The Story of the Blue Planet (13 page)

Brimir regarded the children and thought it over. If he received a stone heart he wouldn’t need any friends. If he received a steel heart he would be indifferent to everything.

“I don’t want any heart in exchange,” he said. “I’d rather die than have a stone heart or a steel heart.”

“I’m not an evil man, I don’t want to kill you,” said Jolly-Goodday. “I’ll give you a stone heart. They don’t want to be your friends anyway.”

Jolly-Goodday pressed a button on the side of the spaceship and an operating table descended with a loud crash. He pressed another button and a little mechanical drill appeared along with a vacuum cleaner. He pulled a lever on the operating table and an umbrella and a sewing machine popped up.

“It’s a simple operation,” explained Jolly-Goodday. “I open and close the umbrella very rapidly and this in turn drives the drill, which saws a small hole in your chest. The vacuum cleaner then sucks the old heart out of you and squirts a stone heart into the wound, after which the sewing machine takes over and you’ll be as good as new!”

Brimir looked over his shoulder to his friends. After the operation he would be cold and emotionless and without need of them. He looked for Hulda but could not find her. Oh, he so wanted to embrace her for the last time. He lay down on the operating table and closed his eyes. Jolly-Goodday took up his position and vigorously started to open and close the umbrella. The drill began to whine and descended closer and closer …

Jolly-Goodday’s Dream

But suddenly there was a shout.

“Wait a minute, Jolly-Goodday! Wait a minute!”

Everyone looked around. It was Hulda.

“What now?” asked Jolly-Goodday, closing the umbrella. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“What do you dream of, Jolly-Goodday?” asked Hulda.

“Wh- wh- what do you mean? What do I dream?”

“What do you dream of?” asked Hulda again, and she looked him straight in the eyes.

“Why do you ask?”

“Answer me.”

Jolly-Goodday looked embarassed.

“I don’t know. I make other people’s dreams come true and have no interest in my own.”

“Don’t you ever dream?”

Jolly-Goodday muttered, “Yes, sometimes I dream.”

“About what?” asked Hulda.

Jolly-Goodday shuffled his feet, running his toe in the sand.

“About being a king,” he murmured.

“What?”

“I want to be a king,” said Jolly-Goodday a little louder.

The children looked at him and started whispering to each other. A king? Was that all? Was that his dearest wish? Some of them couldn’t resist laughing. How extraordinary.

Jolly-Goodday looked with distant eyes into space and seemed to have lost himself in his dream.

“I dream of being a king in a castle with a moat full of crocodiles and a large throne and a drawbridge and a high tower from which I can see over my kingdom and shout orders to my subjects.”

The children were completely amazed.

“Were you taking our youth and making us gray-haired just because you wanted to be a king in a faraway kingdom?”

“I was hoping to sell the last drop of youth on a planet where the king is very old in exchange for my being king in his place.”

“Tell us some more about your dream,” said Hulda, hoping they would gain time to save Brimir’s heart.

Jolly-Goodday closed his eyes and talked and talked about crowns and jewels and beautiful horses and how he could ride in a coach around his kingdom and wave to his subjects with his mace.

The children listened gobsmacked.

“Guys, we have to find a way to save Brimir,” whispered Hulda.

The children gathered together while Jolly-Goodday still had his eyes closed and rambled on and on …

“The castle would be covered in seashells and diamonds …”

“I’ve got an idea that always works in fairy tales,” said Magni. “We have to kill Jolly-Goodday. Just like trolls and dragons and witches are killed in fairy tales.”

“Exactly,” said Elva. “A troll woman is turned to stone in sunlight, witches are roasted in ovens, dragons are slain with swords.”

“We must kill him and save Brimir,” all the children agreed. “We should attack him all at once.”

The children got themselves ready to attack Jolly-Goodday.

“No, no! He mustn’t be killed,” said Hulda decisively.

“Why not? He’s evil.”

“Yes, he’s a space monster.”

“But he only did what we asked him to do. He granted our wishes and if he dies we’ll never get the nail out of the sun and the children in the darkness will die too.”

“What do you want to do?”

“I’ve a much better idea,” said Hulda. “Now listen carefully.”

