Tag Archives: eat

“My Kind”

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I was alone the first moment I opened my eyes. There was a dense forest outside my cave that I made my humble abode. The only living things around that I could talk to were the crows. They were wise and kind, I enjoyed their company.

One day I went down to the river bank, the water was still in the early morning and it was the first time I saw myself. I am not soft like the clouds or smooth like a flower petal. In fact, I am quite hard, bumpy and rigid. I would not be surprised if the mountain was my father.

I grew fast, soon I was as tall as the trees that once surrounded my cave. I say once because sometimes small, funny looking creatures would come and cut down some trees. It used to be that they took only five or six, but now they come in packs and create bald spots in the forest. The birds tell me not to get too close to them, they do not like my kind. That was not a problem because their sharp tools scared me, I only watched from afar. ‘Troll’ is what the creatures have named my kind, a wise crow once told me.

I no longer fit in my cave and I also do not become hungry as often. I eat once every three or four days. I catch large animals and I am glad I cannot talk to them. It would be very hard for me to eat them if they were pleading to be let go. The forest is disappearing and I am worried that the creatures will find me. I ask the crows where I could go and they tell me that they used to see some of my kind a few days walk from my cave. They warn me to stay close to the mountain side, not to wander into any fields and to walk quietly. I will eat tonight and leave tomorrow.

—Samantha Yip

“Paspir Forest”

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In the Paspir Forest, there once lived a community of trolls. They were peaceful beings and lived happily in nature and the forest thrived. But then the humans arrived, and they did not like the trolls. They hunted them, mounting their heads atop their fireplaces. Finally, the humans chased the trolls deep into the forest and they continued to hunt them for sport. The trolls feared the humans, but not young Snorky. Instead, Snorky would often wonder why the two communities could not live amongst each other in harmony. He longed for the day when this dream would become a reality.

One day, while Snorky was out looking for some fresh termites to add to the morning oatmeal, he stumbled upon something most alarming. It was a little boy. A human boy! And he was trapped in one of the human’s troll snares. The poor, pathetic looking creature was so tiny! Hardly four feet tall, with skinny arms, tiny ears and nose, and not a single hair on his flat belly! He did not look at all like Snorky, who already at fourteen stood eight feet tall, with his long, lanky arms and thick forearms, large ears and bulbous nose, and proud, extended belly, covered in a thick, luscious coat of grey hair. Snorky was already very handsome in his young age. But this boy was simply revolting to even look at. Nevertheless, Snorky dropped his handful of termites and walked up to the boy.

“Please help me!” cried the teary-eyed little imp, “Please don’t eat me! I’m just a little boy!”
Confused by this, but feeling sorry for the poor creature, Snorky untied him. The little boy thanked him greatly.

“I won’t forget this, Mr. Troll! You are much kinder than what I have been told!” And with that, he ran back towards the human village.

Snorky too returned to his own village, contemplating what the boy had said to him, but no sooner had he returned when a horde of humans came rushing into the village. The trolls were stunned, never before had the humans ever come directly to their village. This was surely the end for them.

Atop the tallest horse was a tall, brutish-looking man and sitting behind him was the little boy Snorky had saved.

“That’s him, Daddy!” the little boy exclaimed, pointing at Snorky.

“You there!” called the man to Snorky, “Speak your name, creature.”

“My name is Snorky,” he answered without the faintest quiver in his voice.

“I am the leader of the human village,” the man announced importantly, “and this boy is my son. He says you saved his life and I intend to repay you. You may ask for one wish and I will see to it that you will be repaid. So what will it be, creature? Gold? New born infants?”

“I am afraid I have no use for either of those things, sir,” Snorky answered, “but there is something that I wish to ask of you.”

“Name it, creature.”

“I wish that the humans would not hunt the trolls anymore,” Snorky said bravely. “We do not deserve to be hunted like animals. I believe that it is possible for us all to live together in peace and harmony.”

