August Adventures…
Mountains, Fjords & Tales of Trolls 🧌
Hello, I’m Clare, a self-taught artist, I split my time between Dorset and Cornwall, UK.
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Hello Creative Souls 💜
Welcome to my August newsletter. We are fast approaching autumn here and just today as I sit and type this in my garden room, the temperature has dropped. I have awoken several times recently to a mist blanketing the fields and obscuring the view of the hill tops. The birds have returned to the garden expecting to be fed every day, which reminds me to get them some more sunflower hearts, which is their favourite snack. The garden is looking at its best at this time of year, having planted seasonally so that I get some colour right up until November and even December with the helenium, black-eyed Susans and dahlias, the latter having not really had a chance to grow, thanks to the abundance of slugs and snails nibbling them down to the soil! Yes, I know, I have mentioned this issue more than once, it’s frustrating and gardening doesn’t always produce perfect results, a bit like art. Where’s Mildred, the hedgehog?! She should be clearing them, but I suspect by the time she reaches our garden she is full.
August has been a busy one here, keeping on top of the garden and veg patch. I’ve been enjoying getting out and about with my sketchbook, the most exciting place to paint plein air was on the top of a mountain in Norway. We went on a coach trip which took a narrow and winding road up to the highest peak, it was not for the faint-hearted. The views were stunning, but I found it was best not to look down whilst sitting by the window. I saw the most amazing landscapes, going from green fields with an abundance of wild flowers, up through rocky, desolated mountains with gushing waterfalls and a blue glacier, that had a fresh sprinkling of snow. It was definitely like winter when we got to the summit, icy cold temperatures and a cutting wind. I was determined to sketch though, taking just a postcard sized watercolour pad and a black Pentel brush pen. I had no desire to take a full art kit or to do any painting! It was a brief experience and one that I can say I’ve done - plein air sketching on top of a Norwegian mountain.
Our tour guide on this particular trip was an excellent story teller and with Norway comes the mythical tales of trolls.
Norwegian trolls are believed to be mythical creatures that live in isolated rocks or caves. They are believed to live alone or in small families and are hostile towards humans. As per the troll legends, they are believed to be evil and dangerous beings that prefer the wilderness.1
So, this month I thought I would write about something a little bit different for you. This is a cosy, if not slightly gruesome folktale about a boy who outwitted a troll, so, now is the time to grab a hot drink and a blanket, find somewhere cosy to sit and find out how a boy survived his encounter with a troll in a Norwegian forest.
“Read the folklore masters. Go to galleries. Walk in the woods. That’s what you need to be an artist or storyteller.” - Terri Windling
The Boy who had an Eating Contest with a Troll!
Once upon a time, there was an old farmer who had three lazy sons. A poor family, who were struggling to find food and heat their homestead. There was a big forest with many trees that belonged to the farmer, and so one day the desperate farmer told his sons to go and chop wood so that they could go to market and earn some money to pay off some of their debts. After a long talk, he got them to agree and so the eldest son was the first to go. The farmer sent him off with an axe, his mother packed him a lunch in his knapsack, and off he went to the forest to start felling trees. As he began to chop at an old mossy fir, what should he see coming towards him, but a great sturdy troll, who bellowed:
“If you chop the trees in this forest of mine, I will eat you!”
When the boy heard that, he threw the axe down, and ran off home as fast as he could, out of breath, he told his family what had happened, but his father called him “hare-heart”. No troll would ever have scared him from chopping wood when he was a young boy. His brothers laughed at him and so the next day the second son’s turn came. The father gave him an axe and his mother packed a lunch for him. Once in the vast forest, he had barely lifted his axe to the fir tree, before the troll stormed through the tree tops and bellowed:
“If you chop the trees in this forest of mine, I will eat you!”
The boy dared not so much as to look at him, but threw down the axe and ran home as fast as he could, just like his brother before him. When he got home, his father was so angry and said that no troll had ever scared him when he was a boy.
On the third day it was the turn of the third son to set off to the forest. The father gave him an axe, but sadly the mother had no food to pack for the son, just some grey cheese.
His brothers teased him saying that they were surprised that he was brave enough to even set foot outside as he hardly ever left the farmhouse.
