The Story of the Blue Planet (9 page)

“A very long time ago. One evening the sun set, as it’s done every day for a million years, and then no one knows what became of it.”

“Our forest is dying and the birds have flown away and we sit here in the cold singing odes to the sun and sharing our last bite to eat. We will soon die from hunger.”

Brimir looked at Hulda. When Jolly-Goodday fixed the sun over their island they had forgotten about the children on the other side of the planet.

“At first we found it very beautiful because we always had the moon and stars, but then the clouds started to pile up. Since then the sky has either been pitch-black or dark gray and we’ve sat here by the fire thinking about the butterflies that can only fly in sunlight. But there’s never any sun here.”

Hulda and Brimir hung their heads dejectedly. When the wolf chased the clouds out of the sky over their island, he had driven them all here.

“Is it also dark and cold on the other side of the planet where you live?” asked a little girl with blond hair.

Brimir paled. He felt his legs trembling and was heavy at heart. There was a long silence until he muttered:

“No, we haven’t seen the sun, there’s no sun in our country. Hulda and I were sent on an expedition to find it.”

As soon as he said this he felt a terrible pang of remorse in his heart.

“Yes, what Brimir says is true. It’s actually colder on our island and the darkness even blacker, a really dreadful situation,” said Hulda, who also felt an awful pang of remorse.

“And that’s why the butterflies can’t fly anymore,” said Brimir. And felt an even greater pang in his heart.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” said a girl. “But why are your faces so brown?”

“Th-th-th-that’s because we eat so much soil to keep alive, all the food on our island is finished,” stammered Brimir, biting his lower lip.

“Everything’s so ugly and horrible when the sun doesn’t shine.”

The pale children listened sadly to Brimir and Hulda’s story.

“You’re really having a hard time,” said a boy, “because in spite of the dark and the cold there are still many beautiful things around us.”

“The ice on the lake is sometimes as smooth as a mirror, and sometimes wrinkled in waves, and at other times it can be all broken up, like a mound of scrap metal. It’s scary, but beautiful all the same.”

“We also know some beautiful poems about butterflies.”

“And we can tell stories about the sun.”

But then the children’s faces became sad.

“Stories of the sun can’t bring the forest back to life, though. If the forest dies, we die too.”

“And the butterflies don’t fly here, in spite of the poems.”

“But we can hug each other when we feel really down.”

There was a long silence until Darrow whispered something to a child who whispered it to the next child. At last all the pale children disappeared into the depths of the forest one by one. Brimir and Hulda sat silently with an aching heart and soul.

“Why did we say the darkness was blacker and the hunger worse back home?” asked Brimir sadly.

“They’d have been furious if they knew we’d got Jolly-Goodday to fix the sun over our island and to make a wolf-cloud that drives the annoying clouds over to their sky.”

“And if they only knew what we did with the butterfly powder.”

They sat listening to the fireflies buzzing in the jar when they heard some movement from out of the darkness. The children with the pale faces had returned. Darrow was at their head and dragged a huge sack behind him.

The pale children appeared from every direction.

“Do you think they heard what we said?” whispered Brimir.

They were just about to run away when Darrow spoke.

“Ever since the sun disappeared we’ve been sewing this air balloon together so that we can go and look for it. But now we know there’s darkness on the other side of the planet too, you may as well use the balloon to get back home.”

Darrow came over to Hulda and Brimir and kissed them on the cheek.

“Thank you for saving my life.”

Hulda was taken aback and looked mournfully at Brimir.

“We can’t take your air balloon. We’ll manage on our own,” said Brimir.

The pale children were still determined to help them, nonetheless. They filled the balloon with warm air and it slowly rose from the ground.

“Here are two pieces of bread and five pieces of dried fish to take with you,” said Darrow and he handed Brimir a little basket.

“Get aboard quickly! The balloon is rising!”

“You’ll never in your life have flown so high before!”

Brimir and Hulda remained motionless, but it was useless for them to resist. They were literally thrown into the basket. The air balloon glided up over the black forest and the pale children waved goodbye.

“Have a good trip home, you guys. And don’t be scared of heights!”

The pale children became smaller and smaller the higher they floated. All that could be seen was a very dull glow where the firefly-light illuminated the forest. At last even that disappeared into total darkness.

Brimir and Hulda sat silently in the basket under the balloon. “Thank you for saving my life,” Darrow had said. If he only knew who’d sent the hyena to hunt for food. “Don’t be scared of heights,” the pale children had said. If they only knew how high they had been under the nailed sun. The air balloon drifted across the sky in the pitch-black darkness. Not a sound could be heard except the whine of the wind as it blew through the ropes holding the basket.

