Boil a Manchild for Odin

or

Trolls

by Ulf Ronnquist

I am not yet wed, I have caught no manchilds and they think me odd.

But as with many things if you sit to think on them odd is seen through odd eyes mostly and that is what I tell myself and sometimes tell my father and sometimes his father and sometimes his father who is over four thousand seasons for we are an old race in more ways than one. I tell them this not to argue but to be true but they usually do not agree and instead look at me as if I wish to argue and they do not answer. Perhaps they too think me odd. I think so.

Mother certainly thinks me odd. Trolls marry at five hundred, she says, or sooner and prods me with her stick so hard it hurts or bats me with something near at hand a pan a ladle maybe so hard it hurts and then leaves with my ribs or head still hurting and so fast I have no time to think of an answer and she too looks hurt as she stomps out to have a son no one wants.

I believe too she has a son no one wants for the shefolk think me odd and few will talk to me. Fewer still ask to dance with me at feast and none has ever held my hand and some look at me as if they wished to send me to the wolves.

That does not worry me. I worry that they laugh at mother behind her back for having a son no one wants. That I sit to think on often. Father does not care, leave the boy alone he says he will marry soon enough but then he is not shefolk and no one will laugh behind his back unless he wishes himself married to the earth. Father is our chief.

I have caught no manchilds. That is odd for seven hundred seasons says mother. By now any son of mine she says should have caught at least two, maybe three. Your father she adds had caught four at your age and she prods me with her stick so it hurts.

Father, I think but never have time to finish thinking and say before she stomps out again, reached my age before the roads grew wide and before the rail arrived when catching manchilds was easy. And I add to myself, but would not tell her even if I had the time, that of the four I hear two died of fright and should not count as caughts for they must be alive when we boil them. Also, I think to myself and wouldn't say either, father likes the hunt and I have not that thirst.

I think that is my own private oddness. I should have the thirst but I cannot find it.

But now I must. I and a shefolk called Hulgur. We chose the stones.

Odin is angry with us. And father's father's father who is our wisest man has decided that we must once again boil a manchild for Odin to please him.

I do not understand Odin. If we are his first people, and I believe this true, why does he drive us further into the mountain and deeper into the earth? Why doe he give the forest to manfolk like he gave them grasses and lakes many seasons ago? Why did he give them roads and rail and engines to fly like the fastest deer along them? Father's father's father says it is to try us to make us stronger. I know father's father's father is wise but I am not sure he is right. I have asked Odin to answer for over five hundred seasons but he does not talk back. The only good I find about roads and rail is they drove the wolves away.

The great hall was lit with many torches and every troll in the whole mountain was there. They stood in whispering groups by clan or family except for the children who sat mixed along the walls, wide-eyed and silent for a change. Each of us were to choose one stone from the many in the skin held open by father's father. One by one father called our names and we heard it and walked up to father's father and stuck our hand within the skin and rattled the stones and tried to sense the color blue through our fingers some to choose it some like me to avoid it. But trolls do not see color through touch so many were disappointed to find their stone red or green or gray or black or white or many colored like flint, and I was disappointed to find mine blue. Hulgur I could not tell. She seemed please to find her own blue, but I think she was disappointed that I found the other. She thinks me odd.

Now she and I must find a manchild to boil for Odin or he will stay angry with us and drive us to the center of the earth where there is nothing but darkness and no fire will burn.

"You chose the fetching stones," my father said to us from his high seat. "Bring the manchild before next new moon. We will boil it at first sliver."

Not yet eldest, but past being chief, father's father squatted between the two tall chairs with the skin now closed and all stones returned to it. He has hair like gray rivers. He has black and angry eyes. He says nothing.

Father's father's father sat to the left, very big and silent and expected to speak. The hall was long noiseless to give him time to think. He did not speak and did not speak and in the end lifted his hand and pointed finger and carved the air at me and Hulgur. "Go," he said and I wonder at how slow he thinks.

We went and we have less than a quarter moon and I think Hulgur wishes the earth would marry her. She doesn't say so, but I can see so, or that the wolves would come and take me.

I show I do not notice and ask her, "Hulgur. Do you know where we catch manchilds?"

"Kurr," she says to me, "You are hefolk. You answer."

Hulgur is not a fine looking shefolk. She is tall and much too thin and has a scrawny tail.

"I have never caught one," I say. "Maybe by a road."

"Maybe," she says.

"Or by a farming house."

"Maybe," she says.

"Or by the lakes."

"Maybe," she says.

"Do you know of any farming houses?" I ask.

"I have not crossed a road for many seasons," she says.

"Nor I," I say. Though I did cross for a summer four seasons ago. Mother thought I had run away or married the earth she was so mad when I came back. Father asked what I had I done away and when I answered I had been looking he didn't answer and didn't answer.

"Do you know how to think like a tree?" I ask.

"No," she says.

"Nor I," I say.

I sit to think. She stands and looks at me.

"Shall we hunt as one or as two?" I ask.

"You answer," she says.

Capturing manchilds was never simple. Not if you believe father or father's father. But I know it was never as hard as now.

Five hundred seasons ago, when I was a child and roads were few and narrow and there was yet no rail and wolves were often seen and shunned or fought, catching manchilds was some say who are not known to brag like netting salmon. All you did, they say, was find a farm house or a camp or a road or a grass and find a place to stay very still in the shadow and think like a tree so they don't see you. When they come near you nab one and walk off with it. What could be simpler? It seems simple to me and I wish then was now for I don't know nowadays who of us can think like a tree. I cannot. Father says he can but says he has not done it for many seasons. Maybe his father, or his. I ask father to teach me. He sits down to think. Thinking like a tree is not taught he says, it is known. And he does not say more, even when I ask more.

Then Odin left us. That is what I think. Grew angry with us and left us. And now they are very hard to catch. Now manfolk are strong with their blast pokes that kill an elk or a deer from a hundred paces.

Fura was the last I know to catch a manchild. Twenty or so seasons ago. He stalked for three moons he says all through one summer and even so he says it was luck in the end that one strayed from a camp he watched then hurt his leg and couldn't run. Fura is not given to brag. Not that we can't run as fast as manchilds, we can run much faster, but they are small and hide easily in cracks and up trees and get away from us which they mustn't do lest they tell and they come after us with their blast pokes. No one heard him cry for help. Except Fura. Fura caught him from behind to not show himself and frighten him to death and put him in a sack. He ran for a day and a night and a day to reach the mountain and the child was still alive when he got here.

They boiled him without any fattening the same evening to please Odin for he was angry with us then too and the manchild was very loud in the kettle and struggled hard with the thongs that kept him still and turned pink then red then silent. Each of us got a morsel and we ate to Odin's honor and father's father says that this pleased Odin but I don't think so for the very next moon one of their blast pokes hit Eras in the eye and he ran all the way back to the mountain and bled to death on the big hall floor and Odin did nothing to stop the blood to keep him alive.

I think sometimes that Odin likes manchilds alive not boiled which is why he gave them their blast pokes and the rail and their screaming saw so now the woodsman comes with a large engine cart and cuts more trees in a day than I saw cut in half a moon as a child at one hundred seasons while he gave us nothing.

Which is I think why he gave them the little light I have seen that burns at night and the magic boxes that hold many small manfolk talking and singing and fighting and running with blue light that flickers from the dark house when you watch it from a distance from the edge of the woods on the other side of two roads while he gave us nothing.

Which is why he's made them hard to catch.

Odin chose manfolk to love says father's father when we angered him. Why did we anger him, I ask. Because we did not boil enough of them he says. I do not understand. If he wants them boiled why make them hard to catch, I ask. Father does not answer or is still thinking of an answer when he gets hungry, he says, and walks away.

One moon ago Talla drowned in big river and Hild who is his daughter ran for a day and a night to reach the mountain and cried and told father who told Borr and Vaka to go fetch Talla so he could marry the earth properly. They ran and Hild too to show them where it happened and they found him after looking up and down big river for two days but Borr broke his foot on the way back carrying Talla with Vaka for Talla was very heavy and hard to carry and Borr slipped and broke his foot. Hild ran for more help and we got Talla back and helped Borr back but the foot had turned ugly and Borr got sick and screaming and wild eyed and then he died three nights ago and Odin did nothing to stop the screaming or heal the foot. Father said Odin was hard angry with us for not as long as father's father's father can remember had two trolls died in the same moon except during the quarrel or by wolves. That's why we much catch a manchild to boil. The first in twenty seasons.

"We leave tomorrow at first sun," I say to Hulgur.

"I will be ready," she answers then walks away swinging her scrawny tail like an angry cat wishing she could marry the earth I think, or that wolves would find me.

"I know you don't want to go," she said, "but you have to."

"But why?" she asked again.

"Because daddy wants to."

"Why can't I stay with Elsa?"

"You know we can't leave you."

"But she gets to stay."

"She is older."

"I'm old enough."

"No, darling, you're not."

"Mom. It's not fair."

"I'm sorry. I'm sure we'll have fun. You'll see."

"Not at the farm. Not alone."

"You're not alone, we're with you."

"Oh, I didn't mean that."

"You'll survive. Better get your stuff ready tonight, honey. We're leaving early."

Her mom closed the door behind her and Britt knew it was hopeless. She found her soccer tote bag and started packing.

She's up ahead twenty paces or more tail still lashing with its own motion telling me to stay back. We have no plan. Only that we will walk down the mountain through two days of Beckforest cross the big and little rivers and onto the road. Stay there hidden to look and think. To this we agreed. But not to walking closer. She is not a good looking shefolk so I don't mind much but it would be nice to talk for here on the mountain we do not have walk silently.

I am happy walking. The trees on the mountain are tall and thick and pat me as I pass. I feel the wind in my hair and in my eyes and smell the outside of the mountain fresh again. Thoughts tumble onto me like soft boulders I don't know from where and bounce and are gone. No need to sit to think them out for they are happy to be here with me under the real sky and I wish again she would slow down a little so I can tell her I am happy walking.

She disappears around a bend and when I get there I find her sitting to think. On a stone full of gray and white and black moss. Her feet look like planted badgers asleep with toes and I smile at them like badgers with toes and she sees I do and wonders.

"Why do you laugh? she says.

"I do not laugh," I say.

"Smile then."

"At your feet," I say. "They look like sleeping badgers."

She looks down for some time and her hair falls forward like a small forest rushing down her face and I cannot see her eyes but I think she looks at her feet to think if they look like sleeping badgers.

Then she looks up and brushes the trees and moss aside to peak at me with black eyes and says she thinks they look more like otters.

"But otters have no white," I say.

"These have," she says and I smile at that and for a moment I thought she began a smile but then there was no smile just her question.

"Does it matter girlchild or boychild?"

I think on that for a while for nothing was said about it.

"I think it matters not," I say. "As long as it is manchild and we bring it back alive."

"That is good," she says. But she doesn't stand up to walk so she is not done thinking and I wait for her voice.

"Kurr," she peaks at me again through her hair. "Why do you think Odin is so angry?"

It is a question and she asked it. I am still with my own thoughts to find an answer and then I find an answer.

"Are those worries not best left to our fathers?" I say for her question surprises me and I know not what to answer true, so I answer the right answer the way father has taught me to answer. It is not for young ones and shefolk to question Odin's way he says. It is for your father and his father to think on. I didn't know shefolk would think on things other than berries and weaving and maybe the hunt so I am surprised at her question and I answer the right answer for I cannot find the true.

"That is the hefolk answer," she says. "It is not your answer."

She is right and I am silent. I need to sit to think on this.

The stone is large enough for two but there is no need to share and no invitation to and I want to see her eyes which are fine and not scrawny like the rest of her and her tail but large and quick so I sit on the trunk of a tree fallen in a storm long ago soft now with green and yellow moss. I stretch my legs before me and stretch my feet and stretch my toes for it feels good to sit and set my feet free. They look not like badgers or otters. They look more like foxes with their red and white with toes.

