The Gullfoss Legends

By Billy Bob Buttons

REVIEWS

'Dazzling!' www.kidzbookclub.com

'This beautifully presented children's book tells a tale of a young girl who travels through blizzards, volcanic ash and scalding pools of hot mud to reach Reykjavik, Iceland.She wishes to seek help from the King of Reykjavik, to prevent the British from building a dam on Gullfoss, a waterfall on her homeland. During her difficult journey, she makes some good friends and outwits some nasty assassins, making this tale truly magical, heart-warming and full of adventure. Each chapter starts with an Icelandic phrase or saying, some of which are humorous and add unique charm to the book. There s a phonics page and glossary at the back, which explain what the Icelandic words/phrases are and their pronunciation. The author s descriptive language jumps out of the page, grabbing the reader so they can almost imagine they re there in Iceland with Sigridur, the main character. The story is well-researched and would provide a welcome challenge for children of 9-12 years.' SP Magazine

'It tells the story of Sigridür Tómasdóttir, a 12 year old girl who flees her father's farm to talk to the king and try to save her beloved waterfall, Gulfoss. The author had the help of Professor of History Helgi Skúli Kjartansson to recriate the legend, even if it isn't followed exactly, since Sigri was around 30, not 12, years old when she went into her adventure to save Gulfoss. Sigri, as she is called all during the story, is an emotional 12 year old girl who loves her waterfalls, Gulfoss. When she finds out her dad is going to sell it to the energy company, who will put a dam on it, because he needs more money to support his two daughters, she complains and goes against it - how can he sell her beloved waterfall? She then gets the idea, from the waterfall, actually, that she should go see the king and ask him to help her save Gulfoss, but she doesn't know exactly where the city is, and just walks there. All 120 kms. She meets, along the way, a man who travelled around the world, a boy with a kind heart, a wolf-man, geisers, a volcano, thiefs, murderers and, of course, the king. The Gulfoss Falls are amazing and I totally agree with Sigri, they are worth saving. The story is full of magic and Icelandic - words, foods, landscape, traditions. It's a tale about a land and a people we don't hear much about and it's real, at least as real as it gets. It's a tale of love and friendship, with some funny bits too. Billy Bob Buttons is a great author who manages to write well for children and amazes and enchants grown ups as much as the little ones. Don't hesitate in buying this for your little ones or for yourself.' Brazilian Bookworm

FROM THE AUTHOR

My name is Billy Bob Buttons and I'm the author of a new children's book called The Gullfoss Legends. The book is loosely based on the legend of Sigríður Tómasdóttir and her fight to save Gullfoss waterfall in Iceland in the early 1900s.
The book was written with the expert help of Professor Helgi Skúli Kjartansson, Professor of History at the University of Iceland.
Reviewers on Kidzbookclub.com described the book as `DAZZLING!' and on Bookbuzz they wrote `The story telling skill of J K Rowling and the wit of Roald Dahl.'

• Language: English
• Publisher: Billy Bob Buttons
• Release date: Nov 10, 2010
• ISBN: 9781458042675

Billy Bob Buttons

WINNER OF THE 2014 UK PEOPLE'S BOOK PRIZEBilly Bob Buttons is from Earth, the third planet from the sun in a small galaxy called the Milky Way. Subsequently, he is called 'Earthling'. He is 'normal' in many ways - for example, he enjoys chocolate. Note, any earthling suspected of not liking chocolate cannot be trusted and must be exterminated.Having observed this human from our ship, the following has been noted: He is 14,235 earth days old and plays a sport called 'tennis' a lot, in which he hits a fuzzy green ball over a net and shouts, 'Love 15'. Note, who are the 15? And why is he in love with them? He is also very popular and has 7,745,121 friends. They all live together in a place called 'London'.He has two matching baby earthlings called, 'No! No! Stop chewing on that electric cable!' and, 'There's no way she needs a nappy change! Is there?!' He also has a mate called 'Sorry, Darling' who seems vastly more intelligent and is the ruler of the dwelling. Finally, he spends lots of earth hours thumping two fingers on the keys of a primitive computer.To conclude, the specimen must be kidnapped, probed and tested.

Book preview

The Gullfoss Legends

By Billy Bob Buttons

Published by The Wishing Shelf Press at Smashwords

Copyright 2010 Edward H Trayer

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share the book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.

