Return to Ullshoi Hill

By Judy Bibbins

Jeran was late. It was his job to grind the oats into flour for tomorrow morning's bread, and he was running late. It takes time to get the proper texture, and starting late would put him behind schedule. In truth, it was his schedule. He chose this specific job as his way to serve the farm, but he took his responsibility seriously. He frantically grabbed his red cap off the hook and ran from his home in the old oak tree, not checking to see if anyone was around. That was a mistake. If he had been paying attention, he would have seen the glow of the light in the barn and known someone was still awake.

And so begins the tale of a little tomte and the adventure it sets into motion when Jeran accidentally meets the farm boy, Hagan. They form an unlikely friendship that sees them through some harrowing experiences, encounters with fairies, and learning the meaning of home. Come along into the world of Norse and Celtic mythology as Jeran and Hagan discover that love and friendship are where you find it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: May 15, 2023
• ISBN: 9798887933214

Book preview

cover.jpg

Return to Ullshoi Hill

Judy Bibbins

Copyright © 2023 Judy Bibbins

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING

Conneaut Lake, PA

First originally published by Page Publishing 2023

ISBN 979-8-88793-328-3 (pbk)

ISBN 979-8-88793-321-4 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

For Mason, Marshall, and Audrey.

Be brave and be kind always.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Acknowledgments

About the Author

For Mason, Marshall, and Audrey.

Be brave and be kind always.

Chapter One

Ullshoi Hill, AD 1593

Jeran was late. It was his job to grind the oats into flour for tomorrow morning's bread, and he was running late. It takes time to get the proper texture, and starting late would put him behind schedule. In truth, it was his schedule. He chose this specific job as his way to serve the farm, but he took his responsibility seriously. He frantically grabbed his red cap off the hook and ran from his home in the old oak tree, not checking to see if anyone was around. That was a mistake. If he had been paying attention, he would have seen the glow of the light in the barn and known someone was still awake.

Jeran loved this little homestead farm. The house was a simple stone structure with a thatched roof and wooden door and shutters. But something about the way the sunlight reflected off the gray and pinkish stones in the morning made it look like it was glowing. The wood had aged in such a way it almost looked soft, supple. When the lanterns were lit inside, it just looked like such a cozy little home, much more comfortable than the tree Jeran lived in all alone.

Behind the house was the old brown barn where the two milking cows were kept, along with the chickens and the single horse they used for plowing the small field and vegetable garden. A stream ran along the back and far side of the property where the grain shed sat, placed so the stream could turn the giant water wheel for the mill inside. The big old tree that was Jeran's home sat on the opposite side of the property so he could watch over all of it.

Most nights, Jeran would enjoy the walk to the mill and smile at how blessed he was to serve this little farm and that the people who lived here were good to him. But not tonight. He had lost track of the time and was running late.

As he rounded the corner and ran into the grain shed, he suddenly found himself face-to-face with Hagan, the farmer's oldest son. Jeran had seen Hagan many times as he watched the family from his home in the tree. He liked this boy. He seemed to be a hard worker and had a good heart. Jeran thought he would grow to be a good man that would inherit the farm from his father and Jeran could continue to serve here with this family. But Hagan didn't know Jeran, or any tomte, truly existed…until now.

As Jeran rounded the corner, he stopped short. He was startled to be looking at Hagan, but more importantly, Hagan was looking at him. Hagan's eyes widened. He had never seen Jeran, and he was not supposed to. But he bent over, peering into the little man's eyes. Jeran wondered how the boy could see him. His red cap should have made him invisible. Jeran slowly reached up to touch the top of his head and felt nothing but the tufts of white hair that covered it. Where was his cap? He was sure he had put it on as he ran out the door. This was a serious problem.

Jeran was a nisse, one of the wee folk of the north who watched over the family farms and animals of Ullshoi Hill. They had served the farms for generations, mostly without incident. Provided the family was respectful of the nisse, the nisse would continue to care for the farm and animals. The nisse had no particular loyalty to the family; it was all about how the family treated them. The family would leave bowls of porridge out for their breakfast, and if they added extra butter or honey to it, the nisse would be happy and work hard for them. Special treats like sausage and spiced milk would ensure a good relationship. But if the family neglected the nisse—forgot the porridge or played jokes on them—the nisse could get angry and cause all sorts of mischief to make life very difficult. In some cases, the nisse had been known to curdle the fresh milk or even kill one of the animals to show their displeasure. The nisse were quite strong, especially for their size, and rather temperamental. Staying on their good side was critical to keep the farm running well.

The family knew they had a good nisse by how much work was done at night and would strive to keep them happy. But there were rules, a code of conduct really. Most important of the code was this: The nisse was never to be seen. Jeran's magical red cap was how he made sure that he was never seen by anyone in the family. As long as he was wearing the cap, no human could see him. But here he was, looking into the eyes of Hagan, and Hagan was clearly looking back at him.

Why was Hagan out here anyway? thought Jeran. It was late, and nobody needed to be in the barn at this time of night. But Hagan had forgotten to latch the barn doors when he went in for dinner and one had swung open. His father had seen it from the window and made Hagan go back out to check on the animals. If any of them had gotten out, Hagan would have had to round them up, if he could find them. It was careless of him to not check the doors, and his father would not tolerate it. Hagan had lit a lantern and checked all the stalls and counted the chickens—all were accounted for. He picked up his lantern and was heading back to the house when he saw the little man and stopped short. He had never seen a nisse and could not help but stare at him. He was smaller than