Troll Mill
Sequel to the highly-acclaimed Troll Fell, this is just as exciting, dramatic and atmospheric. Follow Peer’s adventures as he tries to get the mill working again. But watch out! You never know what kind of sneaky creatures are lurking in the shadows, waiting to jump out at you at Troll Mill…Troll Mill follows Peer Ulfsson, his dog Loki, Hilde and their friends and family three years on from where we left them in Troll Fell.Returning from a day’s fishing with his friend Bjorn and with a violent storm brewing, Peer is shocked when Bjorn’s wife Kersten rushes past, thrusts her young baby into Peer’s arms and throws herself into the sea. What kind of creature would do this… and will she ever return?On his way back up the hill, carrying Kersten’s baby to safety through the storm, Peer notices the old mill wheel turning. But it’s been derelict for years… The next day, fed up with Hilde’s constant rejections, he decides to prove himself and goes down to investigate the old mill, determined to get it up and running again and become the miller himself. But who or what creatures will be lurking in the shadows of Troll Mill… And are his greedy scheming uncles really gone for good?
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Troll
Mill
KATHERINE LANGRISH
For David, Alice and Isobelwith love
Warm thanks to:Liz, for everything, and especially uprooting the elder trees
Catherine,Michele, Jackie and Carolfor being the best agents anyone could have
Phil Scott of Regia Anglorumfor first-hand advice on how to sail a faering
And once again to Alan Stoyel and Critchell Brittenfor your help on water mills.
My apologies to you all for any remaining mistakes
Last but not least, thanks toGillie, Sally and Robin,my wonderful and understanding editors;to Becky for the exciting cover designs;and to everyone else at HarperCollins
Table of Contents
CHAPTER 1 What Happened on the Shore
CHAPTER 2 A Brush with the Trolls
CHAPTER 3 A Warning from the Nis
CHAPTER 8 Voices at the Millpond
CHAPTER 9 The Nis Behaves Badly
CHAPTER 10 The Nis in Disgrace
CHAPTER 11 Success at the Mill
CHAPTER 15 The Lubbers at Large
CHAPTER 18 The Troll Baby at the Farm
CHAPTER 19 Granny Greenteeth’s Lair
The boat danced ungracefully 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 backwards 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 skywards, then sinking away underneath as though falling through space.
“Resting?” teased his friend Bjørn. “Had enough rowing for one day?”
Peer laughed back from the bottom of the boat, 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.
“Ship them,” said Bjørn over his shoulder. “I’ll take us in.” He leaned unhurriedly on his own pair of oars, and Peer knelt, clutching the slender bows, looking forwards 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 to 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 Bjørn, 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 Bjørn. “Kersten would love to see you. You can earn your supper by admiring the baby.” He glanced round, smiling at Peer’s sudden silence. “Come on. Surely you’ve got used to babies with little Eirik to practise 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,” Bjørn 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. Bjørn pulled a couple of hard strokes on one oar to straighten up.
“She’s fine, thanks,” he grunted, twisting round 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. Bjørn followed and together they ran the boat higher up the stony beach.
“That was a good day’s work!” said Bjørn. “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 company.” Reaching into the boat, Bjørn 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 grey sea fret, and restless waves slapped jerkily against the rocks.
