|Troll turning into a mountain|
|vintage animal photography found at Getty Images|
The Troll turned Cat
About a quarter of a mile from Soroe lies Pedersborg, and a little farther on is the town of Lyng. Just between these towns is a hill called Brondhoi (Spring-hill), said to be inhabited by the Troll people.
There goes a story that there was once among these Troll people of Brondhoi an old crossgrained curmudgeon of a Troll, whom the rest nicknamed Knurremurre (Rumble-grumble), because he was evermore the cause of noise and uproar within the hill. This Knurremurre having discovered what he thought to be too great a degree of intimacy between his young wife and a young Troll of the society, took this in such ill part, that he vowed vengeance, swearing he would have the life of the young one. The latter, accordingly, thought it would be his best course to be off out of the hill till better times; so, turning himself into a noble tortoise shell tomcat, he one fine morning quitted his old residence, and journeyed down to the neighbouring town of Lyng, where he established himself in the house of an honest poorman named Plat.
Here he lived for a long time comfortable and easy, with nothing to annoy him, and was as happy as any tomcat or Troll crossed in love well could be. He got every day plenty of milk and good groute to eat, and lay the whole day long at his ease in a warm armchair behind the stove.
Plat happened one evening to come home rather late, and as he entered the room the cat was sitting in his usual place, scraping meal-groute out of a pot, and licking the pot itself carefully. "Harkye, dame," said Plat, as he came in at the door, "till I tell you what happened to me on the road. Just as I was coming past Brondhoi, there came out a Troll, and he called out to me, and said,
Tell your cat,
That Knurremurre is dead."
The moment the cat heard these words, he tumbled the pot down on the floor, sprang out of the chair, and stood up on his hind-legs. Then, as he hurried out of the door, he cried out with exultation, "What! is Knurremurre dead? Then I may go home as fast as I please." And so saying he scampered off to the hill, to the amazement of honest Plat; and it is likely lost no time in making his advances to the young widow.
|black cat at the feet of a woman|
|scene from The Empty Boy illustrated by John Bauer|