only one person left who was prepared to climb the mountain and take on the dragon.
His name was Ragnar, and he wasnât a hero or a prince or a warrior. He was a kitchen boy in the kingâs castle. But he had liked Thora for a long time, and he wanted the chance to ask her to be his wife.
Ragnar didnât have a horse or a lance or any armour. All he had was a key to the kitchen.
So one winter evening, he crept into the kitchen and he found a broom handle, some string and a carving knife. Then he crept up to Thoraâs chambers, and he asked her for three of the sheepskins she had peeled from the dragonâs breakfasts. Thora gave Ragnar the best sheepskins she had, and she gave him a smile too.
Then Ragnar walked through the long winter night, all the way to the mountain, and he climbed the mountain in the dark. When he was near the summit, he sat down by a mountain stream and he started to cut the sheepskin with the knife.
He cut himself a pair of trousers, a jacket and a big hat with flaps. He pulled the clothes on, woolly side out, so he was wearing fleecy fluffy sheepskin all over.
He tied the knife to the end of the broom handle to make a spear, and he put the spear down by the side of the stream.
Next, Ragnar lay down in the stream, with only his nose poking out, and he stayed in the water until the fleece was soaking wet.
Then he climbed out, picked up the spear and stood very still by the stream.
And as his breath froze in front of him in the cold winter air, so the water in the fleece froze too.
Ragnar had made himself armour of ice.
As the sun rose, he climbed to the summit of the mountain.
In the light of the sunrise, the dragon saw him coming and the dragon breathed fire.
But Ragnarâs armour of ice kept him cool as he walked towards the dragon.
So the dragon breathed fire again. Hotter, redder fire.
And Ragnarâs armour steamed a little, but inside the icy fleece, he stayed cool.
The dragon breathed fire again. His hottest, reddest, fiercest fire.
And clouds of steam billowed off the armour of ice as Ragnar walked forward. But inside the armour of ice, Ragnar stayed cool.
The clouds of steam blinded the dragon, and while it couldnât see, Ragnar took one last step forward and drove his spear into the dragonâs heart.
The dragon fell down dead.
Ragnar used the knife to cut off the dragonâs head.
Then he walked back to the castle carrying the head to prove he had killed the dragon. But as he walked back, the rising sun warmed the air, and Ragnarâs icy armour finally melted. So he was squelching at every step by the time he reached the castle.
When he walked into the Great Hall, with the dragonâs head dripping blood and his sheepskin armour dripping water, he won himself a new Viking hero name.
Ragnar Lodbrok, Ragnar Hairy Trousers.
He also won half the kingdom and the right to ask Thora to marry him. Thora must have forgiven him for killing her pet dragon, because she smiled and said yes.
Ragnar and Thora lived happily ever after and had lots of children. And when those children asked for pets of their own, Ragnar and Thora didnât give them baby dragons. They gave them puppies instead.
Where I found these Winterâs Tales
I didnât invent these Winterâs Tales â each of these stories has been told, somewhere in the world, for a very long time. But I do change stories as I tell them, so they make sense in my head and sound real in my voice. The stories in this collection are the versions I tell out loud, rather than exact copies of the stories that inspired me. If you share these stories, please feel free to change them too, and make them into your stories!
When I retell stories in books, I like to let readers know where I found the versions that inspired me, so you can go back and find outmore about them yourself, and also because every storyteller owes a nod of thanks to the storyteller or writer who first showed them the
His name was Ragnar, and he wasnât a hero or a prince or a warrior. He was a kitchen boy in the kingâs castle. But he had liked Thora for a long time, and he wanted the chance to ask her to be his wife.
Ragnar didnât have a horse or a lance or any armour. All he had was a key to the kitchen.
So one winter evening, he crept into the kitchen and he found a broom handle, some string and a carving knife. Then he crept up to Thoraâs chambers, and he asked her for three of the sheepskins she had peeled from the dragonâs breakfasts. Thora gave Ragnar the best sheepskins she had, and she gave him a smile too.
Then Ragnar walked through the long winter night, all the way to the mountain, and he climbed the mountain in the dark. When he was near the summit, he sat down by a mountain stream and he started to cut the sheepskin with the knife.
He cut himself a pair of trousers, a jacket and a big hat with flaps. He pulled the clothes on, woolly side out, so he was wearing fleecy fluffy sheepskin all over.
He tied the knife to the end of the broom handle to make a spear, and he put the spear down by the side of the stream.
Next, Ragnar lay down in the stream, with only his nose poking out, and he stayed in the water until the fleece was soaking wet.
Then he climbed out, picked up the spear and stood very still by the stream.
And as his breath froze in front of him in the cold winter air, so the water in the fleece froze too.
Ragnar had made himself armour of ice.
As the sun rose, he climbed to the summit of the mountain.
In the light of the sunrise, the dragon saw him coming and the dragon breathed fire.
But Ragnarâs armour of ice kept him cool as he walked towards the dragon.
So the dragon breathed fire again. Hotter, redder fire.
And Ragnarâs armour steamed a little, but inside the icy fleece, he stayed cool.
The dragon breathed fire again. His hottest, reddest, fiercest fire.
And clouds of steam billowed off the armour of ice as Ragnar walked forward. But inside the armour of ice, Ragnar stayed cool.
The clouds of steam blinded the dragon, and while it couldnât see, Ragnar took one last step forward and drove his spear into the dragonâs heart.
The dragon fell down dead.
Ragnar used the knife to cut off the dragonâs head.
Then he walked back to the castle carrying the head to prove he had killed the dragon. But as he walked back, the rising sun warmed the air, and Ragnarâs icy armour finally melted. So he was squelching at every step by the time he reached the castle.
When he walked into the Great Hall, with the dragonâs head dripping blood and his sheepskin armour dripping water, he won himself a new Viking hero name.
Ragnar Lodbrok, Ragnar Hairy Trousers.
He also won half the kingdom and the right to ask Thora to marry him. Thora must have forgiven him for killing her pet dragon, because she smiled and said yes.
Ragnar and Thora lived happily ever after and had lots of children. And when those children asked for pets of their own, Ragnar and Thora didnât give them baby dragons. They gave them puppies instead.
Where I found these Winterâs Tales
I didnât invent these Winterâs Tales â each of these stories has been told, somewhere in the world, for a very long time. But I do change stories as I tell them, so they make sense in my head and sound real in my voice. The stories in this collection are the versions I tell out loud, rather than exact copies of the stories that inspired me. If you share these stories, please feel free to change them too, and make them into your stories!
When I retell stories in books, I like to let readers know where I found the versions that inspired me, so you can go back and find outmore about them yourself, and also because every storyteller owes a nod of thanks to the storyteller or writer who first showed them the
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