The man thought about this for a while before answering. “You have surprised me twice today, troll. First you save my boy, and then you ask for peace. This is not what we have come to expect from trolls.”

“What was it that you expected?” Snorky asked. “We have never harmed humans. We are a peaceful folk.”

“I see,” said the man. “Perhaps our ideas of trolls are not all correct. I will grant you your wish of ceasing the hunts, but I cannot guarantee you peace. Our people have come to fear trolls. Our ancestors depicted you as monsters that must be regularly hunted to deter you from coming too close to our village. If this is not true, then you must show us, but it will take time.” And with that, the man kicked his horse and the horde rode off.

The trolls were still stunned, but Snorky could not have been happier. He had a feeling that today would be forever remembered as the start of something new and amazing. He had the utmost confidence that he was well on his way to making his dream come true.

—E.D. Mayo

“Tommi the Troll”

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He didn’t want to go to school. But as usual, he couldn’t tell his mother why. It would hurt her too much. He dreaded the walk into town, the winding pathway that brought him closer and closer to the site of his daily humiliation. The children there could be so unkind. He wondered if all parents forgot memories of their own childhood. Perhaps that was why they sent their offspring off to school, oblivious to their fate. Like cows for the slaughter. But not everyone was like him, and maybe not every parent remembered the cruelties that came hand in hand with primary school. Not everyone was stared at on the walk to school, or instantly disliked. Not everyone was teased and laughed at for how they looked. Not everyone was twice as tall as his or her classmates, and not everyone had lots more hair than a human eight year-old should have. No one was as ugly as Tommi. His mother told him time and time again, that he wasn’t ugly, he was just a little bit different and that was what made him special. But the children at school said otherwise. He was her special boy, and she had waited for him for a long, long time. She told him, that sometimes people were slow to see good qualities in others, especially those who were a little bit different from them.

“Have a good day my lovely boy.” His mother said giving him a hug. “Do you have your packed lunch?” Tommi nodded, and instinctively patted his little rucksack. Every morning, his mom made him a quail egg sandwich with berry leaves. It was Tommi’s favorite. And everyday Tommi sat alone at lunchtime. He tried to keep out of sight, sitting on a rock under a tall oak tree in the corner of the playground. But his height and broad shoulders made it very difficult to hide. His classmates would stand a short distance away and taunt him. One boy with blond curly hair was their leader and he would hurl remarks that brought howls of laughter from the crowd. To Tommi, they sounded like a pack of loud and hungry wolves. Later that same day, while Tommi sat alone in the shade as usual, the blond boy yelled out, “How’s your baby sandwich, you filthy troll! Did you roast the baby or barbeque it this time!?” The boy’s words and the children’s vicious grins would cut Tommi like knifes. Tommi didn’t eat human babies. He didn’t know why people thought that. He wanted to be human more than anything else in the world. His mother was a kind human lady, with no children of her own, who had found Tommi as a baby, alone and abandoned in the woodlands behind her house. She had raised him as her son and named him after her late husband, who had been well liked and highly respected in town. Not that it mattered to the children in their treatment of Tommi, or their parents who stared at him as he walked to school.

