Troll Mill

Gudrun’s eyes were bright with tears.

“She’s gone back to the sea,” she said softly. “Do you remember, Ralf, how they all said Bjørn’s bride was a seal woman?”

Ralf’s head jerked up. “Nonsense!” He punched his fist into his palm. “Utter nonsense. I’ve never believed it, and I never shall.”

“Don’t you see?” Gudrun persisted. “That fur cloak will have been her sealskin.”

“Explain,” demanded Hilde.

Gudrun went on talking quietly, almost singing, crooning over the baby. “It’s the grey seals I’m talking about. They can be seals in the water but people on land, shedding their skins like fur cloaks. If a man meets a seal woman while she’s in her mortal shape and he hides her sealskin, he has power over her. Then she must marry him and bear his children. But if ever she finds her sealskin again, then woe betide! She’ll return to the sea and break his heart.”

Hilde was horrified. “Did Bjørn do that to Kersten?”

“No, he did not,” said Ralf angrily. “Don’t fill their heads with this nonsense, Gudrun. Kersten and Bjørn were an ordinary loving couple.”

“Then why did she throw herself into the sea?” asked Hilde. She leaned forward, touching Peer’s hand. “What happened, Peer? What happened to Kersten?”

But Peer was no longer certain what he remembered. He rubbed his hands over his eyes, pressing till coloured lights danced on the darkness. “I don’t know,” he groaned. “She seemed to roll into the sea. The waves broke over her and she disappeared. It was getting dark, and I was yards away. I thought…I don’t know what I thought. I thought she’d drown.”

“What did Bjørn do?” Sigrid asked in a small voice.

Peer put an arm around her. “He went after her, Siggy. He jumped in the boat and went rowing out…”

“Will he find her?” Sigrid’s eyes were round and scared. “Will he?”

Ralf stood. He paced up and down, shaking his head. “I can’t bear to think of it!” he exclaimed. “I ought to go down there now–see if there’s anything I can do. Didn’t you raise the alarm, Peer? Bjørn needs help!”

Peer went a painful red. “I—” he stammered. “I never thought of it! I’m sorry! I just–I only–I wanted to bring the baby home!”

Hilde rolled her eyes. “You’d better get down there straight away, Pa!” she said.

“I will.” Ralf was already pulling on his boots. “Now, don’t worry, Gudrun–but I won’t be back tonight. I’ll get some of the men together–we’ll comb the shore. If Bjørn hasn’t found her, we’ll search again when it’s light.”

“I’ll come!” Peer got up, staggering slightly.

“No, you stay and rest,” said Ralf kindly. “You did the best you could, Peer. You can join the search tomorrow. Right–I’m off!”The door slammed behind him.

Hilde puffed out her cheeks and sat down. “How awful.”

“Why didn’t I tell everyone?” Peer beat his forehead with the heel of his hand. “How could I be so stupid? I even saw Einar, and I dodged him because I was too embarrassed to explain…”

Hilde patted his shoulder. “You’re hopeless, Peer,” she said affectionately. “But listen! You brought the baby safely home.”

Peer caught her hand, but she drew it away. Gudrun looked up, closing her dress and tucking the shawl more tightly around the baby.

“There, she’s had enough now. She’s falling asleep. Peer, don’t upset yourself. Ralf has rushed off like this because he can’t bear sitting still, but really there’s nothing useful anyone can do till daybreak. Now eat your stew before it goes cold. Hilde, get the twins to bed. We’ll put this little one in the cradle with Eirik.”

“Can I?” Sigrid asked, stretching her arms out.

“Yes, but be careful,” said Gudrun, handing her over. Sigrid grappled the bundle of shawl and baby with exaggerated care. “She’s sweet. I wish I had a little sister.” She lowered her into the wide cradle. “I’ll put her on her side. Isn’t she tiny? Doesn’t Eirik look big beside her?”

