West of the Moon

As she turned to follow the old dog back to the sheep, the dark night and racing snow lit up as if a door had opened. And indeed it had. A few hundred yards up the slope, yellow light poured from a rift in the crag. In fear and amazement, she watched a dark silhouette approach the lighted gap and disappear inside. Spindly limbs and a large head – was that the troll-thing which had misled her? And was it going home?

Icy fragments of hail flew into her face. She shielded her eyes and looked again. The light was failing. A huge stone door swung ponderously shut. The hillside trembled at the shock, and all was dark.

Hilde touched Alf ’s neck. “Come!” she murmured.

At the bottom of the Stonemeadow the snow lay only ankle deep, and Alf drove the little flock briskly along the road till they reached the track to the farm.

Gudrun had the farmhouse door open in a flash. “You clever girl! You found them! Come inside at once!” She began to hug Hilde but then held her off. “Get those wet things off – you’re frozen! I’ll put the sheep away. There’s hot soup in the pot.”

“Alf shall have some,” declared Hilde. The old dog lay stiffly down by the fire. He gave a perfunctory lick to his bedraggled fur and laid his head between his paws.

“Dry him and give him some soup,” Hilde called to the twins, rubbing her hair vigorously. “He was marvellous. He saved my life! Ma, just wait till you hear our adventures. We found the door into Troll Fell!”

Chapter 11

The Dogfight

PEER WAS SITTING by the hearth one dark afternoon, cleaning his uncles’ boots. Several pairs lay scattered about and he was scraping the mud off and greasing them to keep them waterproof and supple. The best pairs were thick, double-stitched reindeer hide with the fur inside.

Peer handled them enviously. His own shoes were worn and split, wrapped around with string and stuffed with hay to try and keep his feet warm. They were always wet. His toes were red with chilblains.

He sat as close to the fire as he could. He’d been out for hours shovelling snow and carrying feed to the animals. There were a lot of them now. Grim had taken Grendel one morning and brought down some sheep he claimed were all his, though Peer, looking suspiciously, spotted a variety of different marks. The sheep were penned behind a wattle fence in a corner of the yard, where their breath hung in clouds over their draggled woolly backs.

The mill had been silent for a week. The millpond was freezing. Already the weir was fringed with icicles, and the waterwheel glazed with dark ice. No power. While the ice lasted, Uncle Baldur was a miller no longer. Only a farmer.

Bored and lonely, Peer smeared more grease on to the toe of the fifth boot. Uncle Grim lay snoring in his bunk. Baldur was out. Peer guessed he was down in the village, drinking with his cronies – if he had any.

There was no one to talk to. He hadn’t seen Hilde for weeks, and since the spider episode, the Nis had ignored him, though he often heard it skipping about at night. Peer remembered last winter’s fun, snowball fights and skating with the other boys in Hammerhaven. It felt like another life.

The door crashed open, and Uncle Baldur stamped in, beating snow from his mittens. “He’s dead!” he cried.

Uncle Grim jerked awake in mid-snore. He struggled up. “Who’s dead?”

“Ralf Eiriksson. It’s all around the village,” shrilled Uncle Baldur. “His ship was wrecked and they were all drowned. Just as I thought!”

The brothers flung their arms around each other and began a sort of stamping dance. Peer dropped the boot he was holding and sat in open-mouthed horror.

“Dead as a doornail,” chortled Uncle Baldur.

“A drowned doornail,” Grim wheezed, and Grendel leaped around them shattering the air with his barks.

“Is this sure?” asked Grim, sobering suddenly.

“Certain sure,” Baldur nodded. “Arne Egilsson’s been saying so. I went specially to ask him as soon as I heard. He didn’t like telling me, but he couldn’t deny the facts. The ship’s long overdue, and her timbers have been washing up further down the coast. She sank, it’s obvious.”

Grim smacked his brother on the shoulder. “Then the land’s ours! No one will argue about that if Ralf ’s dead.”

