Rimholt stands where the northern forests give way to the mountains, and life here is shaped by long winters, difficult roads and the knowledge that help may be weeks away. Hunting, trapping, herding and mining sustain the village, and preparation for winter is taken seriously. Food, firewood and lamp oil are stored early, and refusing reasonable shelter to someone caught in severe weather is considered deeply shameful.
The mountains carry their own traditions. Miners never whistle underground, and unexplained knocking from within the rock is answered only with silence. Before the first winter journey into the mountains, travelers traditionally touch the ground beside the road before departing. Few remember why.
Rimholt's best-known rule concerns the weather. If a storm approaches from the mountains unusually quickly, villagers close their shutters and bring the animals inside. No one should open the door again until the storm has passed—even if someone knocks.
During the worst winter storms, people in Rimholt occasionally hear knocking at their doors.
Usually there are three slow knocks.
Those who look through a window see nobody outside. Sometimes footprints can be found in the snow the following morning, leading from the mountains to the house—but none leading away.
The stories become stranger when several households hear the knocking on the same night. It moves through Rimholt from house to house, always beginning at the edge closest to the mountains.
Older villagers insist there is nothing to fear as long as the door remains closed.
Nobody agrees on what happens if it is opened.
Those who claim to know refuse to speak about it.