East of the sun complete libretto

East of the Sun and West of the Moon One Act Opera

(Libretto by Stephanie Block) East of the Sun and West of the Moon One Act Opera Characters in order of appearance: The White Bear (Prince Haakon) Torill, Peasant’s Daughter Peasant (Papa) 2|Page

Neighbor with the Apple Neighbor with the Carding Comb Neighbor with the Spindle The Four Winds (East, West, South, North): Dancers Ragnhild, Troll Princess Troll Mother Townspeople (men and women) Scene 1: In the apple orchard White Bear (watching Torill from behind a rock. Torill is picking apples, placing several in her apron and then emptying them into a bucket when her apron gets full): Such grace. Who could imagine loveliness in this place? [Sighs] Isn’t she dear… I would be better by far with her near.

Torill (singing a children’s song as she works): The bear is sleeping, the bear is sleeping In its cozy den.

It is not dangerous If we just go carefully But then one can, But then one can Never be quite sure1

Bjørnen sover, Bjørnen sover, i sitt lune hi.

Dener ikke farlig, barre vigår varlig, men man kan jo, men man kan jo, aldrig være trygg!

White Bear: Such wit. Wouldn’t we two be a snug fit. [Sighs] [He emerges and approaches Torill. She drops the apples in her apron and she fearfully backs away from him.]

Wait! Wait! I am not dangerous…

Torill: How can one ever be sure… ?

White Bear: Stay! Stay! You are so beautiful!

Torill: Bears can be terribly unpredictable.

White Bear: 1

This is an English translation of a Norwegian children’s song: Bjørnen sover Bjørnen sover, bjørnen sover,/ i sitt lune hi./ Den er ikke farlig,/ bare vi går varlig. /Men man kan jo, /men man kan jo,/ aldri være trygg.

The tune can be heard at: www.youtube.com/watch?v=4drTZ8sY_gA 3|Page

Listen, we’ll only go for a walk…perhaps… perhaps we’ll hear the brown thrush, singing to her chicks…perhaps we will find blue bells and buttercups up on the hill that you can braid in your hair.

Torill: I’m not going anywhere…

White Bear: Listen, we’ll only talk…I swear… perhaps about farming and fjords and the lights that ripple the northern skies in blue curtains. Perhaps, in time, you’ll come to sit on my broad back…

Torill: I’m calling my father!

White Bear: Listen, listen…

Torill: Papa! Papa!

There’s a wild beast, prowling the orchard…

White Bear: Hush, hush…

[Peasant (Papa) comes running with a pitchfork in his hands]: Torill: Papa! Papa!

You must kill and skin it.

It will make a fine rug for my bedroom floor.

White Bear: Listen …a better idea would be to give me your daughter’s hand in marriage…

Torill: Never!

White Bear: Listen …I’m very, very wealthy.

You might acquire a new field and a herd of sweet Norwegian Reds with such rich milk...as a compensation for the loss of your daughter…

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Torill: I’m not for sale!

Peasant (Papa): Listen…he says he’s wealthy…

A new field and dairy cattle are compensation for a lost daughter…

Torill: I won’t be married!

White Bear: I’m very wealthy. We could add a flock of Jaerhon chickens…a new barn… a sack or two of rye seed to plant in the spring…

Peasant (Papa): It’s awfully tempting…

White Bear: You might like a new shirt emblazoned with Hardanger stitch… and perhaps a smokeless Krag-Jørgensen rifle, with its smooth action…

Torill: I don’t believe this!

White Bear: I’m very wealthy. A large purse, filled with gold coins, could be placed in the palm of your hands, if you’ll only agree that your daughter is worth a great deal to me.

Peasant (Papa): See, Torill. It’s a great deal!

White Bear: Torill! Is that your name?

Listen…I’ll make you happy.

We’ll live in a grand slott2 of white marble and black spruce.

You’ll drink your soup from a rosemaled bowl and dance the halling from dusk to dawn.

Peasant (Papa): See, Torill. It’s a great deal!

White Bear: Sit on my back and I’ll carry you there 2

Norwegian for “castle”

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like a lady in her carriage.

Peasant (Papa): See, Torill. What a great deal!

[Papa lifts her, struggling a little, onto the bear’s back. Torill plaintively holds out her hands to Papa but between him and the bear, is overwhelmed.]

White Bear: Such grace. Who could imagine loveliness in this place? [Sighs]

Scene 2: In the White Bear’s palace.

There are several large winged chairs in the room and a beautifully set dinner table. The audience can see outside a window that it’s autumn. As the scene progresses, the outside light changes from afternoon to night. There’s also a large screen, behind which can be seen the shadow of a grand, canopied bed.

White Bear: [singing a Norwegian folk song to Torill] Butterfly mine, with pretty wings, Red and brown and red and blue, 6|Page

Can't you find any of your flowers?

