West of the Moon (26 page)

“Hark!” the second lubber raised its hand. From far down the valley came the spindly cry of a cock. Both lubbers raised their heads. The moon was pale. Dawn was in the sky.

“Cock-crow!” spat the second lubber. “See what you've done? We've left it too late. Now we'll have to wait till it's dark again.”

Down by the mill pond, the three desperate watchers saw the sky lightening. Birds began to sing; the midges came out to dance over the sullen green water. Gradually the sun toiled u over the edge of Troll Fell, and golden shafts struck down between the trees.

It was going to be a long, hot day.

Up in the old badger sett, cuddled together amongst the leaves, Eirik and Ran had fallen fast asleep.

S
IGURD STRUGGLED UP
out of the cleft in the rocks on the side of Troll Fell, pale and dishevelled, scratched and bleeding. A low crimson sun shone straight into his eyes, as if to welcome him home. Gratefully he sniffed the warm air, scented with turf and sheep and wildflowers. Then he turned and called into the darkness.

“All right, Sigrid. Pass up the baby!”

“Mind my head,” complained a shrill voice from the bottom of the narrow chasm. “Ouch! Look out. You nearly took my nose off on that rock.”

Sigurd shuddered. He heard his sister answering, tired and tearful: “I'm sorry. I'm doing my best. Can you reach it, Sigurd? Here it comes!”

With a boost from below, the extraordinary face of the troll baby popped up into the sunlight, mewing. Sigurd hoisted it out, while Sigrid scrambled after. Her face was bruised and filthy; she rolled over and lay exhausted on the rocks.

Sigurd prodded her. “We can't stop, twin. The trolls will be after us as soon as it's dark, and look, the sun's sinking. We must have been underground for ages – all night, and most of the day.”

“It feels even longer,” Sigrid groaned. “I'm so hungry!”

On shaking legs they descended the scar and hurried along the track, delighting in the warm sun on their backs. Sigurd carried the troll baby over his shoulder. It kept up a constant chitter-chatter, horrid to hear.

“I spy wiv my little eye – somefing nasty coming after us. A monster… It's red and glaring and all on fire. Run, run!”

The twins turned in alarm.

“Where's the monster?” said Sigurd scornfully. “That's the sun!”

“What's the sun?” squeaked the troll baby.

“It's – well, it's the sun, that's all! Like one of your glowing lights, I suppose – but bigger and yellow, and it lives in the sky.”

“But it ain't yellow. S'red.”

“Yes, it's red
now
, but that's because it's setting.”

“What's
setting?
”

“Going down. Going away. Sunset. That's when it gets dark.”

The troll baby jeered. “What's the use of a light that goes away just when it gets dark?”

Sigurd opened and closed his mouth like a fish.

“Don't argue with it,” said Sigrid. “Here we are! Home at last. Ma, Hilde! We're back…”

They broke into a run, only to come to a puzzled halt in the yard.

“Where are they? No one's here.”

“
Knock, knock, knock! Nobody's at home, only a little rat chewing on a bone
,” chanted the troll baby in a sing-song voice.

“I expect they're all looking for us,” said Sigrid bleakly.

Disappointed and weary, the twins trudged into the farmhouse. The fire was nearly out, and it was clear that no one had been home for some time.

“
Rock-a-bye baby, mammy's not here, she's out in the woodshed making a bier…
” sang the troll baby.

In furious disgust, Sigurd held it out at arm's length. “At least I don't have to carry
this
thing any further.” He plonked it into the cold cradle. It seized the sides with both hands and pulled itself upright to peer over the edge, looking about with interested malice.

“I'm hungry,” it announced. “Hungry, hungry,
hungry
!”

“All right, we heard,” Sigurd shouted.

Sigrid seized a pot and the scoop. “I'll make it some groute – perhaps that will keep it quiet. Build up the fire, Sigurd. And bar the door.”

The troll baby sniggered. “Ooh, aye, bar the door. I wouldn' like to be in your shoes when my mammy catches you!”

“Is that so?” Sigurd glared at it. “Your
mammy
and her trolls shouldn't have kidnapped my little brother. Why didn't you make a fuss when we stole you, anyway? If you'd yelled, your nurse would have come running.”

