Troll Fell Read Free Page A

he’d seen elbows …
    From the hidden crest of Troll Fell rolled a sinisterchuckle of thunder. A wind sprang up, hissing throughthe rocks. Mud sprayed from the great woodencartwheels. Peer clutched the sodden sack under his chinand sat jolting and shivering.
    At last he realised from the angle of the cart that theywere over the saddle of the hill, beginning to descendtowards Trollsvik. Leaning forwards, he looked downinto a great shadowy basin. A few faint lights freckled thedim valley. That must be the village. Frozen and soaked,he thought longingly of dry clothes, a fire, hot drinksand food. He had hardly spoken to his uncle all the way,but now he called out as politely as he could, “Uncle?How far is the mill?”
    Uncle Baldur jerked his head to the left and pointed.“Down there, among the trees yonder. A matter of half amile. Beside the brook.” He sounded quite civil for once,and Peer was encouraged. Perhaps his uncle could benormal, after all.
    To his surprise, Uncle Baldur spoke over his shoulderagain. “Home!” he cried in his shrill toad’s croak. “Livedthere all me life, and me father before me, and his fatherbefore him ! Millers all.”
    â€œThat’s nice,” Peer agreed, between chattering teeth.
    â€œNeeds new machinery,” complained his uncle. “Anda new wheel, and the dam repaired,” he added. “If I hadthe money – if I had my rights—”
    Well you’ve got my money now , thought Peer bitterly.
    â€œA pity your father was dirt-poor,” his uncle went on.“I’m proud of that place. I’d do a lot for that place. I’mthe miller. The miller is an important man. I deserve to berich. I will be rich. Hark!”
    He leaned back hard, forcing the oxen to stop. Thetrack here plunged between steep banks, and the cartslewed, blocking the road. Loki yelped as the stringyanked him off his feet. Peer cried out in distress, butUncle Baldur twisted round, straining his thick neck andraising one hand.
    â€œQuiet!” he muttered. “Hear that? Someone coming.Catching us up.”
    Peer stared uneasily into the night, listening. It was toodark to see properly. What had Uncle Baldur heard? Whywould he stop on this wild, lonely road? He held hisbreath. Was that a bird shrieking – that long, burbling crydrifting on the wind?
    â€œWho is it? Who is it?” Uncle Baldur hissed eagerly.“Could be friends of mine, boy – I’ve got some funnyfriends. People you’d be surprised to meet!” He giggled,and Peer’s skin crawled. The darkness, the whole wildhillside – suddenly anywhere seemed safer than stayingwith Uncle Baldur in this cart. He tugged the twine thatheld his wrist, testing it. It felt tight and strong. Hecouldn’t jump out and run.
    Stones clattered on the track close behind. Lokiscuttled under the tail of the cart, and Peer heard himgrowling. He braced himself. What was coming?
    There was a loud, disapproving snort. Out of the rainemerged the dim shape of a small, wet pony picking itsway downhill, carrying a rider and a packsaddle. Onseeing the cart, it flung up its head and shied. There wasno room to pass. The rider shouted, “Hello there! Canyou move that cart? I can’t get through.”
    Uncle Baldur sat motionless for a second, taking deepbreaths of fury. To Peer’s amazement, he then flung downthe reins and surged to his feet, teetering on the cart’snarrow step. His shock of black hair and tangled beardmingled with the thunderclouds: he looked like amighty headless pillar.
    â€œRalf Eiriksson!” he screamed. “I know you, youcheating piece of stinking offal! How dare you creeparound up here, you – you crawling worm!”
    â€œBaldur Grimsson!” muttered the rider wearily. “Justmy luck! Shift your cart, you fat fool. I’m trying to gethome.”
    â€œLiar!” Uncle Baldur swayed dangerously, shaking hisfist.