Troll Fell (6 page)

Peer opened the door, and Loki vanished into the
yard.

“Come here, laddie,” said Uncle Baldur to Peer,
cutting himself some more cheese. He gulped his ale,
spilling it down his front. Peer approached reluctantly till
he was standing between his uncle's outstretched legs.
Crumbs of bread and cheese speckled his uncle's beard.
His stained shirt gaped open at the throat, exposing
another tangle of black hair. A flea jumped out. Uncle
Baldur pinched it between two thick fingers. When it
popped, he wiped his fingers on his shirt and reached for
more bread.

“See here,” he said to Peer, nodding at Grendel. “That
dog only obeys me and Grim. Right? He hates other
dogs. He's a born fighter.”

“Killed half a dozen,” agreed Grim in a sort of proud
growl.

“So if you want to keep
your
dog in one piece, you
watch your step and start making yourself very very
useful.” Uncle Baldur stared Peer straight in the eye.
“Otherwise we might organise a little dogfight.
Understand?”

Peer understood. He compressed his lips and nodded,
as slightly as he dared.

“Right!” Baldur broke wind noisily and began to
pick his teeth with a dirty fingernail. “Now what's all this
about Ralf Eiriksson?” he asked, exploring a back molar.

“I don't know,” said Peer sullenly. “No!” he added
quickly. “I mean, I talked to his daughter Hilde and she
says he's walked to Hammerhaven this morning. He's
going a-Viking for the summer. That's all I know, I didn't
ask any more. I didn't know you'd be interested,” he
added feebly, hating himself for crawling.

His uncles winked at each other. Uncle Baldur
removed the finger from his mouth and rubbed his
hands together, chuckling gleefully. He kicked Peer on
the ankle.

“Where did the girl go?”

“Down to the village. She was going to buy fish.”

“I want to see her on the way back,” said Uncle
Baldur. He jabbed Peer in the chest. “You look out for
her, and make sure you bring her to me. Right?”

He turned to the table, not waiting for Peer to reply,
and tossed him a stale end of bread. “Eat that and get on
with the chores,” he said abruptly. “Grim'll show you
what to do. And remember – fetch me that girl!”

Hilde's shoes sank into the wet sand and she rubbed
her arms, willing the sun to climb higher. It was chilly
here. The shadow of Troll Fell leaned over the beach
and out across the water. The pebbles glistened from
last night's rain and from the retreating tide. Cold grey
waves splashed on the shore.

“Half a dozen herring and a couple of crabs? Done!”
agreed Bjørn cheerfully. He shouted to his brother who
sat in the boat sorting the catch. “Find us a couple of good
big crabs, Arnë!” He turned back to Hilde. “Any news?”

“I should say so!” said Hilde gloomily. “My father's
leaving – going off for the whole summer on a longship
they've built at Hammerhaven.”

Bjørn whistled. “Hey, Arnë,” he yelled. “Come and
listen to this!”

Arnë clambered out of the boat with a live crab in
each hand, and Hilde discovered that explaining it all to
two interested young men cheered her up – especially
when Arnë fixed his dreamy blue eyes on her face.

“Lucky Ralf,” he said enviously. “I wish I'd heard
about it. What's the ship like?”

“Lovely,” Hilde assured him. “She's got a dragon head,
all carved and painted.”

“Yes,” Bjørn laughed, “but how long is she? How
many oars?”

Hilde didn't know. “Ask the boy at the mill,” she
suggested waspishly. “He ought to know – his father
built her.”

“What boy?”

“The millers' nephew. I just met him this morning.
They've taken him in because his father died.”

Bjørn's eyebrows rose. “The millers have taken in an
orphan? What's he like?”

“He's all right,” said Hilde without much enthusiasm.
“He seems a bit nervous.”

“I'd be nervous in his shoes,” said Bjørn darkly. He
elbowed his brother in the ribs. “Arnë! Dreamer! Hand
over those crabs!”

With her basket full of herring and the two live crabs
wrapped firmly in a cloth, Hilde rode whistling back up
the steep path out of the village. The world brightened
as the sun nudged up over the edge of the mountain. She
thought about Pa. What a lovely morning to go to sea!
How proud and happy he must feel!

Her high spirits lasted until she came in sight of the
mill, crouching dismally under the trees. Even the spring
sunshine could not gild its battered timbers and slimy
black thatch. The brook rushed away from it, tumbling
over itself in a white cascade as it tried to escape.
Nobody happy had ever lived there.

