Where Wolf, There Castle...
Welcome to another adventure from the Thousand Acre Woods deep within Trollheim of the NJ Pine Belt! Tales Chronicled by Jonathan Hulton... That's me! Today's tale, be very, very quiet; we are hunting werewolves.
We were walking past Duck's Pond when John Bowker, one of Ferrago Forge's bog men, was going by on his cart. "Did you hear those Swedes spreading tales about a werewolf—what nonsense? They were drinking aquavit with the Finns again—now them Finns have some superstitions. Around Swedesboro, the Troldrum is always echoing through the forest."
"Werewolf," Karl exclaimed. "I have been wanting a new dog."
"Hush!" Gramps said.
"Werewolf, never heard of one around before," I said.
"We haven't had any problem with them since the winter that Fort Elfsborg fell to the Dutch. During the Dutch hunger winter, about two hundred years ago…" Bjorn said, scratching his chin.
"You want to take a look?" I asked.
"Sure, as we pass my house, let me get a sack of Helgi's lefse and tub of that new fangled Welch's jam from Vineland for the journey."
I know Trolls can eat a lot, but we were only heading to Wheatland, maybe Woodmansie, by what John told us. We can ask Peggy what she knows about them. She is an old wise woman who owns a tavern in Wheatland. There are many tales told over a good Scotch ale…
"I don't believe any of it, but just off of Furnace Pond, while I was dropping the clam shells in the chimney, I looked up and saw another meteorite land on the east side of the Davenport River," John continued. "There was an eerie glow—I went looking for the Lunarians; tiny green men…"
Nissen…ooohhh. Oh boy! I didn't have the heart to tell them about the Nissen who harvest the metal from the stars for their knives and kitchen implements.
"You go waste your time on werewolves; you should help me find these little moon men!" John continued with a worry look.
He is a big fan of Jules Vern and Baum…
As we passed the old Lenape cemetery, Pops joined us. His tribe has several tales of shapeshifters; he thought his magic could help.
We continued on Two-Cemetery Road past the hydraulic pressed brick operation and crossed the track before we crossed over the Disappearing Pond. Today it was dry and no sign of the Great Horned Serpent as we crossed over into Trollheim. Just cracked dry mud peeling off the bottom of the riverbed.
Everyone morphed into a Tenniel caricature as we went through the looking glass…
As we passed Pop-Pop's scrub oak terrace, Pops hurried us through to avoid his cousin. The animosity of the sale to Ferrago Forge of the Thousand Acre Woods Pop's father agreed to is a thorn in Pop-Pops' sept's side.
At the top of the hill, we passed the Dung Beetle still pushing shit uphill.
"Just look at this shit I got to deal with!" he said. I don't know if he was complaining at all? Was he saying that it was some tasty shit, or was bringing to our attention the shit he goes through? He usually is a powerful energy drain. If you're not careful, he can hold you for hours complaining. Bjorn snuck off to get that sack of food and the beetle was just finishing, our torture…
We just waved and went on.
As we went through the other botanical cemetery with the topiary Lenape trees, we bumped into Timmy Turtle.
"Where are you going?" he asked.
"Be very, very quiet; we're hunting werewolves," answered Karl.
Timmy just shrunk back into his shell and left it spinning in place.
Timmy landed next to a pile of quartz. I didn't think it was a bad idea to grab some. If you throw a rock over a Troll, you gain power over it. Just in case we run into another Troll transformed into a werewolf.
We spent the next forty minutes crossing over the Tuckerton Stage Coach Road and went the back way through the Rye Fields out to Woodmansie, by Peggy's house, before we began our search toward Wheatland.
Peggy was in her yard, tending her chickens as we came by.
"You have one interesting group with you," she said. "Where are all of you going?"
"We're hunting werewolves," Karl said. "I need a watchdog to protect me from these thieves."
