Age‑old Louhi,
dame of Northland,
sat on the floor before her mill,
turning, turning the top stone,
feeding grain through the hole,
slowly grinding the day’s flour.
The millstone rumbled,
the woman grumbled.
Lovely Aila,
maiden of Northland,
sat at the loom,
slinging the shuttle,
banging the beater,
weaving cloth for woollen garments.
The shuttle rang,
the maiden sang.
Outside, the watchdog barked.
Said Louhi to her daughter,
“I have grain to grind,
bread to bake.
Look to the dog,
see what bothers it.”
“Mother,
I have cloth to weave,
yarn to spin.
I can’t spare a moment,
can’t stop for an instant.”
Muttered Louhi,
“Young women are always busy,
even when they lounge in bed.”
She went outside,
walked to the farmyard’s edge.
A red boat sped across the bay,
a red sleigh coursed along the shore.
Louhi rushed inside.
“Daughter, good news!
If my eyes don’t fail me,
Vainamoinen comes to court,
Ilmarinen comes to wed.
No maid ever chose from two such heroes—
Vainamoinen, rich and wise,
Ilmarinen, skilled and handsome.
Which do you prefer?”
“Mother, why choose either?
Do you wish me gone so soon?
Let me stay here,
to stroll through the wood
and dance in the meadow.
A wife’s work starts before dawn,
ends long after dusk.
She has no time to sing to birds,
no chance to pluck the berries.”
Said Louhi,
“This is child’s talk,
not a woman’s.
You can’t stay here forever,
can’t always be a girl!”
“But can’t I be a girl a little longer?
Must every maiden be a wife
before her fifteenth year?”
“It’s true you could wait awhile,” said Louhi.
“But even if you aren’t ready,
we might gain from the ardor of these heroes.
I have a plan.
Daughter, quick,
dress in your finest.
Wear ribbons of red,
ornaments of gold and silver.”
Not long after,
Vainamoinen landed,
jumped from his boat;
Ilmarinen pulled up,
leaped from his sleigh.
Shoulder to shoulder
they rushed through the gate,
strode over the farmyard,
threw open the cabin door,
pushed their way inside.
Then both stopped amazed.
Lovely Aila stood there,
dressed in her finest,
wearing ribbons of red,
ornaments of gold and silver.
Her cheeks glowed,
her eyes danced.
Said Louhi,
“A greeting to the famous heroes!
A welcome to the two great men!
And what could you seek in Northland?”
“Your daughter in marriage,”
said Vainamoinen.
“The maiden as wife,”
said Ilmarinen.
Said Louhi,
“If only there were two of her,
then she could go with both!
But as things are,
a contest must be held.”
“What is the contest?”
asked Vainamoinen.
“You each must make for me a gift,
something never seen before.
I’ll decide whose gift is finest,
whose present has greatest value.”
“And what is the prize?”
asked Ilmarinen.
“The winner asks the maid to marry,
proposes to my fair daughter.”
Warmly smiled the maiden.
Swiftly beat two hearts.