There was, once upon a time, a lad called Simon born in London. He grew up, experiencing all the usual triumphs and defeats of childhood; and then, in his early twenties, he moved to Scandinavia. For a long time, he laboured and toiled at the university, studying the intricacies of language, literature, philosophy, and religion; and when his studies were done—or rather, when the money ran out—he took a job teaching. For more years than he cares to remember, he has taught room after room of young people, teaching them the mysteries of mathematics, music, English, religion—and on more than one occasion, the guitar and ukulele (for which he apologises).
Life smiles on Simon. He lives in quiet harmony with his wife, young daughter, and dogcat (RIP Jasper); and there are five older children, all of whom still pay a visit every now and again. His evenings he whiles away—reading, translating, and writing—and when he tires of these most strenuous of activities, as he sometimes does, he looks at pictures—daydreaming, just as he did as a young lad. He enjoys reading literature of every origin and variety, but has a particular fondness for the organic nature of folklore.
Simon still lives in Arctic Norway, and probably always will.
Icelandic trolls turning to stone: https://www.nationalgeographic.com/travel/destinations/europe/iceland/folklore-myths/
ReplyDeleteThose kind of small local legends abound here as well; people point at a rock and say, "troll". What I would like to find is wonder tales or longer local legends with a good deal of action--like the legend of Snáfellsness--but in which the troll, when defeated, turns into stone. Thanks for the link, though. Icelandic legends are fascinating.
Delete