Katherine Langrish - West of the Moon

West

of the

Moon

KATHERINE LANGRISH

This book is for my mother and father

Contents

Cover

Title Page West of the Moon KATHERINE LANGRISH

Part One

Chapter 1 - The Coming of Uncle Baldur

Chapter 2 - The Departure of Ralf

Chapter 3 - Talking to the Nis

Chapter 4 - Meeting Hilde

Chapter 5 - Trouble at the Mill

Chapter 6 - Trolls from the Dovrefell

Chapter 7 - Granny Greenteeth

Chapter 8 - A Day Out

Chapter 9 - More Trouble at the Mill

Chapter 10 - Bad News

Chapter 11 - The Dogfight

Chapter 12 - Stolen in the Storm

Chapter 13 - The Nis to the Rescue

Chapter 14 - Peer Alone

Chapter 15 - Torches by the Fjord

Chapter 16 - In the Hall of the Mountain King

Chapter 17 - Raising the Hill

Chapter 18 - Home

Part Two

Chapter 19 - What Happened on the Shore

Chapter 20 - A Brush with the Trolls

Chapter 21 - A Warning from the Nis

Chapter 22 - Bjørn’s Story

Chapter 23 - The Quarrel

Chapter 24 - Exploring the Mill

Chapter 25 - A Family Argument

Chapter 26 - Voices at the Mill Pond

Chapter 27 - The Nis Behaves Badly

Chapter 28 - The Nis in Disgrace

Chapter 29 - Success at the Mill

Chapter 30 - Rumours

Chapter 31 - More Rumours

Chapter 32 - The Mill Grinds

Chapter 33 - The Lubbers at Large

Chapter 34 - Under Troll Fell

Chapter 35 - The Nis Confesses

Chapter 36 - The Troll Baby at the Farm

Chapter 37 - Granny Greenteeth’s Lair

Chapter 38 - The Miller of Troll Fell

Chapter 39 - Kersten

Chapter 40 - New Beginnings

Part Three

Chapter 41 - Far Away in Vinland

Chapter 42 - Water Snake

Chapter 43 - ‘Be careful what you wish for”

Chapter 44 - The Nis Amuses Itself

Chapter 45 - The Journey Begins

Chapter 46 - The Winter Visitor

Chapter 47 - Ghost Stories

Chapter 48 - The Nis at Sea

Chapter 49 - Lost at Sea

Chapter 50 - Landfall

Chapter 51 - Spring Stories

Chapter 52 - Serpent’s Bay

Chapter 53 - Seidr

Chapter 54 - Disturbances and Tall Tales

Chapter 55 - A Walk on the Beach

Chapter 56 - Single Combat

Chapter 57 - Losing Peer

Chapter 58 - “A son like Harald”

Chapter 59 - Down the Dark River

Chapter 60 - Thorolf the Seafarer

Chapter 61 - War Dance

Chapter 62 - The Fight in the House

Chapter 63 - Death in the Snow

Chapter 64 - Peace Pipe

The background to Troll Blood

Glossary

Also by Katherine Langrish

Copyright

About the Publisher

Part One

Chapter 1

The Coming of Uncle Baldur

PEER ULFSSON STOOD at his father’s funeral pyre, watching the sparks whirl up like millions of shining spirits streaking away into the dark. The flames scorched his face, but his back was freezing. The wind slid cold fingers down his neck.

Surely this was all a bad dream? He turned, almost expecting to see his father standing behind him, his thin, tanned face carved with deep lines of laughter and life. But the sloping shingle beach ran steep and empty into the sea.

A small body bumped Peer’s legs. He reached down. His dog Loki leaned against him, a rough-haired, flea-bitten brown mongrel – all the family Peer had left.