Peer came to look over her shoulder. The two babies lay side by side, a complete contrast to one another. Eirik’s fair skin and rosy cheeks made the new baby look brown and sallow. Her thin little wrists looked delicate and fragile compared with Eirik’s sturdy dimpled arms.

“Is she sickly?” asked Hilde dubiously.

“No, no,” said Gudrun. “She’s much younger, that’s all. Hardly three months old, when I come to think. I wish now I’d visited Kersten. ‘Never put things off’, as my mother used to say. But I’ve been so busy, and little Eirik is such a handful.”

“Well, he’s in for a surprise when he wakes up tomorrow,” said Hilde. “Twins! Bedtime!” She chased them under the blankets, but Sigrid stuck her head out to call, “I like the new baby, Ma. Can we keep her?”

Gudrun whirled, eyes snapping. “Not another word from you, miss!” She beckoned Peer and Hilde to the other end of the long hearth. “Talk quietly,” she whispered. “I want them to sleep. Tell me again. What happened when Kersten ran down to the water?”

Peer closed his eyes. Inwardly he saw that flying figure. He saw Bjørn, turning his head and beginning to race across the shingle. He saw Kersten, throwing herself to the ground, pulling the cloak over her.

“She saw Bjørn coming, I think,” he said slowly. “And she just dived to the ground, and rolled herself up in the cloak and crawled into the water. And I looked away then, because Bjørn was pushing the boat out. He rowed out, shouting for her–but it was so wet and misty, I lost sight of him.”

They sat in a huddle with their heads together.

“I couldn’t stop her!” Peer cried. “I was holding the baby…”

“Hush.” Gudrun took his hand. “No one blames you, Peer. And Kersten trusted you with her child. But the seals–didn’t you see any seals?”

“Yes,” Peer admitted slowly. “After Bjørn disappeared, the water was full of them. But–Gudrun!” He swallowed. Can it be true? Is that really what I saw? Does it mean Bjørn once trapped Kersten…and kept her against her will?

Gudrun wiped her eyes. “It’s sad, either way,” she said quietly. “And worst of all for that poor little mite over there. Well, we’d better all go to bed. There’ll be plenty to do in the morning.”

Glumly, they wished one another good night. Peer had been given old Eirik’s sleeping place, a bunk built into the wall with a sliding wooden panel for privacy. He clambered in, but as usual left the panel half-open so he could see out into the room. Loki got up from his place by the fire, stretched, and pottered over to jump up on Peer’s blankets. He turned round three times and settled down behind Peer’s knees, yawning. The familiar weight was comforting. Peer slid a hand down to scratch his dog’s ears.

He lay, bone weary but unable to sleep, staring out into the darkened room. Gudrun had covered the fire with chunks of turf to keep it burning till morning. Small red eyes winked hotly from chinks and crannies, and he sniffed the homely smell of scorching earth and wood smoke. On the other side of the room, he heard Hilde tossing and turning. After a while she sighed and lay still. Gudrun snored.

Rain tapped on the shutters. Every time Peer closed his eyes he saw Kersten, rushing past him, hurling herself into the sea. I should have stopped her. I should have raised the alarm. I did everything wrong. Was Bjørn still out there, rowing hopelessly over dark wastes of heaving water?

Peer dropped into an uneasy doze. A cobwebby shadow scampered from a dark corner to sit hunched on the hearthstones. Peer woke. He heard a faint sound, a steady lapping like a cat’s. A satisfied sigh. The click of a wooden bowl set stealthily down.

Peer watched between his lashes as the Nis set the room to rights, a little rushing shadow, swift as a bat. He hadn’t seen the Nis in a long time. Sometimes he glimpsed a wispy grey beard or a little red cap glowing in the firelight, but when he looked closer it was always just a bit of sheep’s wool escaped from Gudrun’s spindle, or a bright rag wrapped around Sigrid’s doll. He’d been hurt that the Nis wanted so little to do with him, when they’d shared so much. The Nis had rescued him from the lubbers, the disgusting creatures who lived in his uncles’ freezing privy. It had helped to save Loki from his uncles’ savage dog, Grendel. But now, living in a happy household with plenty to eat, it kept out of his way.