“I feel ill at heart,” whispered Hulda.

“I think there’s a hole in my soul,” said Brimir.

“We shouldn’t have lied to the pale children.”

The balloon floated on. The children slept. Brimir woke up to a mysterious sound.

“Listen,” whispered Brimir.

They listened hopefully to the song that carried through the night.

“Is it a bird?” whispered Brimir.

“It’s a night raven,” said Hulda sadly. “It’s a long way to the sun.”

The children didn’t know for how long or in what direction the balloon was carried. They tried to keep time by counting their heartbeats but they could only count up to a hundred. When they had counted up to a hundred a hundred times they had to stop. They knew that the air balloon must sooner or later be borne to their beautiful island. Sometimes the balloon was blown through clouds, which felt as if a cold fog enveloped them. Once the balloon rose up above the thick clouds and they floated for a short time under the moon and stars. They could see each other’s faces in the golden glow of the moon. Brimir stroked Hulda’s hair.

“Your hair’s turned gray,” said Brimir and looked closer. “You look old.”

“Isn’t that just the moonlight? You look gray-haired too.”

“No, your hair’s totally gray,” said Brimir.

Hulda stared at Brimir’s hair and saw that he was right. They had both become gray-haired.

“It’s probably because of the darkness of the forest,” said Hulda. “I hope it’ll get better in the sunlight back home.”

“If we get home,” said Brimir, very depressed.

Below them lay a thick bank of clouds that spread out like white lava or a glacier full of cracks. When the balloon sank beneath the clouds again everything was black once more.

Sometimes they could hear birdsong.

“Is that a redwing?” asked Brimir hopefully

“No, it’s a nightingale. It’s still a long way to the sun.”

They heard all kinds of night-bird sounds and the shriek of bats, but they never heard the sounds of birds that sing in the sun.

“Maybe we’ll never find the sun,” said Brimir.

“Maybe we’ll die of hunger and end up as gray-haired skeletons in a floating air balloon.”

“And the person who finds us will never sleep again without having nightmares,” said Brimir sadly.

“If we get back home alive, we must help the children in the darkness and send them the sun before it’s too late.”

“And let the butterflies fly around the planet like they did in the old days,” said Brimir.

The basket under the balloon rocked them to sleep. A chilly wind blew and the children tried to huddle closer together.

Ha ha ha ha ha ha.

Brimir and Hulda woke up to a familiar sound.

“Cuck—oo! Cuck—oo!”

“Yet another nightingale?” muttered Brimir tiredly.

Hulda peeked over the edge of the basket.

“No! Listen, it’s a cuckoo! And there’s daylight on the horizon!”

“It’s the sun!” shouted Brimir. “And our island is under the sun!”

The island rose out of the sea like a green whale. The yellow sun shone brightly with the nail in its center, and the clouds became fewer and fewer until there was nothing above them but a clear blue. A heavenly birdsong could be heard from the island, a delight to their ears, but far away in the distance the black wolf-cloud drifted like a pirate ship.

“We’re home at last!”

“I’m even glad to see the ugly wolf-cloud,” said Brimir, smiling.

He had hardly let the words out of his mouth when thunder crashed and lightning flashed and the wolf-cloud speedily set off.

“Now the wolf’s going to chase away clouds,” said Brimir. He looked around excitedly, but couldn’t see so much as a single wisp of cloud.

“What cloud is the wolf going to swallow, anyway?” Brimir looked carefully at the balloon that was carrying them. He nudged Hulda.

“Doesn’t the balloon remind you of anything?”

“Just seems like an ordinary balloon to me.”

“Can’t you see it’s made of wool? It’s as woolly as a lamb!”

Lightning flashed. Thunder boomed. The black wolf-cloud approached the air balloon with wide-open jaws.

“Quick! Jump!” shouted Brimir.

They jumped out of the air balloon just before the wolf swallowed it in one bite. The children were in free-fall while they remained in the wolf’s shadow. He was quick to rush away in search of other clouds, however, and then the sun shone on the children and the butterfly powder on their hands. They could fly again!

“We’ll survive, thanks to the butterfly powder!”

“Thanks to Jolly-Goodday!”

Brimir and Hulda glided over the land. It was more beautiful than ever before. The yellow waves of sand in the desert could hardly be seen for the buttercups swaying in the breeze. The trees had grown twice as large and birds sang on every branch. The children gobbled up colorful fruits that fell from the trees. Little black dots shot around in the air like flies.