one dared to go into the forest to look for him. Not even Oskar, who had made so much money from Henrikâs cheese.
âI would watch guard of the goats effery night like Henrik had told me, but I couldnât stay awake for effer and when I eventually fell asleep another goat went missing. And this happened, until there were no goats. No goats, and no Henrik.
âOn the morning the last goat disappeared, it had been snowing heavily. I went out early into the field and I saw footprints in the snow, heading away from the forest. My heart lifted for a moment. Henrik had returned! But then I realized the footprints curfed back round into the forest. I took a closer look at the footprints and realized it wasnât the pattern of a shoe, but the mark of a bare foot. And not just any footâa big foot with three toes. A trollâs footprint. Henrik had been right all along. Trolls had been stealing our goats and taking them back into the forest! And heffen knows what they had done to Henrik.
âI was in despair. I didnât know what to do. I would lie awake thinking about what might haff happened to him in the forest. But I got hold of such thoughts and kept them in checkâI wasnât ready to lose my mind just yet.
âI know what youâre thinking. Youâre wondering if I was tempted to go and follow him into the forest. Well, I can tell you, there were many occasions when I packed my rucksack, put on my boots and grabbed hold of my jaffelin, ready to go and find him.
âBut effery time I headed up through that goatless field, I always felt something hold me back. I remembered him telling me to wait in the house and I kept on hearing his last words: âWhatever happens, I will find my way back to you.â Maybe it was my own weakness. Maybe I was too frightened. But I never was able to step into the forest.
âI just stayed in the house and occupied myself as much as I could with books or knitting or other things that might distract me. I kept praying for some company, for something to keep me busy, and someone decided to take note of my prayers because one morning I found a stray dog asleep on the grass. Thatâs right. It was Ibsen. He might not have been as good company as your uncle, but he was certainly a lot better than a goat. And he made me feel safe. He was my protector from the trolls.
âOver time, I am pleased to tell you that the horrible thoughts about what might have happened to Henrik in the forest were replaced with better things. Like memories of him flying through the air on his skis, or smiling at the smell of his âGold Medal.â
âOf course, it would be easier if I didnât have to look at those horrible dark trees every day. But I canât moof house, any more than I can head out into the forest. And anyway, Iâve got you and Martha nowâ¦What a team, eh? Ibsen, Samuel, Martha and old Aunt Eda.â
Samuel looked at his aunt and saw the tears she was trying to hold back glaze her eyes. He sipped his cloudberry juice, as if trying to get rid of a bad taste.
Trolls and huldres and a hundred other creatures, all living in the forest behind the house. It was too much to believe in, and he didnât. Not fully, anyway. After all, what does a footprint in the snow prove? And why should anyone believe a mad professor?
But he remembered his own fear when he had stared into the darkness of the forest, and gulped back the rest of the juice.
âSo,â said Aunt Eda. âNow you know.â
âYes,â said Samuel, although he didnât really.
He went and joined his sister in the sitting room. She was staring out of the back window, toward the forest.
âMartha,â he said.
His sister turned to him.
âMarthaââ
But he didnât know what to say.
Night Songs
Samuel woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of singing.
It was only a faint sound, but as he couldnât sleep
âI would watch guard of the goats effery night like Henrik had told me, but I couldnât stay awake for effer and when I eventually fell asleep another goat went missing. And this happened, until there were no goats. No goats, and no Henrik.
âOn the morning the last goat disappeared, it had been snowing heavily. I went out early into the field and I saw footprints in the snow, heading away from the forest. My heart lifted for a moment. Henrik had returned! But then I realized the footprints curfed back round into the forest. I took a closer look at the footprints and realized it wasnât the pattern of a shoe, but the mark of a bare foot. And not just any footâa big foot with three toes. A trollâs footprint. Henrik had been right all along. Trolls had been stealing our goats and taking them back into the forest! And heffen knows what they had done to Henrik.
âI was in despair. I didnât know what to do. I would lie awake thinking about what might haff happened to him in the forest. But I got hold of such thoughts and kept them in checkâI wasnât ready to lose my mind just yet.
âI know what youâre thinking. Youâre wondering if I was tempted to go and follow him into the forest. Well, I can tell you, there were many occasions when I packed my rucksack, put on my boots and grabbed hold of my jaffelin, ready to go and find him.
âBut effery time I headed up through that goatless field, I always felt something hold me back. I remembered him telling me to wait in the house and I kept on hearing his last words: âWhatever happens, I will find my way back to you.â Maybe it was my own weakness. Maybe I was too frightened. But I never was able to step into the forest.
âI just stayed in the house and occupied myself as much as I could with books or knitting or other things that might distract me. I kept praying for some company, for something to keep me busy, and someone decided to take note of my prayers because one morning I found a stray dog asleep on the grass. Thatâs right. It was Ibsen. He might not have been as good company as your uncle, but he was certainly a lot better than a goat. And he made me feel safe. He was my protector from the trolls.
âOver time, I am pleased to tell you that the horrible thoughts about what might have happened to Henrik in the forest were replaced with better things. Like memories of him flying through the air on his skis, or smiling at the smell of his âGold Medal.â
âOf course, it would be easier if I didnât have to look at those horrible dark trees every day. But I canât moof house, any more than I can head out into the forest. And anyway, Iâve got you and Martha nowâ¦What a team, eh? Ibsen, Samuel, Martha and old Aunt Eda.â
Samuel looked at his aunt and saw the tears she was trying to hold back glaze her eyes. He sipped his cloudberry juice, as if trying to get rid of a bad taste.
Trolls and huldres and a hundred other creatures, all living in the forest behind the house. It was too much to believe in, and he didnât. Not fully, anyway. After all, what does a footprint in the snow prove? And why should anyone believe a mad professor?
But he remembered his own fear when he had stared into the darkness of the forest, and gulped back the rest of the juice.
âSo,â said Aunt Eda. âNow you know.â
âYes,â said Samuel, although he didnât really.
He went and joined his sister in the sitting room. She was staring out of the back window, toward the forest.
âMartha,â he said.
His sister turned to him.
âMarthaââ
But he didnât know what to say.
Night Songs
Samuel woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of singing.
It was only a faint sound, but as he couldnât sleep
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