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.
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
