Showing results by author "Andersen Hans Christian" in All Categories

Enter a magical world of adventure, kindness and timeless lessons with this enchanting collection of 8 classic tales from two of the most beloved storytellers: The Brothers Grimm and Hans Christian Andersen. From the enchanted forests of Grimm to the mystical lands of Andersen, each story is filled with wonders and imagination. Whether it's the tale of Cinderella's bravery, the dreams of The Little Mermaid or the surprising transformation of The Frog Prince, these fairy tales are sure to entertain, inspire and soothe the youngest of listeners.

Make bedtime the best part of the day with this delightful collection of 25 five-minute stories, specially written to help children wind down, relax, and fall asleep with a smile. Each story in 5 Minute Bedtime Stories for Children is the perfect length for busy evenings, gentle enough to calm little minds, and packed with heartwarming characters, magical moments, and comforting themes. Whether it's one story or a few, this collection makes bedtime easy, enjoyable, and full of imagination.

Verstoßen vom eigenen Nest und von allen Tieren verspottet, irrt das kleine, graue Entlein einsam von Teich zu Teich und stolpert von einer Demütigung in die nächste. Doch mit tapferem Herzen und unerschütterlicher Sehnsucht nach Zugehörigkeit trotzt es Kälte, Hunger und Spott – bis ein Wunder seine wahre, strahlende Gestalt enthüllt. Dank der berührenden Märchenstimme Brigitte Carlsens erblüht dieses zeitlose Andersen-Meisterwerk zauberhaft in neuem Glanz!

Une princesse gourmande, devenue meilleure cuisinière du royaume, écoute comme elle cuisine : avec art et délectation. Mais quand son père décide de la marier, la surnommée " Rebondie " met les prétendants au défi d'écouter davantage qu'elle. Princes, seigneurs, chevaliers, nobles, marchands, valets... Tous échouent. La mayonnaise prendra-t-elle avec Petit Jean, le dernier des prétendants ?

Near the shores of the great Belt, which is one of the straits that connect the Cattegat with the Baltic, stands an old mansion with thick red walls. I know every stone of it," says the Wind. "I saw it when it was part of the castle of Marck Stig on the promontory.

There was a man who once had known a great many new fairy tales, but he had forgotten them, he said. The fairy tale that used to come to visit him of its own accord no longer came and knocked at his door; and why didn't it come any more? It's true that for a year and a day the man hadn't thought of it, hadn't really expected it to come and knock; and it certainly wouldn't have come anyway, for outside there was war and, inside, the misery and sorrow that war brings with it.

Far away in the land to which the swallows fly when it is winter, dwelt a king who had eleven sons, and one daughter, named Eliza. The eleven brothers were princes, and each went to school with a star on his breast, and a sword by his side.

It was in the latter part of January, and a heavy snowfall was driving down. It whirled through the streets and the lanes, and the outsides of the windowpanes seemed plastered with snow. It fell down in masses from the roofs of the houses. A sudden panic seized the people. They ran, they flew, and they fell into each other's arms and felt that at least for that little moment they had a foothold. The coaches and horses seemed covered with sugar frosting, and the footmen stood with their backs to the carriages, to protect their faces from the wind.

Once upon a time, there was a proud and wicked prince who thought only about how he might conquer all the nations of the earth and make his name a terror to all mankind. He plunged forth with fire and sword; his soldiers trampled down the grain in the fields and put the torch to the peasant's cottage so that the red flames licked the very leaves from the trees, and the fruit hung roasted from black and charred limbs.

On the hill there stood a windmill stately to look at and very proud of itself. "But I'm not proud at all," it said, "though I'm much enlightened, outside and inside. On the outside I have the sun and moon, and for inward use, too; and I also have wax candles, oil lamps, and tallow candles. Yes, I daresay I'm enlightened. I'm a thinking individual and so well built that I'm a pleasure to look at. I have a good windpipe in my chest, and I have four wings placed upon my head, just under my hat.

Hans Christian Andersens Märchen bezaubern, betören und berühren. Außergewöhnliche Figuren und Charaktere aus dem Märchen-Universum versetzen Sie in eine besondere Atmosphäre aus Spannung und Neugierde, in welcher Sie manch Überraschungen erwarten. Lassen Sie sich entführen und verführen in eine zauberhafte Welt, geprägt von magischen Momenten, mystischer Moral und Menschlichkeit.

A couple of large ships were sent up toward the North Pole to discover the boundaries of land and sea and how far it would be possible for the human race to penetrate in that direction.

The country around the town of Kjöge is very bare. The town itself lies by the seashore, which is always beautiful, although it might be more beautiful than it is, because all around are flat fields, and a forest a long way off. But one always finds something beautiful in the spot that is one's own home, something for which one longs, even when one is in the most wonderful spot in the world.

Yes, in a thousand years people will fly on the wings of steam through the air, over the ocean! The young inhabitants of America will become visitors of old Europe. They will come over to see the monuments and the great cities, which will then be in ruins, just as we in our time make pilgrimages to the tottering splendors of Southern Asia. In a thousand years they will come!

Have you ever seen "a maiden"? I am referring to what road pavers call a "maiden," a thing used for ramming down the paving stones. "She" is made entirely of wood, broad at the bottom, with iron hoops around it, and a stick run through it at the upper, narrower end, which gives the maiden arms.

There came a soldier marching down the high road-one, two! one, two! He had his knapsack on his back and his sword at his side as he came home from the wars. On the road he met a witch, an ugly old witch, a witch whose lower lip dangled right down on her chest.

Belonging to the lordly manor-house was beautiful, well-kept garden, with rare trees and flowers; the guests of the proprietor declared their admiration of it; the people of the neighborhood, from town and country, came on Sundays and holidays, and asked permission to see the garden; indeed, whole schools used to pay visits to it.

The well was deep, and therefore the rope was long; the wheel went around with difficulty when the waterfilled bucket had to be pulled up over the side of the well. The sun could never mirror itself down in the water, no matter how brightly it shone; but as far down as its rays penetrated, green weeds were growing from between the stones.

There is an old fairy tale: "The Thorny Road of Honor was trodden by a marksman named Bryde, to whom came great honor and dignity, but not until after manifold adversities and peril of life." More than one of us had heard that tale in childhood, and perhaps read it in later years, and thought of his own unsung "thorny road" and "manifold adversities." Romance and reality are very nearly alike, but romance has its harmonious ending here on earth, while reality more often delays it and leads us to time and eternity.

On one of the Danish islands, where old thingsteads, the judgment seats of our forefathers, loom up in the cornfields, and mighty trees raise their heads above the beech forests, there lies a little town of low houses with red roofs. In one of these houses strange things were being prepared on the open stove, over the coals and embers. There was boiling in test tubes, mixing and distilling, and pounding of drugs in mortars. An elderly man was in charge of everything.