The troll baby looked sly. “I know. But jus' fink of the fuss when they find I'm missing. What fun, what fun!” It threw itself backwards in glee. “Ooh, the rushing about! Ooh, the screaming!” It popped up over the edge again. “My mammy will be
so-oo
mad with you. Better be nice to me. Or she'll scratch your eyes out.”

Unable to bear looking at the little troll for a moment longer, Sigurd threw more wood on the fire. Sigrid was stirring the groute as if her life depended on it. Her brother saw a tear fall glittering into the pot, and he put his arm around her neck.

“What's the matter, sis?”

“What's the
matter
?” Sigrid turned on him. “I want Ma and Pa, and Peer and Hilde. I want Eirik. And nobody's here, and that creature is sitting – sitting in Eirik's cradle, and…” With a sob, she smeared her hand across her eyes. “I wish we'd never brought it back with us!”

The troll baby sat bolt upright in the cradle, gripping the edge with long, hairy fingers. Its broad pointed ears stuck out on each side of its head, and its eyes glinted green and slanting in its wrinkled face.

“She's crying,” it remarked.

“Leave her alone!” snarled Sigurd.

The troll baby's eyes glittered. “I'm hungry. Feed me.”

“It isn't ready,” Sigrid began, but the troll baby screamed, “Feed me, feed me,
feed me
! Or tell me a story.”

“We don't know any stories!” Sigurd shouted.

“Ye're a liar,” the troll baby shrieked, jerking to and fro in fury. The cradle rocked, and its eyes opened wide. “Save me! It's an earthquake. The whole world moved!”

“Only because you were having a tantrum,” said Sigrid sharply. “Sit still.”

“Did I do it?” The little thing smirked. “Be nice to me, or I'll do it again.”

“Ooh, I'm so scared,” said Sigurd. Sigrid nudged him.

“
I
know a story,” the troll baby boasted. “It's one my mammy tells, to send me off to sleep.” It winked, coughed, wriggled, and began: “An old wife was spinning away one night, and ‘Oh,' said she, ‘I wish I had some company.' So the door creaked open, and in came a pair of big flat feet, slapping across the floor to the fireside.”

The twins looked at each other uneasily. The troll baby grinned, and chanted: “In came a pair of thin shanks, and sat down on the big flat feet.
And still she sat, and still she spun, and still she wished for company
!

“In came a pair of great big knees and sat down on the thin shanks.

“
And still she sat, and still she spun, and still she wished for company
!

“In came a pair of thin, thin thighs and sat down on the great big knees.

“
And still she sat, and still she spun, and still she wished for company
!

“In came a pair of great big hips and sat down on the thin, thin thighs.

“
And still she sat, and still she spun, and still she wished for company
!”

At every verse, the troll baby looked at the door, and then followed something across the floor with its eyes. The twins gazed, dry mouthed. “I don't like this story,” said Sigrid.

“In came a narrow waist and sat down on the great big hips.

“
And still she sat, and still she spun, and still she wished for company
!

“In came a pair of broad shoulders and sat down on the narrow waist.

“
And still she sat, and still she spun, and still she wished for company
!

“In came a pair of thin arms and sat down on the broad shoulders.

“
And still she sat, and still she spun, and still she wished for company
!

“In came a pair of great big hands and sat down on the thin arms.” With gleaming eyes, the troll baby flapped its own hairy hands at the twins.

“
And still she sat, and still she spun, and still she wished for company
!

“In came a thin neck and sat down on the broad shoulders.

“
And still she sat, and still she spun, and still she wished for company
!

“In came a great big head and sat down on the thin neck.

“
And still she sat, and still she spun, and still she wished for company
!”

Sigurd cleared his throat. “Is that the end?”

“No!” the troll baby whispered, as if sharing a secret. “I'll tell you the rest! But firs', go an' look. Is it dark outside?”

Sigurd peeked through the shutters. “Getting dark, yes.”

“Good,” the troll baby giggled, “'cos this is a story you have to tell in the dark. So the old wife looked up from her spinning and she said, ‘Why have you got such big flat feet?'

“‘With walking, with walking!' says the thing as it sits by the fire.