Just then the bell rang, and the crowd of children dispersed as the boys and girls ran back towards the school building. As usual, Tommi waited until the rest of the children were a little bit ahead, before he got up from his rock. The boy with the blond curly hair was running ahead of the pack. He was sprinting, trying to make it to the heavy wooden doors first. Tommi could see what was about to happen. Tommi watched the blond boy gleefully look over his shoulder, to take pleasure in his lead ahead of everybody else. Tommi saw the little bunch of weeds in the grass that the blond boy was running straight towards without watching where he was going, and because of his great speed, their was no time to warn the boy or for him to change direction. The blond boy tripped on the weeds and went sailing through the air, landing with a loud thud. His leg was splayed out at a funny angle and the boy started to wail. Hot tears flooded down his angelic face that was twisted into a look of sheer agony. All the other children stopped, unsure of what to do. No one moved forward to try and help him. At that moment, Tommi bolted across the grassy playground, three times faster than the little blond boy. None of the children had ever seen him run, because he moved slowly to avoid bringing attention to himself. In truth, he was much quicker than any human child, and was at the injured boy’s side in a matter of seconds. The blond boy looked up at Tommi who knelt over the injured child. The boy’s look of agony was replaced with a look of sheer terror and he covered his face with his arms in a pitiful effort to shield himself from the troll child that towered over him. Tommi rested his hands on the boy’s injured leg, and in seconds it shifted back into a more natural position. The blond boy looked up at Tommi in disbelief, who using the rumored magic of the trolls had healed his tormentor’s leg.

From that day forward, Tommi never dreaded walking to school. His walk down the winding path was met with smiles from the townspeople, whose children included him in every schoolyard gathering. And despite his naturally quick speed, Tommi often let the other children win the games they played together.

—Julie O’Connell

“100 Years War”

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Thousands of years ago, trolls and humans existed in harmony. Trolls claimed the mountains and forests that humans could not inhabit, and humans built villages and towns. Trolls were large, burly creatures 3 times the height of humans, and were usually strong and hairy. However, they could not withstand direct sunlight, which would turn them to stone. The trolls helped humans fell trees and gather metals to build all the houses of the village; the humans made delicious feasts and clothing for the trolls. For hundreds of years they existed in peace, offering each other their expertise and skills.

In the village of Barham, by the dense Askam forest, lived a young and impetuous man named Erik. He always pointed out other people’s faults without consideration of their feelings, earning dislike from many of the villagers. Now in the minds of the trolls and humans, they thought the other to be very ugly. The trolls thought humans were sickeningly pale, with blindingly white teeth, and that they were all so stick thin and tiny. The humans thought trolls were smelly, overly hairy, with abnormally big bellies, dirty nails and lack of hair on them. One day when Erik was strolling along the forest he encountered one of the ugliest trolls, Gunnar. Unable to hold back, he spoke at great lengths about how ugly and revolting he was. Gunnar was so livid, he grabbed Erik and tossed him into his mouth. At that moment, he realized how delicious human flesh was, and it was unlike anything he had ever tasted. For days and nights Gunnar thought about this unforgettable flavor, until one night he could no longer resist the urge to sneak into town. Slowly peering into the village, he waited until he saw one man walking home. Quietly he rushed toward the man and gobbled him up before the man could even protest, then ran back to the forests feeling sated.

For the next few weeks people continued disappearing mysteriously, and the humans became more and more suspicious of the trolls. Finally, one night there was a witness who saw Gunnar gobbling up their little child, who ran out of the house when his mother was unaware. She quickly told all the townspeople and they gathered to destroy the trolls. The villagers burned the forests and rolled boulders down the mountains, burning and crushing many trolls. The trolls were very angry and began to attack humans, but since sunrise was approaching, the trolls fled to a farther area away from the villagers and vowed to take revenge.

Word spread quickly about this battle and soon humans were gathering to destroy the trolls living around them knowing they craved human flesh, while trolls wanted to eat humans after learning about this new delicious taste. Thus began the 100 year war between trolls and humans. Soon the two races distanced from each other and viewed the other as enemies rather than allies.

—Chocolate Trolls

“Arni and the Golden Whale”

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“Father, what is it that you were saying to that man?” said Arni to his father.

Asmar replied: “Ahhh my son, it is no mere ‘child’s-play.’ For, a place of darkness, gloom and foul odour there is at the end of the Suðureyrl fjord, on the outskirts of our lands. It is said, in the winter, that the shores of Suðureyrl are rank with the scent of death and that no man who wanders the shores in the frigid darkness will be spared of the malevolence that is home to those lands. Agdi, the Troll, looms in the fogs of the sandy shores. Heed your father’s wise warning! Try your luck at the herring, through the ice, and our family will survive this miserable winter by Odin’s grace.”

