LITMIR.BIZ

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nodded. “But I came first,” boasted Sigrid. “So Sigurd has to do what I say!”

      “I do not!” Sigurd pulled her hair. They fell off the pony and wrestled in the road. Hilde and Peer dragged them apart. “Behave!” Hilde threatened. “Or Peer won’t come with us.”

      “No, I’m coming all right,” said Peer. “I want to swim.”

      Trollsvik was tiny compared to Hammerhaven, just seven or eight houses with streams of white smoke rising from their grassy roofs. A gang of dogs rushed up to sniff at Loki who instantly made five new friends. A woman came out from her door and threw a pail of water over her vegetable patch. Seeing Hilde she called out, asking how her mother was and whether they’d heard from Ralf. Peer stood shyly apart while they talked, but Hilde dragged his arm.

      “This is Kersten, Bjørn the fisherman’s wife. This is Peer Ulfsson, Kersten, who has come to live at the mill.” Kersten smiled; she was very pretty, with long dark hair and green eyes, but Peer was embarrassed because he was so dirty, and glad when the conversation ended and she went back inside. Hilde tethered the pony, and together they crossed some low grassy dunes to the shore.

      The wide fjord sparkled. Baby waves lifted themselves an inch or two and turned over with a clear splash on a narrow beach where every pebble seemed a different colour. A couple of faerings, narrow fishing boats, lay on the shingle. The twins squealed with delight and ran to pick up shells and seaweed. Peer breathed deep and gazed at the bright water and high mountains.

      “I’m going in,” he said happily.

      “It’ll be cold,” Hilde warned him.

      “Who cares?” He ran into the water with a whoop. “You’re right! It’s freezing!”

      Loki dashed up and down, barking at the waves in case they attacked his master. In a few moments Peer came wading out. “I’m clean,” he said through chattering teeth, “but I can’t stay in any longer. Let’s find a nice sunny boulder and sit down. There’s something I need to tell you.”

      Wrapped in an old cloak which Hilde had brought to sit on, and munching bread and cheese which she had packed, Peer told Hilde about the flighty little Nis, and how he had promised to bring it some butter. He told about his meeting with Granny Greenteeth, and how she had revealed his uncles’ plan to sell Peer to the trolls.

      Hilde was horrified. “They couldn’t!”

      “Oh yes, they could. And that’s not all. The Nis found out that now it’s to be a double wedding. The old Gaffer’s son and daughter,” he explained carefully, “are marrying the Dovreking’s daughter and son.”

      “Well?” asked Hilde, as he stopped.

      “And it seems my uncles were very angry, because the Gaffer told them that the deal was off unless they could bring him a girl as well as a boy. You see, if he gives the Dovre prince a servant, he has to give the Dovre princess a maid.”

      “So no gold for the Grimssons without a girl?” Hilde laughed in relief. “Then you’re safe.”

      “I don’t know,” said Peer softly. “I think they’re going to find a girl. I think you ought to be very careful, Hilde.”

      Hilde whistled. There was silence, except for the lapping of waves and the cries of gulls.

      “So Troll Fell wants to impress the Dovrefell,” she said.

      “With two human wedding presents,” Peer nodded.

      “It’s unusual. I wonder what a troll servant has to do?”

      “I don’t want to find out. I couldn’t bear —” Peer bit off his words. No need for Hilde to know how he dreaded being shut up in the dark.

      Hilde began to speak, but was interrupted by excited shouts from Sigurd and Sigrid, who were playing around the boats. “Look! Look!” Another small boat was dancing in from the sea. Hilde jumped up, shading her eyes.

      “That’s Bjørn’s faering. Look – can you see the seal following behind him?”

      Squinting, Peer made out a dark dot in the waves.

      “There’s always a seal or two following Bjørn,” Hilde told him. “People say they drive the herring to him. Some people even say that his wife Kersten was a seal woman, but my pa doesn’t think that’s true. Still, Bjørn and his brother Arne know more stories about the sea than anyone else. I wonder where Arne is? I can’t see him.”

      Together they ran to help pull the boat up the beach. Bjørn was a short, stocky fellow with a strong friendly face, blue eyes, and untidy hair falling over his shoulders.

      “Hello Hilde, my lass, who’s your friend? Hello sprats,” he said to Sigurd and Sigrid.

      “Hello Bjørn. This is Peer Ulfsson, who now lives at the mill.”

      Bjørn put out a calloused hand and Peer took it, liking him already. “The mill, eh?” was all he said, but his smile was sympathetic.

      “Where’s Arne?” asked Hilde.

      “Haven’t you heard?” Bjørn scratched his head. “He’s gone off south, and it’s your doing, Hilde, you and your father between you. He went on so much about how he wished he could have sailed on that blessed longship, that in the end I told him to go after it. ‘Take your boat,’ I said. ‘Ten to one you’ll catch them up, and even if you don’t, you’ll find another one to join. It’s the sailing season.’ So off he went. He’ll be back before winter.” He smiled at Hilde’s disappointed face. “But what’s this? A holiday? Light a fire, and I’ll join you. We can cook some fish.”

      Sigrid and Sigurd ran to collect armfuls of driftwood and dry seaweed. When they had assembled a tangled pile, Bjørn struck sparks from his strike-a-light, and a fire was soon blazing. The fish were delicious. They all burned their fingers, but it was worth it. Even Loki gobbled his fill of the rich white meat and flame-blackened skins, and lay contentedly afterwards, licking his paws.

      “Tell us a story,” begged Sigrid.

      Bjørn lay on his back with his arms behind his head, soaking up the sunshine. “What sort of story?”

      “A scary one!” said Sigurd.

      Bjørn looked sideways under his lashes. And he told them about the draug, the phantom fisherman who sails the seas in half a boat and can be heard wailing in the storm winds when someone is about to drown. “Have you ever heard him?” breathed Sigurd. But Bjørn refused to say.

      A cloud passed over the sun and a chill breeze sprang up. Hilde rubbed her arms and shivered. “I wish you hadn’t told that story,” she said to Bjørn, half-laughing. “I shall think about it now, and worry. I wish…” But she didn’t finish. “We’d better go. Thank you for the fish, Bjørn.”

      “You’re welcome,” said Bjørn. He tousled the little ones’ heads, patted Hilde on the shoulder and clapped Peer on the back. “Good luck, friend!” he said.

      “Thanks, I’m going to need it,” said Peer ruefully. He didn’t like to think what his uncles would do to him when he got back.

      Chapter 9

       More Trouble at the Mill

      HILDE WAS UNCHARACTERISTICALLY quiet as they led the pony away from the village. “What’s the matter?” Peer asked at last.

      “Nothing.” Hilde hesitated. “To tell you the truth,” she admitted, “I know it’s silly, but when Bjørn told that story I started thinking about Pa. I’m not worried! I’m just —”

      “Worried!” Peer finished. “But don’t be, Hilde. I’m sure he’s all right.”

      “I know,” she agreed, still rather glum. “But nothing’s really gone right since he left. And the trolls – besides what you told me - they’re such a nuisance.

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