at the dinner table laughing.
Knowing that they would have been worried and would certainly have not been so jolly Mary crept to the house and peered through the window. There at the table sat an exact copy of herself. Mary said, “Sure it was like looking into a mirror and seeing myself.”
She thought about all the things that had happened during the day and realised that the cat that had followed her so intently must have been a changeling.
Mary sat and thought about all the things she had been told about changelings. She went to her father’s workshop and looked at the tools, she was about to pick up an axe when the stranger appeared in the door.
“Do you wish to kill the creature or simply drive it from your home?” he asked.
“Have I a choice?”
“Sure, there are always other ways instead of killing, how did your Nan and the old folk keep unwanted visitors from her home?”
“Well she always had a dish of cream outside of an evening, never had foxglove in the house and above the door...” Mary stopped talking as she remembered the visits to her grandmother’s house. She thought for a moment and selected
an old iron horseshoe from the pile her father always kept in the corner of his smithy. Creeping towards the kitchen door, Mary burst in and confronted those gathered around the table. Quick as a flash the changeling cried out “Mother! Father! What is this devil that looks like me?”
As Mary’s father ran towards his daughter, her mother protected the imposter. Just as the blacksmith reached the door, Mary tossed the horseshoe onto the table in front of the changeling. With a scream it reverted to its natural shape and jumped through the window to escape, for the one thing changelings hate most is iron.
Scooping up their only child in their arms, Mary’s parents resolved never to let their daughter come to harm. The next day her father nailed old horseshoes above every entrance to the house.
Tora
Illustrated by Al Davison
In Viking mythology there are many stories of how wolves came to villages, or raiders took out across the sea to discover new lands. The Viking people themselves were a mixture of traders, farmers, raiders and explorers. It is in Norway that one of the earliest recorded examples of the Raggedy Man can be found in Europe. The Scandinavians, with their rich heritage of storytelling, have passed down the story of Tora and the Troll Baby for generations.
Tora was a happy child; she lived with her father, mother, elder brother and grandmother in a house in the far north, close to what we now know as the Makkaurhalvoya nature reserve, which is on the coast of the Barents Sea. In the winter the bitter cold froze the land and turned everything white. The sea mists would roll inland and cover everything so travellers could see only a few feet in front of their faces. The coast was rocky and it took a very brave and experienced captain to steer his long boat into safe harbour.
Tora’s father was amongst the bravest sailors and was in great demand on trips to Arabia far to the south and to Greenland to the west. He was also hot tempered and did not suffer fools gladly, but he loved his family and it was said he would sail to the ends of the Earth to keep his children safe and happy.
Tora and her brother, Einar, were in the woods one day looking for firewood. It was the edge of winter and their father had not yet returned from a trading expedition. Their mother, Freya, would go up onto the cliffs in the morning and look to the east for signs of the returning ships and when they went to bed at night she would tell them, “Maybe tomorrow your father will return, you must smile and be pleased to see him because he will have missed you very much.”
One morning while the children were in the woods, their mother was on the cliff looking out to sea, when she heard a mighty roar from the trees. She lifted
her skirt and ran down towards the village because every person knew the sound of a Wood Troll; it was the sound of danger and of a possible attack on the village.
The previous winter, they had lost goats to the starving creatures, but this time the villagers were prepared. Tora’s mother rushed into the centre of the village and called to her neighbours to join her, then snatching up a big knife used for cutting meat, she set off to find her children.
When it comes to protecting their children Viking mothers were as fierce and as unforgiving as a bear with her cubs. Tora’s mother was no exception and on many occasions she had stood between husband and daughter when the child had been mischievous. Freya would distract her husband just long enough to allow Tora time to escape. Tora would hide out in the woods and Freya would often find her the next morning asleep with the animals.
Into the woods the woman charged, running as fast as her legs could carry her and in a clearing she found Einar unconscious, a gaping wound on his head. Scooping up the boy in her arms she looked around wildly for signs of Tora but saw none. Fearing for her son’s life Freya hurried back to the village to have his wounds tended and to fetch more help in the search for Tora.
Years later, Tora retold how they had been playing on the edge of the clearing when she had fallen over a tree root and there, in the branches above her, a Wood Troll looked down at her. Slowly she moved away from it and, as she did so, the creature leapt from its hiding place. Although it did not attack her, Einar had the small axe they used to make the branches easier to carry and he saw the troll leaping towards his sister. Without a second thought, he leapt to her defence and buried the sharp edge of the axe deep into the troll’s shoulder. With nowhere to escape to, the troll turned and attacked the boy before crashing into the woods.
Tora was terrified and sure her brother was dead; with the troll likely to return she fled away from the clearing not realising the troll was more scared of her than she was of it. The young girl tore through the trees hoping to find somebody to help her.
As darkness fell Tora became lost. The mist was rolling in from the sea. She hoped she would be able to find the coastline and from there use the North Star as a guide to find her way home. With every footstep she got colder and was sure she was going to freeze to death before she could make it home. Just as she was about to give up, she saw a figure sitting under a tree, his body was wrapped in rough clothing and his head was covered in a wide hat. His hands were tucked under his arms as he fought the cold, when Tora approached she wondered what he was looking at.
“I am lost, can you help me?” she asked.
He lifted his head to look at her. The girl was scared but one look into his eyes and she was at ease.
“A Wood Troll attacked us, my brother may be dead and I need to find help.”
The man looked at her and smiled, his eyes shone like the heart of a fire and Tora found herself relaxing despite the cold that nipped her skin.
“Your village is a mile towards the North Star, there is a party out looking for you.” the man told her, his eyes returned to the spot in the trees he had been watching before.
“What? Have you