“‘Why have you got such thin shanks?'

“‘
Aiiii – late – and wee-eee moul
!'” The troll baby threw back its head and let out a wailing scream that made Sigrid nearly jump out of her shoes.

“‘Why have you got such big knees?'” the troll baby went on. “‘With kneeling, with kneeling!'

“‘Why have you got such thin thighs?'

“‘
Aiii – late – and wee-eee moul
!'

“‘Why have you got such big hips?'

“‘With sitting, with sitting.'

“‘Why have you got such a narrow waist?'

“‘
Aiii – late – and wee-eee moul
!'”

“Thanks,” broke in Sigurd. “We've got the idea. Why don't you just stop, right now? Is the groute ready, Sigrid?”

“Nearly,” quavered Sigrid, slopping some into a bowl.

“I'll have some in a minute,” said the troll baby. “So the old wife asked:

“‘Why have you got such broad shoulders?'

“‘With carrying brooms, with carrying brooms.'

“‘Why have you got such thin arms?'

“‘
Aiii – late – and wee-eee moul
!'

“‘Why have you got such big hands?”

“‘Threshing with an iron flail, threshing with an iron flail.'

“‘Why have you got such a thin neck?'

“‘
Aiii – late – and wee-eee moul
!'”

Sigrid had her hands over her ears. “Make it stop, make it stop!”

“Take this, and shut up,” said Sigurd roughly, thrusting a bowl of groute and a horn spoon at the troll baby. The little troll put its head to one side. “Can't feed meself,” it said coyly. “I'm a
baby
! You got to do it for me. Uggh!”

It choked as Sigurd, provoked beyond endurance, shoved a large spoonful into its gaping mouth. A large tongue came out and swept up the dribbles.

“Good,” it spluttered greedily. “More! More!” With his face screwed up, Sigurd spoon-fed it the rest of the bowlful. The troll baby jigged up and down. “Now I'll finish the story. So the old wife asked:

“‘ Why have you got such a big head?'

“‘With thinking, with thinking.'

“ ‘WHAT HAVE YOU COME FOR?'”

“‘I'VE COME'” – the troll baby opened its mouth wide, wide, wide, and Sigurd and Sigrid saw for the first time that it had a full set of very sharp, very pointed teeth – “‘
FOR YOU!
'” it yelled at the top of its voice.

Sigrid screamed. Sigurd jumped. The house was very dark, the fire struggling and sinking. “Listen!” The troll baby leaned towards them with its hairy ears waggling. “Can you hear footsteps? I can. Little feet, going pitter-patter, pitter-patter. My mammy's coming down the hill to fetch me. An' she won't be alone.”

“Oh, no!” Sigrid's voice shook. “What shall we do?”

“They can't get in. Don't worry.” Sigurd was very pale. The troll baby curled up like a caterpillar and rolled around and around inside the cradle, giggling.

Then with a muffled noise, someone outside seized the door and shook it. The twins caught at each other. A voice called.

“Children, are you there? Open the door! Let us in!”

“It's Ma!” Sigrid flushed with relief. She started forwards to undo the bar; but Sigurd was looking at the troll baby, which pulled itself upright, ears pricked.

“Tee hee,” it sniggered. “Are you sure?”

“Wait, Sigrid,” said Sigurd quietly. She froze. “Why?”

“It might not be Ma.”

“But that's her voice!”

They crept up to the door, listening intently. All at once Sigurd shouted, “Who is it?”

“It's me, it's all of us!” the voice reverberated through the thickness of the wood. It
sounded
like Gudrun: but how to be certain? “Quickly, let us in!”

“Who's afraid of the big, bad wolf?” the troll baby sang tunelessly. It screeched with laughter. “What are you waiting for? Let them in!” Still the twins hung back in agonised uncertainty. Fists beat on the door in an urgent tattoo.

“Open up, let us in! Open the door, twins,
quick
! The trolls are coming!”

P
EER CROUCHED AMONGST
tangled willows and elders, down the bank from the old pigsty, scratching his midge bites. Loki lay beside him. It had been a hot, thirsty, endless day. But the sun was down behind the trees now, and the shadow of the mill stretched far across the bland green water. Soon, surely, the lubbers would come creeping out of the woods.

