Wimland and Dalesland

Wednesday, October 5

On this day, the boy took advantage of the time when everyone was resting, and Aka was not with other wild geese, and quickly asked her if what Bataki said was true, and Aka did not deny it.

The boy asked the leader to promise him that the secret could not be revealed to the male goose Morten.

The big white goose is so brave and righteous that he is worried that if the goose knows the elf’s conditions, they might do something that will ignore the consequences.

Later, the boy sat on the goose's back, looking melancholy, and said nothing, just lowered his head.

He heard the geese calling to the geese, saying that they had arrived at Darana, and they could see Lake Stajan to the north, and they were flying over the Aostadale River and heading towards Lake Hulmont, and now they had already flown to the Westdal River.

But the boy didn't care about it at all, and didn't even look down.

"It is very likely that I will fly with the geese for the rest of my life," he said to himself, "this way I have to get tired of this country."

He acted quite indifferent when the geese shouted to him that they had now reached the province of Wimland and were flying south along the Claraven River.

"I've seen a lot of rivers," the boy thought, "what is it that I can see one more?"

And even if he wanted to see the scenery, there was nothing to see here, because in the north, Vimran, apart from the vast and monotonous forests, the narrow and surging Claraven River, could hardly see any interesting scenes.

You can see a charcoal-burning kiln, a wilderness in the forest, or a cottage without chimneys everywhere, which the Finns live in.

But except for the open forest area, people would think this is Lapland in the north.

A small farm

Thursday, October 6

The geese flew along the Claraven River to the Great Iron Factory in Moncorfus.

Then they flew west towards Fricos Darren.

Before they could fly to Lake Fregan, it was already dark and they landed on a small swamp on a small wooded hill.

For the geese, this swamp is a good overnight habitat, but it seems both desolate and hard for the boy, and he hopes to find a better place to sleep.

When he was still in the air, he had noticed that there were some farms under the cliff, so after landing, he went to search for them without hesitation.

The distance to the farm was beyond his expectations, and he wanted to give up several times on the road.

However, the trees around him gradually became sparse, and he came to a road located on the edge of the forest.

From this road, a tree-lined avenue covered with beautiful birch trees extended out, which led to a farm, and the boy walked in that direction without thinking.

The boy first entered a farmyard that looked like a market in the city, surrounded by a long row of red houses.

As he walked through the courtyard, he saw another farmhouse, with the house facing a gravel avenue and a wide lawn.

Behind the house is a lush garden.

The house itself is small and inconspicuous, but the garden is surrounded by a row of beautiful rowan trees, which are lined up very closely and form a real wall.

All of this seemed to be walking into a tall arched house, and the cute blue sky was the dome.

The tall rowan tree is full of red oar fruits, and the lawn is of course still green. A full moon hangs in the sky that night, and the bright moonlight shines on the lawn, looking as white as silver.

There are no figures in the farm, and boys can walk around as they please.

He entered the garden and found something that made him happy.

He climbed up the rowan tree to pick fruits to eat, but before he could finish a bunch of them, he saw a funius tree, which was covered with funius fruits.

So he slipped down the rowan tree and climbed up the funiuzi tree.

But he soon discovered another red currant tree with red currants hanging on it.

Then he found that the whole garden was filled with currants, raspberries and dog roses.

The vegetable seedling bed not far away was covered with cabbage and kohlrabi, each shrub was covered with berries, each vegetable had rapeseed, and each grass was covered with leaf ears.

And on the road over there - no, he really read that right - a big apple shining under the bright light of the full moon.

The boy sat on the side of the road, put the big red apple in his hand, and cut it into small pieces with his knife and ate it with relish.

"If you can have delicious food elsewhere without any effort, then it's no big deal to be an elf in your life."

He thought.

He sat down and was thinking while eating. He thought, wouldn’t it be great to stay here and let the geese fly south in the end?