Chapter One

SIGRÍÐUR TÓMASDÓTTIR

Jafnan er hálfsögð saga, ef einn segir.

A tale is but half told if only one person tells it.

MY PAPPI thinks my eyes are even bluer than the River Hvitá flowing by our old farm. He’s so silly. He thinks my sister Bryndis is pretty too but she’s not. She has a funny chin. If I must find a simile for it, I’d say, ‘shrivelled turnip’.

My name is Sigríður Tómasdóttir, I’m twelve years old, thirteen in February and I live on a small sheep farm called Brattholt in the south of Iceland. My family call me Sigri but children in Eyrarbakki village call me ‘Sigri the Crow’s Nest’, it’s my curls, much too long and very messy; think haystack. Yesterday, I was trying to brush it and a twig and a crowberry fell on to my lap. My cousin, Petur, he’s a bully; he calls me ‘Tröll’ (troll). Boys can be so cruel. I remember when Ma had been here, there had been no twigs in my curls then. But Pappi never combs it. I miss her terribly.

I hunch my shoulders and walk over to my Gullfoss (Golden Falls), on the very path my sister and I built three summers ago. A jacket of sheepskin, four winters old, keeps the cold September wind at bay, but still I shiver. I had blinked and the summer of 1907 had galloped by, often the way in Iceland. Winter is now crowding in, keen to strip the birch trees and blanket us with snow. I hate the winter. The cold always seems to invade my body like a ship full of marauding Vikings.

I cross a patch of yellow grass at the back of my pappi’s farm. Grey sheep trot next to me, expecting to be fed, and my dog sniffs my heels. She is a sheepdog and I love her dearly. She is fluffy, her fur the colour of ash, so I call her Aska.

I feel my Golden Falls long before I see her, the waterfall hidden so it looks as if the mighty River Hvitá is simply swallowed up by the earth. Spray dusts my eyelids and a thunderous crashing sends shivers from my feet all the way to the tips of my curls. I walk over the top of a low hill...

...and there she is...

My wonderful cascade of water, dropping not once, but twice. Thundering into the canyon, the swirling water meanders away in a thousand twists and turns. As always, I stand stock-still, in awe of the vast curtains of water. Aska whimpers, burying her nose in the curve of my left knee. Gullfoss frightens her.

In the shadow of this growling monster, my fantasy returns. I’m sitting on a tiny raft of drift wood, my feet dangling in the frothing water. I hit the first of the falls. I go over but I’m not scared. I’m flying.

FLYING! In a jumble of misty clouds. I see a wolf, all teeth and bristled-up fur, black eyes wild and hungry. Then a tröll; he’s winking at me, his pot-lid eyes full of secrets...

A gust of wind hits me, carrying a string of sober words. Rudely, they interrupt my fantasy. I look up to see my pappi and a man trudging over the crest of the hill. I feel my teeth clench. The man is Mr. Rudolph J. Stern, an Englishman who works for the Global Electric Company, the GEC, and my only enemy. He has the black eyes of a devil, the wobbly bottom of a milking cow and a perfectly trimmed moustache. I decide, then and there, if I drop him in a pot of stew the stew would taste of scrambled up rat poo and wormy spaghetti. I spot he has a map in his hand. He wants to buy my Gullfoss and put a dam and a power plant on it.

‘Good morning, Sigríður.’ Mr Stern lifts the lip of his bowler hat and musters a grin but his eyes stay frosty. Nervously, he fingers the tips of his moustache, his cheek twitching as if there is an annoying fly on it. He knows what I think of him and his plans for Gullfoss.

I wish him a good morning too. My pappi is listening. He will be angry if I’m boorish.

‘No school today?’ Mr Stern asks me, cheerily. He knows no Icelandic but my mother schooled me in English. I need it for when I show visitors Gullfoss.

‘I don’t go to school,’ I reply curtly.

‘Yes, yes. Silly me.’ But I can tell he’s not interested.

He and my pappi clasp hands. ‘Excellent!’ booms Stern. ‘I will be by in the week with the papers.’ He drops to his knee to mop a spot of mud off his polished boots with his thumb. ‘Good day,’ he snaps.

With narrow eyes I watch