Hulda took a deep breath and looked seriously at her friends.

‘We shall make Jolly-Goodday a king and make his dream come true, just like he made our dreams come true.”

The children looked at her in amazement.

“ARE YOU CRAZY?” whispered Elva. “This man is very dangerous. We should put him in prison instead.”

The children looked at Jolly-Goodday where he stood by the operating table, his eyes closed, and a joyful look on his face: “And everybody would bow to me …”

“Hulda, you’ve gone mad. We can’t let just anybody be a king,” whispered the children.

“Don’t you get it?” whispered Hulda in reply. “A king is like a monkey in a cage. You just have to feed him and have fun watching him, but otherwise you won’t have to worry about him.”

Jolly-Goodday continued to talk about his dream. “And I could look over the land and say: this is my kingdom.”

“We must lock him up in prison,” said the children to Hulda.

“No,” said Hulda. “It’s easier to lock him up in a castle.”

Jolly-Goodday had still not finished. “And I’d have a gold crown on my head.”

Hulda continued, “It’s also much more fun to build a castle than a prison.”

“But a king rules over everything! We can’t let him rule over us!”

“A king rules over grown-ups. We are wild children and can do what we like.”

“But how do we get our youth back?”

“I know how,” said Hulda.

The children looked at each other and then at Brimir where he lay on the operating table between the umbrella and the sewing machine, waiting for whatever would happen.

Hulda cried out, “Jolly-Goodday!”

He came out of his trance and stopped talking about his dream.

“What?”

“You can be king.”

His Majesty Jolly-Goodday

Jolly-Goodday was dumbfounded.

“What? What do you mean, I can be king?”

“You can be king with a crown and a castle with a moat and crocodiles.”

Jolly-Goodday looked disbelievingly at the children.

“Are you telling the truth?”

“Yes,” said the children. “You may be king of the island and us and all the animals.”

“I can hardly believe it,” said Jolly-Goodday, and tears appeared in his eyes.

“You’ll be king of the sun and the clouds and the moon and the stars and the butterflies.”

“Really?”

“Scouts’ honor!” said the children.

Jolly-Goodday’s face was a picture of joy.

“But why do you want to make my dream come true?”

“You made our dreams come true, so of course it’s only polite to make your dreams come true too.”

“Am I king now?”

“Yes, you may start giving orders. Henceforth you bear the title His Majesty Jolly-Goodday.”

Jolly-Goodday smiled broadly as he disappeared into his spaceship. When he reappeared he was wearing black leather boots and a wine-red robe, with a gold crown on his head and a massive gold mace in his hand.

“It just so happens I had all this in a cupboard,” said Jolly-Goodday, blushing a little.

And then with a look of concentration he began to rule.

“Subjects! You must build a castle for me.”

But the children looked woefully tired.

“We can’t. See how gray-haired, old, and weak we are? We’d take no time at all to build the nicest castle in the world if we only had more youth in our hearts.”

“How much do you need?”

“Just a few drops. Hardly worth mentioning,” said the children.

“That’s no problem, kids. I’ve got a full tank of youth.”

Jolly-Goodday walked pompously to his spaceship, though with a very strange gait. He clearly wanted to hop and skip all the way. He passed Brimir who still lay on the operating table.

“Subject! Why are you lying there like a stranded jellyfish? Aren’t you supposed to be building a castle?”

Brimir was so surprised he could only stammer.

“Oh, you poor thing, you’re too weak to speak.”

Jolly-Goodday dipped a ladle into the tank of youth and gave Brimir a good drink. Brimir could feel youth surge through every vein and nerve before it entered his heart. Jolly-Goodday gave the other children a few drops as well, and their faces became smoother, their legs stronger, and part of their gray hair became blond or black or red.

Everyone gave a helping hand and before long a giant white castle rose on the beach, with towers and a moat full of crocodiles. Jolly-Goodday glowed with happiness and went straight up to the highest tower to look out over his kingdom.

“Now I need stable boys and a stable!” he cried.

“You don’t need either a stable or stable boys,” cried the children in reply. “The horses take care of themselves and feed on the grass in the meadow.”