She brushes her hair back over her head with thorough fingers to give me time to think. But she looks at me and I find it hard to. Then I find the thought and follow it.

"I don't know why Odin is angry," I say. "Maybe he is not angry. Maybe he likes the manfolk." I find that I am speaking my thoughts as they grow which I should not for we should let them grow fully before speaking them says father, and only to manfolk. But I speak them as they grow to Hulgur and I am surprised at what I hear.

"Maybe he likes them," I say. "Or he would not have given them the road or the rail."

"Or the blast poke," she says.

"Or the blast poke, " I say. "But deeply he favors us."

"For we are his first folk," she says so soon I was unsure at first had I heard it our thought it.

"Yes," I say. "We are his first folk. So says father's father's father in words from many fathers before him. And I believe it is true. Manfolk did not yet walk when we lived the forest and grasses and not the mountain and warred with wolves."

She thinks on that and I think on her eyes again. Then they look at me and catch me looking at them and I find something stuck to my foot and quickly bend to pick it off and still she thinks before answering.

"So we must please him," she says. "So he will not forget his first folk."

These are strange thoughts to hear from a shefolk and I am surprised again.

"Yes," I say. "We must please him."

"We must please him true," she says.

"Yes, we must please him true," I say.

"What would please him true you think?" she says.

"That," I said, for it is true that I don't know, "is something I have not thought on enough."

"Nor I," she says. And she rises and walks off, her scrawny tail not so strong in its lashing now, chasing her into the trees.

The inside of the car was quiet and warm and hummed with the engine and the road. She tried to sleep but could not get comfortable although she had the whole backseat to herself. Not long ago she could stretch her full length and not touch the sides of the car, but now she had to bend her knees to fit and she could not find a place that would let her drift off.

Mom and dad in the front were saying things now and then, softly as if she were asleep. Outside the sun was up but still only touching the top of the trees. She missed her bed. She missed the apartment. She almost missed her sister. Her older than her sister that got to stay when she had to go. She tried to hear what mom was saying but couldn't quite make it out. Her voice was comforting though, like home, like her own bed when she could hear her voice in the other room, not as words but as mommy and she must have drifted a little for when she looked out again the sun had climbed a lot and lit all of the trees as they rushed by and no one was talking now.

She sat up.

"What time is it?" she asked.

"Almost ten," said her mother.

"When will we be there?"

"A few hours yet."

"Want some hot chocolate?" said her dad.

"Yes, please," she answered and saw her mom bend down to find the thermos bottle somewhere on the floor. She found it and poured a cupful which she turned to hand to her.

Britt took the cup with both hands and blew on the creamy surface to cool it down. It was hot and warmed her hands and almost burned her lip. But it was good and the steam rising from it was good too and maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all.

I can hear big river. He is still far away but I have good ears and I can hear him. He comes from mountains larger than ours where snow falls early and stays till summer. I have not heard big river for four seasons and I am happy to hear him. Hulgur has slowed down a little and walks closer to me now. She hears big river too for she stops and listens and nods so her hair rustles and she looks at me. I nod too and she sets out again.

Now I can smell him and the things that grow close to him and the things that live in the water like fish especially salmon which I love to eat when fishers like Talla have good netting trips and bring them back to the mountain, large silvery wedges of good meat.

Big river is calm where we are but other places I have seen he roars and leaps over rocks and down cliffs and is hard to cross but he is calm where we are.

Now I see him. He is dark through the trees and broad and swirls slowly in the middle and I think he is deep where we are. We come to the edge and I sit to think. It is true, he is deep where we are and we may have to swim which I do not like and will not do if I can help it.

"Do you know a ford?" she says.

"No," I say. "Maybe we swim."

"I do not like to swim," she says.

"Nor I," I say.

I stand up and walk down the big river's edge for many paces. There is no ford. I turn and walk back then past Hulgur and up big river's edge for may paces. There is no ford. I turn and walk back to Hulgur.

"We must swim," I say.

She shrugs and her hair rustles again and she breathes a long breath. She rises and we wade out into the water.

Big river embraces us with cold fingers that touch everywhere. I feel him on my arms and fingers and on my belly and legs and toes and tail. He is cold and moving and it is hard to walk on his soft and muddy bed and I slide a little with each step and then the bed sinks away into the river and I have to swim.

I do not like to swim. I do not like nothing beneath my feet. I do not like to float halfway between fish and troll. I do not like the wet and cold. But I am swimming and big river clings to me and pushes me down stream while I make it towards the other edge. I look to see Hulgur behind me. Her large eyes are larger still and I see she likes this less than I do. She does not see me she only sees the swimming and she is not a good swimmer.

I think for a moment the worst thought but it is too strong to think without sitting and I look back again and see her eyes very open seeing only the swimming. She is not a good swimmer and makes no forward way. She is barely afloat and I know I must and turn and make for her and she does not see me coming but only sees the swimming and then with a hard breath and quick like a shriek not like a troll's at all she disappears.

I see a swirl on the dark surface part water part her hair then the swirl is nothing but water. I sink with my eyes open to see but my eyes are not meant for water and I see nothing. I sink more and put all my seeing into my eyes and slowly shapes come. I make out the long strands of water grass that bend with the current and I feel myself moving with them. I see a tree long sunk with two leafless branches still reaching for the surface. I see fishes flying away. And I have to breathe but I know I must not. I see more grasses waving in the water wind and then I see her among them. She seems small and she is beating at the grass with her arms and her hair is like a cloud around her. I drift with the water but she does not drift for the grass has taken her.

For a moment the worst thought comes back and I cannot think it but make for her despite the water with one stroke and then another and I have to fill my lungs with air but know I cannot and one more stroke and one more I get closer and closer still. I can see her eyes now still open still not seeing me and no longer seeing the swimming she sees only the sinking. One more stroke and I must not breathe and I touch her and one more and I find her arm and I pull. But the grass has taken her.

I pull again and she has stopped beating at the grass and is calm and I see where they have her around her foot and ankle and I reach down and I have to breathe but I know I must not and my lungs hurt like full of melting stones and I reach the grass that keeps her and tear it and find the grass strong and I tear again and the grass lets go for I am stronger.

My legs know too that I need air and Hulgur too and they run and kick and both of us rise up through big river and at last here is the sky.

I swallow it whole and never has air tasted so fine.

But Hulgur has not tasted it yet. She is heavy in my grasp as I keep her afloat and I swim with her for the other edge. I am strong and air is all I need and I have all I can use now. We drift I can see that but I make it closer to the shore and I keep my head and her head above the surface as I must. And then I feel bottom, weak and muddy at first then firmer. I can walk and I stand and I carry her onto the forest floor that comes all the way to the river and she feels heavy with water. She is not breathing.

I need to sit to think on this but I know there is no time to sit but still I have to sit and I do and I look at her in a pile on the moss and never have I thought so quickly. I stand again and lift her up and over my shoulder like a sack of bark and I jump with her on the edge of big river to make her spit.

The she more than spits. She vomits water and coughs and I feel the river again down my back but I keep jumping for I know I am doing right. Then she stops coughing and then she is all shefolk again.

"Put me down," she says.

I do and she stands for a moment and looks at me then sits down with her back against a pine that I think stands too close to the river for pines don't care much for water.

"I do not like to swim," she says.

The sun was high and the sky stayed blue as they turned from the wide asphalt pavement onto the narrower dirt road. She knew where they were now. And it would be at least another two hours, maybe three. With daddy driving. More had it been mommy. She could tell that daddy wanted to get there. He calls it his little piece of paradise. He was driving quite fast and she knew that mommy wanted to say something about it, but she didn't and that was good because sometimes when she did they had one of their discussions and that is never much fun. Especially not in the car where there is nowhere else to go.

She liked the farm fine too, especially before Elsa started to hang with stupid boys and she would come as well. Then they used to go on forest expeditions and look for elves. There was this trick to it said Elsa. If you want to see an elf you mustn't look for them, you mustn't even think about them. You have to find them by chance for they can feel your thoughts and if you think about them they know you're looking for them and they hide. But, and she would bend over close to Britt's ear and whisper, but if you don't keep your eyes wide open and ready to see them you'll miss them.

"So how do you look for them without looking for them?" she asked her.

"That's the trick."

Well, it never worked very well although Elsa swore she had seen one and then Britt swore too that she had seen one as well but Britt knew they were both making it up. At least she was pretty sure Elsa was making it up.

Mrs. Aaronson though said she had seen them and Britt believed her. She was too old to lie. Britt wondered if Mrs. Aaronson would be home. She would find out as soon as they arrived.

The sun is a friend and I am soon dry. Hulgur too. Her hair is last to dry. She is not walking so far ahead now and turns often to look at me. Her tail is calm and thicker from big river's washing.

There is less needle than leaves on these trees. And these trees sing like Hulgur's hair sang before big river washed it. They are greener and lighter and filled with bird song and I am happy to be off the mountain and roaming. I wish we were not catching a manchild.

I no longer hear big river and soon I know I will hear little river. They run side by side some walking between them but never meet until the sea, or so says father's father who has roamed a lot and seen the sea. Little river I know has many fords and is not very deep. There is no swimming to be done I am certain.

Hulgur ducks under a branch and turns again to look at me. She does not smile but looks hard. I smile neither but I look back. Then I hear little river.

She stood on her knees looking out through the rear window. They were leaving a cloud of dust behind them, thick just behind the car and thinner and thinner as the road vanished but still dust all the way to the bends and hills that hid the road behind them. She leaned forward and turned her head to see more of the sky. She could not see a single cloud and she was happy she had come. There was so much summer here. Much more than in the city. She wanted to get there now, to climb the apple trees in the back, to fetch water from the well out front, to smell the must and the cold and the wood and last year's hay in the barn when you first open the door in the morning. She wanted to run through the meadow down to the lake, to look out for cow dung and snakes. She wanted to see Mrs. Aaronson.

"How much longer," she asked.

"Maybe an hour," her dad answered.

"You want a sandwich?", said her mother.

"Yes, thanks."

Little river dances more than runs. Like big river farther up the mountain. There are many rocks and stones for our feet and we step from one to the other easily and almost do not get our soles wet. Hulgur gets to the other side first and I can see she is pleased. Pleased there was no swimming, pleased the sun is shining. Pleased she is all dry and fluffy. She looks up at the sky and I do too. I can see no clouds. It is a fine day.

Hulgur sits and looks at little river. She doesn't look so scrawny sitting like that. Maybe it is big river's washing. Maybe it is my eyes seeing better.

She looks at her feet for a while and finds something stuck between her toes and picks it away. She looks out over little river. "What would please him true, you think?" she says.

I know she thinks of Odin and the hunt and I have to sit to answer and I find soft ground beside her. Not too beside.

Once we lived in the forest, off the mountain. Maybe here by little river, maybe even farther down. Father's father's father has never told of places with names only of the forest. There were few manfolk then and those that were knew to fear us if they saw us which they did when we didn't think like a tree. We were Odin's first folk and he let us catch the manfolk and boil them and eat them and Odin was pleased that we did and let us keep the forest and the grassy land around the lakes.

But the trolls that lived here off the mountain many seasons ago were lazy, says father's father's father, and no longer wanted to hunt manfolk for they were more trouble than bear and deer and elk and fowl and they didn't boil a manchild every moon but only one every season and then only one every spring and then for many seasons not at all.

This was long before I was born and Odin was not pleased and gave manfolk sharp sticks and taught them to make metal to make the sticks sharper still and then it happened that a manfolk slew a troll and they knew then that Odin was not pleased for until then only wolves knew how to slay a troll.

Father's father's father calls it the quarrel, the seasons that followed the slaying, when trolls and manfolk would never see each other without killing if they could. Many trolls died and many manfolk too, and we boiled many manchilds but this did not seem to please him true for in the end the roads grew wider and the rails came and trolls moved up the mountain.

I have thought on it often but I still do not know what would please Odin true. "I don't know." I say.

She doesn't answer but rises and I do too and we set out again for the road, her otter feet ahead of my fox ones.

