Join us at the campfire for tales from around the world, told by storytellers of all backgrounds and creeds. From the heros and heroines of old, let us relearn and rediscover the wisdom of our ancestors. Shhh..the story begins..

Above the parsonage of Vaage in Norway rises a hill or small mountain crowned with tall and majestic pine trees. The people of this region call the area "Giant's Mountain," and it is said to be very steep, abundant with deep and dark crevices. Legend dictates that if you stand upon the bridge which spans the rushing river below and call upon the powers of imagination, the rocks appear to form a large double gateway in one of the weather-beaten sides. At the top, it is said to resemble a gothic arch with ancient, white-stemmed birch trees standing guard as pillars on either side, directly below where the arch begins. However, this archway is far from an ordinary door or gate. It is the entrance to a Giant's Castle and is known as the "Giant's Gate." In olden times, if anyone wished to borrow something from the Giant, or speak with him on some other business, it was customary to hurl a stone at the gate and proclaim: "Open, Giant!"

One day, a traveler, whose occupation was the collection of fairy tales, persuaded an old farmer to show him the way to the Giant's Gate. They rapped upon it twice, but the portal did not open. The traveler wondered if the Giant was so old that he was now refusing to grant an audience...or maybe the multitude of stones thrown at his Gate had troubled the Giant overly-much. The farmer pondered the dilemma and decided it was far too difficult to tell. "One of the last to see the Giant," mused the farmer, "was John Blessom, the parson's neighbor...but it may be that John wishes he had never encountered the Giant at all!"

The collector of legends regarded the farmer with some curiousity...and so, the old fellow took a deep breath and proceeded to relate his tale.

John Blessom was once down in Copenhagen regarding a certain lawsuit. If anyone wishes to see "fair play" in such matters, then it is customary...not to mention necessary...to travel to Copenhagen for justice. Well, anyway, John was down there on Christmas Eve. He had finished his business and was ready to return home. His mood was gloomy as he walked the streets, however. You see, John longed to be back home but was well aware that there was no way of achieving that until after Christmas had passed.

Suddenly a person who, by his attire, appeared to be a farmer from John's own parish hurried by at great speed. This farmer was a big, tall man with large and shiny buttons as large silver dollars sewn onto his white jacket. John believed he knew this man, but the apparent farmer walked right past him so quickly that John was unable to get a really good look at his face.

"You are in something of a hurry," John called out after the man.

"Indeed yes," came the response. "I have to make haste if I am to be back home in Vaarge by nightfall."

"Oh, how I do wish I could be there as well," cried John.

"Well," replied the man, "if you can stand behind on my sled, then you are welcome to travel with me. I have a horse which can cover a mile in twelve strides!"

John thanked the man for his kind offer, went with him to the stable and off they soon started. John was only barely able to remain on the sled for they traveled like wind through the air and John could make out neither the earth nor the sky.

At one place, they stopped to rest, but John had no idea of the location. Just as they were preparing to resume the journey, John noticed a skull impaled upon a pole and the company has not gone too much further when John began to feel bitterly cold.

"Ugh," he muttered. "I think I must have forgotten one of my mittens back where we stopped to rest. My fingers are freezing!"

"You will just have to stand it, John Blessom," the man told him. "It is not far now until we reach Vaarge. In fact, the point where we rested was half-way."

Soon, the travelers came to a bridge which spanned a rushing river. The man pulled up his horse just before crossing and said to John: "You are close to home now and I would urge you to get down...but you must solemnly promise not to look behind if you hear any rumbles or see any light around you."

Promising and thanking the man for his kindness, John Blessom jumped down from the sled. He heard the sound of hoofbeats upon the bridge as he walked up the hillside to his home. Then, all of a sudden, rumbles from the Giant's Mountain filled the air and the path before John became filled with such a bright light that he could have seen to pick up a needle. Forgetting all about his promise, John turned his head in order to find out what was happening. It was a natural reaction, don't you think? And what did he see? Well you might ask!

The Gate in the Mountain was wide open and the light which shone from within was like many thousands of candles, all burning brightly. Directly in the middle of the Gate, John spied the Giant himself...the man with whom he had been traveling, no less!

John Blessom never could dispel the image, no matter how hard he tried. Shaking and shivering...and not necessarily from the inclement weather...he made his way home. But from that point forward, John Blessom's head always was tilted a lot and, as far as I know, it remains that way!

And so ended the story of the old farmer. Did the collector of fairy tales ever gain access to the Giant? Unfortunately, he never did say...but it is probably safe to assume that he no longer cared to try.

A section has been added to Penumbra entitled "Rainbow Bridge," dedicated to the memory of our beloved animal companions. It features various pieces of work, whose words, it is hoped, will bring solace and comfort to those who have lost a dear little furry (or feathered or scaled...etc.) one.

It contains an area known as "BlueBird Bower" where a memorial may be placed by anyone upon request in the name of their departed pet (no species refused).

Just click on "RainBow Bridge" on the home page to access the area described.