“Tommi the Troll”

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

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It was a long, long time ago when trolls moved in great numbers across vast Norwegian plains that Nora was only a small child, and was warned about their dangers. The youngest in a family of boys, Nora was a curious child, and enjoyed exploring the forests around her village.

One particularly shadowy night, Nora’s curiosity led her into the forest just behind the soft lights of her village. She didn’t dare tell any of the elders, as there were recent whispers of evil mountain trolls moving closer to the human villages, and she was forbidden from exploring at that hour. She innocently clutched a simple doll, made of straw, and braved into the mysterious dark woods. Mesmerized by giant canopy trees and the faint murmur of woodland creatures, Nora became easily disoriented. She was suddenly aware of her surroundings and how unfamiliar they looked as the light began to grow dimmer. Panic struck, and she grasped on to a thorny branch, scraping her palm, then stepped onto a slippery stone. Thud. She fell, onto the moist forest floor. Her head hit a larger stone, and she could feel the wind being sucked out of her. She looked to the forest ceiling just as her eyelids closed, one last glimpse the dark night sky before everything was black.

Hours later, Nora’s eyelids were heavy and it seemed that everything around her was spinning. Struggling, her eyes half opened to see watch a blurry, dark, forest rushing past her. Confusion swept over as she noticed that a large, bark-skinned creature appeared to be carrying her. With thoughts of trolls flashing through her head, Nora again slipped into a blackened consciousness.

Startled again, Nora awoke to two creatures that seemed to be arguing over her. One was large, stout, with blackened bark-skin and menacing yellow eyes, carried a sharply angled stone. Arguing with the creature was another, shorter companion, with dim purple eyes and a soft brown colored bark coat. She turned to Nora, cradled her in her arms, and with gentle eyes, whispered a spell in strange tongue that caused Nora to, again, slip into her dreamy state of darkness.

This time, when Nora opened her eyes, things were clearer. She felt better, her senses coming back to her, forming the familiar sight of a house hole in the dark night. As she slowly came back to consciousness, Nora realized she had been lost, deep in the unknown forest. But how had she gotten here, safely, back home? Confused, Nora turned just in time to catch the glint of two purple eyes watching over her at the edge of the woods. Quickly, the creature that they belonged to turned and disappeared back into the dark.

Nora, now one of the elders of her village, to this day believes that it was a mountain troll that saved her life that day, through her faint memories. Once a month, she leaves out an offering to them – three ripe figs and a dandelion – a troll’s favorite meal, along with her little straw doll. And every so often, just for a second, there will be the glimpse of those familiar purple eyes.

—Chloe Jung

“For the Love of Cookies”

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