Welcome to another adventure from the Thousand Acre Woods deep within Trollheim of the NJ Pine Belt! Tales Chronicled by Jonathan Hulton... Bosco and myself are heading to Fort Elfsborg on a mission for Bjorn, but we had some goblin troubles on the way home.

It was St. John's Eve, and the Piney's around Swedesboro were celebrating Epiphany as me and Bosco were traveling to the old Fort Elfsborg. Many Trolls who came to the fort, as slaves, left their histories in the chains of the ether; it was a log of a sort. Much like our Ellis Island.

The atmosphere becomes charged on that holiday, making the records more pronounced. Bosco had a chance to read the faint records that could not be read at any other time. I was not going to be able to read them. Like most humans, I can only sense if something extraordinary has happened in any given location.

For good or bad, Trolls leave a mark or a log behind with their story. Humans can too, but we can only leave  emotions behind. Sometimes locations like Gettysburg collect thousands of emotions within a small space that resonate between high and low frequencies so rapidly that no one can not be pulled by them. These places vibrate throughout all time. Humans tend to be pulled to places of high contrasting emotions like the fort. Probably, something of importance had happened prior to the opposing generals choosing that spot, which drew them once more to excite the ebbs and flows of the tides of contrast that marked that field. Not good or bad, just excitable.

Unfortunately, most humans can only process the lows of sadness and fear at that intensity. We have a problem of believing we are worthy of feeling such joy or rapture.

Without docents explaining the history, we can't interpret any of the story through the jumble of emotions left behind. Trolls can read our stories. They can feel and smell chemical markers left behind by people. They know what thoughts trigger what chemicals we release and for how long. A sensual Morse Code of sorts.

No Troll wants to venture to Fort Elfsborg. The sadness their is too strong. Not just filled with Troll logs, but also of the pain of death and the thrill of victory from when the Dutch took the fort.

Especially on St. John's Eve.

Bjorn was looking for records of his mother. He wanted to know if the Swedish slave ships brought her here. Or did she arrive before the Swedes settled in the Pine Belt? The Swedes were drawn there. They felt the Elvin or Trollish energy. Was Leif drawn here too? The southern tip of New Jersey does resemble Vinland. Was Bjorn's mother drawn to this spot?

His mother was an explorer. The last time Bjorn saw her, he was four thousand years old, but it was long before Angrboda was alive. She did become great friends with Helgi before she left, though.

It is not uncommon for Troll couples to go on a guys or girls trip, but when you live for millennia, the trips tend to be quite extended. Even though, she was gone longer than usual.

Gramps said he was only interested to see if Bosco could find where he lost his marbles within the fort…

See, I could not read the Troll records, but animals can. Especially bears.

There is a reason our first religion worshipped them.

Once we got to the fort, Bosco found the cell occupied by Gramps' family. He read their stories and memorized them. Then he searched the ether for genetic markers similar to theirs. He found a couple cousins who came over before and after them, many of whom the Nattrolls were in touch with today.

 

 

After awhile, he came upon a faint trace of Gramps' wife. It wasn't a direct log, but like the far ripples caused by a stone in a pond, they affected the ether here. It was more recent. She probably couldn't enter the fort either, but was trying to read the logs from a distance. Also, Bosco picked up an extremely faint log from her left behind almost five hundred years ago.

I wondered if she might have journeyed with Henry Sinclair and his third-generation Vikings from Orkney. They might have been looking for the Welsh that settled the Pines with Prince Madoc.

Then Bosco went back to the family's cell and nuzzled something out of the ground with his mouth. He must have been hungry.

After leaving the fort, we ventured through the log cabins of Swedesboro. When we got to the center of the town, we noticed very few hearts were lit on this dark, cold night.

Bosco first heard a door slam. I followed his look and saw a family leave their house.

"Get away," yelled the father. "this place is not safe after dark!"

 

"Why so?" I asked as the family got closer with their luggage.

"The hidfolk take over our house for their St. John's feasts and wreck our home before visiting our neighbors'."

Bosco nudged me.

"Can we stay in your home tonight?" I asked. "It is a long way back to Whiting tonight."

"If your crazy enough," the father said. "You're welcome to room and board; we have a coffee pot left on the stove also, but you might not live long enough to enjoy the first cup!"

"We will be all right," I assured them.

They left in a hurry, thinking we were crazy.

I settled in the couple's bed as Bosco fell asleep under their table.

Around three in the morning, the loudest clatter was to be heard. The hidfolk had settled in and left the door open as their party began.

They chipped the glasses and cracked the plates! Blunted the knives and bent the forks! Then we heard them smash the bottles and burn the corks!

With all of this noise, I walked out to meet them.

"Hello, there," I asked, rubbing my chin. "What goes there?"

"We are having ourselves a little party," the lead goblin said, "and if you are smart, you would just leave before we really get going!"

"I would not make any more noise," I warned them, "because you might just wake up my cat under the table."

"What will you tiny little putty cat do to us?"

At that point he began to look under the table, and Bosco gave the loudest growl.

 

He froze for a second before he stepped back.

Then he looked underneath again.

Bosco just glowered at him before slapping his nose.

He fell back and tread on the fat as he ran out of the house along with the rest.

Me and Bosco stayed awake to eat a fine meal and cleaned up a bit before we got in a fine rest.

Around noon, the family returned. They were amazed to find us alive and their house in one piece with the cupboards filled.

They thanked us as we left. We just told them to tell the goblin next St. John's Eve that Bosco had a litter of fine, healthy kittens bigger than him. That should keep them away for years to come.

When we got home, we told Bjorn of what we found at the fort about his mother, and Bosco spat out in front of Gramps his lost marbles. He didn't eat anything at Elfsborg. He had nuzzled up out of the dirt those marbles and carried them home in his mouth.

I wondered why he was talking like my godfather…

 

If you like this tale, hit the share button below or just even tell your friend the old fashion way, with your mouth. Come back next week for our next tale.