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. They’re round the house every night, stealing and spoiling things.”
“A pity your father didn’t know that before he left,” offered Peer.
“He did know,” said Hilde. “I mean, it’s got worse, but he did know.”
“Ah.” Peer paused, and Hilde imagined him thinking, Ralf knew, and he left all the same? What kind of a father is that? She bit her lip. Peer gave her a sideways look and suddenly squeezed her hand.
“You’re just missing him,” he said gruffly. “I know how it feels.”
Hilde smeared a hand across her eyes. “I’m not crying, I never cry. Don’t tell the twins.” She looked back at Sigurd and Sigrid, coming along behind with Loki, teasing him with a slippery ribbon of seaweed. “At least they’re having fun.”
“And Loki and I got something to eat today,” said Peer. “I don’t suppose we’ll get much supper tonight. Not that we ever do.”
Hilde flashed him a glance, opened her mouth, sighed, and shut it again. They plodded on up the track, the pony clopping beside Hilde with its neck low. “I wish you could live with us,” Hilde muttered at last.
“Thanks,” said Peer sadly, “but it wouldn’t work. They’d only come and get me.”
Hilde stopped suddenly. “Yes – they would now. But Pa will be home by midwinter. Of course!” She danced in excitement. “Pa won’t let them sell you to the trolls. You can stay with us and be perfectly safe. He’ll be home long before then!”
Peer lifted his head. “Really? Would your father really take me in?”
“I know he would.”
