There once lived in the Old Lands a man about whom many stories are told, and this is one of them.
Bragi was his name, and he was a man famous for his quick wit and good sense. So clever was he that those who knew him called him Fox-Bragi, and he was foremost among his friends and neighbours in turning any situation to his advantage. Many there were who sought his advice, and he gave it freely to those who were close to him.
Because of the high regard in which Bragi was held, he was often invited to spend the winter nights as a guest of honour in the home of one or another of his neighbours. It so happened that one winter, while he was the guest of his foster-brother, Trygve, Bragi came into disagreement with one of the other guests staying there, a man named Snorri Roskvasson. Snorri was a merchant who had dealings with Bragi’s foster-brother, but it soon became obvious to Bragi that their dealings were very one-sided and that Snorri did not treat in good faith with Trygve, but instead took advantage of his kindly nature to charge him high prices for poor goods.
At once the two men found themselves at odds. Whenever Snorri would counsel his host one way, Bragi would counsel against him. As Trygve was keener to follow the advice of his foster-brother, Snorri soon became quite short-tempered, and it became clear to Bragi that the merchant would make himself Bragi’s enemy.
Come spring, Snorri was bitingly furious, and as soon as the snow melted enough for the roads to be clear, he departed from Trygve’s farm in bitterness. It was for this reason that Bragi chose to travel home through the woods rather than taking the road, for he feared that Snorri would gather his men and wait along the shortest path to waylay him.
The way through the woods was long, however, for the only paths through the thick underbrush were the trails of deer. Roots and badger holes lay themselves out under Bragi’s feet, while thick branches blocked out the sun above. Soon enough, Bragi found himself faced with a small stream that cut between two steep banks on either side, which he had to leap over in order to continue on his way. As soon as Bragi’s feet touched the far side, however, a deep voice sounded from out the trees that loomed over the water.
“Who are you to trespass on my yard?” spoke the voice in the tone of two heavy stones grinding against one another. “This is a despicable crime, and you must be punished at once for it.”
“I am Bragi, called Fox-Bragi by some,” said Fox-Bragi. “Who are you, then, that names this patch of woods his yard? I have never heard of any man who made a home so far from his neighbours except that he was an outlaw without claim to land or property, so I think that there can be no crime in my coming this way. I have no wish for strife, however, so if you show yourself I will be happy to trade something for passage through these woods.”
“It will not do,” bellowed the voice, and it seemed to Bragi that it was the sound of the whole bank on which he stood collapsing into the stream. “Your words have only insulted me, and for that and your trespass I think I will swallow you in two mouthfuls.”
With those words, there came out of the trees a hulking and hideous troll as tall and as broad as a milk shed, with a long tufted tail and a bird’s nest behind his ear. Bragi looked at his teeth and saw that the troll could indeed swallow him up in two bites if Bragi were to be caught in his grip.
“That is a shame,” Bragi said, thinking quickly. “I have been away at my foster-brother’s house all winter, and have not yet been home to have my first bath of the spring—you will make yourself quite sick by eating me, dirty as I am.”
“That is no matter,” said the troll as it came forward. “I will wash you in the stream before swallowing you.
“You could well,” said Bragi. “And I would thank you for it, for I have no wish to go to my grave in this state. But then you would have to eat me raw, as I can see you have no cooking pot, and I fear I would be a most unpleasant meal—far worse than if properly boiled with onions and carrots.”
“Then I will bring you home for my daughter to clean you and cook you,” said the troll, stepping forward again. “Only hold still so I may grab you without trouble.”
“That would set my mind at ease,” said Bragi. “If you swear to bring me to your house to be cleaned before supper, then I accept wholeheartedly.”
“Yes, yes, I swear it,” said the troll. “You have done me a favour by your warnings, so I will bring you to my house to be cleaned before supper.”
“That is well,” said Bragi. “Then, as you have invited me to your home for a bath and a meal, I am your guest, and by the laws of hospitality you may not harm me.”
At this the troll raged and gnashed his teeth and shattered a stand of oaks with his fist—for even trolls fear to become oath-breakers.
“Very well,” said the troll, already thinking about his revenge. “You may stay in my home for one night, and you will be bathed before supper just as I said.” And with that he picked Bragi up in one huge hand and carried him swiftly through the woods. Soon they arrived at the troll’s home, which was built into the side of a rocky hill. A huge overhang of stone protected the troll’s door and porch from the rays of the sun, the last light of which shone down on the house—for no trees grew on the bald rock of the hill. Slinking from shadow to shadow to avoid being turned to stone, the troll crept under the safety of the overhang and up to his door. Stepping in, he closed it behind him and made it fast with a heavy beam too large for Bragi to lift.
“Daughter!” the troll bellowed at once upon entering. “Come here!”
As soon as he shouted, into the room there came another troll as huge and hideous as her father, with huge crooked teeth and a bat living in her left nostril.
“This man is our guest,” the troll said. “Take him to the bath and do not let him out of the water until every speck of him has been scrubbed red!”
With that the troll’s daughter snatched Bragi up and hauled him off to another room under the hill, where a pool of water sat in a stone basin. There she roughly pulled the clothes from Bragi and tossed him into the water.