Arni proclaimed, “Father, surely he will keep my soul safe as I fish those treacherous waters and land my anchor upon those shores. I share my father’s blood, and his father’s before him. We are descended of the noblest lineage and fear non-other than Thor himself. I hold a golden knife that the first borns of our lineage have carried since the start of time! There are many fisherman in these waters, and our stock has been looted by the thieves to the east. I must travel to Suðureyrl to make landfall and catch the great Golden Whale named Sigríður. If we hope to survive this winter I must catch Sigríður and trick her into revealing where all the fish in our oceans have gone.” “Good-bye father. Wish the gods to favour me on my travels.” Said Arni.

Two weeks have passed since I last witnessed the resonance of my father’s words, since I last saw my sweet sister. The journey has been treacherous, my guts are tormented by hunger and the cold has slipped deep into my bones. At last I see the edge of Suðureyrl fjord, with a deserted coast, inhospitable and jagged. I see into the distance, there looms a fog. As I approach, I am overcome with the sense that I am not alone, nor that I am welcome in these waters. The fog grows thicker as I approach the final stretch before the shore. It is such that I can hardly see my own hands gripping the paddles. It is only now, that I recall my father’s heeding words, but I cannot turn back.

At last, my hull drags upon a gravel shore amongst a canyon of towering walls. I see just enough to make out the grey hued outlines of trees, unusually large and tall. I am unaccustomed to seeing any trees in Iceland. It is nearly dusk, so I make a small fire and shelter below a large boulder. I close my eyes and let my dreams take me.

As I wake the next morning, the fog has receded up the steep slopes, the arctic sun has poked through and thawed the beach creating a mist rising from the sands. It is time for me to start my search for Sigríður. I begin by following the shoreline along the sides of the inlet. Scoping across the calm water looking for her golden shimmer below the ripples.
I remembered, long ago, that a sailor once told me that whales are mystical creatures and they only appear when they want to be seen. I waited, and searched, and waited and searched, yet nothing appeared and dusk was upon me once again. I returned to my shelter, but when I returned, I saw footsteps coming out from the ocean. They were ten times the size of my own, and they left a trail of residual putrid slime. It occurred to me, as I stood still in my tracks, that I couldn’t even take another breath. My worst intuitions were correct.

After regaining control of myself, I quietly returned to my shelter, made a small smoldering fire, and rested my legs. I coursed over, in my head, what this troll is that walks these shores, and what I will do if I encounter its foulness before me. After many hours my eyes pulled shut.

In the morning the fog was dense, the air cold, and the sky occluded. I had forgotten what transpired the night before until it shocked me awake. I peered around and saw nothing due to the dense fog. I walked to the seashore to wash my face, and as I bent over I saw a golden shimmer, just across the bay near some rock outcroppings. I frantically ran to where I saw the shimmers. As I got closer, I was able to make out the shape, it was indeed what I was looking for, the great Sigríður. I approached, and asked, “great Sigríður, I have come far to seek your wisdom! Why is it that there are no fishes in our waters?… where can I find them to feed my family?”

Sigríður replied in a rhythmic voice: “Arni, I’ve watched you come, and watched you search the cove from point to shore, but these deep waters hold more than you and me. Your lust for knowledge intrigues me so, listen to my words and listen well. One night more you will walk these shores, for when fog reaches the forest edge, you’ll receive that which you came to find.” As soon as Sigríður’s last words trickled from her mouth, she was gone as if she was never there.

I have heard stories of whales telling sailors of mischievous trickery, leading them on treks across Iceland only to meet their death. I was upset that I failed, but I had a sliver of hope that Sigríður spoke truth, hidden beneath her twisted words. I returned to my shelter to wait, and waited I did until the sun showed its last ray and slipped below the horizon. No sooner, did the fog come cascading down the slopes amidst the giant trees and ferns that, unusually, all the forest had become absolutely silent. It felt as though there were forces at work in these forests that had no business among men. I grew tense, and held my golden knife, gripping the handle with a cool sweat.

