Hi all, I love to collect Stavangerflint plates and have purchased a few on ebay over the years. The other night I was looking on ebay and found one. I asked Olaf to translate what it said, then I looked at the picture of the back of the plate and it said Stolt Margit. I decided there and then I had to have the plate. I could buy it for $12, but instead bid and got it for $8. You can view it here: <http://cgi.ebay.com/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?ViewItem&item=2668518089&ssPageName=AD ME:B:EOAB:US:6> I am happy as a kid at Christmas, especially when Olaf translated the story he found below and also a song that is written about Stolt Margit! :-)) I finally have met another Margit! Margit Margit Hjukse    In the place once called Saude Parish, there lived a maiden, on the splendid farm Hjukse in Hjuksebø. Her name was Margit,  and the legend about her has inspired both verse and song. It is not exactly known when she lived but some would believe it was in the 1700s, even though the melody has a sort of medieval sound about it. Historian Jon Hvitsand in Bø believes he has found that she was a daughter Torstein Sud-Aurud and Ingrid Halvorsdottir Jønsi. Margit seems later to have gotten a man by the name of Tord as stepfather, when her real father died in 1776.    Margit made herself ready one day to go to church, says the legend. She saddled her horse, and set off in the direction of Bø. But when she came to a rocky cliff, there stood the Mountain King and spoke to her, with his long, white beard. The Mountain King tempted her with a silver-gilded chair, then he gave her two red skirts. Twelve maidens came and combed her hair and the thitreenth set a gold crown upon her head. The Mountain King then poured her the finest wine -the elixir of forgetfulness- and this bewitched Margit so she remained in the mountain with the Mountain King as husband. Here she bore three sons and daughters.     But one day, after a time, she heard the church bells from Bø. They awakened Margit, and she longed to go home to her family. She asked for permission to go to visit what she had missed. Permission she got, but she could not be away for more than an hour or two.    Margit went to Hjukse, and there she met her father, who saw to his dear daughter for the first time in 14 years. "I have wept for you so many a tear," said Tord Hjukse and set Margit down in her mother's chair, which now stood empty. Margit felt so happy to be at home and free, at the same time she felt a deep sorrow about her mother, who had died in grief over the years.     She was away much longer than was permitted by the Mountain King. But then came the Mountain King as quick as a flash, and asked: "Are you not coming home to the children tonight?" To resist the Mountain King was impossible for Margit. He had too much power over her. So Margit had to leave her home and father for ther last time. "Fare well now, then, all in my home. Now I will never come to you again." And so, they went back into the mountain.     This is a powerful story, and one must be careful about de-mythifying such things. But a de-mythification of this legend, which does not diminish the story is this: Margit was, as is knowwn, from a grand farm, with proud and religious parents. In the communities at that time, dowries were important and Margit, as the only heir to the farm, certainly gave great expectations and wishes as to who she was to marry. Probably she would have chosen one of the Christian and rich sons of yeoman in the community, so that both Margit and the  Hjukse were won.    But Margit did not follow this expectation. She fell in love with a heathen and cotter under Svalbjør on the moors, and she wished to marry him. But her parents absolutely forbade this, and would rather disown her if she wished to do so. Margit was certain of herself, and one day she readied herself and said she would ride to the church in Bø. In this Margit lied, for she did not ride there, but up to her lover at Svalbjør. There she remained and had several children in short order. Nor did Margit and the cotter marry, and they lived as her parents saw it, in great sin and shame.    After a time, she got the urge to go home to see her parents. Perhaps they would be happy to see their grandchildren. But when she got there, she was not allowed to go back up to the heathen at Svalbjør. But the cotter came and brought her back. This the parents did not like at all. The parents had made up a story that she had been bewitched, to explain away that it had gone so badly with their daughter. Later Margit died in childbirth. The cotter went to the priest and asked to have her buried in consecrated ground, but the priest said that she had not held to the church in her life, so she could die as she had lived.    Musician Lars Fykerud (1860-1902) from Sauherad was very entranced with the story about Margit Hjukse, either for one reason or the other, or perhaps both the stories he had heard. Perhaps he recognized in himself as bewitched by the music he worked on. He composed a stirring melody of the legend and called it 'Margit Hjukse.' Song: Margit Hjukse Stolt Margjit ho reidde seg til kyrkja å gå, tidi fell meg longe, so tok ho den vegen til fjølle låg. Det er eg som ber sorgi so tronge. Proud Marit readied herself to go to church, in good time, so she took where the mountain way. It is I who bears the grief so heavily. Og som ho no kom fram med bergjevegg, då kom bergjekongen med det lange, kvite skjegg. The as she came to a mountain cliff, the came the mountain king with his long, white beard. Og bergjekongen tukka fram sylvforgylte stol: "set deg der stolt Margjit og kvil din fot!" And the mountain king brought forth a solver-gilded chair: "Sit here, Proud Margit, and rest your feet!" Så var ho i berget i åri dei ni, og ho fødde sønir og døtrar tri. Then she remained in the mountain for years nine, and she bore sons and daughters three. Og Margjit ho sat med sin handtein og spann, då høyrde ho Bøherads kyrkjeklokkur klang. And Margit she sat with a spindle and span, when she heard Bøherad's church bells ring. Stolt Margit ho tala til bergjekongen so: "Å må eg få lov til min fader å gå?" Proud Margit she spoke to the mountain king so: "May I be allowed to go to my father?" "Å du må få lov til din fader å sjå, men du må 'kje vera burte hot ein time hell tvo." Yes, you may go your father to see, but you must not be away more than an hour or two.! Å då som ho kom der gangand' i gård, hennar sæle fader ute for henne står. And then as she came walking onto the farm, her blessed father stood outside. So leidde han inn stolt Margjit med glede og gråt, so sette han henne i sin moders stol. Then he led in Proud Margit with happiness and tears, and set her in her mother's chair. Men då kom bergjekongen snøgt som ein eid: "Kjeme du inkje heimatt til bonni i kveld?" But then came the mountain king quick as a wink: "Come you not home to prayers tonight?" "Fare no vel då alle i min heim! no kjeme eg alli til dikkon meir." "Fare now well then all in my home! now come I never to you more." Stolt Margjit ho sette seg på gangaren grå, ho gret fleire tårir hell hesten ha hår Proud Margit, set off on her gray way, she wept more tears than a horse has hairs. Music to the song: <http://home.t-online.de/home/pheld/1skand.htm>