The Troll Shoes.
Near Kölefors, in the jurisdiction of Kinda, lived, a long time ago, an old woman, who, as the saying goes, was accustomed, during Easter week, to go to Blåkulla.
Late one Passion Wednesday evening, as was usual with witches, she lashed her pack in readiness for the night, to follow her comrades in their wanderings. In order that the start should be accompanied by as few [[135]]hindrances as possible, she had greased her shoes and stood them by the fireplace to dry.
In the dusk of the evening there came to her hut another old woman, tired and wet through from the rain, and asked permission to remain over night. To this the witch would not consent, but agreed to allow the woman to remain until she had dried her soggy shoes before the fire, while she, unwilling to be under the same roof with her guest, remained outside.
After a time the fire died out, and it became so dark in the hut that when the stranger undertook to find her shoes, in order to continue her journey, she got and put on the witch’s shoes instead. Hardly had she passed out through the door when the shoes jerked her legs up into the air and stood her head downward, without, however, lifting her into the air and carrying her away as would have been if the witch’s broom had been in her hand.
In this condition the old woman and the shoes struggled through the night. Now the shoes stood her on her head and dragged her along the ground, now the woman succeeded in grasping a bush or root, and was able to regain her feet again for a time.
In the end, near morning, a man walking past, noticed her and hastened to her relief. Answering her earnest pleading the man poked off one of the shoes with a stick, whereupon, instantly, shoe and stick flew into the air and vanished in the twinkling of an eye. After the adventures of the night the old Troll woman was so weakened that she fell into a hole, which is pointed out to this day, and is called “The Troll Woman’s Pit.” [[136]]
The Wood and the Sea Nymphs.[1]
Both wood nymphs and sea nymphs belong to the giant family, and thus are related.
They often hold communication with each other, although the wood nymphs always hold themselves a little above their cousins, which frequently occasions differences between them.
A peasant, lying in the woods on the shores of Lake Ömmeln, heard early one morning voices at the lake side engaged in vehement conversation. Conjecturing that it was the wood nymphs and sea nymphs quarreling, he crept through the underbrush to a spot near where they sat, and listened to the following dialogue:
Sea Nymph—“You shall not say that you are better than I, for I have five golden halls and fifty silver cans in each hall.”
Wood Nymph—“I have a mountain which is three miles long and six thousand feet high, and under that mountain is another, ten times higher and formed entirely of bones of the people I have killed.”
When the peasant heard this he became so alarmed [[137]]that he ran a league away, without stopping. Thus he did not learn which was victorious, but it was the wood nymphs without doubt, as they have always been a little superior to the others. [[138]]
[1] The wood nymph dwells in large forests, and is described as a beautiful young woman, when seen face to face; but if her back be turned to one it is hollow, like a dough-trough, or resembles a block stub. Sometimes, instead of a hollow back, she is adorned with a bushy fox tail. The sea nymph dwells, as indicated by the name, at the bottom of seas and lakes, and is clad in a skirt so snow-white that it sparkles in the sunlight. Over the skirt she wears a light blue jacket. Usually her appearance is the forerunner of a storm; she is then seen sitting upon a billow combing her golden hair. [↑]
The Mountain Kitchen.[1]
In the parish of Bolsta there lived, many years ago, a man named Slottbon. One summer evening he rode his horse to pasture up toward Dalo Mountain. Just [[139]]as he let the horse go, and was turning to go home, a black man confronted him and asked him if he did not wish to see the mountain kitchen.
Slottbon acquiesced and followed his conductor into the mountain, where it seemed to him certain that he must lose his senses among the glitter of gold and silver utensils of the kitchen, with which he was surrounded.
The mountain man inquired of his guest if he should order something to eat for him, to which Slottbon assented, and, while his host was absent preparing the repast, improved the opportunity to gather up all the gold and silver his leather apron would hold, and with it hasten away with all possible speed, not slacking his pace until he came to a gravel pit, where it occurred to him to look at his treasure. Seating himself upon a stone, he began to throw the vessels, one after the other, upon the ground, where, as fast as they were thrown down, they were turned into serpents.
Thoroughly frightened at the sight, he dropped his whole burden and took to his heels, followed closely by the wriggling mass of enormous reptiles. Finally, when he had about given himself up for lost, he came to and sprang upon the trunk of a fallen tree and cried out, “God save me, poor sinner!” and in the twinkling of an eye the serpents vanished. [[140]]
[1] This legend is noteworthy as being the only one, as far as the author has been able to find, in which Troll property is changed into snakes. Usually gold is changed into shavings, and silver to pebbles and sand; otherwise it brings disaster upon the usurper of Trolldom and his family. [↑]
Buried Alive.[1]
Many years ago an epidemic swept over Dalland, to which thousands of persons fell victims. Many people fled to the forests, or to other regions; the churches were deserted, and those remaining were not enough to bury the dead. At this stage an old Finlander came along, who informed the few survivors that they need not hope for cessation of the scourge until they had buried some living thing.
The advice was followed. First a cock was buried alive, but the plague continued as violent as ever; next, a goat, but this also proved ineffectual. At last a poor boy, who frequented the neighborhood, begging, was lured to a wood-covered hill at the point where the river Daleborg empties into Lake Venem. Here a deep hole was dug, the boy meantime sitting near, enjoying a piece of bread and butter that had been given him. When the grave was deep enough the boy was dropped into it and the diggers began hurriedly to shovel the dirt upon him. The lad begged and prayed them not to throw dirt upon his bread and butter, but the spades flew faster, and in a few minutes, still alive, he was entirely covered and left to his fate.
Whether this stayed the plague is not known, but many who after night pass the hill, hear, it is said, a voice as if from a dying child, crying, “Buried alive! buried alive!” [[141]]
[1] As late as 1875 a farmer near Mariestad, during an epidemic among his cattle, buried alive a cow in the ground. Whether this cruel expedient was effective the author is not informed. [↑]
Jonas Spits.[1]
At Helgy, in the parish of Sunne, lived a warrior, by name Jonas Spits, who, in wars against the Russians [[142]]and others, had gained for himself the reputation of a brave man.
It so happened that there was a revolt in the land, and the king sent a message to Spits, commanding his services in battle. One Sunday morning, after the troops had assembled in the field, Spits was engaged in grinding his sword.
“This is right!” said the king. “There will be fighting to-morrow; let me see that you make good use of your weapon then.”
“I shall not fail you,” answered Spits, and continued his grinding.
The next day brought a bloody conflict, in which Spits’ sword was not idle until the evening and the conclusion of the battle, when the king asked for him.
“Here I am,” answered Spits, bowing before him.
“Let me see your sword,” said the king, “and know what services you have done this day.”
“Here it is,” said Spits, at the same time reaching for the weapon covered with blood.
“Good!” said the king. “I’ll gild this sword for you.” Whereupon he knighted him and commanded that he should be called “The Spits of Gyllenspits.” [[143]]
[1] The ennobled Gyllenspits was born at Speserund, in the parish of Millisvik, in Vermland, some time in the year 1609. During the Polish and German wars he made his way up from the ranks to lieutenant-colonel, and was made a noble in 1660. He was afterward colonel, and finally major-general of infantry. He died in 1679, and is buried in Sunne Church, in Vermland. [↑]