“Perhaps you don’t need one another any more,” Hilde had suggested when he talked to her about it. “Down at the mill you were both outcasts. Your uncles treated you both so badly, you had something in common.” Peer saw what she meant, but still he missed the Nis.

Now here it was again, as if to comfort him for this terrible day. It frisked round the hearth, sweeping up stray ashes, dampening the cloth over the dough that Gudrun had left by the fire, and turning the bowl so that it should rise evenly. Finished, it skipped lightly up on to the edge of the creaking cradle and perched there. With a furtive glance over one shoulder, it extended a knobbly forefinger into the cradle to prod one of the sleeping babies, then snatched it back, as if it had touched red-hot iron. It chirruped disapprovingly and hopped down.

Peer raised himself on one elbow. “Nis!” he called softly, half expecting the Nis to vanish like a mouse whisking into its hole.

The Nis stiffened. Two beady, glinting eyes fixed on his. Behind him, Loki broke into a grumbling growl; Loki had never liked the Nis.

“Quiet, Loki,”whispered Peer. “Nis, I’m so glad to see you. It’s been ages! Why don’t you talk to me any more?”

The Nis glared at him.

“What has you done, Peer Ulfsson?” it demanded, bristling.

“Me?” asked Peer, surprised. “What do you mean? I brought Kersten’s baby home, that’s all.”

“Yes, it is all your fault!” the Nis squeaked. Its hair and beard frilled out into a mad ruff of feathery tendrils. “Foolish, foolish boy! What was you thinking of to bring such a baby here?”

“Wait a minute!” Peer sat bolt upright. “That little baby has lost her mother. What did you want me to do–leave her?”

“Yes!” hissed the Nis. “She doesn’t belong here, Peer Ulfsson. Who is her mother? One of the savage sea people, all wild and wet and webbed. Brrr!” It shook its head in disgust, rapid as a cat, a whirr and a blurr of bright eyes and whiskers. “The likes of them doesn’t belong in housen, Peer Ulfsson.”

“You’re a fine one to talk!” said Peer angrily.

The Nis’s eyes nearly popped out of its head with agitation. “Think! If the sea people come to claim her, what then? What then, Peer Ulfsson? Besides, how can the mistress feed two childs, eh? Poor little Eirik. He will starve!”

“No he won’t,” said Peer. “Eirik’s nearly weaned. He eats all sorts of things.”

The Nis ignored him, covering its face with two spidery hands. “Poor, poor Eirik!” it mourned, peeping through its fingers. “No milk for him! No food! The little stranger eats it all, steals his mother away. Like a cuckoo chick!”

“Oh, come on!” Peer rallied. “I thought you liked babies. What’s wrong with her?”

“Everything!” fizzed the Nis. “This is not a proper baby, but a seal baby. Not one thing, not the other.”With its head on one side, it added more cheerfully, “Maybe she will pine, maybe she will die!”

Peer almost choked. “‘A seal baby.’ You’ve been listening to Gudrun, but she doesn’t know. Bjørn wouldn’t…Kersten wasn’t! Ralf doesn’t believe it, and neither do I. And even if it was true, what are you saying? Just because her mother might be a seal woman, you want the baby to go–yet it’s quite all right for you to live here?”

“For me?” The Nis nodded vigorously. “The Nis is very useful in a house,” it said virtuously. “Often, often, the mistress says she can’t manage without me!”

“How nice for you,” said Peer.

The Nis simpered, plaiting its long fingers. “So the baby will go!” it chirped.

“No–actually, the baby will stay.”

The Nis’s lower lip stuck out and its eyes glittered. “Peer Ulfsson is so clever,” it hissed. “Of course he is right. He knows so much more than the poor Nis!” It turned its back on Peer.

