Tag Archives: climbed

“Trollsielone’s Dream Come True”

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Once there was Trollsielone, who lived a lonely life and had no friends. She was an outcast because she was covered with dead roots and infertile soil. All her mountain neighbors were healthy with plenty of nutrients to sustain tall trees and beautiful flowers to grow. Thus, Trollsielone was always mocked by her appearance and had no one to talk to.

One day, Dally, the excited mountain climber did her usual hike on a rainy day. Trollsielone was patiently waiting for this human to come to her so she can show her how challenging she is. But Dally climbed the mountain to the left of Trollsielone. And when she was done, she went home right away.

One month later, Dally, the excited mountain climber did her usual hike on a rainy day again. Trollsielone was patiently waiting for this human to come to her so she can show her how challenging she is. But once again, Dally did not climb Trollsielone, she climbed the mountain to the right of Trollsielone. Trollsielone was once again disappointed.

One year passed, no human ever climbed Trollsielone. She gave up all her hopes and expectations on wishing that someone would climb her. However, on this day, the weather was extremely beautiful with the dazzling sun. Trollsielone was cheered slightly by the weather and amazed at the beautiful nature scenery of the sky. Just then, Dally the excited mountain climber came by to do her usual hike. However, because over a year she trained herself well with climbing mountains, she wanted to try something challenging for once.

And thus, she decided to climb Trollsielone. Trollsielone was super cheerful and happy. Afterwards when Dally was finished hiking, she said “all this time I never expected this mountain to be the best hike of my life, I guess I was just misled by its scary look, I will definitely come again!”

And with this, Trollsielone was visited by Dally more and more often, and as time passed by, Dally brought more friends to hike too. Eventually, Trollsielone became a popular site for climbers, the government even decided to have a makeover of the mountain so it would look more alive and pleasant through adding more trees and making the soil fertile. With this, Trollsielone became the most beautiful mountain there is and stood out amongst her neighbors. No mountain troll ever mocked at her again, but rather they all wanted Trollsielone as a friend and were nice to her ever since.

—PVCity

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When I woke up this morning, something felt odd. There was some sort of stench in the air. Something was off about the day and I intended to find out what. I went and told my parents immediately but they were sleeping and told me they did not want to be bothered for the next several hours so I went on my way to figure out what the stench was.

I left my burrow and went around back to the shortcut that led to the mountains. It was very foggy and I could not see much. So, I climbed up the trees to get a better view. And there it was. The largest beet I ever did see. But, what was it doing plucked on its side? I had to figure out why. So I jumped through the trees to get a better view of it and it looked like these miniature bunnies were chomping away at it! The nerve of them! I could feel the anger boiling within me so I began to run over to the beetroot yelling at the bunnies. “Get away from the beet! Go away, SKIT, YOU PIECES OF SCUM!” They all started dispersing and hopping away and I felt bad. I could tell they were all confused and scared because I was yelling but I was too late to stop myself from yelling at them.

All I wanted was for them to take the beet somewhere else because I didn’t want the smell around my home. It was a very potent smell. I would have even helped carry the beet for them since I’m bigger and they would need help. But, I just scared them off. I felt so awful I slid down the tree and wept for hours.

—Sarah Jung

“For the Love of Cookies”

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In the isolated green mountains of British Columbia, lived a single peculiar looking creature called the troll. This creature had the uncanny ability to morph into whatever shape it pleases. Most often, he took the form of a boulder, with crevices for eyes and a bed of green moss for his hair. This troll is a playful creature, who fancied humorous trickery and jests from time to time.

One day, the troll was approached, in his boulder form, by a rock climber seeking a new route to explore. The troll had not encountered a human being before this, much less one clad in climbing gear. He eyed the climber, alarmed at the white cap on his head and the length of rope thrown around his shoulder. While the climber scanned his surroundings for a suitable route, the troll morphed into squirrel, to better examine this curious being. The troll proceeded to follow the climber the entire day, and was eventually noticed and fed some chocolate chip cookies. Having tasted cookies for the first time, the troll became smitten with these heavenly snacks.

It was because of these cookies that the troll followed the climber home in the form of a squirrel, riding on the roof of the climber’s shiny moving rock with the wind in his fur. The car entered the city and the troll was awed by the reflective rocks that stood higher than his favorite oak tree, the number of shiny moving rocks in organized lines, and most of all, the noise emitted from these human beings. The humans, on the other hand, were dumbstruck at the sight of a large grey squirrel clinging on to the roof of a Jeep. The climber eventually arrived at his house in the suburbs, where the troll shakily climbed down and collapsed in exhaustion.