Baldur laughed. He paced up and down, slapping his great thighs. “We’ll be rich, brother. We’ll own the best half of Troll Fell. And after tonight, with the Gaffer’s gold —”

Uncle Grim nodded at Peer. “The boy’s listening,” he growled.

“Who cares?” Uncle Baldur caught Peer by the scruff and shook him. “He don’t know what I’m talking about. We’ll get the goods for the Gaffer now, all right. Who’s to stop us? With Ralf out of the way, we can do whatever we like!”

He whacked Peer on the ear and dropped him. Peer felt sick. Poor, poor Hilde. Poor Ralf! And his father’s lovely ship, smashed on the rocks and lost for ever! Then with a stab of fear he saw what this meant for himself. No safety up at the farm. No escape from Baldur and Grim.

“This calls for a drop of ale!” Baldur declared, rubbing his hands.

“Mead,” Grim suggested.

“You’re right.” Uncle Baldur licked his lips. “Something strong!”

Soon the two brothers were singing noisily, banging their cups together. Mechanically, Peer finished cleaning the boots. He lined them up by the door and sank to the floor. Something gnawed at his mind. Tonight? Had Uncle Baldur said “tonight”?

Midwinter! He’d been talking and thinking and planning about it for months. Now, with a shock like icy water dashed in his face, he realised he had no idea how close midwinter was. He thought back, counting on his fingers. How long since the first snow? Weeks? It seemed a long time. And the days were so short now; it was dark outside already. Midwinter must be nearly upon them.

There was a bang at the door. Peer looked at his uncles. They were singing so loudly that neither they nor Grendel had heard. Peer shrugged and went wearily to open it. With his hand on the latch he paused. What if it was Granny Greenteeth, come to pay a visit before the ice locked her in for the winter? Well, let her come! He jerked the door open.

A cutting wind whirled in. There stood two ordinary men, muffled up against the cold. They stepped quickly in and shook snow from their clothes.

“Shut that DOOR!” Uncle Baldur yelled. Then he saw the visitors and staggered to his feet. “Look who’s here.” He prodded Grim. “It’s Arne and Bjørn.”

“Give ’em a drink,” hiccupped Grim.

But Bjørn’s good-natured face was stern. “Hey, Peer,” he said quietly, dropping a friendly hand on Peer’s shoulder. “Grim, Baldur,” he went on, “we’ve not come to drink with you. We’ve come to say one thing. Leave Ralf ’s family alone!”

Uncle Baldur sprawled back on the bench. He gave an unpleasant laugh. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes you do,” said Arne. “You’re after Ralf ’s land on Troll Fell.”

“But you won’t get it,” said Bjørn. “Arne and I will stand witness against you. It was never yours, and you know it!”

Peer felt like cheering. He glowed with admiration for the two young men. They looked like heroes to him as they stood there together, their faces tight with anger. Baldur and Grim exchanged glances.

“Why are you interfering?” asked Baldur with a suspicious scowl. “What’s in it for you?”

“Why?” exploded Bjørn. “Because Ralf was our friend. Because the land was his. Because you’re a couple of cheating pigs who’d rob a widow and her family!”

“Don’t bother trying to understand,” added Arne.

“Get out!” Baldur surged to his feet. “Out, before I set the dog on you!”

“Oh, we’ll go,” said Bjørn coldly. “I wouldn’t stay in your stinking mill for all the gold on Troll Fell.”

He strode for the door, but Uncle Baldur grabbed his arm. “Gold?” he croaked. “What do you mean? What do you know about troll gold?”

Bjørn stared at him and whistled. “That’s your game, is it? Don’t you worry, Grimsson. The only thing I know about troll gold is this: it’s unlucky and I don’t want anything to do with it. And if you’ll take my advice, neither will you. Goodnight!”

Peer stepped hopefully forwards. If he could only catch Bjørn’s eye; if he could only go with him! But this time, Bjørn did not notice Peer. He and Arne slipped through the door and vanished into the night.