Read Online Troll Mill by Katherine Langrish - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Katherine Langrish
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teasing
him?
He just tried to kiss me and got all upset when I told him off. I said he looked like a heron. And he does!”
“That was rather unkind,” said Gudrun mildly.
“Mother!”
“Well, he’s a good boy, and he’s fond of you.”
“I know he is! That’s not the point,” Hilde spluttered. “Why can’t he be more—more
sensible?”
“He worries too much,” Gudrun agreed.
“I mean, I’m fond of him—I suppose—but not like that! And now I’ve hurt his feelings.”
“I should think he’ll get over it. So … do you have your eye on anyone else?”
Hilde flushed. “No!” she growled, grabbing the wooden handle of the hand mill and turning it energetically. The sound of the small millstone drowned out further conversation.
Peer marched down the hill in huge strides.
So that was that. Hilde despised him.
His mind was sore with anger and hurt. He loved Hilde, he knew he did. He loved her fresh face and clear eyes, her ready laugh and sure step. He loved the decisive way she flicked her long braid back over her shoulders when she did anything. And she did everything well too.
She always knew what she thought. She never seemed to have doubts: She was the most definite person he’d ever come across. And now he knew what she thought of him.
Why did I do it? I shouldn’t have risked it. But she was being so sweet to me, trying to cheer me up.
He clenched his fists and screwed his faceup in agony. What a fool he was! Of course she wouldn’t think of him. Who was he, anyway? Just a homeless, friendless stray the family had taken in. Not much more than a herdboy.
That’s not fair
, he told himself.
Gudrun and Ralf treat me like a son.
But I’m not their son. That’s the point, isn’t it? The farm will go to Sigurd one day. I’m working for nothing.
The thought trickled like cold water down his spine. Seeing him stop, Loki came trotting back. Peer stared blindly down the path, thinking with jealous fury of Arnë Egilsson. He fought against the memory of Arnë’s blue eyes, merry smile, and broad shoulders. Besides all that, Arnë had his own boat. Girls were impressed by that sort of thing.
“Why should she think anything of me, Loki? All I’ve got is you.” Loki wagged his tail.
Peer knew he was being unfair. But it was easier to be angry with Hilde if she despised him for being poor. That just showed how shallow she was. It had been the flash of real laughter in her face that had stung the worst.
You look like a heron.
Impossible to forget.
Hardly looking where he was going, he came stumbling out of the wood and saw the path unfolding down the slope and into the dip by the mill. Between the branches of the willows, the millpond looked like Gudrun’s bronze mirror winking at the sun, brown with sediment from last night’s rain. He could hear the water roaring over the weir.
The mill! With everything else that had happened, he’d forgotten to tell anyone about seeing the water wheel turning. Indeed, on this bright windy morning the events of the night seemed like some strange bad dream. Why had he been so scared? The river had been high, that was all, and the sluice gate had burst.
I’ll go and see.
Grateful for something different to occupy his mind, he ran down the slope to the bridge and squinted across at the huge wheel.
The broad wooden vanes looked slimy and wet, but that wasn’t surprising after such a rainy night. Constellations of bright orange fungus grew on the wood like a disease.
Maybe the wheel’s rotting … but it still looks fairly solid. Anyhow, it was turning last night.
But it isn’t now. And that means …
He frowned. That meant that the sluice gate hadn’t burst. If it had, water would be coursing along the millrace, and the mill would still be working—if the wheel hadn’t shaken itself to pieces first. So last night, while he’d been coming up the track in the wild dark carrying the baby, someone had deliberately opened the sluice gate. And
him?
He just tried to kiss me and got all upset when I told him off. I said he looked like a heron. And he does!”
“That was rather unkind,” said Gudrun mildly.
“Mother!”
“Well, he’s a good boy, and he’s fond of you.”
“I know he is! That’s not the point,” Hilde spluttered. “Why can’t he be more—more
sensible?”
“He worries too much,” Gudrun agreed.
“I mean, I’m fond of him—I suppose—but not like that! And now I’ve hurt his feelings.”
“I should think he’ll get over it. So … do you have your eye on anyone else?”
Hilde flushed. “No!” she growled, grabbing the wooden handle of the hand mill and turning it energetically. The sound of the small millstone drowned out further conversation.
Peer marched down the hill in huge strides.
So that was that. Hilde despised him.
His mind was sore with anger and hurt. He loved Hilde, he knew he did. He loved her fresh face and clear eyes, her ready laugh and sure step. He loved the decisive way she flicked her long braid back over her shoulders when she did anything. And she did everything well too.
She always knew what she thought. She never seemed to have doubts: She was the most definite person he’d ever come across. And now he knew what she thought of him.
Why did I do it? I shouldn’t have risked it. But she was being so sweet to me, trying to cheer me up.
He clenched his fists and screwed his faceup in agony. What a fool he was! Of course she wouldn’t think of him. Who was he, anyway? Just a homeless, friendless stray the family had taken in. Not much more than a herdboy.
That’s not fair
, he told himself.
Gudrun and Ralf treat me like a son.
But I’m not their son. That’s the point, isn’t it? The farm will go to Sigurd one day. I’m working for nothing.
The thought trickled like cold water down his spine. Seeing him stop, Loki came trotting back. Peer stared blindly down the path, thinking with jealous fury of Arnë Egilsson. He fought against the memory of Arnë’s blue eyes, merry smile, and broad shoulders. Besides all that, Arnë had his own boat. Girls were impressed by that sort of thing.
“Why should she think anything of me, Loki? All I’ve got is you.” Loki wagged his tail.
Peer knew he was being unfair. But it was easier to be angry with Hilde if she despised him for being poor. That just showed how shallow she was. It had been the flash of real laughter in her face that had stung the worst.
You look like a heron.
Impossible to forget.
Hardly looking where he was going, he came stumbling out of the wood and saw the path unfolding down the slope and into the dip by the mill. Between the branches of the willows, the millpond looked like Gudrun’s bronze mirror winking at the sun, brown with sediment from last night’s rain. He could hear the water roaring over the weir.
The mill! With everything else that had happened, he’d forgotten to tell anyone about seeing the water wheel turning. Indeed, on this bright windy morning the events of the night seemed like some strange bad dream. Why had he been so scared? The river had been high, that was all, and the sluice gate had burst.
I’ll go and see.
Grateful for something different to occupy his mind, he ran down the slope to the bridge and squinted across at the huge wheel.
The broad wooden vanes looked slimy and wet, but that wasn’t surprising after such a rainy night. Constellations of bright orange fungus grew on the wood like a disease.
Maybe the wheel’s rotting … but it still looks fairly solid. Anyhow, it was turning last night.
But it isn’t now. And that means …
He frowned. That meant that the sluice gate hadn’t burst. If it had, water would be coursing along the millrace, and the mill would still be working—if the wheel hadn’t shaken itself to pieces first. So last night, while he’d been coming up the track in the wild dark carrying the baby, someone had deliberately opened the sluice gate. And
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