As for the dwarf, he stood and stamped his feet and tore his hair, but that was all he could do, for one must abide by one’s bargain, no matter what happens. You can guess how glad the father and the mother were to have their son back home again. But the lad just sat back of the stove and warmed his shins, and stared into the Land of Nowhere, without doing a stroke of work from morning till night. At last the father could stand it no longer, for, though one is glad to have one’s own safe under the roof at home, it is another thing to have one’s own doing nothing the livelong day but sit back of the stove and eat good bread and meat; for the silver pine-cones were gone by this time, and good things were no more plentiful in the blacksmith’s house than they had been before. “Come!” says he to lazy-boots one day, “is there nothing at all that you can do to earn the salt you eat?” “Oh, yes,” said the lad, “I have learned many things, and one over at the dwarf’s house yonder, for the dwarf is a famous blacksmith.” So out he came from behind the stove, and brushed the ashes from his hair, and went out into the forge. “Give me a piece of iron,” says he, “and I will show you a trick or two worth the knowing.” “Yes,” says the blacksmith, “you shall have the iron; all the same I know that it is little or nothing that you know about the hammer and the tongs.” But the young fellow answered nothing. He made a bed of hot coals, and laid the iron in it. “Here,” said he to his father, “do you blow the bellows till I come back, and be sure that you do not stop for so much as a wink, or else all will be spoiled.” So he gave the handle into the blacksmith’s hand and off he went. The old man blew the bellows and blew the bellows, but the dwarf over in the forest knew what was being done as well as though he stood in the forge. He was not for letting the lad steal his tricks if he could help it. So he changed himself into a great fly, and came and lit on the blacksmith’s neck, and bit him till the blood ran; but the blacksmith just shut his eyes tight, and grinned and bore it, and blew the bellows and blew the bellows. By and by the lad came in, and the fly flew away. He drew the iron out of the fire, and dipped it in the water, and what do you think it was? Why, a golden tree with a little golden bird sitting in the branches, with bright jewels for its eyes. The lad drew a little silver wand from his pocket, and gave the tree a tap, and the bird began to hop from branch to branch, and to sing so sweetly that it made one’s heart stand still to listen to it. As for the blacksmith, he just stood and gaped and stared, with his mouth and eyes as wide open as if they never would shut again. Now there was no king in that country, but a queen who lived in a grand castle on a high hill, and was as handsome a one as ever a body’s eyes looked upon.