"I don't know how to explain to the male goose Morten why I can't go home in my life."

He thought, "I'd better be separated from him."

I can store enough food in the winter, just like a squirrel, and if I live in a dark corner of a cowshed or stable, I won’t be frozen to death.”

Just as he was thinking about it, he suddenly heard a slight sound above his head, and soon stood beside him like something from a birch tree stump.

The "tree stump" kept twisting, and the two points on the top flashed like burning coal.

That thing looks like a monster.

However, the boy immediately noticed that the "stump" had a hook-shaped mouth and a feather around his shiny eyes.

He knew this was not a monster.

"It's so great to meet a living creature here," said the boy. "Maybe you can kindly tell me where this is and who lives here, Mrs. Owl?"

Like all other nights, the owl was perching on the ladders on the rooftops, where she could look down at the gravel paths and lawns below to see if there were any rats moving.

To her surprise, she did not see a mouse.

On the contrary, what she saw was something that looked like a human, but it was smaller than a human and was walking around the garden.

"It was this little thing that scared the mice away! What was he?

He is not a squirrel, nor a kitten, nor a weasel," she thought, "I thought that birds like me who have lived in an old place for so many years should be omniscient, but this thing is beyond my understanding."

She concluded in the end.

She was fully focused, looking at the little thing walking on the gravel road without blinking, her eyes dazzled.

In the end, she couldn't help but be curious about trying to find the whole thing, so she flew to the ground and wanted to look at this strange little thing up close.

As soon as the boy started talking, the owl leaned straight and looked him up carefully.

"He has neither claws nor horns," she said to herself, "but who knows if he has fangs or more dangerous weapons.

Before I touch him, I have to figure out what he is."

"The place is called Malbega," said the Owl, "in the past, the people lived here.

But, who are you?"

"I was thinking about moving here," the boy blurted out, but answered irresponsible, "Do you think this idea is feasible?"

“Oh, that’s OK.

However, this place is very different from before," said the Owl. "I think you can live here.

It all depends on how you survive.

Are you planning to make a living by catching mice?”

"Oh, I will never touch mice!"

The boy said, "I'm more afraid that the mice will eat me, not that I will cause harm to them."

"He is never as harmless as he said," thought the Owl. "But I'll give it a try..." She flew into the air and then rushed down, putting her paw on Niels Hogelson's shoulder and trying to peck his eyes.

The boy covered his eyes with one hand and struggled with the other, while he used all his strength to shout for help.

He realized that his situation was extremely dangerous and thought to himself that this time, he might be really going to be finished.

Now I have to tell you something very coincidental: Just the year when Niels Hogelson was traveling with the geese, a woman wanted to write a book about Sweden suitable for children to read in school.

From Christmas to the autumn of the next year, she had been concerned about this matter, but she had not even written a line of words from the book.

Finally, she was disheartened about the whole thing and said to herself: "You are not suitable to write such a book.

Sit down, write stories and folklore as usual, and let others write this book. This book should be serious, informative, and without a single untrue sentence.”

Her decision to give up writing this book is almost certain.

But she naturally thought that writing books about the beauty of Sweden was a pleasant job, so it was really hard for her to give up such a writing.

Finally, she thought that the reason she couldn't write the book was probably because she lived in the city, with only gray streets and houses surrounding her.

Maybe she should go to the countryside, where she can see trees and fields, which will also become better for her writing.

She was born in Wimland, and obviously, she hoped the book would start from there.

She had to write about the place where she was born and raised.

It was just a small farm, far away from the bustling world, and many customs from ancient times were still well preserved.

She thought that if the children heard all kinds of interesting stories that happened here year after year, they would definitely find it interesting.

She wanted to tell them how the people here celebrate Christmas, New Year, Easter and Midsummer, how they decorate the house, their kitchens and pantry, cowsheds and stables, cottages and bathrooms.

But when she wanted to write these, her pen tip still refused to move.
To be continued...