Fifteen-year-old Peer Ulfsson is haunted by his past. Forced to live with his evil uncles under the eerie shadows of Troll Fell, he nearly fell prey to their plan to sell children to the trolls. Now Peer lives with his friend Hilde's family, but can he ever truly belong? And will Hilde ever share his deeper feelings?
One rainy night, Peer watches in shock as his neighbor Kersten pushes her baby daughter into his arms and then disappears into the sea. Rumor says that Kersten is a seal woman who has returned to her ocean home, and the millpond witch, Granny Green-teeth, seems intent on taking the "seal baby." Peer also discovers that the mill, abandoned when his uncles joined the troll kingdom, is running again -- all on its own?
With angry trolls, mysterious seal people, a mischievous house spirit, and three unusual babies in the mix, Peer and Hilde have their hands full and more!Katherine Langrish returns to the magical world of her acclaimed debut, troll fell, in this second story set in an extraordinary land by the sea filled with Viking legends and lore.
Troll Mill
By Katherine LangrishHarperCollins Publishers, Inc.
Copyright ©2006 Katherine Langrish
All right reserved.ISBN: 006058307XChapter One
What Happened on the Shore
The boat danced clumsily in from the fishing grounds, dipping and rolling over lively waves at the mouth of the fjord. Her crew, a man and a boy, reached steadily forward and back, tugging their two pairs of oars through the choppy water.
The boy, rowing in the bows, looked up over his companion's bent back. Out west beyond the islands, the wind tore a long yellow rift in the clouds, and the setting sun blinked through in stormy brilliance, splashing the water with fiery oils.
Dazzled, the boy missed his next stroke, slicing the oars through air instead of water. Braced to pull, he flew backward off his seat into a tangle of nets and creels and a slither of fat, bright fish. He lay breathless as the boat heaved under his spine, hurling him skyward, then sinking away underneath as though falling through space.
"Resting?" teased his friend Bjorn. "Had enough rowing for one day?"
Peer laughed back from the bottom of the boat, his long arms and legs sprawling. "Yes, I'm tired. I think I'll just stay here. Ouch!" Salt water slapped his face as the prow cut through a wave, and he scrambled up hastily with dripping hair, snatching at the loose oars.
"I'll take us in," said Bjorn over his shoulder. He leaned on his own pair of oars, and Peer knelt, clutching the slender bows, looking forward at the land. The water under the boat lit up a cloudy green; over on the shore the pebbles glittered, and the sea-grass on the dunes glowed gold. The late sunlight turned the slanting pastures above the village into slopes of emerald. High above all, the rugged peak of Troll Fell shone as if gilded against a sky dark as a bruise.
"Bad weather coming," said Bjorn, squinting at the sunset. The breeze stiffened, carrying cold points of rain. "But we'll get home before it catches us."
"Maybe you will," Peer said. "I'll get soaked on my way up the hill."
"Stay with us," offered Bjorn. "Kersten would love to see you. You can earn your supper by admiring the baby." He glanced around, smiling at Peer's sudden silence. "Come on. Surely you've got used to babies with little Eirik to practice on up at the farm? How old is he now?"
Peer calculated. "He was born last seedtime, just after Grandfather Eirik died, so . . . about a year. He certainly keeps Gudrun and Hilde busy. He's into everything."
"He's a fine little fellow, isn't he? It's sad his grandpa never saw him."
"Yes . . . although actually," said Peer, "I think he might have lost patience with the noise. Dear old Eirik, he was always grumbling, ?A poet needs peace and quiet!' Little Eirik screams such a lot. Babies! I never knew they were so much trouble."
"Ours is a good little soul," Bjorn said proudly. "Never cries."
"And how is Kersten?" Peer asked, his eye on the shore as they ran in past lines of black rocks. He crouched, tensing. Bjorn pulled a couple of hard strokes on one oar to straighten up.
"She's fine, thanks," he grunted, twisting around as the boat shot in on the back of a breaking wave. The keel knocked on the shingle, and Peer sprang out into a welter of froth and seaweed. Bjorn followed and together they ran the boat higher up the stony beach.
"That was a good day's work!" said Bjorn. "Glad Ralf could spare you."
"I've been helping him plough," Peer explained, "but we've got the seed in now and lambing's nearly over. So he said I deserved a holiday."
"It's been nice to have your company." Reaching into the boat, Bjorn hooked his fingers into the gills of a heavy, shining cod and hefted it. "There's plenty of eating on that one. Take it back with you." He handed it over. "Or will you stay?"
Cradling the fish awkwardly, Peer glanced around. The brief sunset flare was over. The rising wind whipped strands of sea-stiffened fair hair across his face. Loose swirls of cloud were descending over Troll Fell. The fjord disappeared under a gray sea fret, and restless waves slapped jerkily against the rocks.
"I'll stay," he decided. "Ralf and Gudrun won't be worried, they know I'm with you." Absurdly, he hugged the fish, smiling. Three years ago he'd been a friendless orphan, and he could still hardly believe that he now had a family who cared about him.
"Good choice!" said Bjorn cheerfully. "We'll ask Kersten to fry that fish for us, then, and we'll have it with lots of warm bread and hot sizzling butter. Are you hungry?"
"Starving." Peer licked his lips.
Bjorn laughed. "Then hurry! Go on ahead while I finish up here. Off with you! Here comes the wet."
Cold, stinging rain swept across the beach as he spoke, darkening the stones. It drove into Peer's face as he dashed across the clattering shingle, dodging boulders and jumping over inlets where the tide swirled and sloshed. It was fun, pitting himself against the weather. Soon he came to the channel where the stream ran down to the sea. Beside it, the path to the village wound up through the sand dunes.
Rain scythed through the long wiry grass, switching Peer's skin and soaking through his clothes in cold patches. Tiring, he slowed to a plod, looking forward to sitting snugly by the fire and chatting with Kersten while she cooked. The fish was a nuisance to carry though, slippery and unwieldy. He nearly dropped it and stopped to hoist it up. It slithered through his arms. He tried to shove it inside his jacket, but the head and tail stuck out. Wet and shivering, he began to laugh.
This is silly, he thought, I'm nearly juggling. What I need is a piece of string, or maybe a stick to skewer it on. I . . . what's that?
Continues...Excerpted from Troll Millby Katherine Langrish Copyright ©2006 by Katherine Langrish. Excerpted by permission.
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