A tale of the foolish Scanian giant, piles, who lived in Stompe hill and hence got his name Stompe-pilt.
A short distance from Baal's castle in the parish of Filkestad in the Willand district is a hill, where a giant used to live, who was hot Stompe-Pilt.
One day it happened that a goat-herd came drifting with his goats to the hill where Stompe-Pilt had its home.
"Who's there?" cried the giant, rushing out of the pile with a flint in his fist.
"That's me, if you want to know," replied Herren, and he drove the goats up the hill.
"If you come here, I will hug you as small as I do this stone," roared the giant, and crumbled it between his fingers, so that he became like fine sand.
"Then I'll squeeze the water out of you, as I squeeze it out of this stone," replied the lord, taking a freshly-crushed cheese from his bag and squeezing it so that the water ran down his fingers.
"Aren't you a raider?" sad' the giant.
"Not for you!" replied the gentlemen.
"Let's fight!" sad' the giant.
"May it be so!" said the lords, "but first we will banish one another, that we may be truly angry; for banishment brings wrath upon the city, and wrath brings fighting."
"But I want to bond first," said the giant.
"May go!" sad' heren, "but now it's my turn to banish."
"I'll give you a hook-billed troll," said the giant.
"You shall have a flying fool," said the lord, and from his bow he shot a sharp arrow into the life of the giant.
"What was that?" the giant asked as he tried to snatch the arrow from his body.
"It was a band!" sad' gentlemen.
"Why does she have feathers?" asked the giant.
"To make her fly fast," replied Herren.
"Why is she stuck?" the giant continued.
"Because she has taken root in your body," replied heren.
"Do you have any more of those banners?" the giant asked.
"There's another one for you," said the lord, shooting another arrow at the giant.
"Ow, ow!" cried Stompe-Pilt, "aren't you angry enough for us to fight?"
"No, I haven't banished you enough yet," replied Herren, putting another arrow on the bowstring.
"Drive your goats wherever you want. I cannot suffer your curses, much less your stabs," cried Stompe-Pilt, and ran into the heap.
Thus the lord was victorious because he was brave and did not let himself be frightened by the foolish giant.
Source: Hofberg, Herman, Swedish folk tales, 1882
In the book While and will be from 1863, Stompe-Pilts hill is said to be southeast of Råby and is called Stompe-kulle (Stompe hill). Several names have been linked to the geta shepherd in question, including Gubbe or Ubbe Finnsson, and Gubbe Findsön.
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