Nele and Little Lumpi

Once upon a time, there was a little girl named Nele. She was five years old, with blond, curly hair and blue eyes, and her room was crammed with all sorts of things: little pieces of furniture, stuffed cats, shaggy stuffed dogs, building blocks, paintboxes, colouring books and a toy stove with tiny pots and coffee jugs. At the very top of the shelf lay a flashlight, which Nele needed during the day whenever there was a cave beneath the table or a treasure hidden behind the curtain.

In the daytime, Nele’s room was a lovely room where the sun shone across the carpet and every toy looked exactly as it was supposed to look. The stuffed cats drank from the tiny cups, the doll went for rides in her pram, and sometimes Africa lay just behind the chair. When Mama turned out the light in the evening, long shadows grew along the walls, and then Nele did not like her room nearly as much.

Every evening, Mama tucked her into bed, pulled the blanket up beneath her chin and kissed her on the forehead. “Good night, my little Nele,” she said before switching off the big light and leaving the room. Only the small lamp on the bedside table remained, and its glow barely reached the other end of the room.

Nele pulled the blanket up over her nose and looked at the dark walls. The dress on the chair looked like a tall woman in a wide skirt, the curtain stirred beside the window, and behind the toy box lay a black corner that had not been there during the day. Even the stuffed cat on the shelf had suddenly grown enormous ears in the darkness.

Nele closed her eyes and tried to fall asleep, just as Mama had told her. Then something rustled by the window, and a moment later she heard a strange noise right beside her bed. Was something there, perhaps a monster?

More than anything, Nele wanted to call for Mama, though tonight she wanted to manage all by herself. The flashlight lay at the top of the shelf, and to fetch it she would have had to climb out of bed and pass the black corner. So she stayed beneath her blanket until one tear rolled down her cheek, followed at once by another.

“Why are you crying?” someone asked.

Nele looked towards the door because she thought Mama had come back, though no one was standing there. Then she discovered a small white shadow sitting at the foot of her bed among all the dark ones. “I’m right here with you,” he said.

“Who are you?” Nele whispered, pushing the blanket down a little. The white shadow moved closer to the lamp, and now a small blue-and-purple dragon sat before her. “My name is Lumpi, and I am your guardian shadow dragon,” he introduced himself, “and every night I watch over you.”

“My guardian shadow dragon? There is no such thing,” Nele said. Lumpi looked down at himself and replied, “Of course there is. Otherwise, I could hardly be sitting on your blanket.” Nele had no answer to that.

Just imagine, she had a little dragon of her very own who sat beside her every night, and until that evening she had never noticed him. Lumpi was clearly very good at hiding. Nele moved closer so that she could take a proper look at him.

Lumpi had funny ears and two small pointed dragon teeth with which he could chase away bad dreams. He was small, blue and purple and rather cuddly, and whenever someone pressed his tummy, he made a very peculiar squeaking sound. Naturally, Nele had to try it at once.

“Pööp,” went Lumpi’s tummy.

Nele pulled back her finger in surprise, pressed again and heard a second “Pööp,” this one a little higher. The third time made her laugh, and after that she pressed Lumpi’s tummy at least fifteen times. At last, the little dragon placed both paws over it and asked her to stop, or else he would still be squeaking at breakfast.

Nele wiped the tears from her cheeks and left Lumpi’s tummy alone. “Are you no longer afraid?” he asked, looking at the shadows on the wall. Nele looked at the tall woman on the chair and answered, “I am still a tiny bit afraid.”

Then Lumpi tilted one of his funny ears and had an idea. “Imagine that the shadows are not black. Imagine that they are white,” he suggested. “Just look again.”

Nele looked at the great shadow on the chair, and it grew brighter and brighter. The wide skirt gathered rows of ruffles, a crown appeared above it, and the dark woman became the loveliest white princess dress Nele had ever seen. “That belongs to me!” she cried.

She wrapped the blanket around her shoulders and stood tall in her bed. Princess Nele appeared upon the wall, wearing a crown on her blond curls and a long white dress whose ruffles almost reached the floor. When Nele turned around, the princess turned with her.

Naturally, Lumpi wanted a crown as well, for he could hardly sit beside a princess without one. His white shadow crown slipped straight over one of his ears, and during his first bow it fell onto the pillow. Nele placed it back on his head, though at his next bow it fell off again.

“That is how dragon crowns are supposed to behave,” Lumpi explained. Nele believed him because she had never seen a dragon crown before and could not possibly know any better. Then they played princess and prince while the pillow became a throne and the blanket became a magnificent ballroom.

Prince Lumpi strode through the ballroom with his crooked crown as proudly as though he owned a hundred castles and just as many golden carriages. Every second time he bowed, the crown fell off, and each time Princess Nele placed it back upon his head. Before long they were laughing so much that Lumpi had to hold on to the bedpost.

The curtain lifted beside the window, and from its white shadow appeared a horse with a long mane. Right beside it sat a little shadow cat, washing her paw and gazing around the room so grandly that one might have thought everything in it belonged to her. The horse was waiting for Princess Nele and Prince Lumpi, and naturally the cat wished to come along.

So they rode through the whole room, past a tall shadow castle and over a white mountain that, during the day, had only been Nele’s pillow. The shadow cat ran behind them, and above the castle appeared first ten stars, then a hundred and finally at least a thousand. Nele began to count them, though after six Lumpi went straight to forty-two, so they had to begin all over again.

That did not matter at all, for the stars still shone even when Lumpi counted them wrongly. The white horse galloped across the wall, the shadow cat leapt after it, and the princess dress rustled through the ballroom. The dark shadows had become horses, cats, dresses and stars, and Nele could hardly bear to look away.

After a while, Princess Nele and Prince Lumpi grew tired. The horse stopped beside the window, the cat curled up beneath the stars, and the white dress hung quietly upon the wall. Nele crept beneath her blanket while Lumpi settled himself comfortably beside her on top of it.

“Will you stay with me?” Nele asked, moving her hand towards him. Lumpi placed his little paw inside it. “I’m right here with you,” he murmured, closed his eyes and began to snore at once. “Chrrpff … chrrpff.”

Nele listened to the little snores until her eyes closed. The lamp glowed quietly on the bedside table, the white shadow horse stood beside the window, and the cat slept beneath the stars. And there Nele and Little Lumpi lay together, sleeping soundly until morning.