did not see the first stone, but the second struck the cornerstone of the tower and slightly dislodged it. He turned quickly and saw her laughing at him from over the top of a large boulder. "Halloo, Harald," she said. "What are you making? It looks like a castle. Is it? What a fine place to play in! Help me over this ledge, won't you, Harald?" Startled as he was, he did not at once obey. His face flushed, and he made an effort to brush the sand from his clothes. "Help me over, please, Harald. I want to see that beautiful 24 IMPROVEMENT ERA. house," and the girl threw the hat she had held in her hand over the boulder. It fell squarely on the tower of the castle, where it hung like a red Viking war-shield from the walls. Then she began to climb up the rocks, but as she could get only about half way over, Harald of necessity reached his strong arms over the ledge, and, taking her hands, nearly lifted her over to his side. "My! how strong you are!" she cried. "I wish I were as strong as you, then I would build houses, too. I don't see how you can lift those big rocks. But you are a big, strong boy, and I am only a girl, and weak and sickly at that. How I wish I had brought my dolls. Your house is very nearly big enough for me to get into, isn't it? If you'd only make the door a bit larger, now." She prattled on, while he stood, awkwardly enough, not know- ing what to say or do. He was not very well acquainted with Thora, daughter of the well-to-do merchant, Bernhard, down at Vangen. He was but the son of poor Einer Gundersen, the timber- man. He had seen her a number of times at the church, and she had sometimes gone with her father to Opdal, when he had visited on busi- ness connected with the sheep. She was such a small, sickly-looking girl, Harald had thought, and he had wondered how it could be that he, who had scarcely enough to eat once a day, should be so strong, while she who, no doubt, could eat all she wanted, as many times a day as she wished, should be so pale and puny. However, Thora had always treated him well, and at one time she had per- suaded her father to give him a sick lamb for a present. Though Harald had nursed the lamb carefully, it had died; and with it went the boy's distant dream of owning a flock of sheep of his own. Thora was well and warmly dressed, although the day was not cold. The pale face had a tinge of color in each cheek. Harald had lifted her over the rocks, and now she chatted so freely with him, and admired his work. Harald's great, hungry, boyheart took her in, as the wild flower might take the warming beams of the sun; and, although he was not yet free of speech in her presence, he did forget himself and the fleeting time, as he endeavored to en- tertain his friend. "Shall I build you a larger house?" he asked. "0, no; this one is so cute. See, here we can make the lawn, and you might get some small trees, and plant them at the back. " ! THE CASTLE BUILDER. 25 Would they grow, do you think? Of course, the grass would not grow, but we can play that the sand is grass—it is so clean and warm anyway." "I'll get some shells to put on the roof," said he, "and moss would make a soft carpet inside." "Why, it will be a real castle, won't it?" she cried in delight. "All we will need then will be some queens and kings and princes, and such folks, to live in it. Then an army might come up and try to take it. Is it strong enough, do you think? There's the red shield now on the walls, as a challenge to battle," at which they both laughed. "If you will be the queen," said he, "I — —can be the army I that fights for you and protects you in your castle." "But we must have a king, too," was her answer. "It wouldn't do to have a queen without a king, you know. Who could be king?" "I don't know," said he. And then, somehow, there came a pause in their conversation, and after she had secured her hat, they walked together towards the ledge over which Thora had come. "I must be going," she said, "Papa might be anxious for me. You will have to help me over again." "Of course, I'll help you," and he scrambled nimbly up the cliffs, reached down for her hand, and soon they were perched on the topmost rock, looking down the fjord to where her father and another man were fishing in a small boat, near the shore. She shouted to him, and he waved his hand to her. He saw Harald, also, but said nothing to the boy and girl. "How beautiful it is up here!" she said. "Let's sit here a few minutes; I'm quite tired out. Doesn't the fjord look blue, to-day > Harald? Is it because the sky is so blue, too? Oh, look there! I can see just a tiny bit of the sea, out there between the islands How black it looks! I'm glad I'm not a sailor, aren't you Harald?" "I don't know," said the boy, because the truth of the matter was that he had lately begun to long for the sea, and its hidden possibilities. "I've been out beyond the Three Trolds only once, and then I thought it great sport. The waves pitched us about merrily — 26 IMPROVEMENT ERA. "And made you sea sick." "No, not very, it didn't. It's just fun!" "Well, I don't think so — say, Harald, tell me the story of the Three Trolds, will you? I do so like to hear it." It took some coaxing to have him talk the necessary time needed for the telling of a story, but at last he began: Once upon a time, there were three wicked Trolds. Trolds, you must know, live only in the dark, and cannot stand the light of the sun. Therefore, whenever they wish to do anything and — it is generally to work some mischief to the human race —they must do it in the night time. Well, these