My Little Troll

During school holidays the attendance for the story telling session rises to around 30+ and can be quite difficult to manage. Yesterday to my huge surprise, 30 odd children sat through my story about the Little Troll, tracking his sadness and joy. I have learnt from experience the trick to hold their attention is to get a good story and add a lot of drama, almost like Johnny Depp in Choco Factory style (needless to say no parents are allowed to see me make a fool of myself).OK read on only if you have nothing much to do.

Well, trolls were little human like creatures, short, hunched, hairy, with a red rim round their small eyes, spoke coursely and loved to hiss and howl. Trolls hated human because human beings are tall, straight and speak smoothly. Well there was once this little troll that liked human a lot. He loved to hide behind rocks to observe how little children, woodcutter, farmer's wives etc behaved and talked. One day he ventured into the village church attracted by the sound of the church bell (Christians will love this). He peeped inside the church but because it was winter he couldnt see what was inside beyond some figures and the vague glow of candlelight But he knew there was something good inside which was beyond his reach, hence a tear rolled from his eyes and he went away and gave a long sad howl. (The howl that I gave out in that little room must have moved the children's hearts, for they fixed their sad little eyes on me and the room was quiet).
Coming back to the story, the little troll overheard a woodcutter telling his grandson to care for other people and be helpful otherwise he would be no more than a troll. The little troll now knew the main difference between human and troll. (Ye adults, hold your skepticism. I know you must be saying, "Are you joking? Humans caring?) Anyway from that day onwards the little troll quietly filled up the baskets of little children, woodcutters and women who went to the forest to collect flowers, berries, mushroom and wood. He also protected them from wild animals and falling trees. There was a girl who loved to go the forest to collect flowers. On the last day of autumn, on her last visit she asked aloud from whoever had been helping her but remained unknown, what he would like in return. Receiving no response she placed half her mid day lunch on a stone and was about to walk away when a hoarse voice requested her to breathe into the church window on Christmas Day so that one can see the inside of the church from outside. Meanwhile the little troll was thrown out by his kind because he had grown taller, straighter and his voice gentler. In the cold winter he felt he belonged neither to the trolls nor the human. Just then the church bells reminded him of Christmas. Ok the joyful end to all this was that the girl saw the longing eyes outside pressed against the church window when she went to breathe hot air into the window pane. She led him into the church with the whole congregation welcoming him. (Again adults suspend your cynicism and thoughts about how the troll may probably be bullied or something if he lived with them).

What My Little Troll led me into however was that I realised how much I enjoyed the aura of innocence and simplicity around me when I am with children. Perhaps this Little Troll is telling me that is an area I may explore further.