on to his shoulders.
“But, Pa, what about the trolls?” asked Sigurd. “What if they follow us?”
“They won’t,” said his father easily. “They were running away, weren’t they? Loki here has chased them all into the foxholes amongst those rocks. Forget them. I wonder what your Ma has for supper?”
Talking cheerfully, he set off at a rapid pace. Hilde followed, Sigurd tramping manfully along beside her. At last they came to the proper track that led down to the farm. Far ahead in the dim, wet night they were glad to see a tiny speck of warm light. Gudrun had lit the lantern to guide them home.
CHAPTER 3 A Warning from the Nis
“Bones?” exclaimed Gudrun, ladling out four bowls of hot mutton stew. “What sort of bones?”
“Just bones–dry ones.” Ralf took a long gulp of ale and wiped his mouth with a sigh. “Old dry bones,” he repeated. “I kicked some with my foot. Looked like bits of a sheep’s ribcage, years old. Sigrid got a fright, but so long as it’s dry bones and not ones with meat on them, the trolls can have them and welcome!” He looked at Gudrun over the rim of his mug, and his eyes said, Let’s talk about this later.
“They’re always up to something,” said Gudrun darkly, plonking the bowls on the table. “Eat up, twins, and then straight to bed.”
“Oh, Ma…” they complained together. But Gudrun shook her head. “Look at you both–pale as mushrooms, dark circles under your eyes! I hope this won’t give you nightmares again, Sigrid.”
Sigrid blushed, but Sigurd spoke up for her. “She’s grown out of that, Ma. She hasn’t had a bad dream in ages.”
For more than a year after being trapped under Troll Fell by the trolls and the Grimsson brothers, Sigrid had woken every night, screaming about trolls. Best not make a fuss, thought Gudrun, sighing. “Well, Ralf, as you say, it’s hard to see what harm dry bones can do. Unless the trolls killed the sheep in the first place, the thieves! Come and sit down, Hilde.”
Hilde was bending over the cradle near the fire, admiring her baby brother. He lay breathing quietly, his long lashes furled on the peaceful curve of his cheek. The firelight glowed on his golden curls.
“Has Eirik been good today?”
Gudrun laughed. “I can’t turn my back on that child for half a minute. He tried three times to crawl into the fire, and screamed blue murder when I pulled him back. If it weren’t for the Nis, I’d be tearing my hair out.”
“The Nis?” Hilde asked, intrigued. “Why, what does it do?”
“Haven’t you noticed how it teases him and keeps him busy? It croons away and dangles things over the cradle; it’s very good with him. Of course, I never see it properly, only out of the corner of my eye, but I hear the baby gurgle and coo, and I know he’s all right for a while. It was a blessing when Peer brought that creature into our house.”
A gust of wind rattled the shutters and the smoke swirled over the fire. The family bent their heads over their meal. By the hearth Loki lay, watchful, resting his chin over the back of Ralf’s old sheepdog, Alf. Suddenly he raised his head and pricked his ears. Alf too woke from his dreaming and twitching, turning his milky eyes and grey muzzle towards the door.
Which burst open. In from the dark staggered a tall, tattered boy, white-faced, streaming with water, dragging a ripped and flapping cloak like stormy broken wings. He turned black, desperate eyes on Gudrun, and shoved something at her.
“Take it!” he gasped. “Please, Gudrun! Take the baby!”
They all jumped up. Gudrun stared at the bundle he held out. She reached for it slowly at first, as if half afraid–then snatched it from him and peeled the wrappings back. The round dark head of a tiny baby lolled on to her arm, and she clutched it to her chest and stepped back, mouth open.
“Merciful heavens, Peer! Whatever…?”
Peer sank on the bench, his head hanging. “It’s Kersten’s baby.” His voice quivered. “Kersten’s and Bjørn’s. She gave it to me–she said—”
“Kersten’s? Where is she? What’s happened?”
“She fell into the sea,” said Peer. He buried his face in his hands while they all gasped, then looked up again with miserable eyes. “At least…that’s not true. She ran into it. I couldn’t stop her. Bjørn went after her. Gudrun, I think that baby’s terribly cold!”
Gudrun, Hilde and Ralf looked at one another.
“First things first,” said Gudrun, becoming practical. “Peer, take off those wet things. Sigrid will bring you some hot stew. Hilde, warm a blanket. Let me take a look at this child.” She sat down by the fire and laid the baby on her knee, gently unwrapping and chafing the mottled little arms and legs.
“Poor little thing,” she said softly. “Dear me, it must be weeks since Kersten had her. I’ve been meaning to get down and see her. But there’s always something else to do. There–there, now!” She turned the baby over and rubbed the narrow back. “Do you know her name, Peer?”
“I didn’t even know she was a girl.” Peer was struggling into a dry jerkin. His head came out, tousled. “Is she–is she all right?” He came over and stared down at the baby in silence for a while. “She looks like a little frog,” he said at last.
“She is rather cold, but she’ll be all right.” Gudrun swaddled the baby in the warm shawl that Hilde brought. “Now she’s warming up, I’ll try and feed her.”
“Will you, Gudrun?” Tears sprang into Peer’s eyes, and he turned away. “I think she is hungry. She was chewing my collar bone half the way home,” he said over his shoulder.
Hilde laughed at him shakily. “That wouldn’t do her much good!”
They all stood round, staring at Gudrun as she held the baby, rocking gently. Even the twins were silent, one leaning each side of their mother. The baby’s dark hair fluffed up as it dried, and she nuzzled into Gudrun’s breast, sucking strongly and blinking upwards with vague, bright eyes.
Ralf blew his nose. “Now–Peer. Tell us what happened!”
“We were down on the shore. I was going to stay with Bjørn, because of the rain. Bjørn gave me a fish to take up to Kersten–we were going to have it for supper. Then—” Peer broke off, trying to make sense of his memories. “Kersten came running down through the sand dunes. It was pouring with rain. She ran smack into me! She had the baby. She said…I can’t remember exactly what, but she pushed the baby at me and told me to take it to you, Gudrun. She said, “Is Gudrun still giving suck?” And then she ran past me and down the shingle. I shouted for Bjørn, but—”
He stopped again. “She was wearing this big fur cloak,” he whispered. “Before Bjørn could get to her, she’d thrown herself into the sea.”
Gudrun’s eyes were bright with tears.
“She’s gone back to the sea,” she said softly.