Gudrun and Hilde were out of sight in the bushes on the other side of the millpond. As for the Nis, it had vanished. Maybe it was scouting in the woods or hiding in the brambles.

Peer couldn't bear to think of the babies, alone with the lubbers. How terrified they must be! And he had a darker fear, one he hadn't shared with Gudrun or Hilde.
What happens if the lubbers get really hungry
?

The last glowing warmth on twigs and branches vanished. A cold breath ruffled the water and the leaves whispered. Darkness gathered under the trees.

Just along the bank, two twisted willows leaned together. Their long branches quivered and parted. Out hobbled an old woman in a dingy black cloak, her head wrapped in a scarf.

Granny Greenteeth!
Peer scrambled up, his heart leaping with dread. Was she here to meet the lubbers – or to gloat? Loki pressed against his legs, growling.

The old woman beckoned. “Peer Ulfsson,” she called softly. “Come closer. Let me take a look at you. Why, what a fine young man you've grown to be. But rash and foolish, eh, like all young fellows? I've got a bone to pick with you!” Webs of greenish skin stretched from the skinny forefinger she pointed at him.

“The babies – where are the babies?” Peer's mouth was so dry, the words came out as a croak.

“For three years, Troll Mill was empty,” Granny Greenteeth said dreamily. “And I'm patient, very patient, my son. I can wait for the mill to
rot
.” The last word was louder. “I can send my winter floods sucking at the foundations. One day, the wheel will break, the walls will tumble, and my waters will run free.

“But you came back. Meddling. Interfering. Patching and mending and building up. You'd have the mill clattering away day and night, night and day, with never a moment's peace for me in my water – you and Baldur Grimsson.”

“I've nothing to do with him,” said Peer fiercely. “Don't talk as if I have!”

“I'll say what I like, my fine young cockerel. Let's come to an understanding. A poor boy, alone in the world, has to take what he can. I can help you, if you'll help me.”

“How?”

She gave a low chuckle. “A life, just a little one. Nothing you can't spare. The seal child. You're waiting here for her, aren't you? But she's mine. You go quietly away now, and leave her to me.”

Between revulsion and relief, Peer couldn't reply.
She hasn't got Ran!
So the babies aren't drowned!
Granny Greenteeth misunderstood his silence. She rubbed her twitching fingers together, like the pale, whiskered things that crawl at the bottom of ponds. “Good boy. See how easy it is? You don't have to
do
anything. Just go away. The others will never know. Let old Granny keep the bairn, and Granny will give you the mill.”

Clammy white mist formed over the mill pond, drifting up the banks in clinging wreaths. Surely it was full of ghosts.

She thinks it's just Ran the lubbers have got. She doesn't know about Eirik or the twins. What does that mean? Keep her talking.

Peer dragged out the words slowly. “What you're asking me to do would be murder. The baby would drown.”

“Yesss…” Granny Greenteeth sighed. Her shallow jaw opened, showing rows of narrow sloping teeth. “Yesss, they only stay warm for a little while. Then they go cold and silent, and the stream tumbles them out of my arms… but this one's different. Like me!” She spread out her webbed hands. “A seal child, a water baby. Only half human. I'll hold her tight, till the mortal part… dissolves, and she'll be mine for ever. Mine to bring up as my own.”

“Turn little Ran into a creature like you?” Peer choked.

Granny Greenteeth hissed. “Don't cross me, boy. Think. How will you like it, alone there at night, afraid to look round in case old Granny's
behind you
?”

Her voice hushed to a rippling lilt. “But Granny's always had a soft spot for you. We won't quarrel. We'll deal with your uncles together. We'll make your dreams come true. The mill will be yours. Yours. And I'll have my child.”

Before Peer could answer, something small and excited rushed through the undergrowth, chirping, “Quick, Peer Ulfsson, quick! The lubbers is coming!” And from somewhere up the hillside came a rustling and crackling, and the unmistakeable sound of Eirik yelling.

“Stand aside!” Granny Greenteeth pointed at Peer.

“HILDE!” Peer bellowed. “Gudrun! Get over here, quickly! Bring those blankets!”