I don't think any troll knows what would please Odin true. I don't think father's father's father knows or Talla would not have drowned and Borr would not have broken his foot and died too both in one moon. I try to think on this while we walk but it is hard and instead I watch her otter feet close enough now to watch and I am glad Hulgur is along.

I hear the road before I see it. It is one of their engines and it is far away but I have good ears and I hear it clearly its loud stomach that roars high and low to fly like a deer along the road. The engine is far away but the road is close for the sound is getting louder and the engine is coming this way.

Hulgur has stopped and listens too. I can see she knows what it is and I can see that she is not afraid which makes me feel a small pride which I cannot see where it comes from and she is not scrawny standing up either. But she is too tall for a shefolk.

Then there is the road. Brown and sandy and not as wide as the black road which lies farther down the country and which I have only seen once. The engine is coming closer. I can smell other engines here, long passed for they leave a bitter trail which stings the nose and I do not like.

Hulgur steps into the shadow of a tree close by the road to wait. Her hair meets the green and gray of branches and trunk and seems to melt.

"You can think like a tree?" I ask for she leans into the shadow and the trunk as if joining them.

"No," she says. "I told you so."

I do not know what to answer so I answer nothing. But she is right in waiting and I find another trunk and another shadow and I try to join them like Hulgur and I still wonder if she cannot think like a tree.

It went by so fast she knew the sun and the shadows and the way daddy drove the car played a trick on her, but what a trick. Two trolls. Tall and hairy and big eyed. It was just a glimpse through the rear window as they drove by. Then they were gone in the dust. She moved closer to the pane to look harder. Then a bend in the road.

She tingled first, then shivered. If only it could have been real. She would ask Mrs. Aaronson about trolls too.

The engine is very loud and screams as it rushes for us. In a moment it is by us louder still as it tears at the road. The road responds into a brown and yellow cloud that finds my lungs and eyes and makes me want to cough and cry. But I must be still. Like Hulgur. Still as a tree.

I cannot see the engine through the cloud and then the road turns and the engine with it and it is gone. Just the screaming still and the dust on everything.

Hulgur moved. "Did you see her?" she says.

"I saw the manfolk steering the engine," I answer.

"No, the manchild."

"I saw no manchild."

"I saw her," Hulgur says, "and I think she saw me."

"It went by too fast," I say.

"I saw her," Hulgur says again, beating my head with it.

"I do not doubt you," I say.

"Her eyes were on me as the engine passed then she moved to see better."

"How could you see through the cloud?"

"I have good eyes."

"I do not doubt you," I say again, for I do not. Then I sit for what Hulgur says needs thinking on.

"Do you think she will tell?" I ask.

"I think she is not certain," she answers.

"That is good," I say.

"Yes, that is good," she says.

I feel when I am talking to her that I am talking to father or his father or his. I feel I should listen to her words. She is not like shefolk I know like mother and my sisters full of berries and moss to seal the cracks and netting and stores for the winter that you face with patience and many nods. She thinks as fast as any manfolk I can name and deeper. I am glad she chose the fetching stone. I am glad big river didn't marry her. She thinks on something else as she looks at the road up then down and the dust is now all but settled.

"Shall we wait here?" she says.

"What do you think?" I say.

"I think we should follow the engine," she says.

"It is much to fast," I say.

"It must stop somewhere," she says.

"That could be many days from now," I say.

"This road does not run for more than another day," she says.

"How do you know?" I ask.

"It is too narrow for more than a day."

And again I have to look at her to see that I am not talking to father for I know she has thought true and I stand up.

"You are right," I say. "We should follow the engine."

It was almost noon and they were turning familiar bends. Three more to go, then two, and now she could see the lake. Like a big silver fish with ripples for scales. Then the last bend and as she leaned forward between her parents she could see the house and then farther through the bend the flag pole, the well and the barn.

They were there.

She stepped out and felt the ground make a little sparkling as she put her foot down. She looked around her. The field grass had grown high and all the way to the edge of the yard. The air was fresh. The morning chill had not left completely as the woods still cast a shadow and would until mid afternoon when all the farm would be in sunlight. The woods was very close, big trees standing guard just on the other side of the barn. She walked up to the house. The front steps creaked a bit if you listened.

"Come and help with the bags," said mom by the car trunk.

"Okay."

She headed back for the car and took two of the lighter ones. Dad was ahead, opening up, letting them in.

"My little piece of paradise," he said. He always did. She looked back at her mom who rolled her eyes but smiled.

We walk in the woods by the road. There is no path here for who but trolls would make a path within seeing of a road. But we cannot walk the road for we must not be seen. We have seen no other engines since the red one scattered dust everywhere. Nor have we seen any other manfolk.

Then I hear a distant screaming again. Deeper this time. It is a big engine. I think it is one for trees and I am right for when it comes it is steered by a woodsman I can tell by his hat and shirt and it has many logs on its back and tears up more could than the little red one and soon disappears not completely in the cloud but then completely down the road. We do not seek trunks to hide by for we are farther in among the trees and the manfolk is alone in the engine and only looks at the road. Nevertheless we stop to stand still. Trolls walking are easily seen says father, and he is right.

Then everything is still again. If I listen hard I can still hear the engine for trees as it works with its load. Then I cannot hear it at all.

We come to a place where the road splits. Or more like grows a branch. We both move closer to see it better.

"Which way do you think?" I ask.

"The narrower," she says.

I smell what she must smell. The little red engine steered this way.

Another big engine is coming and we both run back in among the trees and stay still. Another one for trees with another load of trunks but it stays on the wider of the two and follows the first. We set out by the narrower but after a while we walk not by it but on it for only the little red engine has driven here for some days or since the last rain and things are very still. The forest is close upon us for it is a small road and the trees seem seems unwilling to let it through. This road is not walked often.

The sun is past its crown and it is warmer. We brought no water and I am thirsty. Thirsty and hungry a little. We can go for days without food especially when hunting, but we cannot go for days without water and I tell Hulgur to tell her eyes and nose to look for water. I tell my eyes and nose too.

Mrs. Aaronson did not have a phone. This thing, she told her once, it startles you half to death and won't leave you alone. I wouldn't have one for anything. If they want me they can come here. I like to see who I'm talking to.

She liked the way Mrs. Aaronson told her things. It wasn't like mom or dad who talked to her like she was a child who now and then could be treated as a grownup. No, it was more that either she was a grownup or Mrs. Aaronson was a child, but when they talked there was no difference between them. Often Mrs. Aaronson would lean over to her and whisper in confidence, just like Elsa used to do before she became so much older than her.

"Can I go over and see if Mrs. Aaronson is home?" she asked.

Her mom looked at her watch then at her dad who shrugged. "Fine," she said. "Just be back for dinner."

"Oh, sure. I just want to see if she's home, and tell her we're here," she said.

There were two ways to get to Mrs. Aaronson's farm. There was the road which was a couple of hours by foot or half an hour on the bicycle. Or through the woods. In the middle of the day it was always through the woods. After nightfall it was the road, or if through the woods, not alone.

The longest branches almost touched the barn. It was like, she thought, the tall pine was tapping the barn on its shoulder telling it to go back to where it came from. It had no business here. The house and the barn were old, but the woods was here first.

Every time she came here it seemed like the trees had moved a little closer so to make sure they stayed put she counted the steps again from the two big, black barn doors to the first bend in the path, by the mossy stone. Twenty-six. Same as last time. Last summer it had been twenty-seven and a half but that she knew was because her legs were shorter, any fool would realize that.

Twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six and you were in the woods, the house and barn out there through the trees when you turned around to look. Another twenty steps down the path and you were swallowed. There might as well not be a house or a barn.

The path was narrow but soft with a carpet of brown spruce and pine needles. Her feet made almost no sound as she walked. The sun was high, she could see the light and blue sky if she looked up but she had to look straight up. Down here on the path it was almost like evening except for when you passed through little clearings which was like stepping onto the stage at her school plays they were so bright.

The path rose and fell and skirted rocks and trees and hollows where Elsa had told her elves lived in the summer (Elsa said they lived in their barn in the winter when they were all back in the city--well, they had been here a few times in the winter too, so how come they were not in the barn then? They left, of course, said Elsa. Which way? she asked back. I see no footprints. Elves don't leave footprints, stupid, Elsa would say and that would be that).

The path forked twice but if you kept to the right (to the left going back) it led directly from her house to Mrs. Aaronson's. If you chose left you'd veer off into different part of the forest. She and Elsa tried both branches, looking for elves, and one went on for a very long time and up and arrived at an old mountain pasture where the milkmaids brought the cows all summer in the old days. The cabins where they use to live were very old and falling down. No one lived there now. Maybe the elves did. The other branch came out at the Peterson farm.

Anywhere you looked from the path there were just the trees full of brown and green and gray sometimes so close together it would be tricky to get through. And if you tried, the low branches would catch you and hold you--and eventually eat you, Elsa used to add. Trees don't eat people. These do, I promise, she would say.

The ground this time of year was so green with lingon and blue berry plants and moss that it looked like the trees came through the top of a giant green cloud. Things rustled in that cloud. She could hear it if she stood still. She knew what it was although she could not see anything. They were mice, hedgehogs, could even be a badger. Snakes, said Elsa. Vipers. If they bite you, you can die. No way. Yes way. Ask daddy if you don't believe me. She hadn't asked daddy, she had asked her teacher and had been amazed to learn that Elsa hadn't lied. A young viper's bite could kill a child but it wasn't very common, she had explained.

So she walked a little faster. Then slowed down, don't be stupid. There are no vipers here. But then a little faster again, even ran a few steps then stopped. Look, there is nothing here. Besides, they won't bite unless you step on them or something. That's what dad had said, but she walked faster again anyway.

Then she reached a clearing and breathed a bit easier until she heard dad tell her that vipers like the sun and liked to bathe on top of stones and here were lot of stones just perfect for viper sunbathing and she ran through the clearing and back into the shadow.

This was ridiculous. She made herself stop and told herself she was being stupid and maybe she should look for elves instead of snakes. A woodpecker suddenly started up just to her left and she started. She tried to find him, craned her neck up several trunks before she saw him. Red and yellow and black and hard at work at a dead trunk still standing. Very loud. Then he took a break and she heard off in the distance the cuckoo bird. Far off and beautiful. The woodpecker started up again and drowned the cuckoo's song. She got on her way. Snakes. Don't be stupid. She made herself walk the rest of the way.

The farm is just two houses, one for manfolk and a barn for their beasts. The barn lies close to the trees. I recognize the small red engine in the yard and the smell we have followed. Beyond the houses and at the bottom of a long slope of grass lies a lake, still in the sun. The manfolk stir and talk in their house. I can hear them for the door is open. A shefolk comes out of the house with a pail and lowers it into the well for water. The man comes to the door and speaks manword to her and she answers. Hulgur and I are back in the woods looking out. We have good eyes and ears. We stand still about ten paces in and look and listen for many slow breaths.

"There is no manchild here," I say.

"I saw her," she says.

"I do not doubt you," I say.

We stand still for many more breaths and still I see or hear no manchild or beasts.

There was a message in large blue letters on a gray, worn piece of cardboard hung on Mrs. Aaronson's door. "At the store," it said. It was an old sign, she had seen it before. It's how I let them know where I am, she said once, and showed her four or five different signs. At the store, said one, this one. Away, said another. That means don't wait around for me, she had explained. Out walking, said a third. Means you can wait if you have time, I'll be back, just don' t know when. At the store, was another you can wait sign, shouldn't be all that long. It also said that she was home. She would wait.

She sat down on the top step of the little porch and it creaked as she settled. She looked up into the clear sky. High above her she saw three swifts chasing each other. Darting, circling, showing off almost. How she wished she could fly, just like that. They spun and darted and chased some more and laughed she thought, but not at her for not being able to fly, just at being happy that they can. She watched them for a long time, then they dove behind Mrs. Aaronson's big brown barn and must have gone home back there as they did not return.