The boy left for the forest with his father’s axe and the small rock shaped cheese in his knapsack. As the boy lifted his axe to fell the fir tree the troll came to him too, and said:
“If you chop the trees in this forest of mine, I will eat you.”
But the youngest boy was not slow; he pulled the cheese out of the knapsack and squeezed it until the whey spurted out.
“Hold your tongue!” he cried to the troll, “or I’ll squeeze you just as I squeeze the water out of this grey rock.”
“Nay, dear friend!” said the troll, “please spare me I’ll help you to chop the trees.”
The boy agreed to the troll’s terms, the boy was willing to spare him, and the troll worked hard and chopped the trees. He felled and cut up many of the fir trees that day and as the day turned to night the tired troll said:
“You had better come home with me, for my house is closer than yours.”
The boy decided that it was not wise to walk home in the dark, through the scary forest at night and so agreed to go to the troll’s house. When they reached the troll’s house, the troll prepared to light a fire and asked the boy to fetch water for their porridge. There stood two iron buckets, so big and heavy, that the boy couldn’t so much as lift them from the ground.
The boy looked at the troll and smartly said, “it isn’t worth my while to touch these finger-basins. I’ll just go and fetch the spring itself.”
“No, no dear friend!” said the troll. “I can’t afford to lose my spring; you make up the fire, whilst I go and fetch the water.”
When the troll came back with the water, he made a great cauldron of hot, steaming porridge.
“If it’s all the same to you,” said the boy, “I think we should have an eating contest.”
“Yes, of course,” said the troll, being certain that he would win.
The troll could surely hold his own in an eating contest and so they sat down. The boy took his knapsack, unawares to the troll, and hung it before him, spooning the porridge into his knapsack. When the knapsack was full, he took his knife and made a slit in the sack. The troll looked on all the while, but never said a word. When they had eaten for a good bit longer, the troll feeling so full of porridge, laid down his spoon.
“Nay! I can’t eat another morsel.”
“But you shall eat,” said the boy, “I’m only half done; why don’t you do as I did, and cut a hole in your paunch? You’ll be able to eat as much as you please.”
“But doesn’t it hurt?” asked the troll.
“No,” said the boy, “not at all.”
So the foolish troll did as the boy had said and the troll of course, lost his life instantly. The boy then took all the silver and gold that he found around the troll’s dwelling and set off back home with the lot. Needless to say, the farmer was able to pay his debts. 2
I hope you enjoyed the folktale of the farmer’s son and the troll - I loved hearing the story as we headed down the mountain on the coach. It was cold, misty and had started raining, perfect for a mythical troll story. I have left the tour guide’s details at the bottom of this post as she can be found on Facebook and Instagram.
To this day, trolls remain an integral part of Norwegian culture. Every country, every region has its own legends and folklore. As travellers, it is imperative we spend time learning about the myths, culture, and traditions. Trolls have lived through the generations in stories, landmark names, Norwegian figurines, and souvenirs.3
I bought my own troll souvenir, which now sits on my desk, sparking memories of our wonderful trip to Norway and the spooky old tales it has to offer. Let me know in the comments below whether you have ever visited Norway or come to think of it, whether you may have a troll tale to tell.
Until next time dear reader, stay naturally curious and don’t forget to check out my YouTube channel, where I will be sharing my holiday sketchbook and the Norway trip very soon. Hit the subscribe button and the notification bell so you won’t miss it.
Clare xx 🧌
Resources:
Teresa Martins (Our Tour Guide & Story Teller)
Facebook: Bussola Desorientada
Instagram: Bussola _Desorientada
The Story Teller -
https://adventures.com/blog/norway-trolls/
https://www.tsemrinpoche.com/tsem-tulku-rinpoche/science-mysteries/the-hidden-nature-of-trolls.html
https://adventures.com/blog/norway-trolls/
I enjoyed your story about the troll Clare, although I felt rather sorry for him in the end! Glad you had a window of opportunity to do some sketching. Will have to compare notes on Norway and Iceland when there is a moment to spare!
Thanks for sharing that story Clare, I never knew Norway had such a troll mythology, can’t wait to see the pics and the paintings of your trip away 🥰