Was Our Tomten really as unpredictable and cranky as my Great Grandfather says?
My Great Grandfather drinks more than he should and says lots of things I’m not sure about. Since I was “old enough” my Great Grandfather has been telling me stories about back home in Sweden, and life there on our family’s farm. Some stories have a moral, or a dirty joke, but the ones I like best are the ones about Our Tomten.
Tomten are old beyond time and appear to be small bearded old men wearing red caps. Please do not mistake a tomten for some Christian sanitized version of a gnome or one of Santa’s Elves. They are ancient sprits of the earth and date back to before Odin, or Thor, or Loki, and Frida. Older still to before the very first Gods who predated humans in the North.
My Great Grandfather says this story was just the way it happened, except for the parts he made up or forgot, and should be a lesson to us all about being polite and considerate to old men. Considerate like buying them a drink for example.
Very late one clear night, just a bit before the moon was full, Our Tomten was sitting in the farmyard smoking his pipe, trying to clear his head after drinking with my Great Grandfather since dusk. He was watching the sky for the next day’s weather when he heard quick and nearly silent paws run behind him.
His pipe smoke formed a fox, and he knew who had come. “Good evening, my young red sir. Whatever could bring you here.” The fox was amused. Who was this ancient little shriveled man to ask? “ Oh Grandfather, it seems I can not sleep, and have come looking for a late night snack.”
Our Tomten was never very patient and a night of heavy drinking had given him a terrible headache. So back and forth they chatted, each trying trip-up the other with seemingly polite conversation. The fox was clever as is the way of his kin, and Our Tomten was happy enough for the conversation, even if the fox’s motives were transparent.
Finally Our Tomten yawned and said, “It is late my red-tailed friend, and I am tired. You are far too clever for me to outwit. I wonder if I were to eat you would I become as nimble of speech as you?” The fox made a rude noise through his nose and said “You old fool! The only eating there shall be tonight is of chickens. I have sat with you long enough and I too have become tired. Go on your way, old man, and leave me to my meal.”
Our Tomten thought this was perhaps the most arrogant, condescendingly inconsiderate rude fox in all of Sweden! Our Tomten had been polite. He’d even gone out of his way to speak the common forest language, and not that of man. What little patience Our Tomten ever had was gone.
With a snarl he turned himself into a twelve-foot tall mountain troll, grabbed the fox and swallowed him whole. Our Tomten screamed his rage to the forest and roared his anger into the sky, so that all creatures might hear; so that all creatures would know you must be polite to old men in red caps who you chance upon in farmyards or risk being eaten. Tails both red and grey where quite low as the brothers and the sisters, both fox and wolf, quietly moved on.
“Such a night,” said Our Tomten as, shaking his head, he changed back into the form of a three foot tall (or less) bearded old man. “Such a night.” With a smile and a chuckle he added, “Well I may feel no wiser after my snack, but I must thank that fox for giving me a full belly.”
My Great Grandfather said Our Tomten laughed at his own joke every time he told the story and eventually was so delighted with his own wit that he did credit the Fox for the improvement.
Bio:
Doug Mathewson has been nominated for ThePushcart Prize, as well as Best Short Fictions, and Best Micro Fictions. Find him at http://www.little2say.org Recently his book “Nomad Moon”was published by Cervena Barva Press. He is the Editor of Blink-Ink, a journal of 50 word contemporary fiction. http://www.blink-ink.org