They stopped at a little hut. It was a miserable building. The roof very nearly touched the ground and the door was so low that anyone who wanted to go in or out had to crawl on hands and knees. No one was at home except an old Lapland woman who was busy boiling fish over an oil lamp. The reindeer told her Gerda's whole story-but not, however, until he had told her his own, which seemed to him to be much more important. Poor Gerda, meanwhile, was so overpowered by the cold that she could not speak.
'Ah, poor thing!" said the Lapland woman. "You still have a long way to go. You have a hundred miles to run before you get to Finland. The Snow Queen lives there and burns blue lights every evening. I will write a few words on a piece of dried fish, for I haven't any paper, and you may take it with you to the wise Finland woman who lives there. She will advise you better than I can. "
So when Gerda had warmed herself through and eaten some food, the Lapland woman wrote a few words on the dried fish, told Gerda to take great care of it, and firmly bound her once more on the reindeer's back.
They sped onward. The wonderful northem lights, which were now the loveliest, brightest blue, shone all through the night, and with the help of these they arrived in Finland. They knocked on the wise Finland woman's chimney, for she had no door to her house.
It was very hot inside-so much so that the wise woman wore scarcely any clothes. She was small and very dirty. She loosened Gerda's dress, took off her fur boots and thick gloves, laid a piece of ice on the reindeer's head, and then read what was written on the dried fish. She read it three times. After reading it three times she knew it by heart, so she threw the fish into the porridge pot, for it would make a very excellent supper and she never wasted anything.
T'he reindeer then repeated his own story, and when that was finished he told her about Gerda's adventures, and the wise woman's eyes twinkled, but she did not speak.
"Won't you mix Gerda that wonderful draught that will give her the strength of twelve men, so she can overcome the Snow Queen?" asked the reindeer.
"The strength of twelve men!" repeated the wise woman. "That would be a lot of good! " And she walked away, drew out a large parchment roll from a shelf, and began to read. She read so intently that perspiration ran down her forehead.
At last her eyes began to twinkle again, and she drew the reindeer into a comer and, putting a fresh piece of ice upon his head, whispered, "Kay is still with the Snow Queen, where he finds everything so much to his liking that he believes it to be the best place in the world. But that is because he has a glass splinter in his heart and a glass splinter in his eye. Until he has got rid of them he will never feel human and the Snow Queen will always have power over him.
"But can't you give something to Gerda that will overcome all these evil influences?"
"I can give her no power as great as that which she already possesses. Her power is greater than ours because it comes from her heart, from her being an innocent and loving child. If it cannot give her access to the Snow Queen's palace and help her to free Kay's eye and heart from the glass fragment, then we can do nothing. The Snow Queen's garden is two miles away. Carry Gerda there and put her down by the bush bearing red berries that is half covered with snow. Don't waste any time, and hurry back!"
Then the wise woman lifted Gerda onto the reindeer's back, and away they went.
"Oh, I've left my boots behind! I left my gloves behind!" cried Gerda, but it was too late. The cold was piercing, but the reindeer dared not stop. He ran on until he reached the bush with the red berries. Here he set Gerda down, kissed her with tears rolling down his cheeks, and ran quickly back again, which was the best thing he could do. And there stood poor Gerda, without shoes, without gloves, alone in that barren country, that terribly icy-cold Finland.
She ran on as fast as she could. A whole regiment of snowflakes came
to meet her. They did not fall from the sky, which was cloudless and
bright
with the northern lights. They ran straight along the ground, and the farther
Gerda advanced, the larger they grew. Then she remembered how large and strange
the snowflakes had appeared to her the day she had looked at them through
the magnifying glass. These, however, were very much larger. They were, in
fact, the Snow Queen's guards, and their shapes were the strangest imaginable.
Some looked like great ugly porcupines, others like snakes rolled into knots
with their heads peering out, and others like little fat bears with bristling
hair. Gerda began to say a prayer, and it was so cold that she could see
her own breath, which, as it escaped from her mouth, rose into the air like
steam.
As the cold grew more intense, the steam grew more dense, and at length it took the form of bright little angels, which, as they touched the earth, became larger. They wore helmets on their heads and carried shields and spears. Their numbers increased so rapidly that, by the time Gerda had finished her prayer, a whole group of them stood round her. They thrust their spears among the horrible snowflakes that fell into thousands of pieces, and Gerda walked on protected and unhurt. The angels touched her hands and feet, and then she scarcely felt the cold and approached the Snow Queen's palace fearlessly.
But meanwhile, what of Kay? What was he doing? He was certainly not thinking of Gerda. Least of all did he think that she was now standing at the palace gate.