Butterfly mine, with pretty wings, Sit yourself down on the swaying straw, Butterfly mine, I don't want to frighten you, Only want to reach you, Only want to get you, Only want to treasure you!

[As he sings, Torill gets drawn into the song and he almost is able to give her a kiss…but she pulls back at the last moment and flounces away. He sings the second verse] There, I almost had you, And then you flew on your way.

Butterfly mine, with pretty wings, Red and brown and red and blue, I don’t want to frighten you, Only want to reach you, Only want to get you, Only want to treasure you!3 Torill: You shan’t catch me.

White Bear: I’m not insensible to the fact that you’re here under protest – my darling Torill! – so, I shan’t press you for love till you give it freely.

But, still, sweetheart, you must rest.

Torill: I won’t sleep.

White Bear: I’m not insensible to the truth that you’re hurt and angry – my lovely Torill! – so, it’s quite meet that you fume and pace.

But, Torill, Torill, you must eat.

Torill: I’ll die first.

White Bear: Then die. But, for my own good, I must turn off the lights and remove my coat and close my eyes.

Do as you please.

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You can hear a performance of this: www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q28VHoCbvqc

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[The White Bear goes behind a screen through which one can see the shadow of his form. The bear coat and mask are removed and slung over the screen so that Torill – and the audience – can see he’s a man…but not the particulars. He settles himself in bed and flips off the light, leaving Torill alone, on the other side of the screen.]

Torill: I’ll die first.

[After assuring herself that the bear is asleep, she nibbles from the supper.]

I’ll never eat again.

[She settles in a chair.]

I’ll never sleep…I’d rather die.

[She gets more comfortable.]

Actually…

He’s not so bad, in the right light.

In the right light, he’s rather nice.

But I won’t be bought like a brood mare.

Actually…

I might like this place. He’s a good sort, in his own way. But the principle of the thing is wrong.

Actually…

I might take a bite and sleep a wink.

Just this one time. Till he wakes up…

I can die then.

[She gets up, drinks a bit, chews a bit, settles back in the chair…shivers.]

Actually…

It’s getting cold…and he has the quilt.

I might curl up in the white fur… just this one time.

[Torill takes down the bear skin, curls up in it, and goes to sleep.]

Scene three, several months later: Morning is dawning in the White Bear’s palace The screen is no longer in the room and the audience sees that Torill is curled up in the bed, sleeping. The handsome fellow beside her rises and puts on his bear suit. As the light becomes brighter, the audience can see that it’s winter outside. The White Bear sets a log on the fire, blows and prods it with an iron, puts on a kettle and then turns to Torill.

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White Bear: Beloved, the fire is stoked and the tea is steeped.

Torill (stretching lazily): Beloved, already up …and the day is sweet.

White Bear: Beloved, it snowed last night…great, powdery flakes.

Torill: I think, after breakfast, we should go and skate!

[During the following duet, Torill and White Bear feed each other breakfast and then get ready for a day in the snow.]

White Bear: You play around me wherever I go.

I hear you when my heart is beating.

You follow me in my every thought like an impish shadow.4 Torill: The day will never come that I forget you, because if I sleep, I dream of you.

Night or day, you are just as close and I see you best when darkness comes.

White Bear: When the wind rustles the leaves, I hope it's you who's walking there.

When I see someone turn around, I hope it may be you.

Torill: The day will never come that I forget you, because if I sleep, I dream of you.

Night or day, you are just as close and I see you best when darkness comes.

White Bear: No matter who’s walking or riding or driving, it's you I'm seeing, in everything I hear: in singing and fluting and fiddle tunes but all the more in my own crying.

Torill: The day will never come that I forget you, because if I sleep, I dream of you.

Night or day, you are just as close and I see you best when darkness comes.

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The next several verses are from the folksong: Den dag kjem aldri. The tune can be heard at: http://barnesanger.wikispaces.com/Den+dag+kjem+aldri 9|Page

[Torill’s cell phone rings, somewhere under the bed. She can’t find it but White Bear does, hands it to her and mimes that he’s going outside while she talks. They exchange a kiss.]

Torill: Hello? Yes, this is me, Torill…

Yes, Mother…the first snow’s a lovely thing.

Yes, Mother…we’re going to be skating, or sledding, or skiing or…

Yes. I’m happy, Mother.

I tell you this every time…

[White Bear can be seen throwing snowballs out the window] No, Mother…I still haven’t seen him in daylight without the bearskin.

No, Mother…he’s gentle and kind.

No …I don’t need to know if this awful enchantment is lifted at night, Mother.

No, I still don’t think prying would be right.

[White Bear raises the window sash from outside and mimes his impatience that the phone call is taking so long.]

I don’t know, Mother, what harm it would do to light a candle while he sleeps.

