Читать книгу Troll Fell - Katherine Langrish - Страница 12

CHAPTER 5

Trouble at the Mill

Hilde’s shoes sank into the wet sand and she rubbed her arms, willing the sun to climb higher. It was chilly here. The shadow of Troll Fell leaned over the beach and out across the water. The pebbles glistened from last night’s rain and from the retreating tide. Cold grey waves splashed on the shore.

“Half a dozen herring and a couple of crabs? Done!” agreed Bjørn cheerfully. He shouted to his brother who sat in the boat sorting the catch. “Find us a couple of good big crabs, Arnë!” He turned back to Hilde. “Any news?”

“I should say so!” said Hilde gloomily. “My father’s leaving – going off for the whole summer on a longship they’ve built at Hammerhaven.”

Bjørn whistled. “Hey, Arnë,” he yelled. “Come and listen to this!”

Arnë clambered out of the boat with a live crab in each hand, and Hilde discovered that explaining it all to two interested young men cheered her up – especially when Arnë fixed his dreamy blue eyes on her face.

“Lucky Ralf,” he said enviously. “I wish I’d heard about it. What’s the ship like?”

“Lovely,” Hilde assured him. “She’s got a dragon head, all carved and painted.”

“Yes,” Bjørn laughed, “but how long is she? How many oars?”

Hilde didn’t know. “Ask the boy at the mill,” she suggested waspishly. “He ought to know – his father built her.”

“What boy?”

“The millers’ nephew. I just met him this morning. They’ve taken him in because his father died.”

Bjørn’s eyebrows rose. “The millers have taken in an orphan? What’s he like?”

“He’s all right,” said Hilde without much enthusiasm. “He seems a bit nervous.”

“I’d be nervous in his shoes,” said Bjørn darkly. He elbowed his brother in the ribs. “Arnë! Dreamer! Hand over those crabs!”

With her basket full of herring and the two live crabs wrapped firmly in a cloth, Hilde rode whistling back up the steep path out of the village. The world brightened as the sun nudged up over the edge of the mountain. She thought about Pa. What a lovely morning to go to sea! How proud and happy he must feel!

Her high spirits lasted until she came in sight of the mill, crouching dismally under the trees. Even the spring sunshine could not gild its battered timbers and slimy black thatch. The brook rushed away from it, tumbling over itself in a white cascade as it tried to escape. Nobody happy had ever lived there.

Hilde gathered up her reins in case the millers’ huge dog ran out to frighten the pony. She felt sorry for the boy, Peer, but she didn’t want to stop. She trotted forwards, hoping to get past quickly. As she reached the bridge, Peer dashed out of the mill yard, waving. She drew rein.