Peer tried to calm his own feelings. The Nis had always been prickly, but he was shocked by this unexpected selfishness. Still, he owed the Nis a lot.

“Don’t be angry,” he said.

“Huh!” snapped the Nis without turning.

“Oh, really, Nis–let’s not quarrel.”

“If the baby stays–I goes.” The Nis delivered this ultimatum over its shoulder, its face still half-averted.

“I think you’re—” Peer halted. He’d been going to say, “I think you’re being silly,” but he thought better of it. “—I think you’re overreacting.”

“I means it, Peer Ulfsson,” the Nis insisted.

“I’m sure you won’t go,” said Peer soothingly. “Now, come on. Tell me what else is happening.”

“What does the Nis know? The Nis knows nothing,” the little creature sulked.

“No news?” Peer asked. “When it’s so long since we talked? And I thought you heard everything. Are you losing your touch?” He faked a yawn. “Very well, then; I’m tired. I’ll go back to sleep.”

This worked almost too well. The Nis turned round, stiff with fury. “What sort of news does Peer Ulfsson want?”

“I was only joking!” But Peer saw he had gone too far. While the Nis loved to tease others, it hated to be teased itself.

“News of the trolls–the merrows–the nixies?” it demanded with an unforgiving glare.

Peer sighed. “Tell me about the trolls.”

“Great tidings from Troll Fell,” announced the Nis in a cold, huffy voice. “Remember the Gaffer? And his daughter the troll princess, who married and went to live with the trolls of the Dovrefell? She has borne a son.”

“Really?” The Gaffer was the cunning old king of Troll Fell. Years ago, when Peer and Hilde had ventured deep into the mountain to rescue the twins, they’d met the Gaffer–and his sly daughter.

“So the Gaffer has a grandson,” Peer said without enthusiasm. “Let’s hope it doesn’t take after him, then, with an extra eye and a tail like a cow’s. Will there be a feast?” he added, knowing the Nis was always interested in food. A reluctant sparkle appeared in the Nis’s eyes.

“Oh, yes, Peer Ulfsson,” it began. “You see, the princess is visiting her old father under Troll Fell. How grand she is now; nothing good enough for her; quite the fine lady! And such fuss over the new prince. Such a commotion! They’ll be having the naming feast on Midsummer Eve.”

“Are you invited?” said Peer.

But just then, at the dark end of the room, Sigrid stirred in her sleep. “Trolls!” she mumbled. “Help! Mamma, help!” On the other side of the hearth, Gudrun stumbled sleepily from the blankets to comfort her. A piece of turf slid on the fire and a bright flame shot up.

The Nis was gone.

“Drat the creature,” Peer muttered to Loki. “Why does it have to be so touchy? Troll princes, indeed! Oh, dear!”

He lay down again, sighing, dragging the blankets round his neck, full of unhappy thoughts. But strangely, it wasn’t the Nis who haunted his sleep, or even Kersten running down the shingle to throw herself into the water. All through the long night, as he slept and woke and slept again, the great black water wheel at Troll Mill rolled through his dreams, turning, turning relentlessly in the darkness.

CHAPTER 4 Bjørn’s Story

Piercing yells from Eirik woke Peer next morning. Sticking a bleary head round the edge of his sliding panel, he saw that the rest of the family was already up. Sigurd and Sigrid sat on their stools, stirring lumps of butter into bowls of hot groute, while Gudrun tried to feed Eirik, who was struggling to be put down.

He couldn’t see Hilde. She must be outside doing the milking, which was his own morning task! Bundling Loki off the bed, he closed the panel and dressed quickly, thumping and bumping his elbows in his haste. As he scrambled out, Hilde came in with the milk pail, taking short fast steps to prevent it from slopping.

“You should have woken me!” Peer took it from her, thinking how pretty she looked in her old blue dress and unbleached milking apron. Her fair hair was twisted into two hasty braids, wispy with escaping tendrils.

