Short lived. No arts like ours. Their jewels are pale, and except for a very few who are of royalty, most live in small drab huts, like our servantsâ quarters. It sounds very strange indeed.
But Urda told me more, told me about different things they have, amazing things. Something called music. And many, many kinds of animals. And bursts of fragrant colour that grow out of the ground, called flowers. And their food is melting soft, too, exotic and all different flavours. My father calls it repulsive, says it would make me sick, but in spite of that I am curious.
The journey was long, but the sleigh was comfortable and there was plenty of hot slank to drink. In fact, it grew so warm after a time that we gradually had to peel away all our furs. How can the softskins stand this pressing warmth? It makes me feel choked and prickly.
We will stay for a week in the green lands. Our lodging is in a palace of rock, though my father says it is nothing like the Ice Palace of Huldre. He said it is not used often, only when we need to journey here to replace servants. And it is hidden from the softskinsâ sight.
Softskin folk do not live as long as we do and must be replenished. So we come every twenty or thirty years to take away more. My father says it is best to choose unwanted, unmarried people, not children, because less fuss is made when they disappear. Not that they could find us anyway. It is too long, arduous, and puzzling a journey for softskin folk. And it is too cold in our land for softskins; without slank they would die within a few hours, a day if they were well equipped. Father says there have been a handful of softskins called explorers who have journeyed to within a hundred miles of our land. We collected one or two of these, he says, and they made especially good servants because they were so hardy.
In appearance the softskins are very different from us, but we are able to move among them easily because of our arts, and they donât even know we are there.
Urda takes me tomorrow to see softskin folk. I can hardly wait!
I cannot sleep. The most amazing thing has happened. I actually met one of the softskin folk! A boy. I touched his skin and it was as soft as they say â softer! And his voiceâ¦it was like aâ¦I donât know. Like the song of the creatures they call birds that we heard on our journey south, yet odder and more beautiful.
In Huldre I have seen the softskin servants only from a distance, for they do the most menial work in the kitchen and stables. (Troll servants wait on the royal family.) And our softskins are dull and broken from living long in Huldre. So I had not known what they are truly like. Urda had told me they are ugly and their voices sound awful â thin and watery â but she was wrong.
Urda fell asleep; because she is old she is always sleepy, and she drank plenty of slank with the picnic lunch we had. So I wandered off by myself. I moved through the grass, which was green and soft when I bent down and ran my fingers across the tops of the thin stalks. I felt almost dizzy from all the smells that filled my nose. Sweet and thrilling they were. And the changeable feel of the gentle wind on my skin. So different from the hard and constant wind in Huldre.
Then I saw some children playing in the distance and thought I would use my arts to get closer without being seen, but abruptly their game ended and they all went away.
Except there was one boy who came back.
âWould you like to play?â he said, holding up a round red object.
Because of my arts, I could understand his words, but still I could only stare. What had happened to my breathing? I wondered. Then the round thing came flying at me and I ducked.
His mouth curled up, showing even more teeth, and he ran to get it. âIt is a ball,â he said. âIâll teach you how to catch it.â
And his words and the curling-up mouth made me feel strange inside, warm and melty, like
But Urda told me more, told me about different things they have, amazing things. Something called music. And many, many kinds of animals. And bursts of fragrant colour that grow out of the ground, called flowers. And their food is melting soft, too, exotic and all different flavours. My father calls it repulsive, says it would make me sick, but in spite of that I am curious.
The journey was long, but the sleigh was comfortable and there was plenty of hot slank to drink. In fact, it grew so warm after a time that we gradually had to peel away all our furs. How can the softskins stand this pressing warmth? It makes me feel choked and prickly.
We will stay for a week in the green lands. Our lodging is in a palace of rock, though my father says it is nothing like the Ice Palace of Huldre. He said it is not used often, only when we need to journey here to replace servants. And it is hidden from the softskinsâ sight.
Softskin folk do not live as long as we do and must be replenished. So we come every twenty or thirty years to take away more. My father says it is best to choose unwanted, unmarried people, not children, because less fuss is made when they disappear. Not that they could find us anyway. It is too long, arduous, and puzzling a journey for softskin folk. And it is too cold in our land for softskins; without slank they would die within a few hours, a day if they were well equipped. Father says there have been a handful of softskins called explorers who have journeyed to within a hundred miles of our land. We collected one or two of these, he says, and they made especially good servants because they were so hardy.
In appearance the softskins are very different from us, but we are able to move among them easily because of our arts, and they donât even know we are there.
Urda takes me tomorrow to see softskin folk. I can hardly wait!
I cannot sleep. The most amazing thing has happened. I actually met one of the softskin folk! A boy. I touched his skin and it was as soft as they say â softer! And his voiceâ¦it was like aâ¦I donât know. Like the song of the creatures they call birds that we heard on our journey south, yet odder and more beautiful.
In Huldre I have seen the softskin servants only from a distance, for they do the most menial work in the kitchen and stables. (Troll servants wait on the royal family.) And our softskins are dull and broken from living long in Huldre. So I had not known what they are truly like. Urda had told me they are ugly and their voices sound awful â thin and watery â but she was wrong.
Urda fell asleep; because she is old she is always sleepy, and she drank plenty of slank with the picnic lunch we had. So I wandered off by myself. I moved through the grass, which was green and soft when I bent down and ran my fingers across the tops of the thin stalks. I felt almost dizzy from all the smells that filled my nose. Sweet and thrilling they were. And the changeable feel of the gentle wind on my skin. So different from the hard and constant wind in Huldre.
Then I saw some children playing in the distance and thought I would use my arts to get closer without being seen, but abruptly their game ended and they all went away.
Except there was one boy who came back.
âWould you like to play?â he said, holding up a round red object.
Because of my arts, I could understand his words, but still I could only stare. What had happened to my breathing? I wondered. Then the round thing came flying at me and I ducked.
His mouth curled up, showing even more teeth, and he ran to get it. âIt is a ball,â he said. âIâll teach you how to catch it.â
And his words and the curling-up mouth made me feel strange inside, warm and melty, like
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