I don’t know, Mother, if he’s really a hideous monster beneath the bearskin.

Why do you think it’s possible?

[White Bear closes the window and goes back to playing. Torill takes a candle and some matches and hides it under the bed.]

If, Mother, I peek tonight will you stop nagging?

Yes, Mother… I will tell you at once when I’ve seen his face, disenchanted.

Are you satisfied? Yes, Mother.

I love you, too.

Good-bye.

[Torill runs out to White Bear and we see the sun travel across the sky while they sing:] Torill and White Bear: The day will never come that I forget you, because if I sleep, I dream of you.

Night or day, you are just as close and I see you best when darkness comes.

[When the sun sets, Torill and White Bear come back in the house. Moonlight reveals that White Bear removes his skin but his features are indistinct. The two go to bed and the music quiets. White Bear snores gently. We can see Torill rising and lighting her candle. She shines it on White Bear’s face – and he is, of course, a fine young man.]

Torill [enamored and pleased, sings tenderly): The day will never come that I forget you, because if I sleep, I dream of you.

Night or day, you are just as close and I see you best ….

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White Bear: [waking with a start] What has burned me?

Three scalding drops of hot wax…

Oh! Torill, what have you done?

You’ve undone me!

Torill: Best beloved! I’ve lived a year in your bosom. Surely, now, I can see you face to face….?

White Bear: How you’ve burned me!

Three scalding drops of hot wax…

Oh! Torill, what have you done?

You’ve undone me!

Torill: Best beloved! I only wanted to see you face to face…

White Bear: How you’ve burned me!

If only we’d lived a single year in trust, the enchantment would have been broken!

Oh! Torill.

Torill: Best beloved! I am so sorry…

White Bear: Oh! Torill, what have you done?

You have undone me.

The trolls claim me!

[White Bear flings the bearskin over his shoulders and takes off, into the night. Torill is stunned.]

Scene four, Torill is wandering outside, wrapped in a cloak. It is the end of winter – bleak, wet, and barren.

She is clearly exhausted and despairing and falls beneath a tree, weeping. Three old women enter and arrange themselves around her. One has a basket of golden apples and a vegetable peeler. One has a carding comb and a basket of wool. And the third has a spinning wheel. Each settles downs and begins her task. Torill looks up when they sing.

Three neighbors:

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It was I and it was you and it was naughty Mary who shrank the cloth in a bath of suds and now the coat is tiny.

It was I and it was you and it was naughty Mary.

Was it you, or was it I or was it contrite Mary who stretched the coat this way and that and made it right and ready?

Was it you or was it I or was it contrite Mary?5 Torill: What am I to do?

I’ve been outside for days, looking under every stone to find my errant husband.

Three neighbors: It was I and it was you and it was naughty Mary who lit the lamp on a winter night and now the bed is empty.

It was I and it was you and it was naughty Mary.

Torill: What am I to do?

I can’t go on this way.

Neither east nor west, it seems, reveals my errant husband.

Neighbor with the Apple: Were I going to the east, child, past the rising of the sun, I would carry a golden apple in my pocket for the journey.

[She gives Torill one.]

Neighbor with the Carding Comb Were I going to the west, child, past the setting of the moon, I would take a silver carder to comb wool into lustrous fiber.

[She gives hers to Torill.]

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Bråkar-Mari: http://barnesanger.wikispaces.com/Br%C3%A5kar-Mari

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Neighbor with the Spindle Were the four winds at my back, child, I would spin another story; I would mend the piece that’s broken.

There is much that you can salvage.

[She also gives hers to Torill.]

Torill: What am I to do?

You speak in riddles.

Tell me plainly, please, where I’m to find my errant husband?

Three neighbors: It was I and it was you and it was naughty Mary who east of the sun and west of the moon went searching for a marriage.

It was I and it was you and it was naughty Mary.

[The Four Winds (East, West, South, North) enter, dancing with long streamers. They sweep up Torill and twirl her about in all directions, while the Three neighbors sing:} There you go and there go I and there goes one more lady who spilled the milk and spoilt the cheese and left the cream to curdle.

Off with you and off with me… no weeping by the puddle.

Scene five, by the palace of the Trolls.

Torill comes twirling in, alone – as if pushed by a gust of wind – stands before the hideous front door of the place, a bit bewildered.

Above and to one side, we see a palace porch, surrounded by an ugly balustrade. White Bear is in a distant part of the porch, being poked and prodded by the Troll Mother, as if she’s trying to force him to do something. He shakes his head and turns his back in an attempt to get away from her but she is merciless.

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Meanwhile, the Troll Princess, Ragnhild, leans over a porch balustrade and sings. For her part, Torill pulls out the golden apple and absentmindedly plays with it.

Ragnhild [she has a “distinctive voice”] There’s one I love who loves me not.