"What thieves?" I asked. I remember the time me and Bosco searched his house looking for a thief. He had heard thieves were real quiet when they robbed you. In the middle of the night, he was disturbed by how quiet his house was and ran out screaming, believing there must be a thief inside with him…
"I did find a thief in my house later that month," Karl said.
"What did you do?" asked Gramps.
"I grabbed a sack and filled it,"
"Why?" I asked.
"I thought we were moving, and I wanted to help."
Gramps smacked him.
"I got robbed once, and the judge asked me what I knew about the robbery," said Pops.
"What did you tell him?" asked Bjorn.
"Nothing," Pops answered; "If I was there to see anything, I would have stopped him!"
Peggy shook her head and thought about watering down his drinks the next time he went with Gramps and Karl to her Pine Tavern. It might be the best thing to do.
She thought twice, she should start watering down all of their drinks…
Peggy joined our motley group as we saw the clay carts from Old Halfway go by. The sun went down and the full moon was rising. I saw Peggy crack a wide smile…
"I once looked into my well and saw that the moon fell in," Karl said.
"I know I'm going to be sorry for asking," I said, "but why did you think the moon was in there?"
"I threw a fishing pole in and began reeling it up, when I fell on my back I noticed my line had swung it back high in the sky."
Gramps just shook his head, looking like he heard this yarn of his before. Maybe too many times within the last thousand years…
As we were approaching the clay manufacturing plant outside of Peggy's tavern, we heard a howl.
"If I get killed by the shapeshifter," Pops asked, "make sure you bury me in an old coffin."
"Why and old one?" I asked.
Bjorn shook his head; I think I walked into another Nasruddin fallacy. Bjorn knew them all…
"So when the angel of death comes to me, he will bypass me, thinking he judged me years ago…" Pops said with a smirk.
We got a little tense as we approached the howling.
Karl and Gramps just stopped to open Bjorn's sack.
I was amazed they thought it was a good time for a picnic.
They started spreading the jam on the unleavened potato bread.
When the werewolf rushed us; I thought he was coming to eat me.
Pops took out a dog catcher's net and charged, laughing at the poor critter.
No, the werewolf ran to Gramps' and Karl's sandwiches.
He was just Hangry. Finns have that problem sometimes. In Scandinavian tradition, a sure way to cure a werewolf was kindness and compassion. If you scorn them or make fun of them, by the next moon you will turn into one.
It happened a little quicker. The Finn turned right back and his son came out of the woods and thanked us before walking his father home now that he was safe again.
Karl walked Pops back on a leash that Peggy got from her tavern. He turned into a werewolf and Karl got a new guard dog.
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.
At the end of February 2025, we are releasing the first collection of Trollheim stories in print. So make sure to come back and check when you can bring their family into your home!
Fiction/ Illustrated Fantasy/ Mythology / Scandinavian Myth/ Norse Sagas / Scandinavian Folk Lore / Coffee Table Book
Paperback: $45 | Hardcover: $65 | PDF eBook $5
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Following the Harry N. Abrams, Inc. tradition of the series that created Brian Froud's and Alan Lee's Faeries and Gnomes by Wil Huygen and Rien Poortvliet, we present you with what would have been the next book in the series: Trolls: A Compendium. Trolls—do you think you know what they are? Could you be wrong?
Trolls within Scandinavian lore, myth, saga, fantasy, and folktales are actually anything magical within our northern neighbor's culture. Richly illustrated in this volume are the tales of faeries, dwarves, nissen, huldras, gods, Jotuns, draugar, ghosts, and more. Also, this book introduces our readers to the world of Trollheim, populated by Nattrolls that escaped the 17th-century Swedish colony within the New Jersey Pine Barrens. Narrated by Christopher Jonathan Hulton, who lives in the Thousand Acre Woods just after the Civil War, their tales are filled with Native American lore and tales of their neighbor, the Jersey Devil.
Preview: Google Books
Hardcover: $65.00
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