“No, you were tired.” She gave him a sunny smile and his heart leaped. “Besides, it’s a beautiful morning. My goodness, Eirik! What a noise!” Her baby brother was bawling on Gudrun’s knee. His mouth was square, his face red with temper.

“Take him, Hilde.” Gudrun handed him over with relief. “I’ve fed him. He just wants to get down and create mischief. Keep him out of the fire, do! I’ll have to feed the other one now.”

Hilde seized Eirik under his plump arms and swung him on to her hip. “Come to Hilde,” she crooned. “You bad boy. What a bad boy you are!” Eirik stopped screaming and tried to grab her nose. She pushed his hand away and joggled him up and down. His face crumpled and went scarlet, but as he filled his lungs to yell again, he caught sight of Gudrun lifting the other baby from the cradle.

Eirik’s angry face smoothed into blank astonishment. His eyes widened into amazed circles. He stretched out his arm, leaning out from Hilde’s side, trying to touch the baby girl.

Hilde and Gudrun laughed at him. “Oh, what a surprise,” Hilde teased. “Twins, look at him! Peer, just look at that expression!”

“Ha ha!” said Sigurd. He danced around Hilde, hooking his fingers into the corners of his mouth and pulling a horrible face–something that usually made Eirik gurgle with laughter. “You’re not the littlest one any more!”

This time, it failed. Eirik craned past him, yearning towards the little baby.

“He was half asleep when I got him up,” explained Gudrun, sitting down to feed the new baby. “It’s the first time he’s noticed her.”

Frustrated, Eirik began to writhe and kick, determined to find out for himself what this new creature was. Hilde carried him away.

“Fetch me some groute and honey,” she called to her brother. “Cool it with milk. I’ll see if he’ll have some more.” She plonked the wriggling Eirik on her knee and when Sigurd brought the bowl and a horn spoon, she tried to ladle some into his mouth. Eirik spat it down his chin in angry dribbles. She tried again. Purple with fury, Eirik smacked the spoon out of her hand.

“Ouch!” Hilde wiped the glutinous barleymeal from her eye. “Right, you little horror! Don’t think I’m taking you anywhere near that baby. You’d probably tear her limb from limb!”

“Just let him see her,” said Gudrun wearily. “He’s curious, that’s all.”

“Curious? You mean furious,” said Hilde, bringing him across. His eyes were screwed shut, and fat tears poured down his face. “All right, Eirik, you’ve got your own way. Look, here she is. Stop screaming!”

“There. She’s had enough,” said Gudrun, as Eirik’s screams subsided to choking sobs and at last to fascinated silence. “I’ll sit her up.”

She righted the baby and sat her upright on her knee, holding her tenderly. The baby hiccupped. Her eyes focused. She gazed solemnly around. Peer looked at her closely. What had the Nis been complaining about? She seemed like any other baby to him.

“Gudrun, there’s nothing wrong with the baby, is there?” he asked.

“She’s fine,” said Gudrun. “She hasn’t even caught a cold. You looked after her very well, Peer, and there’s nothing wrong at all. Don’t worry.”

“I didn’t mean that. I talked to the Nis last night.”

“The Nis?” Gudrun looked up. “Go on, what did it say?”

“It was cross,” Peer said with a short laugh. “It told me off for bringing the baby here.”

“Why?” asked Hilde, amazed.

“It’s jealous, I think. It said she’s a wild seal baby, and doesn’t belong here, and you won’t be able to manage, Gudrun. Something like that.”

“Wild?” Hilde started to laugh. “She’s as good as gold. If anyone’s wild it’s young Eirik here.” She tickled Eirik’s tear-stained cheek.

Gudrun was watching Peer’s face. “Is there something else?” she asked.

He hesitated. “It threatened to leave if the baby stays. But you know what it’s like. It probably wasn’t serious.”

