"What shall I do now?" he said.
As soon as the king had had time to consider, he told him that he must
go to the hill-troll, who had taken his grandfather's sword. The troll
had a castle by the sea, where no one dared to go.
The youngster put some cartloads of food into his bag and set out again.
He travelled both long and far, over woods and hills and wild moors,
till he came to the big mountains where the troll, who had taken the
sword of the king's grandfather, was living.
But the troll seldom came out in the open air, and the mountain was well
closed, so the youngster was not man enough to get inside.
So he joined a gang of quarrymen who were living at a farm on top of the
hill, and who were quarrying stones in the hills about there. They had
never had such help before, for he broke and hammered away at the rocks
till the mountain cracked, and big stones of the size of a house rolled
down the hill. But when he rested to get his dinner, for which he was
going to have one of the cartloads in his bag, he found it was all eaten
up.
"I have generally a good appetite myself," said the youngster; "but the
one who has been here can do a trifle more than I, for he has eaten all
the bones as well."
Thus the first day passed; and he fared no better the second. On the
third day he set out to break stones again, taking with him the third
load of food, but he lay down behind the bag and pretended to be asleep.
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