On a cold night between Christmas and New Year, a man set out to walk to the nearby village. It wasn't far, but the snow was so thick that roads, walls, and hedges were hidden, and he soon lost his way. He was glad to find shelter from the wind behind a thick juniper tree. He decided to spend the night there, thinking that when the sun rose, he would be able to see his path again.

He tucked his legs under him like a hedgehog, wrapped himself in his sheepskin, and went to sleep. How long he slept, I can't tell you, but after a while, he felt someone gently shaking him. A stranger whispered, "My good man, get up! If you stay here, you'll be buried in the snow, and no one will ever know what happened to you."

The sleeper slowly raised his head from his furs and opened his heavy eyes. Near him stood a tall, thin man holding a young fir tree taller than himself. "Come with me," said the man. "A little way off, we've made a large fire, and you'll rest much better there than out here." The sleeper didn't wait to be asked twice. He got up and followed the stranger. The snow was falling so fast he couldn't see three steps ahead, but the stranger waved his staff, and the drifts parted before them. Soon they reached a wood and saw the friendly glow of a fire.

"What is your name?" asked the stranger, suddenly turning around.