Hilde gathered up her reins in case the millers' huge
dog ran out to frighten the pony. She felt sorry for the
boy, Peer, but she didn't want to stop. She trotted
forwards, hoping to get past quickly. As she reached the
bridge, Peer dashed out of the mill yard, waving. She
drew rein.

He ran up, looking pale and miserable. “I'm sorry,
Hilde. My uncles want to talk to you. Will you come?”

Hilde turned the pony into the yard. Both the
Grimsson brothers were there, lounging on the
doorstep. They lowered their heads threateningly – like
a couple of prize bulls, Hilde thought. Peer lurked
guiltily to one side, darting anxious glances at his
uncles.

“What d'you want?” Hilde demanded.

“A little
bird
told us,” Baldur sneered in his high
voice, “that Daddy's gone away. The great Ralf Eiriksson,
who thinks he's so important. Is that right? Eh?”

“Only for the summer,” said Hilde icily. “He'll be
back before winter with a bunch of his Viking friends, so
don't give me any trouble, Baldur Grimsson.”

“Vikings!” said Baldur. He spat lavishly. “I don't give
that
for Vikings. And going to sea is a risky business.
There's storms and rocks and lee shores.”

Grim nodded in agreement. “And sea serpents,” he
grunted.

Hilde snorted rudely.

“Wait and see,” went on Baldur, scowling at his twin
brother. “He won't
ever
be coming home again!”

“He's as good as dead!” said Grim. Together they
flung their heads back and shook with forced laughter.

“Is that all you want to say?” snapped Hilde. The
brothers stopped laughing.

“You carry a message for me, girl,” snarled Baldur.
“Tell your
mother
– and your
grandpa
–” he emphasised
the words with a stab of his thick forefinger, “to keep
off that land on Troll Fell that belongs to
us
. Keep
right off it, yes? Unless you want a lot of trouble.”

“Deep trouble,” echoed Grim.

“But you could buy it,” Baldur suggested cunningly.
“We might consider selling it to you – at the price of a
certain golden cup!”

Hilde went white. “You haven't a shadow of a claim
to that land!” she exploded. “How dare you threaten us?”

Baldur came up close and grabbed the pony by the
bridle. “Ask your mother which she'd prefer,” he
whispered. Spit sprayed from his mouth and Hilde
leaned away. “That golden cup, or a quiet life? The land
is ours. You'll learn to respect that! Those sheep you have
up there have been eating at our expense! That makes
them our sheep! You and your family keep out of the
Stonemeadow.”

He jerked hard on the bridle and stepped back, and as
the pony flung up its head in fright he whistled loudly.
With a bloodcurdling bark Grendel came hurtling out of
the mill. “See 'em off, lad!” shouted Grim.

Hilde grabbed the mane. The pony whirled out of the
yard and bolted over the bridge and up the hill. She was
falling! Desperately hanging on to her bouncing basket, she
hauled wildly on the reins. The terrified pony danced to a
snorting halt, and she slithered off sideways. Her legs
wobbled. She patted the shuddering pony. “It's all right!
Don't be silly!” she soothed. “The dog's not after you now!”

The pony rolled a wild eye and kicked. A little brown
dog burst out of the bushes. Hilde shook back her hair
and stood up straight. “Hello!” she challenged. There
were wincing and crackling sounds as someone tackled
the steep and brambly shortcut up the side of the hill.
Peer's pale and dirty face became visible as he parted
some branches. “Are you all right?” he puffed.

“Yes! – no thanks to you,” Hilde snapped. She glared
at him. “Was it you, by any chance, who told those –
those
oafs
– that my father has gone away?”

“Yes, it was,” said Peer miserably. “I didn't mean to do
any harm. I didn't know it was important. I'm sorry,
Hilde.”

“Oh, don't worry,” said Hilde, suddenly recovering
her temper. “Stop apologising. You haven't done
anything. They'd have heard soon enough. Everybody
knows everything in a little place like this.” She checked
her basket. A spiny claw came poking out. “I've still got
Grandpa's crabs, thank goodness. Did you
hear
what
those awful men said to me?” She looked up. “Why are
you hiding in the bushes, Peer? Are you scared of the
millers? Or are you scared of me?”

Peer flushed. He didn't answer. Hilde gave him a sharp
look. “Well,” she said, “Mother's going to be horrified
when she hears about this. I expect there will be trouble.
I'm sorry, Peer, but I absolutely detest your uncles!”

“So do I!” Peer blurted savagely. “I don't know why
they want me. They've stolen all my father's money, and
there's some strange plan going on that I don't
understand. Something about trolls, and a wedding! And
they've threatened to set their dog on Loki if I don't do
everything they say. He'll be killed!”

