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“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

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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

“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

“The Tale of the Not-So-Ugly Troll”

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In a mountainous Norwegian area lived a band of trolls. This group was no exception to the general rule that trolls were extremely ugly. They were big and disproportionate, with long arms, stumpy legs, and tiny heads that looked peculiar on their bodies. They had huge bulbous noses, yellow pointed teeth, and if they were lucky enough to have two eyes, they were too close together. If you could picture the most grotesque combination of parts in your mind, then that would be the “perfect” troll. The ugliest ones were also the scariest, and were the best at driving out unsuspecting humans who had wandered into troll territory. These humans often fled without taking their belongings with them, and so the trolls benefited from the food and other resources left behind. Thus, there was a troll hierarchy of sorts, with the ugliest trolls accumulating the most wealth.

However, there was one young troll who really did not fit in with the rest. Yes, he was still ugly, but almost comically so compared to the other trolls, and therefore he was quite an outcast. Most humans were even willing to fight versus flee when they saw him, and so he had a very difficult time stealing any of their goods. No matter how hard he tried to make himself uglier and scarier, nothing seemed to work, and so one day, this troll left home and began to wander through the mountains.

On the third day of his travels, he stumbled upon a small farm. He was very hungry but knew the chances of him scaring anyone enough to get any food were minimal, so he turned to go back the way he had entered. Suddenly he heard someone exclaim, “Hey!” He turned around and standing in front of him was a young boy, who was looking at him with a mix of curiosity and revulsion. “Wow!” the boy said, “Are you a troll? I’ve never seen anyone so ugly so you must be!” The troll was stunned by the fact that he had been called ugly. However, clearly he was not even able to scare a young boy, and this upset him so he said nothing.

The boy began to talk again, “I thought trolls were supposed to be scarier, have you ever scared anyone in your life?” The troll sadly replied that the only beings that had been truly scared of him were animals, and how miserable this had made his life. Noticing how sad the troll looked, the boy tried to think of something he could do. His face suddenly lit up and he said to the troll, “Wait right here, I have an idea!” He ran back towards the farm where his father was working in the barn and proceeded to explain his idea to him. Just the other evening, his father had been upset because yet another one of his goats had been eaten by a wolf that crept onto the farm. He tried his best to keep the herd safe, but nothing seemed to be working. The boy thought that maybe they could use the troll to scare off these wolves, and in return, they would feed him and give him an area of the farm to live on. The father was skeptical at first, but he was willing to try anything.

So the arrangement was made. And this troll, who had never felt useful in his life, was the perfect fit for the farm. He was not so scary that people on the farm had to worry, but the wolves certainly did. So goes the story of the not-so-ugly troll.

—Erika F.

“Troll Jerky”

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You know, not so long ago, over there in the hills on the other side of the bay, there was a family of trolls that settled into an old mine shaft.

In the summertime, some of the local kids would go over to the mine and dare each other to go further and further along towards the trolls’ den, which surely must have lain at the very end of the tracks, in the darkest part of the cave. The bravest boys and girls would creep deep down into the shaft until the daylight behind them was only a whisper, and the air grew damp and began to stink a bit of pork.

“Troll farts!” observed one girl. “They smell like bacon ‘cause the trolls have been feeding on mister Jensen’s hogs. They smoke ‘em, make jerky out of ‘em. But they prefer human jerky when they can get it!”

When they wouldn’t dare go any deeper into the mine, the kids might pick up stones and see who could throw one hardest and farthest into the darkness, closest to the troll family’s lair. Of course, all of the kids made sure that they were well on their way home from the hills by the time sunset came around.

One sunny Saturday, a group of girls and boys had crept as far as they would creep along into the mine and were throwing stones in the direction of the troll den. One large boy hurled a stone as straight and as hard as any boy could, and to everyone’s surprise, a cry of sharp pain echoed down the shaft.

“Ow!” shrieked a voice. It wasn’t much deeper in tone than the voices of the young girls, but it was enough of a shock to freeze every kid on the spot.

They seemed to wait silently and motionlessly for some instruction from someone. To run? To scream? To stand and fight the nasty, ugly brutes?

But before a decision could be made, a stone whizzed back up the mine shaft, striking the large boy sharply on an ear. He wailed horrifically and the kids bolted back towards the daylight.

All the kids ran back except one little girl, who lingered a moment, then dared to creep just a little further into the darkness. She had a sugar cookie in her pocket, baked that morning by her mother, which she now offered out towards the darkness.

A dainty, brown, fuzzy hand, almost the exact same size as the girl’s, reached out for the cookie. It didn’t snatch, but gently took the cookie back into the darkness. The little girl heard a soft crunching and munching, and even a polite groan of satisfaction.

“Mmmmm…” cooed the little troll in the dark. And before the girl knew it, the small fuzzy hand reached back into the light, and offered her back a slice of the most deliciously scented pork jerky she had ever caught a whiff of. And, you know, it was magic jerky! For as soon as the last bite of the stick was finished, another would surely reappear in the eater’s hand.

“Thank you” said the girl towards the darkness, and she went back down the tracks, out of the mine and home to her family.

Well, the bloody-eared large boy who threw the stone told his large dad who got all up in arms and eventually he had the mine blown up and caved in with dynamite.

It really is too bad, you know. But at least I got my piece of jerky! And one is really all you need.

—Matt Clarke

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One day, the weather is dark and it is cold. Rain is dropping down crazily. The wind is blowing and the door of an old house was moving back and forth. In this old house, a woman is lying on the floor in pain with cold sweat that was pouring down her face. She is preparing to give birth to a baby. She can feel the pain and it is getting worse. The sound of her moans has filled the house. She is now relieved, when she hears the cries of a baby. She hugs her baby. Darkness fills this house; she does not have clear view. At the moment when a big lightning bolt hits the ground, she sees her baby. When she sees her baby, she drops her baby down on the floor. The look of her baby has surprised her. Her baby has facial wrinkles like an old man, has one eye, and a hairy body. She holds her baby again, prays for happiness even though she realizes that her baby is cursed. She names her baby “Happy.”

As soon as happy is born instinctively, he knows himself that he’ll never cry. She raises her baby carefully, so as not to expose it to the people. As Happy grows up, he is concerned how he looks different than his mother, but does not question to his mom. Raising her child by not exposing it to anyone is a hard task. People have started to notice Happy, and people around her are calling her a witch. People are talking loudly about how this baby should be killed. People do not stop their criticism and even they throw stones at Happy and his mother. When happy’s anger grows bigger and bigger, his mother relieves him by saying “People will notice you that you are gifted, a gifted person in the future”. Her infinite love to happy make him happy. One day while he is helping his mom collecting some vegetables outside of the house, people throws enormous stones to happy and his mom. One of the rocks hits her head and she bleeds. People are calling her “witch” and shouting that she should die. When he reaches his mother, she says to Happy, “I’m so sorry, for making you mi

As time goes by, Happy becomes bigger and stronger. Happy grows 20 times bigger than a regular person. He goes to a village where people live and kills many people by smashing them. His anger grows bigger and bigger. Every time he sees people, he either smashes these people with a rock or throws them far away.

One day, Happy is sitting on the mountain looking at the lake. He sees his face that is reflecting on the water. He cries. He cries because he knows that his feeling does not get better by killing people. He wants a normal life. He wants to be happy like his name. He is lonely and sad. He misses his mother so much. He lays down on the mountain and looks up at the sky. He does not move for a long time. Trees start to grow on his body, and he becomes a mountain.

People call him “sad troll.”

We do not know when he will wake up.

—Ji Won Choi