She heard bees buzzing round the yellow and white flowers by the wall and felt a soft wind touch her face. It smelled of cow dung and fresh grass. And of the old house. She was very happy she had come. The city and the apartment seemed far off now--not really part of the world anymore.

Then she heard, and then she saw, Mrs. Aaronson's bicycle come round the barn corner into view. Mrs. Aaronson was on it.

She didn't see her right away. She was watching the ground straight ahead as if cycling took some doing. Maybe it did for Mrs. Aaronson. She was quite old. Especially with her big blue bag on the back. It would make it harder to balance. Full of groceries it looked like. She came to a stop and took a deep breath as she folded down the kick stand with her right foot. Then she stretched and arched her back arms akimbo. Then she looked up towards the house. Then she saw her. Her wrinkled face turned from shadow to sun and she smiled a big grin then spit her snuff out on the ground and came up to her.

"Britt. What a wonderful day this turns out to be."

"Hi, Mrs. Aaronson," she said and stood up to meet her. She noticed that now they were almost as tall. She hugged her and breathed one of her favorite smells: Mrs. Aaronson. She smelled like mixture of friendly garlic and wrinkled snuff. She was warm and soft and dressed in layers of many colors. Looks a bit like a gypsy, her dad said once but it hadn't come out nice and Britt said, she does not, and got upset, and dad said it had been a wrong thing to say and he apologized. But she did look like a gypsy, she thought. Like an old gypsy woman from some other land.

"Bless my heart, it is fine to see you again," she said and took her by the shoulders to hold her at arms length. "Look at you," she said, "you're still growing."

"A bit, I guess," she said.

"You've been here long?" she asked.

"No, just a few minutes."

"No, I meant at the farm."

"Oh. No, we came today."

"And Elsa? Is she here too?"

"No, she stayed. It's just me and mom and dad"

Mrs. Aaronson looked at her kind of closely. "Boys, huh?"

"Yeah."

Mrs. Aaronson let go of her shoulders.

"Help me with the groceries and we'll have some coffee. You drink coffee yet?"

"No."

"Well, some juice then. For you."

Britt unstrapped the big blue bag from the carrier and lugged it up onto the porch. Mrs. Aaronson put the bike away in her barn then returned to open the front door to let them both in the house. She unhooked the gray cardboard sign on the way.

Mrs. Aaronson soon had her kettle on the stove, then took a tin clearly marked "coffee" from her cupboard. Britt sat down by the table and watched as Mrs. Aaronson scooped a handful of beans into the mill and began to turn the handle. The beans protested noisily but still gave up their aroma which soon filled the large kitchen. She loved the smell of coffee but didn't care for the bitterness of the drink.

Mrs. Aaronson looked back over her shoulder. "I like to grind them myself," she said.

"I know," said Britt.

She pulled the little drawer, now filled with ground coffee, from the bottom of the mill and emptied it into the kettle. She turned the burner on high and set the coffee to boil. Then she fixed the juice.

"Would you like some rusks? Some cookies?"

"No thanks."

She was humming to herself a tune Britt recognized but could not name while she waited for the coffee to boil. Then it did and she put a large glass of raspberry juice in front of Britt then poured herself a large mug of coffee and sat down too.

The sun shone through the window and lighted the marred but shiny table top and the linen cloth that covered it only partially and Britt wondered if Mrs. Aaronson had woven it herself. She had a loom somewhere in one of her many rooms.

The coffee steamed as Mrs. Aaronson brought it to her lips and she blew upon the surface to cool it down. Then she took a noisy sip.

Britt remembered the trolls.

"Remember when you told me you had seen elves?" She asked.

Mrs. Aaronson put the mug back down on the table and took a close look at Britt. "I do."

"Well, is that really true? Or were you kidding me?"

"What do you think?"

"I think it is true."

"Then it's true."

"What about trolls?"

Mrs. Aaronson was bringing the steaming mug to her lips again but put it back down without drinking at the question.

"What about trolls?" she asked.

"Have you seen them too?"

Mrs. Aaronson looked at her coffee for some time before she answered.

"Once," she said.

"What do they look like?"

Mrs. Aaronson reached over and took Britt's hand in hers. Then studied her closely again. "Do you really want to know?"

"Sure."

"Or are you just poking fun at an old stupid woman?"

"I, I wouldn't."

Mrs. Aaronson still looked at her then patted her hand softly and let it go. "I know, I know," she said.

"It was a long time ago. I wasn't even your age yet, and not half as tall. It was harvest time and very warm that summer and me and mother and our maid had brought juice and coffee and cinnamon buns for the men in the fields. It was a hot day and mother asked me to I stay in the shade of the trees by the forest edge, not long from here, and I watched my mother and our maid bring the refreshments out to the workers. They stopped their work when they saw them coming and put down their hay-forks and wiped their brows. My father looked for me then saw me and waved. I waved back.

"Then I heard a rustle behind me and turned around to look, but there was nothing. Just the trees. When I looked back over the field I heard the rustle again and I felt someone behind me coming closer. I turned again and then I saw him. I say him but I don't know. With trolls it is hard to tell.

"He was very tall, half again as tall as my father who was a big man."

Then she smiled a little as she added, "I've got my mother's height. She was not a large woman."

"He was very tall, and broad. Covered top to bottom with fur. He had large yellow eyes with big black holes in the middle. A small nose. Almost like a cat's But big ears. Not as big as an elephant's, but it made me think of one. And a tail. Like a cow's tail but furrier.

"I was lucky I heard him or he would have caught me. He was coming for me, only a step or two away. I sprang up and into the field and the sun and screamed as I ran. He didn't follow."

Britt sat very still and listened. And she looked back at the trees and the trick of light and shadow as their car sped by to show her trolls. And now she wasn't all that sure it had been a trick. They looked like what Mrs. Aaronson described.

"I think I've seen them too," she said.

Mrs. Aaronson became very still.

"Bless me, my child, what are you saying?"

"I think I've seen trolls too." she said.

When Mrs. Aaronson didn't answer, she went on.

"Just this morning on the way here. By the road. First they looked like two thick, kind of strange tree trunks but they had eyes, and ears like you described and they were tall too. Very tall."

"Are you sure?"
"No, not really sure. It went by so fast. But they looked like what you said."

"I hope you're wrong," she said.

"Why?"

She looked into her coffee again before answering.

"If they are all the way down here," she said. "It can only mean that they are looking for a manchild."

She was quiet for a while and Britt didn't know what to say. "Where did you see them?" she asked then.

Where had it been, she had to think. "Maybe an hour from here. Just before you turn onto the old farm road."

Mrs. Aaronson's face was not pleased. "That's nothing for a troll. Did they see you?" she added.

"I don't know."

Trolls have patience. The patience of trees says mother. She says this often and mostly for my benefit I think. I was not given a full measure of it she says and I think she is right. I find it hard to stand by this tree and look at these houses and not do something else. The little red engine is cold now and the door to the house has remained closed for many many breaths. I can hear the manword talk inside which I don't understand. There is no sign of a manchild.

I have mentioned this to Hulgur one time too many I think for she no longer looks my way now and then.

Then I hear movement on the road. It is a small crushing moving this way with soft manword voices. They come into view and it's an old shefolk and a manchild on one of their rolling rides. The old shefolk is steering and walking on it and the manchild sits behind holding her around the waist. They stop by the door and the manchild jumps off. She says something to the old shefolk who smiles but shakes her head and turns her rolling ride around and starts walking on it again to make it move back to where it came from. The manchild stands for some breaths watching her move away then walks into the house.

I turn to look at Hulgur who is looking at me again with that look that shefolk can put on when they know that you have wronged them.

"I said I did not doubt you," I say.

She does not answer.

She didn't know whether to tell them.

"How is Mrs. Aaronson?" her mother asked.

"She's fine."

"Ah, the old girl's still alive and kicking, huh?" said her dad.

"Yes."

Mrs. Aaronson hadn't said she couldn't tell but hadn't asked her to either. And she wasn't even sure she could believe it herself. Boiling children. Trolls did that in fairy tales, not in the real world. But Mrs. Aaronson did not lie to her, that was the confusing thing. You can tell sometimes when someone is pulling your leg, you can. And you can tell when someone is telling you something true, it feels true. You can tell by their eyes, they look at you as if saying, I have nothing to hide and I wish you well. That is what Mrs. Aaronson's eyes said when she told her. And not only that, she had looked worried. And would not hear of her walking back through the woods.

I'm talking you back on my bicycle, she said.

Don't be silly, she answered, I'll be fine.

I'm not being silly, she said.

"You missed a good soccer match," said her dad. "Unless you watched it with the old girl."

"She doesn't have a TV," she answered. He knew that. He was being funny.

"Ah, yes."

It still happens, she said, a child disappears. Maybe it drowned, maybe it got lost in the woods and broke a leg and starved to death. Maybe many things. But maybe it was taken.

And they boil them?

Yes.

Why?

It's what they do, she said. I don't know why.

"You're not even going to ask who won?" said her dad.

"Who won?" she asked.

"My team. Two to nothing."

"Great, dad."

And you must not walk in the woods, she said.

But that's what I like to do.

Promise me, she said. And she had taken her hand in hers again and held really tight. Promise me, she said again.

I promise.

No, she could not tell them. Dad would laugh at the whole thing and would make some stupid joke about gypsy women and ask mom to take her temperature. Mom would first look serious and listen--the sharing look--but then she would put on her concerned look which she has never really gotten past. Mom would not believe her but would worry about her. Not worth it. She wouldn't tell.

"We killed them."

"What?"

"The Elms. We killed them."

"Who scored?" she asked. That made him happy.

"Is she child enough you think?" I ask, for she looked to me older than those I have seen boil.

"I think so. Don't you know?"

"No."

"What does your father say? Or his father?"

"They have never said about size."

Hulgur sits down to think on this, and I sit down with her. She doesn't mind were I sit.

"This one," she says after a while, "she is a child still, I am sure."

"She looks fast," I say, for I think on the catching.

Hulgur looks up at me and her eyes shine in the dusk with the last of the day. "So you think she is the one we must catch?"

"I have seen no other," I say.

"Nor have I," she says.

She woke up early for her room faced east and was filled with sunshine by five o'clock. She opened her eyes and recognized the ceiling. She was at the farm. She looked over at the clock on the night table, saw the time and promptly turned over to burrow beneath the quilt for more sleep.

She almost made it back when she came all to: Trolls. She remembered. There was no going back to sleep now.

She opened her eyes again. Could Mrs. Aaronson be right?

She got out of bed and sat down at her desk by the window. From there she had a clear view of the meadow spreading down to the lake and of the lake itself. There was mist on the water and dew on the grass and she opened the window to let their smells in. The air was cold but fresh and full of summer. Far away she heard the cuckoo bird again, and farther still a blackcock's call. Other, closer birds made their own noises that all came in through the open window.

Trolls. She was wide awake and full of morning. She looked around the room, at the rumpled bed, at her soccer tote bag, at her clothes in a pile on the floor. No, she thought, no way.

She went downstairs to make some tea.

I prefer my own chamber and my own bed. Sleeping on the ground may be what we did for many thousands of seasons before the we settled in the mountain but I prefer to wake up dry. I drip with dew.

Hulgur fares no better and looks no happier.

We wait.

She heard the radio play in the kitchen when she got to the stairs and halfway down she smelled the bread. Mom was already up and baking. She must be on her farm schedule already. The kitchen was warm and awash with rising dough and covered sheets.

"Morning, hon."

"Morning."

"Tea?"

"Yes, please."

Mom already had hot water on the stove and now put a pinch of black leaves in the strainer, then poured the water over then and into her blue farm mug. It was bright blue and was a present from Mrs. Aaronson. Chipped a little where she dropped it on the floor last summer but she would not throw it away. She took it from her mom with both hands and it warmed them through. It smelled of morning.

Mrs. Aaronson. Trolls.

"Any plans for today?"

"No."

"Dad wants to go hiking. Want go come?"