The lubbers burst through the trees. In the dusk their limbs gleamed like white roots. Granny Greenteeth swung round greedily. Her pale tongue flickered, tasting the air. “At lassst! They've brought my child.”

Peer saw Eirik, riding on the second lubber's shoulders, and realised in amazement that his screams were not screams of terror, but yells of delight at this fast, romping ride. He saw Ran, her face a dim blob, tucked under the arm of the second lubber.

Hilde and Gudrun arrived, pelting through the mill yard and slithering down to the brink of the mill pond. Seeing Eirik with the lubbers, Gudrun shrieked and dropped the blankets. Peer snatched them up.

“Hey!” he shouted, flapping them, and the lubbers flinched and jumped. “We've got blankets for you. See? Lovely blankets, right here!”

The lubbers gaped at Peer, and at the dark figure lurking in the mist. “We got an agreement with Granny Greenteeth,” one of them croaked. “Gennleman's honour – and all that…”

“It's a trick,” screeched Hilde. “She hasn't got any blankets. She'll only drown you!”

“Meddling little miss!” Granny Greenteeth drew herself up, swaying. Her eyes widened into white circles, and her voice thickened and slurred. “That child is my price. Sssssss! My price. I'll have the ssseal baby.”

Gudrun rushed at her. “You shan't have
any
of my children!” But she clutched at a moving wraith of mist. Granny Greenteeth had fallen to the ground. Her arms melted to her sides in long dark ribbons. Her body twisted and thrashed. A huge eel lay coiling in the grass, snapping at Gudrun's ankles. As Gudrun jumped back with a cry, it slid swiftly over the bank and into the mill pond. The water closed over it with a swirl of oily ripples.

“She's gone,” Peer cried. “All right, you lubbers. Hand over the babies, and we'll give you the blankets.”

The lubbers looked at each other.

“Do as he says,” growled the first. “I'm sick of carting them around.” It turned to Peer. “Throw us the blankets!”

Peer hesitated, then tossed the blankets so that they fell halfway between the lubbers and himself. The second lubber lowered Eirik to the ground and drew back. Eirik crawled towards Gudrun, who darted at him. “My darling!” She caught him up, but Eirik twisted round to look back.

“Man,” he cooed. The second lubber whimpered, and its eyes gleamed.

The first lubber hung back, holding Ran up like a shield.

“Put her down,” demanded Peer.

“You don't need 'em both!”

“Both babies, or no blankets.” Peer's voice shook with tension. He stepped forwards.

“All
right
, all
right
!” the first lubber screamed. Without warning it tossed Ran into the air, and dived for the blankets.

Then everything happened at once, and it seemed to happen very slowly. Peer saw Ran arcing towards him, her arms flying wide, her head tipping back. He seemed to stare for hours into her eyes. At the edge of sight he saw Gudrun turn, her mouth opening in terror; he saw Hilde lunge forward, but yards out of reach. His own arms came up. He plucked Ran out of the air. Trying to protect her from the impact, he reeled, and then was falling, falling slowly backwards, the baby clutched to his chest. He still had time to see everything as he fell: Gudrun and Hilde screaming, the lubbers grovelling for the blankets, Loki barking, the Nis jumping about. He fell through a layer of white mist, and all the people on the bank faded like phantoms. Then the mill pond hit him in the back.

There was a crash of water in his ears, and water filled his eyes and rushed up his nose, and covered his face. He lost hold of Ran.

Everything was black. Which way was up? He thrashed for air and light. With terror he felt a muscular body bend briefly against his side and glide on past.

He slipped into a colder layer. His groping hands touched something impossibly soft, melting ghost-like from his fingers. Mud – the mud at the bottom of the mill pond. He could sink into it and go on sinking for ever.

He was strangling. Stars tingled in the water. Something caught in his clothes: a hard root or tangle of branches. He wrenched desperately, feeling clouds of mud billowing past him like smoke.

Then he saw her, or thought he did: Granny Greenteeth in human form, sitting on the bottom of the mill pond with Ran in her arms. A greenish light clung around them. Granny Greenteeth's hair was waving upwards in a terrible aureole as she bent over Ran, rocking to and fro.

