Troll Family Olsen's Long Journey Home

Don Woods

Description

This book tells the tale of the Troll Family Olsen who are accidentally shipped to England. The family sleep in the granite of the mountains of Scandinavia and wake up to find their sleeping quarters have been mined and taken across the sea to the flat lands of East Anglia. An adventurous journey follows with exciting twists and turns as they try to get home. They find themselves helping many and varied animals along the way who repay the favour and help them return whence they came.

Sujets

• Adventure (Guyana)
• Adventure

Informations

• Publié par: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Date de parution: 30 septembre 2019
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781528964807
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

The Troll Family Olsen’s Long Journey Home
Don Woods
Austin Macauley Publishers
2019-09-30
The Troll Family Olsen’s Long Journey Home About the Author About the Book Dedication Copyright © Don Woods (2019) Acknowledgement Chapter 1: Lost in England Chapter 2: Who Are the Trolls? Chapter 3: The Poachers Chapter 4: The Meeting Chapter 5: Their Journey Starts Chapter 6: The Otters Chapter 7: Rescuing the Man-Boy Chapter 8: Trapped Chapter 9: The Reunion Chapter 10: The Trolls in Town Chapter 11: The Rustlers Chapter 12: Myxomatosis Chapter 13: The Farm Fire Chapter 14: Perils of the Sea Chapter 15: Heading for Home
About the Author
Don is a successful country singer, songwriter, poet and author, who has spent his life entertaining people worldwide. The inspiration for this book is based in Scandinavia. People love the warmth of his deep voice and connection to his audience, which earned him a tremendous following over the years. Don’s poems have sold internationally, he has appeared on TV in Germany and Holland and had a successful radio show in Nottingham, UK. He has written his own biography, 3 children’s books, a book of personal poetry and had many short stories published.
About the Book
This book tells the tale of the Troll Family Olsen who are accidentally shipped to England. The family sleep in the granite of the mountains of Scandinavia and wake up to find their sleeping quarters have been mined and taken across the sea to the flat lands of East Anglia. An adventurous journey follows with exciting twists and turns as they try to get home. They find themselves helping many and varied animals along the way who repay the favour and help them return whence they came.
Dedication
To Gwen and my children.
Copyright © Don Woods (2019)
The right of Don Woods to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.
Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.
ISBN 9781528926737 (Paperback)
ISBN 9781528964807 (ePub e-book)
www.austinmacauley.com
First Published (2019)
Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd
25 Canada Square
Canary Wharf
London
E14 5LQ
Acknowledgement
Thanks to Jennifer, my daughter, for helping me with this book.
Chapter 1:

Lost in England
The mighty shipyard cranes were busy unloading a container ship that had just arrived from Norway. It was carrying a cargo of granite to be used in a road-building program in the part of England known as Hampshire. From the ship, the rock was being loaded into lorries that were waiting on the quayside, ready to drive it across the country and deliver it to the site.
The drivers were too busy talking amongst themselves to hear the strange screams and yells of pain that came each time the jaws of the huge crane’s bucket opened, and sent another load of the massive rocks crashing into the back of the lorry. There were cries of, “Ooh, aargh, ouch, be careful, that hurt.” Yet there was not a sign of anyone who could be yelling like that.
After the long journey to the site of the road works, the rocks were tipped out to more cries of pain and anguish. But still no one heard. Eventually, one of the drivers did think he heard something, but when he cocked his head to listen, all was quiet. So he put it down to his imagination and jumped back in his cab and set off to collect another load.
As dusk fell on the site, many of the rocks started to shimmer and shake and a strange white mist appeared all around them. From that mist figures started to emerge. First one, then two, followed by three, four, five, and six, until there was a complete family of Norwegian Trolls standing there. A grandpa, grandma, Poppa, Momma, and their two children, a little girl called Grete and a little boy named Jan. Together they made up the Olsen family. The oldest of the males looked around him and said.
“Where are we? The last thing I remember is going to sleep in my rock on the mountain.”
“Us too,” the other Trolls chorused.
They were not to know that back home in Norway, when as normal they had merged with the rocks to sleep as all Trolls do, the men had come to dynamite the mountain to get the rocks for this road building program in England. Norwegian granite was in great demand and a valuable export. At that moment, a mouse scurried by.
“Excuse me, mouse,” said Momma Olsen, “where are we?”
The mouse stopped as though thunderstruck. These people looked like humans but they were talking to him in his own language. And there was something else strange about them that he could not quite put his finger on.
“We are here of course you silly woman, where else could we be,” he snapped crossly before dashing off to continue his search for food for his family. Suddenly, he stopped. They had tails he thought. But humans don’t have tails! But they did he was sure of it. He crept back for another look. Yes, they definitely had tails. Just wait till I tell my friends , he thought gleefully, they will never believe that I have seen humans with tails. And with a flick of his own tail he shot off once more.
“What a rude mouse,” Grandpa Olsen said, “still we cannot stay here as all these rocks will soon be buried under the ground.” Looking around, he could see no sign of other rocks, just a few odd trees and hedgerows dotted about and some of the men’s cabins in the distance. “What a strange land,” he said, "it’s so flat and bare. But we are going to have to find somewhere else to sleep before the daylight comes. So the best thing to do is split up and all go in different directions and we will search for somewhere suitable. If you should find anywhere, send for the rest of us in the normal way (Trolls can read each other’s mind if they are not too far from each other).
Jan and Grete were to go together. Being children, they could not contain their curiosity when they saw the lights from the cabins in the distance, and made a beeline for them. Although they knew they must never let themselves be seen by the humans that lived in them. It was Grete who first spotted the strangely dressed little people in the garden of a cottage.
“Look Jan,” she said, pointing through the gate at them, “who are they?”
“I don’t know, but they are very small for humans aren’t they.” He waved at them but got no response. He crept into the garden and touched one.
“Grete look, they are made of wood!”
Grete picked one of the little people up, “You are right, quickly let’s call Momma and the others.”
Soon the whole family was clustered around the little people, which they soon would learn were called garden gnomes.
“These are just the things we need to sleep in as they are made of wood and we will be able to merge with them,” said Grandpa, “I am having this one, then I can spend all my days when I am not asleep, fishing in that pond over there.”
He pointed to a fishpond in the centre of the garden.
The others soon found gnomes to suit them apart from Grete.
“There is no little girl for me to merge with!” she wailed. “Where am I going to spend my days?”
Her Momma cuddled her, “You will have to go inside that little boy statue or one of the other old ladies or men.”
“I don’t want to be a little old lady or man, and I most certainly don’t want to be a boy,” she said stamping her foot in temper. But in the end she had no choice, and had to become a boy during the day.
The Trolls were pleased that they had found somewhere to hide during the days. But now they had to find out where they were and what to do next. The following morning, Widow Simpson who lived in the cottage, was annoyed to find someone had moved her garden gnomes. They had been taken from where they had been scattered around her garden, and were now in a group around her fishpond.
“Tut Tut,” she clucked her tongue, “those naughty village children have been playing with my gnomes.” She picked them up and put them back in their correct places, then went off to do her shopping.
Chapter 2:

Who Are the Trolls?
Trolls have always lived in Scandinavia and are reputed to be the long dead spirits of ancient peoples of all kinds, even old Viking warriors. So you can get good, kind and gentle Trolls, or very bad Trolls who are to be avoided at all costs. The Olsen Troll family were good and kind Trolls who lived way up in the Arctic Circle in the north of Norway; their home was in the high mountains. They would normally spend their days, which we humans call nights, tidying up the forests that covered the land for thousands of kilometres. Or they would be fishing in the crystal clear waters of the mountain, rivers and streams. Sometimes, if they felt a bit lazy they would just sit around telling stories of the things they had done and seen in their lives. And there would be many such tales told as the Trolls live forever and see so much.
Now Trolls can take on many forms, but their normal one is just like a human, the only real difference being is that Trolls have a tail. It is not a very long tail, but a tail nevertheless. It is short and furry, but quite thick with a little tuft of hair at the end. A bit like a lion’s in fact.
Now our family of Trolls included, as I have already told you, Grandpa Olsen, a big jolly man with a flaming red beard. He would tell tales of when he roamed the land as a Viking warrior and all the battles he had fought and the seas he had sailed. As he talked of his exploits, Grandma Olsen would pause from her constant knitting, (as it was her job to feed and clothe the family) and would always interrupt hi