He's too noisy, he scares the elves. And mom wants to pick every berry she can find. She had had enough of that.

"Not really."

"Sure?"

"Yeah."

"Okay."

Mom put slices of steaming bread and a dish of butter on the table and she helped herself.

"Great bread, mom." The butter melted almost right away and she had to eat fast not to drip it all over the table. This was one of her favorites and now that she came to think of it, one of the reasons she didn't mind coming to the farm. It was kind of a tradition. Mommy bakes at the farm.

The smell of fresh bread finds my stomach and kicks it hard. The shefolk in there knows how to bake and I find that I am very hungry.

"We must eat something," I say to Hulgur.

"We must wait," she says.

"I am hurting from the smell," I say.

"I am too, but we must wait."

And she speaks true. We are here to capture a manchild not to eat. I stand up and shake the dew away. I am wet, I am cold and now I am hungry too. Hulgur looks at me and puts up a hand to fend off the drops flying her way. She does not seem to mind her own dew. She looks silvery with it.

"Have you thought on how we capture her?" she asks.

"I have," I say.

"How?" she says.

"I have not thought an answer yet," I say.

"I have thought too," she says.

"Have you thought an answer?" I ask.

"Perhaps."

"How?" I ask.

"First we wait," she says.

"We are waiting now," I say.

"We must wait until she comes into the forest," she says.

"That may be never," I say. I have walked these same thoughts this far already and I worry that the manchild will stay close to the manfolk and then go away in the little red engine without letting us catch her.

"We cannot hide without trees," she says.

"She looks fleet," I say.

"We must be near," she says.

"We must find a spot near enough to take her if she walks the path," I say.

"That is what trees are for," she says.

"She looks fleet," I say again because she does. "If she sees us she will be too fast to catch among trees." I say that for I worry that she may see us and run away and tell the manfolk and I do not want to meet a blast poke and I do not want Hulgur to meet one either.

"If she is looking she will see us. If she does not look she will not," she says.

"I hope then that she does not look," I say.

"I hope that she has business in the forest," she says.

"I hope that too," I say.

I sit back down, empty below. I am cold and wet and I think Hulgur looks like a large strange fish with her clothing of dew.

Although it was only a little after six o'clock, the sun was already halfway up the sky when she opened the front door and stepped out into the morning air. She took a deep breath and it brought to her the dew on all things around her. The grass, the leaves, the roof of the barn, even the car, they were all covered by early summer morning. She took one look at all this and felt like leaping off the porch, so she did. The shoulder bag thumped against her hip as she landed and she adjusted it a little for the ride. She could feel the warm fresh bread inside it against her hip. It was for Mrs. Aaronson. She would be up early too.

Her bicycle was in the barn.

Even though it was silly, it really was, she had decided to take the road instead of the path so Mrs. Aaronson wouldn't get upset with her. Really just for her sake. She had been so serious about not going into the forest at all. Not even five steps in, she had said. Not even three steps, she had asked to be funny. Don't make fun of an old woman, she said. Troll business is serious, especially for a little girl.

It didn't feel very serious to her but she didn't want to make Mrs. Aaronson mad at her. The big barn door swung open easily and she stepped into the musky quiet. The wooden floor creaked softly as she walked over to the bicycles. Hers was the only one in good repair. Mom and dad didn't go biking much for dad did all the biking he needed in the city, he said. The farm is for walking, he would add. Elsa's bike was missing a wheel too, it had a flat she remembered, but it hadn't gotten fixed yet.

She pulled her own bike out of the stand and checked the air. Both tires were flat. She would have to pump them up again.

She put the bag down on the floor and found the bicycle pump.

The pump was no good, it barely worked. Boy of dad was still biking we would have a new pump right away. She worked hard at filling the tires with air. This was too much work just to keep Mrs. Aaronson happy.

Still, she kept it up and in the end had inflated both tires until she could barely indent them with her thumb. Then retrieved her shoulder bag and flung it back on. She rolled the bike out, closed the door behind her and set out.

One minute down the road she felt the back wheel thump against the ground and she stopped to look. No air. It was flat again.

Getting dad to fix it? Now? No way. He wasn't even up yet. Fix it herself? Get real. She didn't even know where the patch kit was, or if they even had one. She walked the bicycle back to the barn and made her decision: Mrs. Aaronson might get upset but the fresh bread should soothe her.

I watch the manchild walk away on her rolling ride. I still smell the bread in her bag. She goes around the corner of the barn house and is gone.

"Maybe we can follow her," I say.

"We should not go on the road," she says and I can tell she is thinking my words unwise.

"We wait then," I say.

"Yes," she says.

I hear the manchild walk her rolling ride away from us and then she stops. In a few breaths she returns, walking to the side of it leading it back to the barn house. She comes back out without the rolling ride and closes the door.

Then she comes for us.

I rise quickly and Hulgur does too. We both move farther back into the trees and farther from the path. The manchild means to walk into the woods, that is certain and I look at Hulgur who I see thinks so too.

We cannot speak now for even softly we find manfolks ears and they wonder where we are and come looking for us with blast pokes, at least that is what fathers says.

She finds the path and follows it. We stand as still as the trees and look. She is looking too, but not at us. She is looking up and to her right, and now she has passed us and moves away among the trees. Still we cannot speak though I have to ask Hulgur what she thinks best. We watch the manchild disappear among the trees.

Then I move close to Hulgur and say in as soft a voice as I can, "We follow her."

"Yes," she says.

"One run ahead, one walks behind," I say as I think of it.

She thinks on that but not long and says, "You run ahead, I walk behind."

I look at her looking at me and I am certain that we understand each other. It is a good feeling. We know together what to do. I am beginning to like her. She no longer looks like a strange fish.

I set out to walk a fast half a circle from the path to find the path again ahead of the manchild. Hulgur walks onto the path and starts out behind her. I want to run but am afraid to make too much noise. But I walk with my longest strides just short of running and I am making good speed among the ferns and little blueberry bushes. The trees are letting me through and I feel not hungry anymore but I feel quick with the hunt, maybe even the thirst.

The rustle was more than leaves, less than rocks. And far to her left. But she heard it and stopped to listen. It stopped too. There was nothing. Just the birds and the wind. She gripped the shoulder bag strap firmer and started out again.

The only animal she was outright afraid of was the badger. Dad had told her, and Mrs. Aaronson had confirmed it, that a spooked badger, or a mother defending her young, will bite until they hear the crack of bones. And they have very powerful jaws. That's why, if you've seen badgers around, you should wear rubber boots with small sticks in their legs so that if you're bitten the sticks will crack and the badger will let go. That was Mrs. Aaronson's advice and she took it to heart.

But she did not wear rubber boots. Sneakers had no bootlegs to put sticks in. She hoped she would meet a badger.

There was the rustle again. She stopped. It stopped too, but not for a breath. It wasn't a sound she was making herself. Something was there. To her left. A little closer?

Badgers don't attack people though. They only attack if you threaten them, or if you threaten their cubs. And aren't they only out at night? This probably wasn't a badger, and she wasn't about to threaten anybody's cubs.

She set out again, a little bit faster. Just in case.

She heard the rustle again. It was now a little ahead of her, up to her left. Something was moving there. She could see nothing though, there were too many trees in the way. She stopped and it stopped too, almost right away.

This was not a good idea. Of course it couldn't be a troll or anything but what it was kept an ear out for her. Like playing tricks. Then she remembered Mrs. Aaronson's face and how serious it had been when it told her to stay out of the woods. Not just at night. She felt her stomach fill with something cold and it was spreading.

She has very good ears. She has heard me. She stops and I stop but it is hard to stop when she stops for she knows the when, and I don't.

She has stopped three times and I think she is certain I am here. I do not know what is right. She is still now and must be listening. I can't see her for there are too many trees in the way but I do not hear her moving. I am as still as the trees and I wait for her next sound. And I wonder how far behind Hulgur is.

Then she moves. But not for where she is going, she is going back, and she is running. She knows I am here and she flees. She will soon meet Hulgur. I run for the path for I think Hulgur will send her my way.

She had felt this way only once before. It was on the lake, last March, perhaps April. Dad had told them not go out on the ice and she didn't really mean to but Elsa was chasing her and was catching up and Elsa wouldn't dare follow her onto the ice, would she. No, she didn't, she stayed on the shore and yelled, come back, you idiot, it's too thin. For her maybe, she was heavier, but not for me, she thought and ran farther out. Then she turned around in triumph. Elsa was still yelling when she heard the first crack. Then another. That's when her stomach filled with cold that sunk into her legs and rose into her arms and hands and to the roots of her hair so hard she could hardly breathe. Stand still, she told herself, I must stand still, moving will make it break. I must stand still. I must not move.

Elsa must have heard the cracking too for she yelled, lay down, lay down, you idiot, and spread out. Lay down. Yes, that was the right thing to do, lay down, and she made to do so but even her first movement made the ice crack again, and she knew she mustn't move at all, not even to lay down. I can't, she yelled back to Elsa who still screamed for her to lay down. I can't, she cried again, and felt tears in her eyes and Elsa was blurry as she ran for the house faster than she had ever seen her run.

But now there was no Elsa and no dad with a ladder to save her, running too with mommy close behind, it was only her and the rustle that stopped whenever she stopped and it was like the ice cracking around her and she could not move.

But I must move, she thought. I must get back. And the cold that filled her became speed as she turned around and started running.

At first it looked like a tree. Sprung up in the middle of the path where she had been just a few moments ago. But this tree had big eyes in a large head with big ears and looked surprised.

She stopped and stared. What couldn't be was but it still couldn't be. What couldn't be stared back. This was no tree. This was a troll.

She turned and ran for her life.

I reach the path as I hear her running stop. She has seen Hulgur. All is still. Then she is coming this way again. She must be afraid for she is moving very fast. I wish I could hide for if she sees me she will turn again and perhaps, if she is fleet, get away from Hulgur. Maybe she will run into the woods or climb a tree or burrow in a badger hole. It would be good if she didn't see me.

I take one step off the path and press my back hard against the pine. I wish it would swallow me and I try to think myself into the trunk to vanish completely. The tree wants to know who I am and what I am doing here and I find myself thinking like a tree for I tell it I am Kurr and we are catching a manchild for Odin and it says who is Odin and then I see the manchild. She is running with mouth and eyes wide open and fine hair flying around and behind her. Her eyes look straight ahead which is where I stand but she does not stop and I know she cannot see me for I think like a tree and now I see Hulgur too chasing and the manchild is running right into my arms.

The path, the splotches of sun here and there, the heavy feet behind her, the pain in her lungs, and the tears in her eyes became as one as she ran and as one they said over and over again, away, away, away. She didn't see where she was going, her feet did their own looking, but she knew that she was running for her life. All Mrs. Aaronson had said was true. They were down from the mountains, and they were here to catch a child. She was the child.

The thump, thump behind her grew louder. She found the strength to move her legs even faster despite their burning when she ran into something that wasn't there. She simply stopped against something soft and furry and she felt arms she could not see seize her and lift her up and then the ice cracked completely and swallowed her whole.

I look at Hulgur looking at me with eyes that carry questions. The manchild hangs limp over my shoulder.

"I forgot to bring a sack," I say.

Hulgur looks at me still. "The manchild didn't see you," she says. "You have learned to think like a tree."

I am not sure if she asks me or tells me.

"It wanted to know who I was and what I was doing," I say. "I answered it."

"How did you make it ask?"

"I leaned hard against it and wished myself into it," I say for that is what I remember.

She looks at me long. "You have become a true troll," she says. "I am glad I was here to see it." She touches my face with her hand.

I do not know what to answer. Her hand feels good on my face and I think her beautiful. "I am glad too," I say. "Glad that you are here."

She takes back her hand and it leaves a missing it behind. She looks into the woods for a breath or two but does not say anything. I wonder at her thought.

Then, huntress again, she looks at the manchild. "Is she dead?" she asks.

I listen and hear the faint tapping of her heart. "No," I say.