The flashing stars turned red. He could see Ran's face by them, blood red and sickly green. Her dark eyes stared out into the water, expressionless, hopeless.

So this was the end of little Ran's short life. She might be a seal baby, she might last longer underwater than another child, but she would still drown. And then? Would some inhuman part of her linger in the mill pond, to be brought up as Granny Greenteeth's child – another malignant water spirit to haunt the mill? He thought with fierce sorrow of Bjørn tickling Ran, Sigurd whistling to her, Gudrun feeding her.

She never had a chance
.

But she has me!
Rage crackled through him. He struggled like a madman. The obstruction holding him gave way. Plunging his arms into the mud, he pulled himself forwards, stirring up more sediment. Granny Greenteeth, her head bowed, did not see. He reached for Ran. His hands clamped around her small body, and he pulled her away. Granny Greenteeth looked up. Her eyes fixed on him, lidless and blank and terrible. She lunged at him jaws wide. He gave a last, desperate, flailing kick, and a flash of scarlet lightning blotted out his sight.

With a roar and a rush, the other world came back: the world of air and light and sound. His head broke through into a mild, twilit evening. He stood, staggered, nearly fell, floundering waist-deep in the pond. Pain stabbed his chest, and he clasped little Ran as though a knife skewered them together. Any minute now, Granny Greenteeth would grab his legs. He choked, choked again. Half the mill pond seemed to pour from his throat and nose.

“Peer! Over here!” Hilde was halfway into the water, clinging to a willow branch with one hand and stretching out the other. “Back!” Peer spluttered. “Or – she'll get you!”

Against his chest the baby jerked, convulsed, opened her mouth. She scrunched up her face, clenched her tiny fists, drew in a mighty breath, and let out an ear-shattering scream. Peer wallowed towards the bank, holding her: a cold little dripping morsel, hiccupping and kicking, and screaming again and again her indignation and fury and fright. Ran had found her voice at last!

He hauled himself up the bank, feeling as though he had been underwater for hours, though it could have been no more than minutes. Loki and Alf dashed up to welcome him. Peer hugged them, and climbed shakily to his feet.

Eirik was crying. “Man!” he wailed, pointing in the direction the lubbers had run off, taking the blankets with them. “Man gone!”

“Home, right away.” Gudrun set off through the mill yard, tight-lipped. Neither she nor Hilde looked happy, Peer realised. “What's th'matter?” he asked Hilde foggily as he stumbled along beside her. “We got the babies back.”

She raised an eyebrow. “But not the twins.”

The shock woke him right up. “I forgot!” He was tongue-tied with shame.
How could I? What must she think?
And he'd fallen into the mill pond, nearly drowning Ran. What an idiot!

“Oh, Peer!” Hilde's voice was low. “It was so awful when you went into the water. You were gone for ages. I thought you'd never come up. There, there,” she added distractedly to Ran. “Poor little thing, you'll soon be home, and dry… If only the twins have got back. If only…”

They hurried up the path, Eirik and Ran trying to out-do one another. The wood rang with their uncontrollable grief, but as Peer lagged behind, he began to notice other noises. What was that whooping, high up in the birchwoods?

Gudrun was almost running, and Hilde hurried to catch up. The group was strung out along the track. As Peer came out of the wood, Gudrun was pushing at the farmhouse door.

“It's barred!” she called.

“Barred!” Hilde turned to Peer with excited eyes. “Then the twins must be here. They've come home!”

“Children, are you there?” Gudrun put her ear to the door. “Open up! Let us in!” They waited, shifting restlessly in the dusk. Eirik had quietened, but Ran was still producing sniffling sobs. A boy's muffled voice, loaded with suspicion, called from inside, “Who is it?”

“That's Sigurd!” Gudrun sagged with relief. She turned back to the door. “It's me, it's all of us. Quickly, let us in!”

“Whatever's that noise?” Hilde broke in. Someone in the house was singing or chanting in an odd squeaky voice, and it didn't sound like either of the twins. The hairs prickled on Peer's neck. And there was that whooping in the wood…

He looked over his shoulder. Troll Fell reared against the sky like some enormous wave. A light shone from the crest, yellow as the evening star.