About a quarter of a mile from Soröe lies Pedersborg,
and a little farther on is the town of Lyng. Just between these towns is a
hill called Bröndhöi (Spring-hill), said to be inhabited by the troll-people.
There goes a story that there was once among these troll-people of Bröndhöi
an old cross-grained curmudgeon of a troll, whom the rest nick-named Knurremurre
(Rumble-grumble), because he was evermore the cause of noise and uproar
within the hill. The Knurremurre having discovered what he thought to be too
great a degree of intimacy between his young wife and a young troll of the
society, took this in such ill part, that he vowed vengeance, swearing he
would have the life of the young one. The latter, accordingly, thought it
would be his best course to be off out of the hill till better times; so,
turning himself into a noble tortoise-shell tom-cat, he one fine morning quitted
his old residence, and journeyed down to the neighboring town of Lyng, where
he established himself in the house of an honest poor man named Plat. Here
he lived for a long time comfortable and easy, with nothing to annoy him,
and was as happy as any tom-cat or troll crossed in love well could be. He
got every day plenty of milk and good grout to eat, and lay the whole day
long at his ease in a warm arm-chair behind the stove. Plat happened one evening
to come home rather late, and as he entered the room the cat was sitting in
his usual place, scraping meal-grout out of a pot, and licking the pot itself
carefully. "Harkye, dame," said Plat, as he came in at the door, "till I tell
you what happened to me on the road. Just as I was coming past Bröndhöi, there
came out a troll, and he called out to me, and said,
Harkye Plat, Tell your cat, That Knurremurre is dead.
The moment the cat heard these words, he tumbled
the pot down on the floor, sprang out of the chair, and stood up on his hind-legs.
Then, as he hurried out of the door, he cried out with exultation, "What!
is Knurremurre dead? Then I may go home as fast as I please." And so saying
he scampered off to the hill, to the amazement of honest Plat; and it is likely
lost no time in making his advances to the young widow.
Source: Thomas Keightley, The Fairy Mythology (London: H. G. Bohn, 1850), pp. 120-121.