"We have no sack," she says.

"I forgot to bring one," I say again. "I will carry her."

"I can carry her part way," she says.

"Yes we can share," I say. "Now we must run."

She knows I speak true for manchilds can be loud even in sacks and we do not have a sack. We must hurry away from houses and roads where there are man ears and back to the mountain. If we can we will run through sleep. If I am strong enough and if Hulgur is strong enough.

I settle the manchild on my shoulder and we set out for home with our longest strides.

The whole lake was moving beneath her and her stomach and chest hurt. The last thing she had heard before the ice opened was still there, the thump, thump and the tree that was no tree only now there were two thump, thumps and then there was no longer a lake and they were trolls and they were running through the forest and they had caught her.

She opened her eyes and saw two long, furry legs moving in fast strides, thump, thump. Each thump made her stomach and chest hurt again as she bounced up and down on a hard shoulder.

"Put me down," she said. But she made no sound, just a croaking and she had trouble breathing.

"Put me down," she screamed. It hurt to scream, but at least she could hear herself.

"Put me down," louder still.

Then the thump, thump behind her said something that sounded like rumble that she did not understand and the thump, thumping stopped altogether

The troll that carried her turned around and she could see the feet of the one that had spoken. Her troll said something too and they spoke in turns, slowly and in very deep voices, soft rocks falling.

"What does she say?" says Hulgur.

"I don't know manword," I say.

"She was loud. Is she hurt?"

I lift the manchild down from my shoulder and put her on the grown. I make sure not to let her arm go, for she can run, this one. She almost falls then stands firmer with my help. She looks at me. I see fear first. She looks over at Hulgur too. Her eyes are wide and her mouth is open. But as she looks back at me she looks more curious than afraid. I do not think this manchild will die before the pot.

"I think not," I say.

"Shall I carry her," she asks.

"If you wish," I say.

Hulgur comes towards us and makes to pick up the manchild. She struggles in my grip and makes a face as if I am hurting her arm. I loosen my grip a little but do not let go until Hulgur places her hands round her sides and lifts her up like a wriggling stick. She puts her down on her shoulders to sit one leg on each side of her neck just like we carry our young and I can see the manchild knows this. I hope she can look out for branches. Then we start running again.

The thump, thump started up again but now she could see. She wasn't quite tall enough to see over the troll's big head but she could look around it and catch a good view that way. Often she had to duck behind it when the trees grew close and came for her and she held on to the coarse hair like you would the mane of a horse and the troll didn't seem to mind.

She knew, though she didn't know how--maybe because she had been gentler in lifting her up, the feel of her hands perhaps, that the troll carrying her now was a woman, and the other one a man, although woman and man wasn't quite right, female and male perhaps.

Their long legs rushed them through the forest and never slowed. They were in a hurry. What was happening could not be but she was alive and felt the air on her skin and the wonder of it chased the cold away, just a bit.

And in tiny flashes of memory she was riding just as fast with just as much thumping on her dad's shoulders, running through the grass with her, smaller than now, and the cold thing in her stomach almost left and she almost felt like laughing. But before the laugh could reach the air the trolls were back beneath and in front and again she heard again Mrs. Aaronson say if they are all the way down here, it can only mean that they are looking for a manchild. Why, she had asked, are they looking for a child. To boil, she had answered. To boil. That could not be possible. And she tried to tell that cold thing in her gut to get a grip and go away completely for they couldn't possibly boil her, but the cold thing would not go away and instead would answer that she couldn't possibly be riding on the shoulders of a large she-troll racing through the forest looking out for branches.

And then the cold would spread throughout again and she was back on the ice holding on to these barky locks for life.

My legs have lost feeling and are very tired. I am very hungry and not a little thirsty. Hulgur who carries the manchild must feel worse but she has not complained once. She is a fine shefolk. I wish we could just keep running but I know now we can not reach the mountain without rest. I hear little river ahead and think we should stay by him for the night. I tell my legs to stop running but at first they will not listen. I tell them again and they slow. Again and finally they stop. A good thing too for another step and I would have met little river again. Hulgur stops too. My lungs think they are still running. Hulgur's too, I think. It takes a while before I can find air to speak.

"We should rest," I say.

"Yes," she says.

"I wish we had a sack," I say.

"I will braid a rope," she says.

She lifts the manchild from her shoulders and hands her to me. She doesn't wriggle now. A branch or two has caught her face for I see fresh scratches and some moss in her hair. I take her and put her down. She sits down and I do not let go of her arm. I am not holding so hard and she does not make a painful face. She is tired too, I think.

She looks at me and over at Hulgur and then at little river. She speaks some manword what I do not understand. Then she looks at me and speaks the manword again. It sounds like a question but I cannot know what she wants to know. She speaks it again and then sees I don't understand and looks back at the river. I wonder if she is cold and if the flying pests are bothering her like they bother our young for she uses her free arm to beat on them in the air. I reach up with my free arm and break off the end of a birch branch and beat the air around her with it to fend off the flying pests. She looks at me and I think she smiles. I give her the branch so she can do her own fending. She takes it and does a fine job sending the pests on their way. She learns quickly. Much faster than our young who break the branch and try to eat it many times until we beat some sense into them and they learn to chase the pest. Maybe she already knows.

Hulgur is somewhere behind me and I hear her pull and gather. I hear little river gurgle and sing and I sit down by the manchild and think for the first time on how good it is that we have caught a manchild. And in time too for the old moon is still waning and first sliver of the new will not come for three more nights. I have become a true troll said Hulgur when I thought like a tree and I have become a true troll mother will say now that I have caught a manchild. And I feel good that mother can be happy that her son can think like a tree. I feel good but very hungry. I also need to drink but cannot let go of the manchild to reach the water. I wait for Hulgur.

Hulgur comes back full of grass and lingon berry plants and sits down to braiding. I watch her long fingers separate the stems and leaves and start from no rope at all to just a finger's width to a thumb's length to more and more a rope of grass and lingon stems and her fingers know exactly what to do. She is a clever shefolk. The manchild watches too and doesn't try to wriggle free of my grip as the rope grows out of Hulgur's hands.

"You braid well," I say.

"I have shefolk's fingers," she says.

"I have seen many shefolk's fingers less able," I say.

She doesn't answer that.

"The manchild is watching you," I say.

Hulgur looks up at her. The manchild makes big eyes at Hulgur's braiding and Hulgur sees that for she smiles at the manchild and I see the manchild smile back. Hulgur looks back at her fingers and keeps braiding.

I smell the water and I am very thirsty.

They came to a river and slowed then stopped. Her troll lifted her down and gave her to the he-troll. Her legs had gone numb for she couldn't stand and had the he-troll not held her she would have fallen. He helped her sit down in the moss and then sat down beside her. His big hand held all of her upper arm like a little stick. He didn't squeeze though. He looked at her with eyes as large almost as her head, at least as large as her hand spread out, and they were yellow with the low sun shining through the trees. The large black pupils did not look mad or angry or anything, more like curious and she couldn't imagine they would boil her. She wondered what time it was and what mom and dad would think when they came back from their hike and she wasn't home yet from Mrs. Aaronson's. They would have to drive over there to find her with dad muttering about the crazy woman didn't even have a phone and would find that she had never been there. And what would Mrs. Aaronson think? Would she tell? She didn't think so. They would not believe her. No one would believe her. Except me.

"Are you going to boil me?" she asked.

The big yellow eyes looked at her face then at her mouth, but they didn't understand.

"Are you going to boil me?" she asked again, slower, hoping he would understand.

But the big yellow eyes could not make out a thing. She could see that. She looked back at the rushing water and the spots of gold cast here and there by the sun and then the first mosquito bit her.

She had forgotten all about them. Around the farm you never went into the forest, especially not at night, and especially not close to water, without mosquito repellant. She looked up at the small brown cloud of gnats and mosquitoes now forming around her and knew she was in serious trouble.

She hadn't noticed anything in the rush through the forest, for who could have kept up with them, but now, sitting still. She killed the one that bit her with a smack then waved through the air to keep the others away.

The he-troll, who didn't seem to mind them one bit, reached up and broke off the end of a branch and fanned it around her face and knees. It cleared the air for a while. He handed her the branch so she could use it herself and she took it. It worked fine.

The she-troll came back with a bundle of lingon berry plants and grasses and she sat down and began to work with them. At first she wasn't sure what she was doing, then she realized that she was braiding. She had never seen anything like it. It was as if a rope simply grew from her fingers she was so good at it. For a moment she forgot everything except watching her. It was like a magic trick. Then the she-troll looked up at her and her big mouth grew corners and she could see teeth in her smile and the smile in her eyes. She smiled back. It was funny but the troll seemed embarrassed by the exchange for she quickly looked back at her braiding and did not look up again. Another mosquito bit her and she returned to her own task of fanning.

Hulgur's rope has grown to four paces and she says that should be long enough. I agree. She braids one end of it around the manchilds neck as a collar and now we have her on a leash. I can let go of her arm and I do.

The manchild does not look pleased but she does not wriggle. She is too bothered by the flying pests for she fends the branch around her without stopping much.

Now I can finally get to the water.

I have my fill and Hulgur does too and she says what about the manchild and I say we have nothing to fetch it in. Hulgur walks off and strips a sheet of bark off a young birch and again her hands show their cleverness and she has soon folded a scoop to hold water and she brings some to the manchild who drinks deep and fast. She too was thirsty. Hulgur gets her some more. She drinks that too.

"We rest now," I say.

"You rest," she says. "I will help the manchild with her branch or she will not sleep tonight. She does not have skin like us that makes them give up and fly away. If she stops she will be bitten raw."

I see that she speaks true and I wonder at her caring and then I fall asleep where I sit.

I wake up well past darkness but before morning and I see Hulgur leaning against a trunk by the manchild still fending the branch now and then. The pests are fewer but they still come to try the manchild's blood and Hulgur still keeps them away. The manchild is asleep but huddles and looks cold.

I rise and take the branch from her and tell her to sleep now, I will do the fending. She looks at me pleased and moves to where I left a warm bed in the moss and soon she is sleeping to.

The manchild's skin is pale and prickled like a plucked grouse from the cold and the mist from big river. But still she sleeps. Her hair is fine and like a flaxen river with moss and pine needles down over her eyes and very small nose. Her cheeks are flushed too with cold I think but she breathes deeply and evenly so she is not ill. More pests come and I fend them away. Pest rumor of a sleeping manchild by big river must have reached all the forest by now and by morning they will all be here to take a look I think.

I try but can feel no anger at this manchild. Nor thirst. But we chose the fetching stones and that means more. I hope she will please Odin true.

I hear Hulgur snoring softly. I look over at her, curled up like a young one. She is a fine looking shefolk, I think.

The she wolf froze and sniffed the air. Then she searched the ground with quick, black nostrils and found the trace. She nearly touched the earth with her nose and breathed deeply. Trolls. The scent was fresh and strong. Half a day old, perhaps younger.

There is no other smell like it. She had first known it as a pup when her mother called her over to the faint trace along the path. Three, maybe four days old. Smell this, she said. Smell this deeply, and remember. This is the enemy. This is the smell of troll. She had filled her lungs with air and felt the pain of the dark smell rush in. She sneezed and backed away, trying to shake the irritation away. This is the enemy, her mother had said again. They are more our enemy even than man. If you can, kill them, else avoid them. They are the foul the gods placed in our forest to give the sunrise and the sweet wind and the warm of the flock their opposites.

The she wolf sniffed the trace again. There were two different trolls, but only two.

Two young males came up behind her and stopped. Sniffing the air too. Alarmed.

They had been on the hunt for two days and one night and were all very hungry. Still, the scent of her ancient enemy did not fail to stir the blood in a different direction. The two younger wolves searched for and caught the scent too. Their nostrils widened with revulsion and their gray heads turned skyward to feed on cleaner air.

She looked at them both and asked. They agreed. They were three, the trolls were two. They would hunt troll tonight.