How very hard my lot.

But I shall make him marry me and, then, I’ll make him so sorry!

I’ll rule that wretched snot!

[Ragnhild notices Torill] Hey you! Pale beggar girl down there with ragged dress and stringy hair, yes, you – I want that golden toy.

It just might make the perfect ploy to please a grouchy, pouty bear.

[Torill throws her the apple and Ragnhild offers it to the White Bear, who’s been sitting in a corner. He won’t take it but the sight excites him and he tries to go to the balustrade see from where it came. Ragnhild restrains him and Troll Mother goes to look over the balustrade, looks down and sees Torill, using the silver carding comb to brush out her braid.]

Troll Mother: [she also has a “distinctive voice”] Hey you! Dirty girl with the silver comb!

Why are you loitering about my home?

Yes, you – I want that carder now.

It just might scratch an itchy brow And soften a heart of stone.

[Torill throws her the carder and Troll Mother tries to brush White Bear’s fur but he reacts in rage until he sees the comb and then tries even harder to go to the porch edge and see over.]

Oh, stop your twitching and settle down.

You’d think he’d never seen a comb…

[Troll Mother finally flings down the brush in irritation; White Bear picks it up and clutches it to his chest.

Ragnhild and Troll Mother both lean over the balustrade and see that Torill has begun to spin with her drop spindle .]

Troll Mother and Ragnhild: Hey you! You pathetic, thin scarecrow: have you nothing better to do?

Yes, you – what do you need with a spindle?

Hand it over. Perhaps there is someone here With the skill to spin scorn into gold.

[Torill throws the spindle up to her and Troll Mother tries to show Ragnhild how to use the thing. When White Bear sees it, he takes advantage of their distraction and runs to the balustrade to see Torill below.

White Bear turns on the two, startled trolls: White Bear: Here is the deal: you want a contract?

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I have it. My shirt is covered with stains – three tallow drops by my heart that make it loveless. Only a woman who has the skill to wash this clean can be my wife.

Troll Mother and Ragnhild: Only a woman who has the skill to wash that clean can be your wife?

White Bear: Here is the deal: you want a wedding?

You wash this spotless…but if you can’t, you lift the enchantment.

Troll Mother and Ragnhild: We wash this spotless…but if we can’t, we must lift the enchantment?

White Bear: Do we have a deal?

Troll Mother and Ragnhild: How we want a wedding!

White Bear: Do we have a deal?

Troll Mother and Ragnhild: Should we dare to risk it?

White Bear: Only the woman who has the skill to wash this clean will be my wife.

Troll Mother and Ragnhild: We can do this! Take off your shirt and hand it over.

[The bear removes his shirt and Ragnhild quickly does everything her mother tells her; meanwhile, Torill climbs up the wall of the troll palace and watches everything from outside the balustrade. Also, townspeople are coming along, watching and pointing with great curiosity.]

Troll Mother: Ragnhild, fetch enough hot water to melt the wax; pour it in a bowl – that’s it – and dip the shirt, up and down.

No one can wash a shirt like a troll!

[Ragnhild pulls out the wet shirt, which is now grey. Troll Mother is nervous but undaunted.]

That’s it, Ragnhild, nice and grey – just as we want it, before we add the soap and the bleach – then wring and beat the shirt like mad!!

[Ragnhild does all she’s told with great energy but when she pulls out the wet shirt, it has turned black.]

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White Bear: We have a deal: Only the woman who has the skill to wash this clean will be my wife.

Townspeople: There was a deal: Only the woman who has the skill to clean a shirt can be his wife. It’s a metaphor.

Troll Mother: Well, since she doesn’t exist, dear bear, I think you are in for a lonely life.

White Bear: We have a deal: maybe there’s someone else around…

Townspeople: A deal’s a deal: maybe the one who made the stain can make good the second time round?

[Torill climbs over the balustrade, takes the bowl and shirt, singing as she washes:] Torill: My love was sleeping, my love was sleeping In his silken bed.

Love is not dangerous If we just go carefully But then one can, But then one can Never be quite sure.

[Torill raises the shirt and it’s beautifully clean again.]

Townspeople: A deal’s a deal: the stain is gone and the spell broken.

[White Bear removes his skin and is himself. The townspeople pour over the balustrade and crown Torill and her disenchanted prince with garlands of flowers.

Ragnhild and her mother try to push them away but they are themselves driven out of town by the Four Winds. The Townspeople cover the Troll Palace with vines and more flowers – transforming it as much as possible.

Torill and White Bear: The day will never come that I forget you, because if I sleep, I dream of you.

Night or day, you are just as close and I see you best in my heart.

Townspeople:

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The day will never come that you’re forgotten, because asleep, you live in every dream.

Night or day, you are always close – within a loving heart, best seen.

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