Troll Fell Read Free

lamb!” she wailed. “Dragged off at amoment’s notice! And Brand’s down at the shipyard,and can’t even say goodbye. What he’ll say when hehears, I don’t dare to think! Come back soon, Peer, andsee us!”
    â€œI will if I can,” he promised glumly. The cart tipped,creaking, as Uncle Baldur hauled himself up. He took anew piece of twine from his pocket, and tied one endround the rail of the cart. Then he tied the other end, ina businesslike manner, around Peer’s right wrist. Peer’smouth fell open. He tried to jerk away, and got his earsslapped.
    â€œWhat ever are you doing?” shrieked Ingrid, bustlingforwards. “Untie the boy, you brute!” Uncle Baldurlooked round at her, mildly surprised. “Got to fasten upthe livestock,” he explained. “Chickens or boys – can’thave ’em escaping, running around loose.” Ingrid openedher mouth – and shut it. She looked at Peer. Peer lookedback. See? he told her silently.
    â€œGee! Hoick!” screamed Uncle Baldur, climbing onto the driving seat and cracking his whip over the oxen.The cart lurched. Peer stared resolutely forwards. Hedidn’t wave goodbye to Ingrid.
    Soon the town of Hammerhaven was out of sight.The steep, rough road twisted up into stony and boggymoorland, looping round white rocks and black pools ofpeatwater. Low woods of birch and spruce grew on bothsides of the road, and rough clumps of heather andbilberry. If the oxen tried to snatch a mouthful as theypassed, Uncle Baldur’s whip snapped out.
    â€œGarn! Grr! Hoick, hoick!” The cart tilted like thedeck of a ship as one wheel rose over a huge boulder,then dropped with a crash that nearly drove Peer’s spineright through his skull. The oxen snorted, straining todrag not only the cart, but big fat Uncle Baldur up thesteep slope.
    â€œUncle,” Peer hinted. “Shall I get out and walk?”
    But his uncle ignored him. Peer muttered a bad wordunder his breath and sat down uncomfortably on a pileof sacks. His arm was stretched awkwardly up, still tiedwith twine to the rail of the cart. The pile of chickensslid about, flapping as the cart jolted. He counted them.They were all there: the little black one with the redcomb, the three speckled sisters, the five big brown ones.They rolled red-rimmed eyes at him and squawked.
    â€œIt’s not my fault,” he told them sadly.
    Over the end of the cart he could see Loki, trottingalong with his head and tail low. Peer called. Lokiglanced up briefly. He looked miserable, but the limphad gone – he’d been faking it, Peer decided.
    They came round a bend in the road. Peer turned hishead, then pulled himself up on to his knees and gazed.
    In front, dwarfing Uncle Baldur’s bulky shoulders, theland swooped upwards. In heaves and hollows andscallops, crag above crag, upland beyond upland: inmurky shouldering ridges, clotted with trees, tumblingwith rockfalls, the flanks of Troll Fell rose before him.The narrow, rutted track scrambled breathlessly towardsthe skyline and vanished.
    Tipping his head back, Peer stared upwards at thesummit, where he thought he could discern a savagecrown of rocks. But as he watched, the clouds camelower. The top of Troll Fell wrapped itself in mist.
    The light was fading. Fine cold rain began to soakinto Peer’s clothes. He dragged out a sack and draped itover his shoulders. Uncle Baldur pulled up the hood ofhis thick cloak.
    Great shadowy boulders loomed up out of the drizzleon both sides of the track. They seemed to stare at Peeras he huddled uneasily in the bottom of the cart. Onelooked like a giant’s head with shallow scooped-out eyesand sneering mouth. One had a blind muzzle poking atthe sky. Something bolted out from under it as the cartpassed, kicking itself up the hillside with powerful leaps.Peer sat up, startled, as it swerved out of sight. What wasthat? Too big for a hare – and he thought