Welcome to another adventure from the Thousand Acre Woods deep within Trollheim of the NJ Pine Belt! Tales Chronicled by Jonathan Hulton. That's me. In our tale, Bjorn and me go Dragon hunting to cover Gramps bar tab for his upcoming birthday.

 

One day, I went with Bjorn on a dragon hunt, along the Central Railroad up toward Pasadena. Tomorrow was Gramps' birthday, and Bjorn needed to fill his coffers to the brim to afford Karl's and Gramp's bar tab for the day. I was once told by a nisse, even though it's not good to believe anything they say, that according to Norse myths that dragons can be found around fireflies. So I suggested, they enjoy small canyons along the tracks, and there was a place by Pasadena where the rails dug through a hill.

To save time, I sat on Bjorn's shoulder, as he grew as tall as an oak to save strides.

Occasionally, he had to stop and pretend his leg was a tree, when a random collier left their fire to find a mug of applejack. He only had one of their dogs and a random coyote relieve himself as we waited to start up again.

We crossed the whole Thousand Acre Woods, in under ten minutes, as the crow flies. Bjorn stopped at the old Lenape Turkey clan camp and let me off. Sitting on the edge, looking down, waiting for the next train, were many Lenapes with bags of sphagnum moss for florists in Philly and herbs for their doctors.

In the woods behind them, were their sacred mound and meditation trails. After the last train for the day passed, they walked away with their pockets filled with cash as we waited for the fireflies to come out.

Dusk settled, as they lit up the sky. Bjorn grabbed my hand, and we shrunk down and hid in the vole hole, waiting for the dragons to come.

Now for A little history of dragons in New Sweden. Sometimes the Swedes caught dragons in their Troll traps. Dragons love sunflower seeds just as much as Trolls. Like Trolls, they can shrink down and climb into the tiny glass jars in the ground; I think they both crawled out of the same brain pool.

Dragons always sold higher at the slave markets, but they usually cost more than they were worth; especially after they burn down a barn or two. More often than not, they are just set free in the Pines where they bred with the Great Horned Serpents.

And Maine thought they had it bad when their cats bred with the Viking cats…

Norwegian dragons started off as humans whose greed for gold sprouted them wings and extended their vestigial tails. The vile in their bile, mixes in their throats to combust on command. The dragon's loathness causes them to drag their bellies till they lose their hind limbs.

The women retain their shape above, like mermaids, and the men grow dorsal fins down the back of their bodies instead of their mate's thick horse manes. The offspring they produce, with the local serpents, retain their human form and gain the others horns and massive snake bodies. These crossbreeds tend to live in the Kirkwood aquifer. Only, popping their heads out of the springs at the bottom of the blue pools. Male alphas sometimes fly, making rainbows, before crashing back into quarries.

Today, we were only after, dragons. We could have thrown Bjorn's seaxe over one of them, but we couldn't grow big enough without giving up our location. Same thing with a ring of keys…
So we were left with Bjorn throwing a stone at one of its tails, as he let loose a subsonic howl, which created a standing wave with the dragon's yelp.

If he hadn't, the screech would have killed us both. Bjorn, looking at the pile of gold the tail turned into, thought twice and threw a second stone. Bjorn and Karl drink a lot.

We waited for them to fly by. Then Bjorn grew, tall as a tree again and filled his pockets full of gold.Ten minutes later, we were back in Trollheim.

Later that night, Gramps came by, and Bjorn gave him his present. I just hoped, that he and Karl wouldn't play blocks with the homes on Water Street again. Toms River has a fire department, police department, and pitchfork department ever since…

I'm not a jealous man, but it is hard at times to see how much wealth these Trolls can waste in one night. Though Thor provides.

On the way home, I stepped on some road apples from the iron carts. Among the apples, were some dung beetles. When I stepped on them, they turned into enough gold to pay off my mortgage.

Thor, Christ. Po ta toe, pot a toe. Odin, YAHWEH. Yuck!

Adonai, be praised.

 

If you like this tale, hit the share button below or just even tell your friend the old fashion way, with your mouth. Come back next week for our next tale.