“That's terrible!” cried Hilde. She snapped her fingers
at Loki, who ran up and sniffed her hand. She stroked
him. Loki immediately collapsed on to his back to let her
rub his tummy. He lay with his paws folded up under his
chin, back legs outstretched, eyes shut in bliss. Hilde
tickled his chest.

“Trolls, and a wedding?” she repeated, frowning. “I
can't imagine. Of course, old Grim, their father, was
always poking about the Stonemeadow looking for the
trolls' treasure.”

“
Was
he? Why?”

“Hmm. It's a long story. Have you got time? And
anyway, whose side are you on?”

“I want to be on your side,” said Peer wretchedly.
“But they're my uncles and I've got to live with them.
I've got nowhere else to go.”

“
Baldur and Grim! The terrible twins!
” sang Hilde
cheekily. “I think they should be called Bristle and
Gristle, myself.”

Peer gave a snort of laughter. “They have a pig called
Bristles! A boar, in fact. And now I think about it, it does
look just like them – covered in black hair.”

“Fat,” added Hilde.

“Yes, and greedy and bad-tempered! I had to feed it
this morning, and it knocked the bucket out of my hand
and trod on my foot.”

“Do your uncles eat out of buckets?” giggled Hilde.

“They ought to!” said Peer, grinning. He felt much
better. It seemed a long time since he had joked with
a friend.

“They're exactly alike, aren't they? Can you tell them
apart?”

“Not until they talk,” said Peer. He thought for a
moment. “And even though his voice is funny, Baldur
talks more. Grim hardly says anything. If one of them's
ranting and raving at me, it'll be Baldur!”

Hilde patted the ground beside her. “Sit down and I'll
tell you about the trolls. It's a good story and it's true. You
see, many years ago my father was riding over Troll Fell
late one night, when he stumbled on a troll banquet. They
had the top of the hill lifted up on red pillars…” She told
Peer what had happened, and how Ralf had raced to the
mill for shelter, and old Grim had seen the golden goblet.

“Mother swears it's unlucky,” she went on, “and it
certainly was for Grim. He spent the rest of his days
wandering around Troll Fell, looking for the gate into
the hill.”

“What gate? I thought you said the whole place was
up on pillars?”

“I think they only do that for special occasions. But
there must
be
a gateway into the hill. We have trolls the
way other people have rats and mice, and they're all
getting out somewhere. And wherever it is, Grim seems
to have found it, only it was winter and he collapsed up
there and died later.”

“So my uncles probably know where it is,” said Peer
thoughtfully.

“Yes, but what good is that? The trolls aren't going to
come out and just give them presents,” said Hilde. She
was still scratching Loki's tummy. “Goodness, Loki, how
much more of this do you want?”

“Oh, he'll go on for ever,” said Peer, laughing.

“Well,” said Hilde seriously, “I hope your uncles
haven't been making friends with the trolls. That could
be a real problem for all of us. You keep an eye on them,
Peer!”

“I'll try,” he promised. But a distant bellow came
floating up from the mill and he went rather pale and
jumped up. “I'd better go.”

“Yes, you'd better,” said Hilde, sorry for him. “What a
shame. Well, watch out for yourself, Peer. We
are
friends
now, aren't we?” She stood up and offered her hand,
which Peer took shyly. “See you soon!” she called,
jumping on the pony and urging it into a brisk trot up
the hill.

Peer raced towards the mill, Loki bounding ahead. He
reached the yard to find his uncles talking to a carter, a
surly-looking man who had just unloaded some sacks of
barley for grinding. The two brothers stood leaning
together with their arms across each other's shoulders,
and as Peer arrived, panting, they both twisted their
heads to look at him, grotesque as a two-headed giant
from a story.
The terrible twins!
Peer grinned. The mill was
ugly enough for a giant's stronghold, and Grendel made
an excellent monster. The huge dog lay in a patch of
sunshine by the mill door, gnawing a large bone. He
raised his head and snarled at Loki, who pottered past
and cocked a cheeky leg on the corner of the barn.

“Grind it small,” shouted the carter over the noise of
the wheels as he drove his cart out into the lane. “We
want fine meal. I'll collect tomorrow.” So – the mill did
sometimes have customers!

“You're a lucky boy,” croaked Uncle Baldur, turning
to Peer, who eyed him suspiciously. “You're going to
learn something most snivelling little orphan boys would
give their eyeteeth for. What d'you say to that?” Peer
stared at his feet stubbornly.

“You're going to learn about the mill, boy,” went on
Uncle Baldur. “Grim's a farmer, but me –
I'm
the miller.”
He rapped his chest proudly. “I hope you're thankful.”