The Cobbler and the Troll.

The Old Cobbler and the Troll

One day the old cobbler woman was on her way to her mending shop in town. She didn’t have a car and didn’t really feel the need for one, as she preferred to walk. She came to the bridge she once lived under when she was poor and remembered the happy times she’d spent beneath with a warm cosy fire on stormy nights beside her two pet sheep. She walked over it and was beginning to make her way past when she heard a grumble. She walked back, looked over and could see nothing. So shrugged her shoulders and went on. Suddenly there was a roar behind her. She jumped with fright. ‘What on earth?’ she screamed. Turning, she saw a troll, whom had taken to living under the bridge. ‘He, Hello.’ she said to the troll who was barefoot, had long shaggy hair and torn clothes. He wasn’t very large, like you would read in a story but quite scary. He had sharp teeth and big round eyes. He had very VERY large feet. ‘You make shoe?’ The troll asked with very bad English. ‘Ye, yes I do.’ She replied. ‘Make shoe for me? Feet cold.’ he stated, pointing at his feet. ‘Yes, indeed. Nobody around here should be without a shoe, not even a troll. She walked to the troll and took a look at his feet. She had just the right amount of leather back at her shop left over from mending other’s shoes. 'I will come back later and fit you for some shoes ok?’ ‘Ok.’ said the troll and he jumped over the bridge and disappeared beneath. Later that day, the cobbler returned. She had two very, VERY large shoes and had to borrow a trailer to pull them along behind her. She heard snoring as she apprached and made her way down along the side of the bridge. She was greeted by the Troll’s large feet sticking out the side. ‘Excuse me,’ she said. ‘I have your shoes.’ He wouldn’t wake up so she put them on him and they fit perfectly. She wrote a note, which read ‘Enjoy your shoes, your feet are no longer cold, when they wear away, I’ll be back to mend, as I make new what is old.’ So she made her way home to her old little cottage, took off her own shoes who were glad of the freedom and hopped around unknown to her. Very tired after her day, she got into bed and went to sleep only to be awakened during the night, by ferocious noises outside. They frightened her greatly, rattling and banging and clanging. She covered her head and hoped it would stop. When the light began to shine through in the morning, she realised the noise had now stopped and the birds began to sing. She was ever so tired and still a little frightened to go outside. ‘What on earth was all that racket?’ she put on her shoes who were not where she'd left them and stepped outside. She could not believe her eyes.’ Her garden was beautifully decorated in old tin cans,bottle caps, coins and anything shiny that you could think of that people had thrown away. It wasn’t a mess though, it was so, so beautiful. She wandered around and below a tree where bottles lay hanging making lovely sounds in the cool morning breeze, lay a piece of paper beside some fresh flowers whose stems were wrapped carefully in foil. On the piece of paper was a message which read, ‘The shoe fits feet, you very kind. This garden now is only thanks I could find.’ She smiled to herself, looked around at the lovely garden and went to work. She never saw the Troll again, as with warm dry feet he wandered off to find a new home. 

The Cobbler and The Fortunate Shoes.

Once upon a time, there was an old leather shoe. It was a left shoe, thrown away, this shoe lived in a ditch. Some mice came to live in it from time to time and it had seen many creatures come and go. One day this shoe decided that it did not want to be stuck rotting in a ditch for the rest of its days and so hopped out of the ditch and onto a long road. It hopped all day, stopped when a car approached so as not to be seen and went on when it passed. It came to a stop as it grew tired. It didn’t know where it was going or what it was going to do but it knew it did not want to live in a ditch. It rested for a while before hearing someone talk. ‘What’s this then?’ an old woman said standing over the old shoe. ‘What a lovely shoe!’ she said. ‘I have a right shoe similar to this at home.’ The old woman wore tattered clothes and was not very clean. She had long ragged grey hair and wore socks only, which had large holes in them and her toes poked through. Picking up the shoe, she brought it home. She lived in a tiny cottage with a warm open fire. A poor woman, she couldn’t afford clothes. She lay the shoe down and went off to wash herself. The shoe looked around and noticed the other shoe the woman had mentioned earlier. It too was tattered and old. Shoes could hop when nobody was looking and they could see through the lace holes but they could not talk. They hopped around one another pleased to see another shoe. When the old woman returned, fresher and clean, she tried them on. They were not a pair but they were very comfortable and each fit perfectly. ‘What beautiful new shoes I have.’ Thought the old woman about these old battered pair. They weren’t sure that she could see them as they both knew they weren’t the prettiest shoes in the world but they did not know that although she had tattered clothes and no matching shoes of her own, she was an expert cobbler and had once a lovely shoe shop in the local town. Her shop closed up however when she lost customers over time as a bigger, shop opened and sold cheaper shoes. She soon became poor and jobless. She took the shoes, and placed them on a dresser. She got out some leather she’d found out and about and some needle and thread and began to stitch and sew. She had two heels she’d found somewhere from shoes long gone and hammered them onto the pair. Oh they did begin to look pretty. She polished them up and laced them, tried them on and wore them into town. Everyone admired this woman’s beautiful shoes. ‘I’ve never seen shoes as pretty as that in the shoe shop, people would whisper.’ She wore these a lot for the next few weeks. Many people had seen them and one day, someone approached her to ask where she’d bought them. ‘Could I possibly ask, where you got such lovely shoes?’ she asked. This woman was stunned by her story and soon everyone in town knew about her incredible talent. Their cheap shoes kept breaking and tearing. They came to her to mend their shoes and she soon had so many shoes to mend, that she opened up her own mending shop. She’d make the average shoe beautiful. Soon she became quite wealthy again but as her shoes that brought her this great fortune would wear away again, she’d just continue to mend and wear them. She didn’t forget how grateful to them she was. They were grateful too.

The Cat That Lived In The Rug

There once was a rug with a picture of a cat. Who came alive, where on, the moonlight sat. Yawning and stretching she'd stand up straight. Then say "after that sleep I've lost some weight." So she'd sneak to the kitchen and eat until full. She'd run around the room playing with balls of wool. And hide on the child, when it woke with a fright. Before purring with contentment at this wonderful night. Below the skylight, she would look at the moon. "When you go away, I will need to sleep soon." So as the night passed by, and the moon disappeared. The mice came out, searching for the cat they feared. But alas she was gone, not to be found. As a picture in the rug, the cat was now sleeping sound. 

The Woman Who Wore A Hedge As A Hat

A woman once, wore a hedge for a hat and many eyelids, she did make bat.

People would point and laugh and shout, "Look at that woman, who let her out?" She took no notice and wore it away, not minding what the people did say.  "Look at that woman with a hedge on her head. You wouldn't catch me doing that, not even if dead." So the woman with the hat turned her head, and then she said, "I'm not dead, I'm quite alive. With this hedge on my head I simply thrive. Who says one cannot wear a hedge? For if I do, I won't fall from a ledge. It's something I choose to wear and for your comments, I do not care. I don't mock and laugh at that colourful dress, for it's your choice, I must confess. The book you hold comes from a tree, so you are wearing one don't you see? Do not mock others for a different way, as you may need a hedge someday. To shelter from the sky above, or to place in, an injured Dove." So she walked away and the hedge she put down, then out flew a Dove not white but brown. "Go free bird, you are better now", then she stepped back and took a small bow.