“Your father must be very trusting!” Bragi said when he came back up out of the water. “That or he intends for me to be more than a guest soon enough! For I can say truly that I would not allow a man I intended to remain a stranger so close to my own beautiful daughter. I hope, fair maiden, that you are still unwed?”
At that the troll’s daughter blushed scarlet and fled from the room. Bragi quickly climbed out of the bath and dried himself off. When he was dressed once more he crept quietly out of the room to try to find his escape. As he crept through the halls, however, he began to notice a horrible smell that made him dizzy almost to fainting. Covering his nose, he went to investigate. Following the smell to its source, he soon found his host the troll bent over a large pot, stirring it with a long spoon.
“Eager for your supper, are you?” the troll asked when he spied Bragi in the doorway. “Well! Supper you were promised, and supper you shall have—I am making a special soup for you of cowsbane, hemlock, and toadstools, with boiled snakes for meat. It will be ready in a moment, and as you are such a worthy guest you’ll have the whole pot to yourself!”
Hearing what was in his supper, Bragi saw at once that if he ate even a mouthful he would fall as dead as a stone—but if he refused the hospitality he had tricked the troll into offering, he would be in even greater danger. Bragi thought hard about how to escape his plight, but nothing came to mind. As he thought, the troll brought down a long table and set two places with wooden bowls. In one bowl he poured the poisoned soup for Bragi, and in the other he poured a measure of wine for himself. Then he set out two stools and called for Bragi to sit and eat his super.
Bragi took one look at his meal and knew at once what to do.
“This soup looks very fine,” said Bragi. “Very fine indeed! I beg you, however, to put it back in the pot and boil it a little longer, for I have a bad tooth and cannot eat anything even a little firm—but boil it another four hours and I will happily enjoy the soup you have made for me!”
The troll grumbled, but he put the soup back in the pot and brought it back to a boil. The fumes in the room grew terrible, but Bragi kept his nose covered under his hand and endured it. When the soup was done once more, the troll took the pot again off the fire and poured the soup out into Bragi’s bowl.
“I have boiled it again as you asked!” said the troll. “Now you will eat your supper!”
“How I wish to!” said Bragi. “But look how lavish a meal you have made for me, and how plain our bowls are! A meal as fine as this deserves to be eaten from a bowl of gold, or silver at the very least. But bring me such a bowl instead of this wooden one and I will happily enjoy the soup you have made for me!”
Well the troll grumbled and mumbled, but he got up from the table and went rummaging through his possessions. All manner of odds and ends had piled up in his home over the years, taken from other travellers the troll had eaten, and he had to dig through mounds of old shoes and broken skis and mouldering clothes. After four hours of searching, the troll finally produced a bowl of beaten gold that gleamed joyfully in the light of the fire. Grinning in triumph, he slammed it down on the table and began to pour Bragi’s soup from the wooden bowl to the golden one.
“Oh! But now it has gone cold,” said Bragi. “It was so lovely and hot earlier. Won’t you put it back in the pot and boil it again so I can eat it nice and hot?”
The troll ground his teeth and clenched his fists at Bragi’s words, but he put the soup back in the pot and brought it back to a boil. The fumes in the room became so bad that Bragi’s eyes began to water, and he thought he might go blind.
“Is it hot enough?” the troll asked after a moment.
“A little longer,” said Bragi.
“Is it hot enough now?” the troll asked again after an hour.
“A little longer still,” said Bragi. Twice more the troll asked if was hot enough yet, and twice more Bragi answered "a little longer still," and in this way he was able to keep the troll boiling the soup until a full four hours had passed.
“That’s as long as it boiled the first time!” the troll finally said, growing angry. “It has boiled so long there is no water left in the pot! It is hot enough now for anyone!”
“Very well,” said Bragi. “Oh, but it is such a nice night. If I am to eat such a fine soup from such a fine bowl, let it be under such fine stars as you have above your home. But let us move the table outside under the open sky, and I will happily enjoy the soup you have made for me!”
“Fine!” snapped the troll. “But after this, no more requests. You will eat your soup outside or I will consider that you have refused every hospitality I have offered you, and you will be no guest of mine!”
So it was that the troll picked up the whole table and both stools in one hand and carried everything out the door, removing the beam too heavy for Bragi to lift as he went. By this time twelve hours had passed, however, and dawn was breaking.
“I see your trick!” said the troll. “You wish for me to turn to stone under the rising sun! Well, perhaps you are not as clever as you thought! I will stay here under the overhang at one end of the table, and you will sit at the other end under the open sky and enjoy the last stars of the morning—and of your life!”
“Alas!” said Bragi. “I see that I am doomed. Very well, let me have the bowl of soup and I shall take my seat.”
At these words the troll set up the table half in and half out of the shade, and set the golden bowl of soup upon it. But no sooner had he pushed the bowl of soup down the long table to within Fox-Bragi’s reach than the man snatched it up and held it aloft. And as Bragi raised the glittering rim of the bowl up above his head, a dazzling ray of sunlight struck the burnished gold and reflected a brilliant beam in under the overhang, striking the troll full in the face. All at once a horrible transformation overtook the troll, and in no more than an instant he had turned to stone.
And so it was that Fox-Bragi escaped from being eaten by trolls and returned home richer by a gleaming, golden bowl.