For the next few days, the troll took the form of a branch on the maple tree of the climber’s home, staring through the windows. The troll by now has recognized the daily routines of breakfast, work, lunch, work, dinner, and shower. The troll was always excited when the climber ate. The troll would press his eye, in this case, a maple leaf, against the glass window for a glimpse of the daily menu. It was a month later that the troll was finally overcome by his lust for cookies, and decided to morph into a golden retriever.

The golden retriever puppy was happily received by the climber. The troll was thus taken into the climber’s home, and made a pet. Of this the troll didn’t mind, so long as he was receiving cookies for being a “good boy”. Yet, as a year passed, the troll found his craving for cookies to be unfulfilled, and decided to take his passion to the next step. The troll decided to take human form in the daytime, morphing into a park boulder at night. He began with a jobs at different bakeries, where he was repeatedly fired for eating too many cookies during break. Finally, the troll accumulated enough money to begin his own cookie shop, which he named “Uncle Troll’s biscuits”. It is there that the troll lived for the next 100 years, perfecting his chocolate chip cookie recipe and living in utter trollish bliss for the rest of his life.

—Angel Huang

“Trollrydning”

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Far into the woodlands that border Millifjord, it is said, there is a glade where trees grow no more. The glade is bordered by peculiar rock formations covered in smelly moss and shrubs and mildews. Townspeople called this glade Trollrydning, as legend told that the strange boulders had once been ancient trolls—now petrified by the sun. But these were children’s tales, and brave boys like Kili did not believe in them. So it happened, that one chilly autumn evening, right before dusk, Kili went out looking for dry bark. At the borders of the woodlands, he heard a rustle amongst the leaves. He gazed into the thick green foliage and squinted, but could not see a thing; he could, however, hear a strange crunching and crackling. Curious, as all young boys are, Kili followed the sound into the far deeps of the forest, into Trollrydning; he hesitated and thought of going back, but then, as clouds moved and the last ray of moonlight hit the glade, Kili saw a gigantic dead crunched-over tree in its midst. Happy to have found some dry bark, the boy ran with his little hatchet. As he approached the tree, however, he noticed that it was an odd one, which had the same smelly shrubs and moss growing all over its curved trunk. The boy climbed the warped tree trunk, but the tree screeched and rustled and lift a big deformed head up to reveal a huge troll who had been sluggishly napping and scratching in the midst of the gale! The troll grabbed Kili with its warty shrubby hand and examined the boy with its large slimy eye. Kili was as petrified as the boulders that surrounded the gale; then the troll huffed and slowly put Kili down and thought of him no more. Relieved Kili ran home, but as he ran, he thought that the troll seemed rather sad. So, Kili walked back slowly to where the troll stood moping in the midst of the glade. The boy asked the troll why he was so sad, and the troll, slowly and lethargically looked down to the boy and told him a long story.

The troll said that he and his family were cave trolls, and as such, had always lived within the mountains that surrounded Milifjorn and never knew sunshine nor wind. One day, his seven children, curious as all young trolls are, ventured out into the woodlands, and never came back. The troll searched for them in and out, through every tunnel in every mountain, until it found a little crack, only about the size of an oak, and thought perhaps its children had gone out. It looked far and wide in this strange woodland area, until it found the glade where his petrified children stood. He told Kili they were lazy and would not be woken up and so it came back every night to scratch their noses (since everyone knew that nose-shrugs were very itchy). The troll’s story prolonged throughout the night, as trolls spoke slow and sluggish, but Kili listened patiently. And so it happened, that by the time it finished its story, the sun came out and petrified the huge troll into stone as well. Kili felt sad about the troll, but then realized it would now be with his family for many years to come. So Kili came back to Trollrydning now and them, to scratch the trolls’ noses, until he grew up and thought it children’s stories and forgot all about it.

—Katia Fernández

“The Misjudged Tromsø Troll and the Helpful Norwegian Boy”

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Axel, a small boy who lived in Tromsø, Northern Norway, had just had his 16th birthday. He was well built for a young man of his age, and his crystal blue eyes glistened even in the darkest of winter nights. His mother and father owned a small bit of land tucked away at the foot of a large mountain facing the vast, mysterious Norwegian Sea. Axel would climb the mountain during much of his childhood, and look out across the empty waters in search of sea-battered Vikings on their exciting and eventful journeys. He dreamed of joining them one day.

