Iceland Expedition - Part 5

News from trolls, dwarfs, and elves

This is the last blog in the series that documents my first trip to Iceland with Bearbirds. Once again she has shared some fascinating photos from our voyage. And Mops amd Pops rell me that I must confess that these Iceland blogs have actually been written by Bearbirds, who has generously allowed me to post them as if they were my own.

We came to a lonesome place at Trollaskagi, the troll peninsula in the North of Iceland. In the morning the weather looked nice and we went out for a walk. We hiked along a small lake, the sun was shining and a farmer was going to spread liquid manure. He bent out of his tractor for a small talk with Bearbirds. It was so romantic!

When we reached the end of the fjord it got cloudy and a cold wind blew. Bearbirds climbed down to the shore and cried full of excitement, "Look at the wild Northern sea, Edelweiss! We nearly have reached the Polar Circle, we have crossed the 66th parallel already!"

I'm not a fan of such a big bathtub full of cold water, but the latitude was interesting.

"Am I now entitled to get such a cap we have seen in the 66° North shop?" I asked.

"Oh Edelweiss, I fear your head is too little for such a cap!"

I growled extensively (yes I can!).

Next day we intended to visit Gryla. Bearbirds had told me some stories about this old cruel troll woman and I was a bit afraid.

"Gryla isn't dangerous any more. She is turned into stone," Bearbirds said to calm me down.

But it was raining and storming and we couldn't dare to walk over a two miles long dam of billions of slippery pebbles to reach the isle Thordarhöfdi where the petrified or pebblefied Gryla lives. Bearbirds promised the weather would be better in the afternoon, but it wasn't.

We cancelled the troll visit and had a little walk around the hills in a hailstorm. Suddenly I stopped. An odd being peered at us out of the hill. Was this a munchkin troll?

"I don't know what kind of creature it is," Bearbirds said.

"Shall I ask it?" I whispered.

Believe it or believe it not, but this creature was a dwarf. Dwarfs lived in Iceland in the very olden days, but they are assumed to be exterminated since the Viking age.

"I'm the last dwarf maintaining the remembrance of the golden days. There will come a time …"

The last words of the dwarf were blown away. What a fascinating meeting!

On our way back to the East I fell in love with a big black emotionless tomcat.

"Forget him," Bearbirds said, "he has a heart of iron."

And then we had to take the ferry back to Denmark. My heart was full of pain about my lost love.

"I have told you of the elves," Bearbirds said.

"Indeed, you did, but we haven't seen any!"

"Look there!" Bearbirds pointed back at the coastline: "The elves are dancing their 'goodbye and come again' round."

Last week I got a call from Bearbirds. She will go to Iceland again in late August and surely I will come with her!

Comment from Hoopoe

Dear Edelweiss,

Do you agree with Mops and Pops that honesty is the best policy, or do you feel deflated to think that we all now know that it is actually Bearbird's writing, and not your very own? I suspect she has accurately captured your feelings and reactions.

May I offer my condolences over your unrequited love? Hearts of iron are pretty inflexible, and those windows to the soul, his eyes, imply a complete lack of the inner man, I think. A sweet little creature such as yourself is better off without The Black Cat, I'd say.

I wonder if you might consider this fellow as a more appropriate subject of adoration.

Your concerned friend, Hoopoe