Three Billy Goats Gruff

Origins and setting

“Three Billy Goats Gruff” (Norwegian: De tre bukkene Bruse) is a classic Scandinavian wonder tale most widely known from nineteenth-century Norway, where it was told about goats driven up from valley pastures to the summer meadows. Its dramatis personae are elemental: three goat brothers—Little, Middle, and Big Billy Goat Gruff—and a troll that lurks beneath a bridge, jealous of anyone crossing to the green hill beyond. The tale’s structure is crisp and musical: a repeated crossing, a threat from below, two cunning reprieves, and a final reckoning in which the largest brother clears the way for all.

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The tale

Once upon a time there were three billy goats who lived in a stony valley where the grass was thin and grey. Across the stream, on a sunlit hillside, the meadows shone green and sweet, perfect for fattening. Between the goats and the grass ran a fast, cold river, and over the river arched a wooden bridge. Under the bridge, where the spray dampened the stones and the light never quite reached, lived a troll: long-nosed, sharp-toothed, and hungry as winter.

“Shall we go up to the hillside and make ourselves fat?” said the goats.

They agreed; but to reach it they must cross the bridge, one by one.

I. The Little Billy Goat Gruff

First came the Little Billy Goat Gruff, no bigger than a lamb. He stepped onto the boards—
trip-trap, trip-trap, trip-trap—the planks clacked beneath his small hooves.

From the shadow beneath came a roar:

“Who’s that trip-trapping over my bridge?”

The little goat trembled, but answered in his small voice:

“It is I—the Little Billy Goat Gruff. I’m going up to the hillside to make myself fat.”

“No you’re not!” bellowed the troll. “I’m coming up to gobble you up!”

The kid thought quickly.

“Oh no—don’t take me. I’m so little. Wait for my brother, the Middle Billy Goat Gruff; he’s much bigger and fatter.”

The troll grunted, considering the meagre mouthful.

“Very well! Be off with you.”

And the Little Billy Goat skipped away to the green hill.

II. The Middle Billy Goat Gruff

Soon the Middle Billy Goat Gruff put his forefeet on the bridge—
TRIP-TRAP, TRIP-TRAP, TRIP-TRAP—he was heavier; the sound rang louder.

Again the troll thundered:

“Who’s that trip-trapping over my bridge?”

The middle brother stood steady.

“It is I—the Middle Billy Goat Gruff. I’m going up to the hillside to make myself fat.”

“Not you!” snarled the troll. “I’m coming up to gobble you up!”

The goat tossed his beard and bargained in a deeper voice:

“Don’t waste yourself on me. Wait for my brother—the Big Billy Goat Gruff. He’s much, much bigger than I.”

The troll’s eyes gleamed at the thought.

“Then get across—and quickly!”

And the Middle Billy Goat trotted off to join his younger brother among the clover.

III. The Big Billy Goat Gruff

At last came the Big Billy Goat Gruff. His shoulders were broad, his horns curved like scythes, and his hooves struck sparks. Onto the bridge he trod—
TRIP-TRAP! TRIP-TRAP! TRIP-TRAP!—so the timbers boomed and the river threw back echoes.

Up surged the troll, dripping and dreadful, claws on the rail and teeth like millstones:

“Who’s that trip-trapping over my bridge?”

The big goat lowered his head and answered like thunder:

“It is I—the Big Billy Goat Gruff!”

“Good!” howled the troll. “I’m coming up to gobble you up!”

“Come then,” said the Big Billy Goat, and down went his head, forward drove his horns. He charged.
CRACK! went the bridge-rail; CLASH! went horn on bone. He butted the troll once—twice—thrice—lifted him clean and tossed him into the foaming water. The river seized the wretch and tumbled him away, down between boulders and out of the story.

The Big Billy Goat Gruff crossed the bridge and joined his brothers. There on the hillside they grazed the long summer through until they were round and sleek; and if ever they crossed the bridge again, there was no one beneath to cry out.