Their hunger replaced by one much deeper and darker, the three wolves set out down the scent.

I see yellow eyes. Two, perhaps three pairs. Perhaps more. I have frozen to stone where I sit and I have stopped fending the pests away. This makes the manchild slap herself awake and she stirs and opens her eyes. I see this but much more I see the yellow eyes and again I try to count the pairs but they move in and out among the trees and their low branches and I cannot be certain of the number. But I am certain of wolves. I smell them and my fear knows them.

"Hulgur," I say.

"Hulgur," I say louder.

She stirs and opens her eyes. She is very tired from too little sleep.

"Hulgur," I say again. "Wolves."

She sits up, straight and still. All awake. I look back into the woods and her head turns with mine. I can count only two pairs now. No, there is a third.

"How many do you count?" I ask.

She is quiet for a while. Then she says, "Three."

"I count three too," I say.

The smell was everywhere. Foul and rousing. She had to keep the younger wolves back from rushing blindly at them. She confirmed that there were only two, a she-troll asleep and a he-troll keeping pests off a sleeping manchild they must have been carrying. She saw that the trolls were young and large and strong.

She moved back again to scout for an approach and again cursed the river for cutting her options in half.

The troll by the manchild tasted the air and turned. He had smelled them. Now he was looking at them, counting eyes.

The rumbling that was his voice reached her and she could feel her lips pull back across her teeth and her hackles rise. He was rousing the she-troll and now she too looked their way. Counting eyes.

Then she saw what to do. She led her pack not because she was the strongest but because she was the clearest of thought. And here she could see clearly. It was the manchild stirring that told her. The trolls were bringing her to their mountain and she knew they wanted it alive and unharmed. They would attack the manchild first to confuse them.

She shared her seeing with her companions and then outlined their approach. One of the young male would circle upriver and the other down river. Then each would steal within a running leap of the manchild. Her growl would be the signal.

The trolls would expect them at their throats, not the manchild's, and would confuse long enough for them to kill it. The trolls, seeing their capture dead would madden and rage chasing caution and plan out of their big heads. Careful wolves can kill such trolls.

The two would bring the she-wolf down and open her throat while she would leap from her hiding at the he-troll to bring him down. The two would then find his throat.

It was a good plan. It would work. Although she did not relish killing the manchild, for she had no quarrel with it, she had no second thoughts. It would help kill trolls. To help kill trolls she would kill anything, except wolves.

The young males set out in opposite directions. She waited.

There were mosquitoes everywhere and she was freezing. She killed one, then two more then looked up and remembered but the memory was that of dream. Again she tried to remember the awake and again she remembered the dream. Then she realized that she was awake and that the memory was not dream. It was a troll. It was the he-troll and he held the birch branch that the she-troll had fanned last night to let her fall asleep. He was not fanning though, he was very still and looking into the woods. Looking for something. She looked too and then she saw them. Yellow eyes in gray faces. Wolves. The he-troll spoke and the she-troll answered. The yellow eyes moved back and forth among the trees and then they came together as if to confer and then spread out again.

The he-troll spoke again and the she-troll stood up. She came over to where he was. The he-troll stood up too. She could no longer see the wolves.

I think I know what they will do.

"Hulgur," I say. "Come here."

She rises and comes.

"Have you fought wolves?" I ask and rise too.

"Never," she says.

"Nor I," I say.

I can see gray behind yellow eyes upriver and I see sharp and strong teeth. That is one wolf. I turn around for the others but cannot find them.

"How many do you see?" I ask.

Hulgur looks around too. "One," she says. "No, two."

I look where she looks and there is the second wolf coming from down river. The third must be waiting in the woods still. Hiding.

I have only seen wolves once before and that from a distance. I could not tell size well. Nor can I tell if these are large or small as wolves go. And I wonder at my fear which is still everywhere and as real as hunger for I've heard how wolves can tear a troll throat so deeply the head comes off. But I don't see how they can jump that high to reach my throat but remember from stories how wolves attack in packs and mostly lone trolls. But I remember it said too that they will not attack unless they know they can kill so these wolves know for they are coming closer and I can still not see the third wolf.

Then they are upon us. My hands think about my throat and begin their journey to protect it when I see they are not leaping for us, they are leaping for the manchild and I think Hulgur sees the same thing and sooner than I for she has already sprung to the other side of the manchild and I stand where I stand unable to move.

I see things slowly now I am so afraid and my hands scream out to protect the manchild and they find wolfhead midair and then one wolfear and I hold it and tear to stop the head and the ear comes loose with blood and a fierce cry from the wolf that falls short of the manchild but immediately gets on its feet and lunges for the manchild again. I find a wolfleg before he finds the manchild and I pull him back screaming as I swing him over my head and with all strength I can find against the trunk of the pine and his head catches first and he goes very limp in my hand and I swing him again and his head catches first again and I hear it crack and I know he is dead and I toss him as far out into the river as I can.

Then my arm catches fire and falls downward with the weight of a larger wolf with jaws sinking and yearning to meet through my arm. I hear my own voice bellow for this is pain I have never known and the wolf thrashes his head back and forth and I feel him reaching bone and still he tears and now there is blood covering his face and his ears and I realize the blood is mine and it is gushing now and suddenly I feel as if a boulder has tumbled onto my chest for I lose my breath and my legs feel soft and I sink down to the ground and now I know how wolves kill trolls.

The last I see is Hulgur tossing something gray and limp into the river and then seizing a leg of the wolf at my arm.

She saw the wolves coming and knew by their gaze that they meant to kill the trolls. Then they leaped, not for the trolls but for her. It happened too fast for fear, she simply crouched and covered her head to protect herself. Then she heard the loud yelp of a hurt dog and opened her eyes to see the he-troll swinging a wolf from its hind leg. He smashed it against a trunk. She heard the crack and knew the wolf was dead. The he-troll tossed it out into the river and it fell with a soft splash but didn't sink. She heard another cracking and looked over at the she-troll. She had caught the other and was bending its head back. The cracking must have been the neck. The wolf hung limp in her hands and then she tossed it out into the river as well.

Then everything was a sudden roar from the he-troll and she whipped around to see a much larger wolf hanging by his forearm thrashing and tearing. The scream did not stop and something hot and sticky filled the air and fell on her face and her dress and her arm she saw it was blood. Dark and warm from out of the jaws of the wolf and onto its face and out into the air as the he-troll tried to shake the wolf away.

The he-troll fell down just as the she-troll leaped for the wolf and caught its leg and pulled but the wolf would not let go, but still she pulled and pulled it loose and it turned toward her jaw filled with troll flesh and snapped a loud crack in the air just missing her fingers. She pulled again and she heard another crack which must have been the wolf-leg break and the wolf creamed and then the she-troll swung the wolf through the air and down onto a flat rock once, twice, many times until the rock was red and the wolf was dead. The she-troll tossed the wolf into the water and leaped over to where the he-troll lay.

He was very still and looked dead but she didn't think he was for the only wound she could see was on his arm. The she-troll looked at her and looked at the arm and the blood that flooded out through the large tear and she simply stood there and she could tell she did not know what to do. She looked at her as if pleading for help, and she wondered at bit the troll who could braid a rope from grass but who had never heard of a tourniquet.

She looked around for something to bind the upper arm with. She though of her dress and was going to tear out strips of cloth when she noticed her leash. It was hanging from her neck, braided grass. She lifted the end of it and tried to undo her noose but it was braided fast and she could not get her head through it. The she-troll saw what she was trying to do and quickly unbraided the noose and handed her the rope of grass.

She bound it around his upper arm then made a good knot with a loop and looked around for a strong stick to do the twisting.

She found one and began to bear down. It was easy at first but his arm was very thick and in the end no matter how hard she twisted the blood kept coming.

Then the she-troll understood and sat down beside her and took over the turning. She was ten times as strong and in three more turns the blood stopped.

The she-troll held the stick firm and looked over at her. She wished they could talk said her eyes. But mostly they said thank you.

She growled her signal and the two wolves leaped as one. But one instant later she knew her plan had gone wrong. While the he-troll confused and stood still the she-troll did not and was quicker than she had allowed for. The she-troll leaped with a speed of a mother protecting her young and then the he-troll sprung to life too. The he-troll caught Rodi's ear and tore it off. Rodi yelped and fell but leaped again for the manchild. The he-troll, quick now caught Rodi's leg and swung him into the tree. She heard him die. Then she hear Larr's neck break and she the she-wolf toss him into the river. Then she lost all caution and charged the he-troll.

Her jaws found his arm and she tasted troll blood. She thrashed her head and soon it billowed out between her teeth and she knew she had found a wide vessel. Then her hind leg was caught by stone. It broke the bone and tore her away from the he-troll. She turned to crush those fingers but found only air. Then she swung with pain and speed for the rock and then there was nothing.

I have married the earth I think but it seems to me too warm. So I open my eyes and look directly into sun. I close them again. I hear a river and then I remember it is little river I hear and then I open my eyes again. I see Hulgur by the water and the manchild by my side. She is fending with the birch branch and it is to keep flies away from my arm. And then I see my arm and then the pain comes back. Hulgur returns with a piece of the manchilds clothing dripping with water and she presses it on my wound and it hurts very much but I remember the wolves and I am surprised I am not married to the earth.

"She saved your life," says Hulgur.

I do not understand and Hulgur must notice that.

"The manchild," she says.

"She killed the wolf?" I say.

"No, I killed the wolf. She saved your blood."

"How?"

"With her rope and a stick," she says.

I look over at the manchild. She is still fending the flies away from my wound and I don't know what to think.

Hulgur lifts the wet clothing from my wound and it is all red and black from dried blood. I think I can see the white of bone. My bone.

The manchild stops fending and tears more of her clothing into a long strip. She takes the wet clothing from Hulgur and goes to wash it again in the river. I notice Hulgur has removed the leash. She comes back and puts the cold cloth on my wound and it screams again then ties it in place with her strip of blue.

"We must let her go," says Hulgur. "Odin cannot want this manchild."

I look at Hulgur and then at the manchild and I think that perhaps she is right, but Hulgur and I chose the fetching stones and that must mean more. It is hard to see right clearly and my arm hurts me and demands its own thinking.

"We must bring her to the mountain," I say.

"Kurr," she says. "She save your life. You must let her go."

I cannot think on that when my arm hurts and my father argues with my heart. I hear myself say what my father says, "We must please Odin."

"Odin will not be pleased with this manchild," she says.

I cannot answer.

"We must please Odin true," she says.

"We must bring her to the mountain," I say, and I see Hulgur turn away for she does not want to look at me.

She was amazed at how quickly he recuperated. By the evening the wound had already begun to close and it seemed uninfected. She could never have imagined that her girl scout first aid would come in handy for trolls too. But it had and she felt proud of a job well done.

The he-troll and she-troll were both quiet and a few times when the he-troll spoke the she-troll did not answer but turned or walked away. They reminded her of mom and dad having some sort of fight.

Then the he-troll stood up and steadied himself against a tree with his good arm. The she-troll said something but the he-troll shook his head and grumbled. He then let go of the tree and set out for the river.

The she-troll picked her up and put her on her shoulders and followed.

We chose the fetching stones and that means more. Father's father's father gave us the word to go in front of a hundred witnesses. That must mean more. They have stolen our grasses and lakes and forests and driven us into the mountain with their blast pokes. Surely that means more.

I am weak and cannot run. But I cannot stop either and cannot eat. I am thirsty but cannot drink. I can only think, but I cannot think on this well while walking but I must keep walking so I think only in small bits and I try to fit them together but I cannot fit them.

I find a ford here across big river which should please me but it does not although I barely wet my soles. Surely it should please Hulgur who likes to swim less than I, but it does not. She carries the manchild on her shoulders and does not speak to me. But neither does she disobey me. She is a good shefolk.

Then we arrive and enter the mountain and I see father and Fura and other trolls come to meet us and I see Fura take the manchild from Hulgur and walk away with her for the feeding caves and I see Hulgur look at me and I can tell she is very sad and then she turns around to find her own.

