Tag Archives: mother

“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

“The Trolls Up In the Mountain Cave”

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Long, long ago, in a cave upon a mountain overlooking the small town of Flåm, Norway, lived a family of trolls. The trolls could see much of the town from the edge of their cave, but from the town one could not see the trolls peering down. In fact, nobody living in the town of Flåm had ever seen one of these trolls, nor did they know of their existence. For if someone had seen one, the absolutely gruesome appearance would cause a shriek loud enough to wake the entire town. Word of these ugly trolls would spread fast, and the town would live in fear.

The trolls were about double the height of the average human, and five times the weight. Their skin was rough and wrinkled, like an elephant, with the occasional large wart – one that a human could not help but to stare at in disgust if ever to see. Their dark eyes were sunk deep into their skull, and their ears, which were oozing with a sticky, grey earwax, took up much of the side of their head. And their hair was located in sparse patches all over.

One day, the sun was shining bright over Flåm, and the children of the town were out on the field playing and running in the sun. Up in the cave on the mountain, the youngest of the trolldren had awoken and went to the edge of the cave. He looked down upon all the children playing. Now, most human children would want to go and join in the games; however, trolldren were different. The little troll wished he could go ruin their games.

The rest of the family was still fast asleep as it was the norm for trolls to sleep during the day. So the littlest troll sat at the edge of the cave, and continued to watch the children play games in the town below. Mother had always told him, in her deep and booming voice, to never go out in the sunlight. She had always warned that if he were to go in the sun he would turn to stone.

That had scared him enough when he was really young. But, the young troll had never seen another troll turn to stone before. As he watched the children even longer he thought to himself, “those children haven’t turned to stone.” Perhaps it was all a lie; maybe trolls don’t turn to stone in the sunlight.

Maybe the troll was just imagining it, but he thought he could hear the echo of the children’s laughter down below. That was it. He had to go and ruin the fun! The troll jumped up and darted out the edge of the cave, planning to head down the steep slope of the mountain to the town. He moved as fast as he could.

The instant sunlight shone on his rough, wrinkled skin, he turned to stone.

The story does not end here though. The stone troll was on such a slope that it tumbled all the way down the mountain. It was loud as it tumbled and shook the entire town of Flåm. The people of the town ran over to see what had caused such a racket. The townspeople of Flåm shrieked when they saw the still intact stone troll.

—Angela Johnston

“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

“An Unlikely Friendship”

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At fifteen years old, Svein knew he was the outcast of his village. Unlike the rest of his blonde, beautiful, pale-skinned Norwegian community, Svein had dark brown skin, big brown eyes and curly brown hair. His mere appearance cut him off from the rest of his peers.  As a result, Svein spent all of his time alone, wandering the vast Norwegian countryside.

One day, Svein was hunting down a slow, fat squirrel with his homemade spear, when suddenly there was a large “CRACK!” Before he knew it, he was hanging upside-down in a large hand-made net, swinging from a thick tree branch. He had unfortunately dropped his spear in the chaos, and was utterly without any tools to free himself. Svien didn’t even attempt to scream; he knew he was too far into the forest for anyone to hear him. But who had made this trap? Was it an enemy from another tribe, or one of his own?

Another “crack” echoed from below. Svein froze. Something resembling a large boulder rolled out underneath him. Svein stayed very still, watching. Suddenly, the boulder-shape unfolded into a large, lumpy, hairy troll. Now Svein couldn’t help but scream out of sheer terror. A pair of huge neon green eyes peered up at him, almost curiously. Then the troll spoke.

“Friend?” Svein didn’t move. The troll repeated himself, louder this time. “Friend? Friend? Friend?” Svein had to think quickly.

“Yes! Friend! Friend! Down!” Svein wasn’t sure how much Norwegian the troll spoke. A moment passed as they just stared at each other in wonder. Finally, the troll picked up Svein’s spear from the ground and slashed the net rope with one graceful swoop. Svein crashed to the ground, narrowly missing landing on top of the troll itself. Gathering himself, Svein stood next to the troll. Even at his 6’5” height, the troll towered over Svein by at least a foot.

“Come,” stated the troll. Svein decided he had no choice but to follow. After they quietly trekked through the forest for some time, the troll stopped suddenly. He pointed at a small squirrel squatting on a rock a few feet ahead of them. The troll aimed Svein’s spear at the squirrel, and pinned the squirrel against the tree behind it. “Dinner!” the troll exclaimed. He rolled over to the squirrel, unpinned it from the tree, ripped off an arm, and handed it to Svein. Svein hesitated, turning up his nose; he preferred cooked squirrel to raw squirrel with the fur still on. He took it anyway, however. The troll seemed to like this; he nodded excitedly and then shoved the rest of the squirrel into his own mouth.

They continued to hunt well into the evening. When it occurred to Svein that his mother might be worried about him, he told the troll he had to go. The troll’s eyes got wide and filled with tears. “Don’t worry, I will come back and hunt with you tomorrow! What’s your name?”
“It’s Gorg..”

To be continued…

—M. Cowley

“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

Untitled

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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

“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