A FEW large lizards were running nimbly about in the
clefts of an old tree; they could understand one another very
well, for they spoke the lizard language.
"What a buzzing and a rumbling there is in the elfin
hill," said one of the lizards; "I have not been able to close
my eyes for two nights on account of the noise; I might just
as well have had the toothache, for that always keeps me
awake."
"There is something going on within there," said the other
lizard; "they propped up the top of the hill with four red
posts, till cock-crow this morning, so that it is thoroughly
aired, and the elfin girls have learnt new dances; there is
something."
"I spoke about it to an earth-worm of my acquaintance,"
said a third lizard; "the earth-worm had just come from the
elfin hill, where he has been groping about in the earth day
and night. He has heard a great deal; although he cannot see,
poor miserable creature, yet he understands very well how to
wriggle and lurk about. They expect friends in the elfin hill,
grand company, too; but who they are the earth-worm would not
say, or, perhaps, he really did not know. All the
will-o'-the-wisps are ordered to be there to hold a torch
dance, as it is called. The silver and gold which is plentiful
in the hill will be polished and placed out in the moonlight."
"Who can the strangers be?" asked the lizards; "what can
the matter be? Hark, what a buzzing and humming there is!"
Just at this moment the elfin hill opened, and an old
elfin maiden, hollow behind, came tripping out; she was the
old elf king's housekeeper, and a distant relative of the
family; therefore she wore an amber heart on the middle of her
forehead. Her feet moved very fast, "trip, trip;" good
gracious, how she could trip right down to the sea to the
night-raven.
"You are invited to the elf hill for this evening," said
she; "but will you do me a great favor and undertake the
invitations? you ought to do something, for you have no
housekeeping to attend to as I have. We are going to have some
very grand people, conjurors, who have always something to
say; and therefore the old elf king wishes to make a great
display."
"Who is to be invited?" asked the raven.
"All the world may come to the great ball, even human
beings, if they can only talk in their sleep, or do something
after our fashion. But for the feast the company must be
carefully selected; we can only admit persons of high rank; I
have had a dispute myself with the elf king, as he thought we
could not admit ghosts. The merman and his daughter must be
invited first, although it may not be agreeable to them to
remain so long on dry land, but they shall have a wet stone to
sit on, or perhaps something better; so I think they will not
refuse this time. We must have all the old demons of the first
class, with tails, and the hobgoblins and imps; and then I
think we ought not to leave out the death-horse, or the
grave-pig, or even the church dwarf, although they do belong
to the clergy, and are not reckoned among our people; but that
is merely their office, they are nearly related to us, and
visit us very frequently."
"Croak," said the night-raven as he flew away with the
invitations.
The elfin maidens we're already dancing on the elf hill,
and they danced in shawls woven from moonshine and mist, which
look very pretty to those who like such things. The large hall
within the elf hill was splendidly decorated; the floor had
been washed with moonshine, and the walls had been rubbed with
magic ointment, so that they glowed like tulip-leaves in the
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