A foul odour was coming from the water’s edge. By now, the fog had just passed the forest and made its way across the beach to the water on the shores. I stood in wonder before a vulgar looking beast, covered in hair and kelp, slowly walking out of the water. It was massive, nearly the size of a whale. It could be no other than a Sea Troll, the one my father warned me of! I was ready to fight, I knew there was no running away, and nowhere to hide. I now knew what Sigríður was eluding to. If I was to find food for my family, I must confront this troll and find what I came for. I jumped from my shelter and yelled at it. “I am Arni, I am seeking you, troll. Who are you?”

The troll, lumbered forward and yawned. Then, with his foul smelling breath, he said in a low pitched tone, “I am Agdi, Troll of the Western Seas, and you are in my forest!… I eat men who intrude into my forest and sail in my waters!… tell me, why should I not tear your limbs and skewer you like I’ve done to those before you?”

“I have come far to find where the fish have gone. I challenge you to a riddle? And if you get the answer wrong then you must obey one command of me, great Agdi, you are the smartest troll, are you not?” said Arni.

“Of course I’m the smartest troll, how dare you think I could not answer a trivial riddle thought of by a mere man!” said Agdi.

“What hides during the day, only comes out at night, makes no sound and is always watching?” Asked Arni.

“Argghhhh!! This is not a riddle, it is trickery!… Oh wait! I know! It is the owl!” proclaimed Agdi.

“Wrong answer, silly troll! It is the moon! Now you must obey my wish” said Arni.

“I hate the trickery of men!! But troll honour requires me to fulfill your wish” said Agdi.

“I wish for you to find fish for my family to help us survive this frigid winter” asked Arni.

Agdi said “But I am only a sea troll, only the golden whale Sigríður knows where the fish are, and only she can help you. By night’s end I will transform, and Sigríður will take over my earthly body as I turn to pure gold. Arni, you must offer Sigríður something she can’t resist, the only thing she values is gold. You must offer her gold in exchange for her help. This is the only way you’re family will eat this winter!… I have fulfilled my bargain, and mark my words, by the next nightfall I will have you on my skewer, and I will delight in human flesh!”

It was almost dawn and Agdi waded back into the ocean as the fog receded back up the mountain slopes. I knew that somehow I must find Sigríður and tempt her with my golden knife, in exchange for fish.

Later that afternoon, I waited where I last saw Sigríður for hours. Then at last I saw her golden splendor appear out of the blue ocean. Sigríður asked, “Why have you returned man, you have not found what you seek? You have not found Agdi?”

I replied “I have come to seek you great Sigríður, I have come with a gift in exchange for fish to last my family the winter”.

Sigríður replied “A gift you offer, what gift could a man have that a whale could ever want?”.

I replied “I bear the golden blade which has sent many men to Valhalla. Surely this you could not refuse!”

Sigríður replied, “You interest me man, I will give you what you seek, for gold I cannot refuse. Meet me at your village and I will bring you what you wish.”

I travelled for two weeks back to my home. As I went, Sigríður followed beside me filling her mouth with fish, until no more could fit. As we arrived, at my home I had grown worried about what I would do when Agdi reappeared at dusk. There was only one solution. I gripped the blade in my hand, and as soon as Sigríður spit out the fish on the shore, I carved a deep wound in her belly. As soon as she bled out, she turned into Agdi and once the sun struck Agdi’s flesh he turned immediately to a rigid rock. All could see what a beast he was. But, when I look upon the beach where his rock corpse lays, I see the hero of a troll who saved my family.