But he knew his duty lay at his family’s home. He had to stay and help with the fields and cattle – his mother and father wouldn’t be able to do it alone. He could only day-dream of the far away places those ships could take him to. He could only dream of the lush, green forests, and freshwater springs that may be found on the other side of the mountain. His golden locks blew in the wind as he sat atop a small ledge protruding from the mountain. He looked across the sea and said thought to himself aloud, “One day, I will leave Tromsø and go on some great adventure.”

The rock beneath him began to tremble. Axel jumped up in surprise. He braced himself for the possibility of a bear or monstrous creature lurking behind him. No such creature appeared. He began to drop his hands at his sides, when the trembling started up again – this time much more significantly than before. The slab of rock that Axel was sitting on began to lift itself. Axel nimbly hopped into a near-by tree, frightened that a bear might be coming out from under the ledge.

The rock kept lifting itself up until it was standing vertically. A face, dotted with small boulders and shrubs, extended from the other side of the rock slab – the truly and utterly ugly face of a mountain troll. It had a large, drooping nose, and sad, half-closed eyes that seemed to have never seen the sunlight. Its mouth gnawed on a few falling sticks from the shaken trees above. Axel, still perched in the nearby tree, observed with awe-struck eyes. A gasp escaped from his small lips. The troll turned slowly to where the sound had come from. He brought a large tree-trunk arm up to his rock-slab forehead and scratched with his root-like fingers. He spoke with a deep, rumbling voice that shook the trees and gravel around him.

“Yes, I too would like to travel. To leave this desolate mountain in Tromsø and be one with the southern sea winds.” He looked Axel straight in the eyes and continued to gnaw on the branches and leaves protruding from his mouth, lazily and sleepily he slowed the circular motion of his jaw. Axel, still frozen with fright and surprise, only managed a muttered reply.

“Your-you’re… You’re a troll! You’re a Tromsø Troll! The beast – the beast that wanders the Tromsø hills in search for children and livestock!” His eyes widened and he gripped a nearby branch in case he needed a weapon.

“Alas, dear boy, I am not said creature. Your people seem to tell tales of enchantment and exaggeration. I am the Tromsø Troll, but I do not wander nor do I eat children and livestock. That would be rude and unhealthy. No, no. You are mistaken.” The Troll gave an exasperated sigh and turned to face the now-calm Norwegian Sea.

“If you are not the monstrous troll I’ve heard a great deal about, then who are you?” Axel crept down from his perch and approached the Troll, climbed up his rock-slab back and sat near a small shrub on the Troll’s left shoulder.

“I am the Troll of the Tromsø Hills, forever confined to this region because of my duty to the Bodojonk Trolls. It is my task to guard and protect these mountains from harm and danger. I must sit here and keep a watchful eye on the seas, take notice of any suspicious rustle in the leaves of my trees or the movement of the pebbles beneath my feet. I protect you and your family, your cattle and crops, from the Trondersky Trolls, of the Southern region. They hunt these lands. And they destroy anything and everything in their path on their search for food.” The Tromsø Troll spat out his chewed debris and sat back against the weight of the mountain behind him. Axel had to grab onto the Troll’s large tree ears so that he didn’t fall to his death.

“So you are misjudged? My people have thought you to be dangerous and harmful. We send out our best men to hunt for signs of you, for signs of trolls that may come and destroy our seaside village. I must tell them that these are lies!”

“You can tell them what you want, dear boy, but it will not free me of this duty. I must wait here. I am sworn to this mountain. I cannot leave as you one day dream to do.” He let out another long sign, and they weight of his breathe bent all the trees in the valley below.

“Then I, too, shall wait with you, friendly Troll,” Axel said, with a nod of his head.

“Do you really mean it?” The Troll stood up so suddenly that Axel fell to the ground, nearly landing on the jagged rocks below. The Troll swooped his large root-like hands and caught the boy just in time. He scooped him up towards his large, ugly face and spoke softly as to not blow him over with his powerful wind-breathe.

“You would stay here and keep me company during my watch? I am very lonely up here.”

“I will come up once a day, after I’ve herded my cattle, and keep you company until sundown,” Axel promised, with his right hand over his heart.

And this marked the beginning of an unusual – but beautiful – friendship between a small Norwegian boy, and a friendly Tromsø Troll. Today, you can see the Troll’s silhouette in the Tromsø mountains – a slab of grey rock protruding from the face of the cliff and a small human-like rock figure sitting on his left shoulder. Together, they watch the mysterious waters of the Norwegian Sea for unfriendly faces who may threaten their sweet, small town of Tromsø.

—Zoe Arthur