Where Wolf, There Castle...
Welcome to another adventure from the Thousand Acre Woods. A place on the edge of Trollheim deep within the mysterious NJ Pine Belt! Tales Chronicled by Christopher Jonathan Hulton...That's me! Today's tale, be very, very quiet; we are hunting werewolves.
After reading our latest story, make sure to tell a friend, and check out our Trollheim books below!
We were walking past Duck's Pond when John Bowker Sr. , 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, in this area?" I asked.
"We haven't had any problem with them since the winter the Dutch took Fort Elfsborg ," Bjorn said, scratching his chin.. "During the Dutch hunger winter, about two hundred years ago…"
"You want to take a look?" I asked.
"Sure, as we pass my house, let me get a sack of Helgi's lefse and a tub of that new fangled Welch's jam."
"Is that from that crazy teetotaler Methodist in Vineland?" Karl laughed, as Bjorn nodded.
I know Trolls can eat a lot, but we were only heading to Wheatland. Maybe Woodmansie, by what John told us, at the most. 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," John interjected. "Once at Furnace Pond, I looked up and saw a meteorite fall east of the Danvenport while I was dropping charcoal into the forge's chimney. There was an eerie glow—I went looking for the Lunarians; those 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. Spiteful critters...
"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 Verne and L. Frank Baum…
As we passed the old Lenape cemetery, Pops joined us. His tribe has several tales about shapeshifters; he thought his magic could help us.
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. We continued on Two-Cemetery Road past the hydraulic pressed brick operation. Then we crossed the tracks before we crossed over the Disappearing Pond. Today it was dry and there was 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…You never look the same after you cross the pond.
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. He was avoiding his cousin.
There is still bad blood between them. Pop-Pops' father sold The Thousand Acre Woods to the old forge without Pops' father's consent.
At the top of the hill, we passed the Dung Beetle still pushing shit uphill.
"Just look at this shit !" he said. I don't know if he was complaining at all? Was he saying that it was some tasty shit, or his life was shit? Then again, if a dung beetle has a shitty life does he have it made? If you're not careful, he can hold you for hours complaining, or bragging....? Bjorn had snuck off to get that sack of food…Smart man.
We just waved and went on.
Then we bumped into Timmy Turtle in the other Lenape graveyard lined with bonsai topiaries..
"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 Bosco and me searched his house looking for a thief. He had heard thieves were real quiet when they robbed you. So in the middle of the night, he was disturbed by how quiet his house was and ran out screaming…
"I did find a thief in my house with a sack, later that month," Karl said.
"What did you do?" asked Gramps.
"I grabbed my own 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 she should start watering down his drinks. Gramps and Karl were bad enough hanging around her tavern..
She thought better, she decided she should water 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. Then I fell on my back and noticed my fishing 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 Peggy's spare leash after he turned into a werewolf. In the end, 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.
We are releasing our second collection of Trollheim stories in print, named Trolling About. It will be available on this website at www.salemhousepress.com and Barnes & Noble. Pick up your copy today, pretty please with sugar on top...
Make sure you pick up the first collection of tales too...
Fiction/ Illustrated Fantasy/ Mythology / Scandinavian Myth/ Norse Sagas / Scandinavian Folk Lore / Coffee Table Book
Paperback: $45 | Hardcover: $65 | PDF eBook $5
Buy now link...
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
PDF (non-flowable, best on tablet, desktop, or laptop) eBook: Download a copy onto your device today! Only $5.00
Share