But Gerda was so
pinched with the cold that she could not speak. "Oh, you poor things," said the Lapland woman, "you have a long way to
go yet. You must travel more than a hundred miles farther, to Finland. The Snow Queen lives there now, and she burns Bengal lights every
evening. I will write a few words on a dried stockfish, for I have no
paper, and you can take it from me to the Finland woman who lives there. She can give you better information than I can." So when Gerda was warmed and had taken something to eat and drink, the
woman wrote a few words on the dried fish and told Gerda to take great
care of it. Then she tied her again on the back of the reindeer, and he
sprang high into the air and set off at full speed. Flash, flash, went
the beautiful blue northern lights the whole night long. And at length they reached Finland and knocked at the chimney of the
Finland woman's hut, for it had no door above the ground. They crept in,
but it was so terribly hot inside that the woman wore scarcely any
clothes. She was small and very dirty looking. She loosened little
Gerda's dress and took off the fur boots and the mittens, or Gerda would
have been unable to bear the heat; and then she placed a piece of ice on
the reindeer's head and read what was written on the dried fish. After
she had read it three times she knew it by heart, so she popped the fish
into the soup saucepan, as she knew it was good to eat, and she never
wasted anything. The reindeer told his own story first and then little Gerda's, and the
Finlander twinkled with her clever eyes, but said nothing. "You are so clever," said the reindeer; "I know you can tie all the
winds of the world with a piece of twine. If a sailor unties one knot,
he has a fair wind; when he unties the second, it blows hard; but if the
third and fourth are loosened, then comes a storm which will root up
whole forests. Cannot you give this little maiden something which will
make her as strong as twelve men, to overcome the Snow Queen?" "The power of twelve men!" said the Finland woman. "That would be of
very little use." But she went to a shelf and took down and unrolled a
large skin on which were inscribed wonderful characters, and she read
till the perspiration ran down from her forehead. But the reindeer begged so hard for little Gerda, and Gerda looked at
the Finland woman with such tender, tearful eyes, that her own eyes
began to twinkle again. She drew the reindeer into a corner and
whispered to him while she laid a fresh piece of ice on his head:
"Little Kay is really with the Snow Queen, but he finds everything there
so much to his taste and his liking that he believes it is the finest
place in the world; and this is because he has a piece of broken glass
in his heart and a little splinter of glass in his eye. These must be
taken out, or he will never be a human being again, and the Snow Queen
will retain her power over him." "But can you not give little Gerda something to help her to conquer this
power?" "I can give her no greater power than she has already," said the woman;
"don't you see how strong that is? how men and animals are obliged to
serve her, and how well she has gotten through the world, barefooted as
she is? She cannot receive any power from me greater than she now has,
which consists in her own purity and innocence of heart. If she cannot
herself obtain access to the Snow Queen and remove the glass fragments
from little Kay, we can do nothing to help her. Two miles from here the
Snow Queen's garden begins. You can carry the little girl so far, and
set her down by the large bush which stands in the snow, covered with
red berries. Do not stay gossiping, but come back here as quickly as you
can." Then the Finland woman lifted little Gerda upon the reindeer, and
he ran away with her as quickly as he could. "Oh, I have forgotten my boots and my mittens," cried little Gerda, as
soon as she felt the cutting cold; but the reindeer dared not stop, so
he ran on till he reached the bush with the red berries. Here he set
Gerda down, and he kissed her, and the great bright tears trickled over
the animal's cheeks; then he left her and ran back as fast as he could. There stood poor Gerda, without shoes, without gloves, in the midst of
cold, dreary, ice-bound Finland. She ran forward as quickly as she
could, when a whole regiment of snowflakes came round her. They did not,
however, fall from the sky, which was quite clear and glittered with the
northern lights. The snowflakes ran along the ground, and the nearer
they came to her the larger they appeared. Gerda remembered how large
and beautiful they looked through the burning glass. But these were
really larger and much more terrible, for they were alive and were the
guards of the Snow Queen and had the strangest shapes. Some were like
great porcupines, others like twisted serpents with their heads
stretching out, and some few were like little fat bears with their hair
bristled; but all were dazzlingly white, and all were living snowflakes. Little Gerda repeated the Lord's Prayer, and the cold was so great that
she could see her own breath come out of her mouth like steam, as she
uttered the words. The steam appeared to increase as she continued her
prayer, till it took the shape of little angels, who grew larger the
moment they touched the earth. They all wore helmets on their heads and
carried spears and shields. Their number continued to increase more and
more, and by the time Gerda had finished her prayers a whole legion
stood round her. They thrust their spears into the terrible snowflakes
so that they shivered into a hundred pieces, and little Gerda could go
forward with courage and safety. The angels stroked her hands and feet,
so that she felt the cold less as she hastened on to the Snow Queen's
castle. But now we must see what Kay is doing. In truth he thought not of little
Gerda, and least of all that she could be standing at the front of the
palace. SEVENTH STORY

OF THE PALACE OF THE SNOW QUEEN AND WHAT HAPPENED THERE AT LAST

The walls of the palace were formed of drifted snow, and the windows and
doors of cutting winds. There were more than a hundred rooms in it, all
as if they had been formed of snow blown together. The largest of them
extended for several miles. They were all lighted up by the vivid light
of the aurora, and were so large and empty, so icy cold and glittering! There were no amusements here; not even a little bear's ball, when the
storm might have been the music, and the bears could have danced on
their hind legs and shown their good manners. There were no pleasant
games of snapdragon, or touch, nor even a gossip over the tea table for
the young-lady foxes. Empty, vast, and cold were the halls of the Snow
Queen. The flickering flames of the northern lights could be plainly seen,
whether they rose high or low in the heavens, from every part of the
castle.