The blacksmith lived in Bjedla in Sogndal.
It was in the days when there were trolls in all hamlets,
of mounds and crags, from all places, and did generally harm.

Some had haunts at the main road and scared the life off
travellers after sunset; the most horrible of
these was the troll of Lundamyri
which stayed at Lundamyri in the midst of the village.

The blacksmith had a magic sword, Flusi was the name.
It happened one Saturday evening he thought to go out.
He got ready, sheathed Flusi, went down the hills and followed
the road to below the grove where he had the bog in front of him.

She shone and gleamed in the moonshine.
And now he saw the troll of Lundamyri which lay sleeping,
awful big and had spread itself out over the bog.

But then it flew anger in the blacksmith, if he owned might and sword,
he got to test them last putting an end to the folly.
At that he pulled Flusi and passed the steel right in its chest.
Then the whole troll woke and started up.
It writhed by the stab and tried to get rid of the sword.

"Stab and pull" shrieked the troll and thought to get
the blacksmith to pull the sword back again.
"Let stand then stand till Monday" said the smith,
and with that he went away to sea.

Now the troll wailed. When the blacksmith went home,
it was dead, and he sheathed Flusi.
But then three gateways opened in the nearest Loftesnes Mountain,
and out it teemed and crawled trolls, small and big.

”Now is grandpa dead, now is grandpa dead!” they shrieked.
They came and got the troll of Lundamyri between them and pulled it over
the fjord and in the biggest gateway. There the troll-rabble --kvark--.
Later the gateway closed,
and the mountain hid the [bad word] in its lap.

For long times after people fear to travel here, mostly in the nights.
It gleamed so strange then down on the bog in the moonshine.
The fear grew big, and they thought to hear troll-shrieks through the valley.
Maybe the tolls were returned