Once upon a time there was a man who was travelling around the country. After a long time he came to a big and beautiful farm; it had a mansion so beautiful it looked like a small castle. “It will be good to rest here” he said to himself when he came inside the farm’s gates. Close by was a man with grey hair and beard who was chopping wood. “Good evening father” said the traveler. “May I rest here tonight?”
“I’m not the father of the house”, the old man said; “Go into the kitchen and talk to my father!”
The traveler went into the kitchen; there he met a man who was even older, and he was on his knees in front of the fire place, blowing on the fire.
”I’m not the father of the house”, the old man said; ”but go inside and talk to my father, he’s sitting by the table in the living room.”
Then the traveler walked into the living room and talked to the man who sat by the table. He was much older than both the others had been, and he was sitting grinding his teeth, shaking and shivering, and reading a big book, almost like a small child.
“Good evening, father, will you let me rest here tonight?” the man asked.
“I’m not the father in the house, but ask my father, who’s sitting in the bench,” the man by the table answered and ground his teeth, shook and shivered.
Then the traveler walked to the man sitting in the bench, making himself a pipe of tobacco; but was so hunched and his hands shook so badly that he hardly could hold the pipe.
“Good evening, father,” the traveler said again. ”May I rest here tonight?”
“I’m not the father of the house,” said the old hunched man; “but talk to my father who is lying in the bed.”
The traveler walked over to the bed, and there was an old, old man, who had nothing living in his face but his eyes.
“Good evening, father, may I rest here tonight?” the traveler asked.
“I’m not the father of the house, but talk to my father who is lying in the crib,” said the man with the big eyes.
So the traveler walked over to the crib; there lay a really old man, so hunched that he was no bigger than a baby, and the only way to understand that he was alive, was the little sounds he made from time to time.
“Good evening, father, may I rest here tonight?” the man asked.
It took quite a while before he was answered, and even longer before the old man was done answering. He said like the others that he was not the father of the house, “but talk to my father, he hangs in the horn on the wall.”
The traveler looked up onto the walls and finally he spotted the horn, but when he looked for the man hanging in it, he could see nothing but a tiny face.
Then he was so startled that he yelled: “Good evening father! May I rest here tonight?”
It squeaked in the horn like a small bird, and the traveler recognized it as: ”Yes, my child!”.
Then a table set with the best food, beer and liquor came in, and when he and eaten and drunk, a lovely bed with reindeer skin came in, and the traveler was quite happy that he finally had found the correct father of the house.
