Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to the original story. This is merely my interpretation.
I was born from rock.
A million years ago I stood up.
Amongst a thousand other rock giants.
For the land had called upon us, trolls.
We all had felt it, the vibration within.
Mother Nature only calls upon the spirit creatures when needed.
Our task had come in a dream.
She had shaped a young country named Iceland.
This land was destined for many things.
Great legends and stories would live on its surface.
This land had lied warm and unshaped in the ocean far too long.
Thus when the sun had set for winter we had come.
In the cold winter hours, we started working.
Shaping coastlines, trenches and mountains.
We moulded the hot and soft earth until it became as hard as ourselves.
Then we created the islands.
And I was working on the greatest island of them all.
Locked away in the far northwest of the land.
With all my might I focussed on my task.
Facing north, I dug my way through the land.
But nothing prepared me for the light.
First it came as a hint on the horizon.
Making me fear for the island that I had not yet finished.
Soon the summer came gliding over the land.
I became one with the earth again, facing the last rock I loosened from the land, Grímsey.
Kerling they call me. For I am old. Very old.
The legend of how the Westfjords of Iceland were shaped, was told me on a boat trip from the village of Drangsnes tot he Island of Grímsey. Read the story here.