Gudrun tightened her lips. “I managed when the twins were little, so I suppose I can manage now. And the Nis must learn to cope as well.”

“But it won’t be for long, Gudrun,” Peer tried to comfort her. “I mean, even if they don’t find Kersten, Bjørn will soon come for the baby.”

“But, Peer,” said Hilde impatiently. “Bjørn can’t feed her!”

“Oh, of course!” Peer felt himself flush.

“Yes,” said Gudrun, “if they don’t find Kersten, poor Bjørn will lose his child as well as his wife. Even when she’s weaned, he’s still got to go out fishing. He can’t leave her behind, and he can’t take her along.”

“Then we can keep her!” sang out Sigrid. “Hurrah!”

“Sigrid,” said Hilde menacingly. “This is not something to be happy about.”

“How could Kersten leave her own little baby?” Peer wondered aloud.

“What if Ma is right?” said Hilde. “What if she was really a seal woman all the time, and Bjørn caught her and kept her prisoner?”

“I just don’t believe it!” Peer cried. “Bjørn wouldn’t do that!”

“No?” Hilde flashed. “Then what do you suggest? Did Kersten desert her baby–and Bjørn–for nothing? Bjørn’s a man, so it can’t be his fault, but Kersten can be a bad mother because she’s a woman? Is that what you’re saying?”

Peer stared at her, but before they could speak again, there were voices in the yard and the door latch lifted. Ralf came in, dark against the daylight, bowing his head under the lintel. “Come along, come in,” he called over his shoulder.

Bjørn stepped uncertainly after him, narrowing his eyes a little to see through the indoor shadows. Hilde and Peer exchanged shocked glances and forgot their argument. Could this really be steady, practical, cheerful Bjørn? He looked like a stranger–as if what had happened to him had changed him, or put him on the other side of some barrier of knowledge, so that the old Bjørn was gone, and this new Bjørn was someone they must get to know all over again. There were blue shadows under his eyes, and he did not smile.

Without a word, Gudrun got up and went to him. She put the baby into his arms, kissed him, and drew him forward to sit down at the fire. “Has he eaten?” she whispered to Ralf. Ralf shook his head. Gudrun hurried to fetch a bowl.

Hilde grimaced at Peer. Still carrying the wriggling Eirik, she went to kneel beside Bjørn. “We’re all so sorry,” she said quietly.

“Thanks.” Bjørn’s voice cracked. He cleared his throat. “And here’s young Eirik Ralfsson!” he added, with an almost natural laugh. “That fine chip off the old block!”

“Yes.” Hilde paused. How could they say what needed to be said?

Bjørn looked down at his own baby. His face clenched. He stood up again and handed her back to Gudrun as she brought his food.

“It’s only groute, but it’s sweet and hot. Eat up, Bjørn, you’ll need your strength,” she said anxiously, lulling the baby against her shoulder.

They tried not to stare as Bjørn ate, at first wearily, but then more hungrily as his appetite returned. Ralf said in a low voice to Gudrun,“He needed that. He was out searching all night. When we saw him coming in this morning, he could barely hold the oars.”

Bjørn put the bowl down and looked at Peer. “So what happened?” he asked quietly.

Peer’s stomach knotted. There was simply no way of softening the bleak tale. In a low voice he described yet again how Kersten had come running over the dunes, how she’d pushed the baby into his arms and rushed past him to the sea. Bjørn listened in silence. Under the force of his attention, Peer scoured his mind for extra details. He recalled the cold touch of Kersten’s hands and the dark tangles of wet hair caught across her face.

“She looked so wild. I thought something dreadful must have happened. I asked her,‘What’s wrong, Kersten? Where are you going?’ And all she said was,‘Home’.”

Bjørn caught a long, tense breath. Gudrun gave a nervous cough. “Well now, Bjørn,” she said. “What might she mean by that? Where was home for Kersten?” Though she tried to sound tactful, the whole family knew she was bursting with curiosity.