... It was the custom of the peasants, every Julafton, to come by torchlight and fish for their Christmas supper, first invoking the aid of the Trolle Helje, who dwells at the bottom of the lake.  Many years since a peasant promised the Trolle a stool to sit upon, and Helje in his gratitude sent him home with well-filled nets,—the man broke his word.  Since then Helje sits, as before, on the cold miry bottom,—as for the bream, you may fish for ever, he won't let you catch them. (One Year in Sweden: a Visit to the Isle of Götland, Marryat, 1862).