three Trolds lived away back in the mountains, and were never known to visit the sea. Not that the sea had any special terrors for them, but they were land Trolds, and it is said that they often made the earth tremble when they were tumbling about too fiercely in their cave-houses under the mountains. These three Trolds had a beautiful princess in their keeping; in fact, they had stolen her from a king that lived far across the sea. This king had tried many times to rescue his child, and many princes had also tested their strength and courage against the power and craftiness of the Trolds, but to no avail. The princess was still a prisoner. So, one day Solus, Prince of the Sun, heard of the doings of the wicked Trolds, and he enquired of his father, the Sun, the secret of the Trolds' power. He was told that these beings loved the evil, and therefore they also worked in the dark. If the sunlight could once shine upon them, they would lose their power, and in some manner be destroyed. With this knowledge, Prince Solus came to this region. Naturally, the prince, having the Sun for father, shone with a brilliant light, but this he now hid under a thick, dark mantle. He managed to find where the princess was hidden, to make his way there, and to lead her out of the cave. Many other would-be-rescuers had reached so far, but the Trolds were very watchful, and so swift that they had always re-captured the princess in her efforts to escape. Prince Solus laid his plans wisely. It was nearly morning when he led the princess out. He had not traveled far before the Trolds had discovered them, and were in swift pursuit. Away he sped towards the sea! He was strong and swift, too, but the Trolds were fast gaining on him. The Trolds bellowed after the prince until the hills shook; but he paid no heed. THE CASTLE BUILDER. 27 On they went until they got to the mountain yonder, that points out towards the sea. There the prince stopped, and the Trolds yelled in great glee, because they supposed they had them now; but no sooner had the pursuers reached the promontory and were about to grasp the terrified princess, than the prince threw off his cloak, and the brightness of the light which shone from his person blinded the Trolds, and all three fell off the cliff into the sea. Not being accustomed to water, they floundered about, and were so nearly drowned that they could not make their way back. So there they remained until the sun came up, and when its first rays shone upon them, they were turned to stone —and there they are today, three rocky islands called the Three Trolds. Thora had sat in breathless wonder at the story. Harald told the legend as though he believed every word; and, at its close, the girl drew a long breath. Then she exclaimed: "And did the prince marry the beautiful princess, and did they live happy ever after?" "I don't know," said he; and he was about to make some further comment, but he suddenly startled. His face turned pale, and he trembled. The girl looked in the direction in which his eyes were set, half expecting to see an actual Trold making towards them, but all she saw was Harald's father, coming at a rapid pace down the hillside. "The sheep, the sheep!" whispered the terrified boy; and quickly leaping from the ledge, he ran towards his father. They met at the castle of stones. "Where are the sheep," demanded the angry man. "0, father, they're just up the hill a little way, I'm sure." "They are not there, and not a trace of them have I seen. Where are they? What have you been doing, you lazy lounger, to neglect the sheep? They all may be in the sea, for ought you know, you — !" Then the father caught sight of the little play-house, and it told the tale plainly. He did not see the little girl with a fright- ened face sitting on the rocks some rods away. "This is what you have been doing, is it, you good-for-nothing! Making play-houses, instead of herding your sheep," and with an oath, the man kicked down one wall of the structure at once. 28 IMPROVEMENT ERA. h "0, father, don't," the boy 'cried, and he 'rushed in between his father's angry form and the rude house of stones. "Don't father, don't knock it down! Beat me if you will, but don't spoil the house!" Not for a moment did the boy think of himself. He had given the play-house to Thora. It was hers, and he pleaded for her. A son of the Vikings, the Viking blood was in him yet, the Viking spirit was but slumbering within the peasant-bred boy. It was for the girl that he stood up against the wrath of his father. The boldness of the boy aroused the man to a greater anger. He took him by the arm, flung him upon the sand, and then, with kicks and shoves demolished the house; then he took the boy and fiercely shook him, until it seemed that every joint in his body must have been loosened, when he threw him on the sand again, where he lay for a few moments. "Now, then, get up and find the sheep. If they are not brought safely home, this evening, every one of them, I'll break !" every bone in your body. Come, get up The boy arose slowly, steadied himself for a moment, as if to get his bearings, and then went limping up the hill. The father followed. At that moment Merchant Bernhard, fishing on the fjord, He looked up and saw heard his little girl give a piercing scream. Thora fall over in a faint, on the rocks. He hurried to her, and carried her down. When she came to again, he asked her what had frightened her. "0, papa," she said faintly, "I don't know whether it was Harald's father, or some terrible, wicked Trold!" ( To be continued.)