“Soria Moria Castle” is one of the most familiar folktales in Norway. It tells of Halvor, who, marooned in an unknown land, rescues three princesses, each one held by a troll in its castle. When he has killed all the trolls, he is free to choose the princess he likes best for wife. But Halvor is downcast; he misses his parents and his home. The princesses allow him to visit, transporting him by magic, but he must not mention them. Which of course he does. The princesses appear, as if summoned by magic, lull Halvor to sleep, and then disappear back to Soria Moria without him. Halvor has then to make the long, arduous journey to Soria Moria Castle by any means he can, where he arrives just in time to prevent his chosen princess from marrying another.
This version of the folktale was first published by Asbjørnsen & Moe in Norske Folkeeventyr in 1843. Erik Werenskiold illustrated it for the Asbjørnsen’s compendium edition of 1879, and these images are still those most often published; in fact, I have used Werenskiold’s images to illustrate my translation. (See my annotated edition, vol. 1, p. 187–200).
In 1900, Theodor Kittelsen exhibited a series of twelve paintings to complement a simplified retelling of the folktale, which he published in 1911.1 The story is very weak, yet Kittelsen’s images have since become the most well-known illustrations of Soria Moria, perhaps because of his coloured medium, whereas Werenskiold’s work is in pen and ink.
In Kittelsen’s story, Halvor has been recast as Askeladden, the more conventional hero of the folktales. Instead of going to sea only to be marooned, he sees a vision of Soria Moria castle in the ashes he rakes at home, and decides go out to search for it. He soon spies the castle in the distance and heads in the right direction. He meets a number of increasingly dangerous animals on his journey, which he simply placates with food. Then he evades a mountain troll. He sees the castle, but has to creep past a sleeping dragon and a golden bird that can wake it if it screeches.
Inside the castle, the princess is nitpicking a troll. She shows Askeladden a huge sword and a magical strengthening drink, and he chops the troll’s head off. Wedding. Happily ever after. The end.
Askeladden barely broke a sweat.
Now, while Kittelsen’s retelling may be insipid, with little in the way of dramatic tension, his paintings are iconic, especially his vision of the distant golden castle Soria Moria, for which he which possibly drew some inspiration from Adam of Bremen’s description of the temple of Uppsala (History of the Archbishops of Hamburg-Bremen, IV, xxvi).
To do the images some justice, Kittelsen’s tale may be worth recomposing…
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Soria Moria Slot Kristiania: Mittet & Co. Kunstforlag, 1911. The tale is wholly Kittelsen’s; there is no record of it having been collected. ↩