—Ants Hoiles

“Lonely Troll”

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A long, long time ago there were was a cave in the side of a hill. This hill sat on the coast of Norway, in an area that was never frequented by visitors. Inside the cave lived a troll. The troll was not certain of how long he had lived, only that it had been a very, very long time. And in that time, no one had gone by his cave. There were sea birds that flew above, but they never made their nests close by him.

It might have had something to do with the way he smelled, although the troll was not very aware of his own stench. He had a large head and large hands, which looked even larger next to his small body. His feet were long and thin, and his skin could be described as grey and sickly looking. The troll spent most of his days outside of his cave on the beach, collecting pieces of driftwood and carving them into little figurines. There were horses and sheep and cows and pigs, and they filled the inside of his cave.

Although the troll had lived in his cave for a long time, he had once lived with other trolls inland. He had only been a young troll then, but he had loved his troll family and playing with his brothers and sisters. One day, his mother brought him a human infant for him to cook. The troll found himself staring into the infant’s eyes, and realized he did not want to kill the babe. This was not done in troll families. His father had insisted that he kill it, but he refused. Looking at him sadly, his mother announced that he would have to be banished. That was how he found himself to be living in the cave.

He survived by himself easily enough, for trolls can eat rocks and dirt. In fact, there was plenty of food for him. But he found himself so bored all the time! One night, the troll lay on his moss bed staring at his ceiling.

“I wish someone or something would come visit me!” he cried out, although all that answered him was silence. He sighed and went to sleep, not looking forward to another day.

In the morning, he woke up to the sound of something crying. He thought that he must be dreaming, but he ran outside anyways. On the beach in front of him was a bundle. He picked up the bundle, and realized that inside was a human infant! It looked tiny in his large, large hands. To the troll, it looked identical to the one he had been asked to kill, the one that had forced him to this cave. A small piece of paper was tucked into the side of its bundle, and it read: “please take care of me.”

The troll decided then that this baby would be his, and he would never let another troll try to eat it.

—Anonymous

“The Gatekeeper Troll”

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In the northern fields of somewhere far away, a troll is silently keeping watch over a gate, or at least that is what the people say. Mysterious stories of children disappearing are often linked to this gatekeeper troll. Parents of the community just south of the gate always warn their children to not go near the gate.

Henri is a small boy who has troubles getting along with his other school friends because he seldom speaks and when he does he is too quiet but Henri really wants to be good friends with the new girl, Reetta. Although Reetta is a new student, she is very talkative and popular. One day, all the children were excitedly discussing about the mysteries of the gate and the troll that lives there when Reetta declares that she will go and find the troll and asks if someone will accompany her. All the other children immediately declined remembering their parents’ warnings. Henri, however, quietly walks over to Reetta and says, “I’ll go with you.”

The two children make their way north to the gate and as they approached, they notice a weird, distinct smell coming from the other side of the gate. Reetta knocks on the gate. Henri stands behind her. The gate opens slightly and they catch a glimpse of a large velvet-skinned creature with a large nose and tiny ears and his arms were long as they dragged to the side of his body. The troll takes a look at the two children through his single eye. Henri and Reetta are frozen in fear but the troll smiles and welcome them in.

The troll offers the children tea and cakes made of stone (which the children did not eat but the troll really enjoyed the cakes). The gatekeeper troll tells the children stories of him keeping the northern borders safe from foreign creatures from entering and the battles he fought. Reetta really liked talking to the troll but Henri could not help but notice that the skies were already dark.

The troll happily agrees to walk the children home since it was dark. Reetta and Henri said their farewells to the troll and promised to visit again. When Henri gets home, his mother asks him where he has been. He proudly tells her about her adventure with Reetta and when he was finished his mother only laughed and said, “If you two really did meet the gatekeeper troll, there is no way you would be back home now!” Reetta’s parents also responded to their daughter’s adventure in the same way. Henri and Reetta decide they must have just imagined it and the gatekeeper troll remains unknown and mysterious.

—IC

“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