Father notices my wound and asks about it. I ask for water and food.

It is brought and I tell them about the wolves and everybody is very quiet listening and my father says, you met and bested wolves and still brought the manchild here alive, that is a sign of Odin's great pleasure, and I can not tell him that without the manchild I would now be married to the earth and I have no idea what Odin is thinking about this.

I find my bed and I sleep and the sleep is all black and very deep.

She felt as if she had come to know the she-troll. To know her and trust her. Together they had saved the he-troll's life. She knew that she would never hurt her or allow anyone to boil her. Boil her, what a thought. But she was still uneasy. She had expected them to turn around and drop her off near the farm, but they had not. They had crossed the river, then a second, larger river then without stopping all night and all day to come to a large cave where there were many many trolls.

At first it was like a fairy tale and all she could think was, wait until Elsa hears about this. Then her unease told her she may never see Elsa again and she held on to her she-troll who had stopped beside her he-troll.

A very old troll with tired eyes and a younger troll, not quite as big her he-troll came to meet them. The younger troll came up to her she-troll and said something. Her she-troll lifted her off her shoulders and handed her across. The troll caught her and slung her across a strong shoulder and turned around.

She looked up with difficulty but could see her she-troll standing very still looking after her and by the way her hands hung by her side and her eyes glistened she said as plainly as if she had spoken that there was nothing she could do and then she realized that no matter what, even after what she had done to save the he-troll's life, they would boil her.

She tried to kick herself free but the heavy arm on her back grew twice as heavy and she could hardly breathe. The troll was walking fast and into the dark of the cave and down musky corridors lit only here and there by a torch and to a hole in the rock with bars where he put her down, kicked her in, and locked her up.

Someone touches my shoulder and shakes it and I wake up to see father standing by my bed with a torch in his hand. It is first sliver, he says.

I have slept a night and a day and now is it first sliver and I think of Hulgur and of the manchild screaming turning pink then red in the cauldron and I feel I cannot rise but want to fall back into the blackness I just came from where there is no Hulgur and there is no manchild.

We are to be honored, says father, before the boiling and I need to wake up all the way and come with him to the hall.

I do and we enter together to the eyes of every clan. I see Hulgur is already here and is waiting.

I walk up to her and stand beside her as father sits down in his high chair and speaks. She does not look at me and I know she wishes now the wolf had killed me. I know she does, for now I wish so too.

"My son Kurr, and Hulgur, daughter of Fina and Rot son of Bark, have followed the word and have brought back a manchild."

I hear a rustle of approval among the clans.

"They were attacked by wolves which they killed and they still brought us back the manchild alive."

I hear whispers and see nods.

"Odin is pleased. Odin guided their way back with the child. He is with us again and now we shall re-pay him."

I look quickly to my right to see Hulgur. Her face is very still and her eyes strong on the floor. No glimpses for me and I know what Hulgur is thinking and I wish I could marry the earth.

"In honor of their feat father's father has given the word that they, not he, shall light the cauldron fire."

I see many astonished trolls, and I too am astonished, for this has never been done.

"Kurr. Hulgur. Bring the fire from the torch and light the cauldron kindling."

He points at the torch that father's father's father holds out for us to take and we walk over to grasp it as one.

Holding it high between us we approach the cauldron, filled now with water and seasonings I can smell as we get near. We bend our knees and bring the torch to the kindling which catches fire and starts the heating.

We rise again and I look at the water and the seasonings and the manchild thonged and screaming in it and then I know what Odin wants.

"Hulgur," I whisper as we stand to make sure the wood is catching. "You are right. I will save her."

She looks at me then. "How?"

"I will take her from Fura and toss her to you. You will run back with her. I will keep them from following."

She is silent for three breaths. "You will die," she says.

"I know."

Then she touches my cheek they way she did when I had thought like a tree and I wish there was another way for she is such a fine shefolk, but there is not.

The fire has found a home now and I hear sizzle from the bottom of the cauldron as water flees for safety higher up.

We walk back and as one hand the torch to father's father's father. Hulgur walks back to her clan and I stay beside father. Mother is with her clan and she looks very proud to have a son that killed wolves and brought back a manchild.

Young shefolk bring honey morsels and nettle wine and the hall fills with voices while the water heats to a boil.

She could not tell day or night. She could only tell that she was very cold, very thirsty and very hungry. She may have fallen asleep she wasn't sure, but if so it was not for long. It was now clear to her that her she-troll had abandoned her and that she would be boiled. There was no hope of escape or rescue. She had been stolen by trolls and trolls do not exist. Only Mrs. Aaronson knows about them and she knew no one would believe her. Maybe mom would believe it if she really listened to Mrs. Aaronson, but even so. What cold mom do?

At the thought of mom, and of Elsa, and of her bed in the light room at the top of the farm house her eyes grew warm with tears that she could not see but only feel. They ran down her cheeks and found the floor with a little splash that she could hear for there were no other noises and then she was very afraid to die.

She thought of how much it would hurt to die of boiling and she wished and wished and wished ever harder that she would wake up but the dream refused to end for this was no dream. She knew that, but she could not face the pain she knew was coming, so she kept wishing.

There was a flicker of light on the walls outside and it grew brighter and she heard the thud, thud of heavy feet and she knew that they were coming for her.

She could not tell if it was the same troll but it seemed like it. He took a large key from a spike in the rock and opened the iron bars. She tried to rush out between his legs but only with half a heart and anyway he expected that for he quickly closed his legs and caught her smartly and heaved her up upon his shoulder.

They moved through dark corridors which grew lighter and then they stepped into a large hall with many torches and what must be a hundred trolls. Her carrier lifted her off his shoulder while another troll spun a long leather thong around her to tie her arms to her sides and he spun it so many times that she could hardly move at all and it hurt and then she saw the large kettle and saw the water boiling and she knew it was for her. She knew then that she would soon be dead, and the dream refused to end.

Then her he-troll, she could tell by the bandage made from her dress, came towards them and said something to her carrier who said something back but then another troll, much older on a chair at the end of the hall, the one that had met them, spoke too and her carrier lifted her up and handed her over to her he-troll.

She knew the end was very close now and she tried to brace herself for the terrible heat that the boiling water would be. She had scolded herself on hot water once and could remember the blisters and the pain and the piece of skin that fell off and how much it hurt. And to be in that water all of you until you are dead, she could not even think the thought.

The troll that she had saved would bring her there. It was very, very unfair and that made her cry again for she had liked the troll and the she-troll and now they would kill her for helping him.

Her he-troll got a firm grip on her and then started walking. But not for the kettle, and not really walking. He ran, he stormed for the door and then she saw, stepping out from a group of trolls her she-troll and she stretched out her arms as if to catch her and then that was exactly what she did as her he-troll tossed her right into those arms and her she-troll turned and ran faster than she thought running possible through the large door and out into the night and she heard the heavy doors slam shut behind them and the turning of a heavy key.

The night was cool and the air rushing against her face made it cooler and the tears that fell from her she-troll's eyes and found her arms made it cooler still.

At first my father does not listen.

I tell him again, "I want to bring her to the cauldron."

"You have been honored enough," he says.

"I nearly died," I say. "I want to thank Odin for saving my life."

"You lighted the fire," he says.

"Yes, with Hulgur. I must thank him alone," I say, and I don't know where I find words to argue with my father. "I want to carry her to the cauldron. I will hand her to Fura and he will place her in the boiling."

He sits very still for many moments and then says, "Then do so."

We wait for the water still and then it boils. Fura comes into the hall with the manchild and holds her for Romo to tie with the leather thong. Fura picks her up again. It is his place as the last catcher of manchild before me to make the offering. By right I should offer the next.

I walk over to Fura and say, "Hand her to me."

"It is my offering," he says.

"I know. I will only carry her. You will do the offering," I say.

"That is not done," he says.

"Father has ordered it," I say and Fura is growing dark.

"He carries her to the boiling," my father says to Fura. "He will hand her to you. You will offer her to Odin."

Fura nearly answers in anger but instead looks at my father then at me and hands her over to me. His eyes say they will not forgive me for stealing his carrying.

I take the manchild and make as if to carry her to the cauldron but instead I look for Hulgur who knows and will run and who now steps out from her clan and towards the hall door. I rush then as fast as I can and toss the manchild to her and she catches her and shows me with her eyes that she wishes too there was another way but there isn't and she turns and runs out the door and I seize each door, slam them shut and turn the lock. I pull the key from it's place and toss it as far as I can into the hall.

The hall is completely quiet. I can hear the water boil. Fura is the first to move as I would have expected. He will kill me if he can.

He is upon me and only a few paces behind him is Rook and Berda and others and I know they will kill me to get by me and out after Hulgur who can run fast but they can run faster without a manchild to carry to bring the manchild back but I am strong again with right and I am fearless now with love and I will fight to the death now that I know that I please Odin true.

I will fight until I marry the earth to give Hulgur room to run and no one will go through this door while I am still alive. And I see many trolls at the end of the hall looking for the key for these doors are the only way out and Fura has a knife in his hand and cuts my arm badly but I feel it not and seize his hand with mine and I am stronger and Fura roars with the pain as I break his fingers and take his knife and I cut at him and he leaps back and Rook and Berda too move back for they see I have gone crazy and will kill anyone who tries to get by me and someone found the key I can hear him and someone, I think I hear fathers voice, calls out for spears and I hear them run for the armor caves to fetch them.

I wonder how far must Hulgur run before they get out to not be caught when they do and I know that is how long I must stay alive and I think each breath of mine is five steps of hers and I count my breaths one, two, three and I know I must count a hundred breaths to give her five hundred paces which must be enough for she knows where to run and they don't and I reach ten and then twenty and they have not come back with the spears yet but they who found the key are coming closer for I can see it now in someone's hand, thirty and forty, and Fura is still screaming with his broken fingers and I know he wishes more than anyone to kill me and I see Hulgur in her graceful run with her beautiful tail rushing through the night with the manchild and I think on how she can never come back here for they would kill her and how she knows that and how she knew right before I knew right and how she knew what would please Odin true before I knew and who with every breath of mine is gaining five more steps. And I think how she would have wanted me although most consider me odd and I wonder at what she will do for the rest of her life for she is young at six hundred seasons with thousands of seasons to go. Will Odin look after her? I think so, for she is pleasing Odin true.

The spears arrive and I have reached sixty in peace for no one will get close to me not since Fura gave me his knife, sixty one, sixty two, and I see Fura demand a spear to throw with his good hand and others too have spears and they come for me and the first is thrown hard at me but to the left, the second to the left as well and I find it land by my fee and quickly I pick it up while the third finds my shoulder, sixty six, sixty seven and I drop Fura's knife as my arm goes limp and I take the spear in my good arm and aim it at Fura for it is he who has hit my shoulder and who wants to kill me which he can but not before I count one hundred and I see they all move away for they know I am good at finding my target and no one wants to be one and I gain more breaths seventy one, seventy two, while Fura finds another spear and hurls it true at me and although I jump I cannot get out of the way for he is also good at finding his target and the pain startles me and I drop my spear and I cannot find Fura's knife and my leg and my shoulder have spears sticking out of them but I feel no pain for I know I am doing right and another spear hits me and I cannot stand up, eighty one, eighty two, then Fura is upon me and with his good hand drives a knife into my eye and I can see out of it no more and others seize my legs and I feel other knives enter and carve, ninety two, ninety three, and Fura brings out his knife to take my other eye, ninety five, ninety six, and now I cannot see at all and I do not know whether I sit or lie down and then I can see again ninety eight, ninety nine, and I get lighter and lighter, one hundred, and the hall is below me and gets smaller and many trolls are fighting to find me with their knives and no one has unlocked the door yet, one hundred four, one hundred five, and I know Hulgur is safe now with the manchild and finally Odin answers me after all these years.

He is smiling as he tells me I have pleased him true. And I think that maybe now he will let us out of the mountain.

The End

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