deeply, it was loud enough to make him open his eyes and wonder at what heâd heard.
He lay in the dark, and waited for the voice to return, but there was nothing. Just the gentle patter of rain against the window. He rolled over, and saw the dark shape of his sister, sleeping her deep and dreamless sleep.
Then he heard it again. The singing.
âI once knew a tree,
That could talk like you and me,
And I taught it how to smile.
âI said, âExcuse me, tree,
If you wear a face like me
Youâll never go out of style.ââ
It sounded familiar, like a nursery rhyme his mum used to sing, and he recognized the voice. And the language. Samuel pulled back the covers and went to the window. Peeping through the curtains, he looked out into the dark and rainy night and couldnât see anything at first. Everything was the same purple black as the sky.
But then slowly, as his eyes adjusted to the pale moonlight, he could see varying degrees of darkness. The thick black of the distant forest and the lesser dark of the grass slope in front. He scanned the grass slope, letting his ears lead his eyes until he saw a small round shape, like a walking barrel, heading down the hill toward the fjord. A creature. From the forest. He opened the window, to hear the creatureâs voice a bit clearer.
âItâs raining, itâs raining,
But Iâm not complaining.
For whatâs the worst it can get?
âIt might soak your clothes
Or drip on your nose,
And make you a little bit wet.
âBut why try and be dry,
When the sky wants to cry,
And send tears that rain down on your head?â
Samuel stayed there at the window, listening to the creatureâs funny songs as he watched its small, fat silhouette walk down the hill.
âIâd better be right,
To escape in the night,
When the darkness wears its cloak.
âBut if I am wrong,
Iâll be singing my song
Till the huldres make me choke.â
The rain stopped and the singing died with it, after which there was nothing to be heard but the eerie silence of the moon.
Samuel lost sight of the creature, and the pitter patter of the rain began again. Or at least, that is what it sounded like. Yet when Samuel put his hand out of the window, he felt no drops on his skin.
Thatâs not rain.
He was right. And within moments he saw something in the distance. A dull throb of light from inside the forest, like a dying and fallen sun. As this golden glow grew closer, Samuel felt his heart begin to race, almost in time with the sound that was moving forward, out of the forest.
And then he realized what the noise was. It was horses. Three white stallions, and the figures riding them were each holding a flaming torch. They were out of the forest, now, although the faces of the riders were still too dark and far away to be seen.
Samuel, believing heâd get a better view downstairs, left the bedroom. He tiptoed past Aunt Edaâs door, and headed softly down to the living room. Once there, he went to the window and pushed his head between the curtains. He could see the flaming torches move closer, illuminating the three riders. At first heâd thought they were humans, but now, by the light of the flickering torches, he could see that they were strange and bony gray-skinned creatures, with wide-apart eyes and flattened, screwed-up noses. It was them. The monsters of his nightmares. Iâm dreaming, he told himself. I must be dreaming.
They were shouting orders, and whipping their horses, as they galloped after the barrel-shaped singing silhouette.
âSamuel? Samuel? What is the matter?â
Aunt Eda was standing behind him, in her nightgown, looking very worried indeed.
âI donât know,â Samuel said as his aunt joined him at the window. He now realized this wasnât a dream.
âHuldres,â his aunt whispered urgently.
The huldres rode out of view, heading toward the fjord. It went quiet for a
He lay in the dark, and waited for the voice to return, but there was nothing. Just the gentle patter of rain against the window. He rolled over, and saw the dark shape of his sister, sleeping her deep and dreamless sleep.
Then he heard it again. The singing.
âI once knew a tree,
That could talk like you and me,
And I taught it how to smile.
âI said, âExcuse me, tree,
If you wear a face like me
Youâll never go out of style.ââ
It sounded familiar, like a nursery rhyme his mum used to sing, and he recognized the voice. And the language. Samuel pulled back the covers and went to the window. Peeping through the curtains, he looked out into the dark and rainy night and couldnât see anything at first. Everything was the same purple black as the sky.
But then slowly, as his eyes adjusted to the pale moonlight, he could see varying degrees of darkness. The thick black of the distant forest and the lesser dark of the grass slope in front. He scanned the grass slope, letting his ears lead his eyes until he saw a small round shape, like a walking barrel, heading down the hill toward the fjord. A creature. From the forest. He opened the window, to hear the creatureâs voice a bit clearer.
âItâs raining, itâs raining,
But Iâm not complaining.
For whatâs the worst it can get?
âIt might soak your clothes
Or drip on your nose,
And make you a little bit wet.
âBut why try and be dry,
When the sky wants to cry,
And send tears that rain down on your head?â
Samuel stayed there at the window, listening to the creatureâs funny songs as he watched its small, fat silhouette walk down the hill.
âIâd better be right,
To escape in the night,
When the darkness wears its cloak.
âBut if I am wrong,
Iâll be singing my song
Till the huldres make me choke.â
The rain stopped and the singing died with it, after which there was nothing to be heard but the eerie silence of the moon.
Samuel lost sight of the creature, and the pitter patter of the rain began again. Or at least, that is what it sounded like. Yet when Samuel put his hand out of the window, he felt no drops on his skin.
Thatâs not rain.
He was right. And within moments he saw something in the distance. A dull throb of light from inside the forest, like a dying and fallen sun. As this golden glow grew closer, Samuel felt his heart begin to race, almost in time with the sound that was moving forward, out of the forest.
And then he realized what the noise was. It was horses. Three white stallions, and the figures riding them were each holding a flaming torch. They were out of the forest, now, although the faces of the riders were still too dark and far away to be seen.
Samuel, believing heâd get a better view downstairs, left the bedroom. He tiptoed past Aunt Edaâs door, and headed softly down to the living room. Once there, he went to the window and pushed his head between the curtains. He could see the flaming torches move closer, illuminating the three riders. At first heâd thought they were humans, but now, by the light of the flickering torches, he could see that they were strange and bony gray-skinned creatures, with wide-apart eyes and flattened, screwed-up noses. It was them. The monsters of his nightmares. Iâm dreaming, he told himself. I must be dreaming.
They were shouting orders, and whipping their horses, as they galloped after the barrel-shaped singing silhouette.
âSamuel? Samuel? What is the matter?â
Aunt Eda was standing behind him, in her nightgown, looking very worried indeed.
âI donât know,â Samuel said as his aunt joined him at the window. He now realized this wasnât a dream.
âHuldres,â his aunt whispered urgently.
The huldres rode out of view, heading toward the fjord. It went quiet for a
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