The pyre flung violent shadows up and down the beach. Friends and neighbours crowded around it in a ring. Their faces were curves of light and hollows of darkness: the flames lit up their steaming breath like dragon-smoke. Above the fire, the air shimmered and shook. It was like looking through a magic glass into a world of ghosts and monsters – the world into which his father’s spirit was passing, beginning the long journey to the land of the dead. Was that a pale face turning towards him? A dim arm waving?

What if I see him?

Beyond the fire a shadow lurched into life. It tramped forwards, man-shaped, looming up behind the people, a sort of black haystack with thick groping arms…

Peer gave a strangled shout.

A huge man shoved his way into the circle of firelight. Elbowing the neighbours aside, he tramped right up to the pyre and turned, his boots carelessly planted in the glowing ashes. He waited, dark against the flames, until an uneasy silence fell. Then he spoke, in a high cracked voice as shrill as a whistle.

“I’ve come for the boy. Which is Ulf ’s son?”

Nobody answered. The men close to Peer edged nearer, closing ranks around him. Catching the movement, the giant turned. He lifted his head like a wolf smelling out its prey. Peer stopped breathing. Their eyes met.

The stranger bore down on him like a landslide. Enormous fingers crunched on his arm. High over his head the toneless, reedy voice piped, “I’m your uncle, Baldur Grimsson. From now on, you’ll be living with me.”

“But I haven’t got an uncle,” Peer gasped.

“I don’t like saying things twice,” the man said menacingly. “I’m your Uncle Baldur, the miller of Trollsvik.” He challenged the crowd. “You all know it’s true. Tell him – before I twist his arm off.”

Brand the shipbuilder stepped forward, shaking his head in distress. “Dear me! This – that is to say, Peer, your father did mention to me once —”

His wife Ingrid pushed in, glaring. “Let go of the boy, you brute. We all know that poor Ulf never had anything to do with you!”

“ Is this my uncle?” Peer whispered. He looked up at Uncle Baldur. It was like looking up at a dark cliff. First came a powerful chest, then a thick neck, gleaming like naked rock. There was a black beard like a rook’s nest, and a face of stony slabs with bristling black eyebrows for ledges. At the top came tangled bushes of dark hair.

Against Peer’s legs Loki pulsed, growling. Any moment now, he would bite. Uncle Baldur knew it too. He looked down, and Peer read the death penalty in his face.

“Loki, quiet!” he cried in sharp fear. The little dog subsided. Uncle Baldur released Peer’s arm and inspected him. “What’s that ?”

“He’s my dog, Loki.” Peer rubbed his bruised arm.

“Call that a dog?” Uncle Baldur grinned. “My dog could have ’im for breakfast!”

Brand put a protective arm around Peer’s shoulder. “You don’t need to take the boy away. We’re looking after him.”

“You are, are you? And who are you?”

“He’s the master shipbuilder of Hammerhaven, that’s who!” Ingrid snapped. “Peer’s father was his best carpenter!”

“Best of a bad lot, hey?” sneered Uncle Baldur. “Could he make a barrel that didn’t leak?”

Brand glared. “Ulf did a wonderful job on the new ship. Never put a finger wrong.”

“No? But he sliced himself with a chisel and died when it turned bad,” scoffed Uncle Baldur. “Some carpenter!”

With a bang, a piece of wood exploded in the heart of the pyre. Peer leaped forwards. “Don’t talk about my father like that! You want to know what he could do? Look there! That’s what he could do!” He pointed seawards. Uncle Baldur rocked back, off balance. High over the crowd, the fierce head and snaky neck of a dragon emerged from the darkness. The firelight glinted on its red scales and open jaws, and its goggle eyes glared threateningly at Uncle Baldur. The neck curved down swanlike and became the swooping lines of a ship, chocked upright on the beach. Behind it, ranks of dark waves rushed up the shingle.

Uncle Baldur recovered, though sweat glistened on his face. He forced a laugh. “A dragonship! A pretty toy,” he jeered, and a mutter of anger ran through the crowd. He seized Peer’s arm again. “Come along. I’m a busy man. I’ve a mill to run and no time to waste.”