The Sea of Trolls - Farmer Nancy - Страница 58

• Предыдущая
• 58/77
• Следующая

“What—a— wonderful—adventure!” she gasped. The cord had almost strangled her, too, but she was too elated to care. “I fought a giant eagle! I hung over the edge like Odin on Yggdrassil! I’m—so— happy!”

Groooooink! Golden Bristles said resentfully. Jack, whose senses were reeling, looked back to see a hole melted right in the middle of the bridge. Only two little bars of ice remained at each side. His staff had melted into the snowdrift—he could see the blackened end poking up.

“I didn’t know you could do such magic,” Thorgil cried. She danced around in a kind of mad glee.

“Neither did I,” Jack said. Now that they were safe, he could feel the deep wound the eagle had left in his shoulder. A shadow fell over him. A foul, sulfurous smell belched from somewhere.

“Maybe you’d better do more magic,” Thorgil said, feeling for her knife. But it was gone. It had plummeted into the abyss with the eagle.

Jack looked up to see a creature from his very deepest and worst nightmares. It was eight feet tall with a shock of bristly orange hair sprouting from its head and shoulders. Eyes the color of rotten walnuts brooded under a browridge that resembled a fungus growing out of tree bark. It had long, greenish fingernails crusted with dirt, and its teeth—for the creature’s mouth was hanging open—were like jumbled blocks of wood. Two fangs the size of a billy goat’s horns lifted the sides of the creature’s upper lip in a permanent snarl. It belched, and the sulfurous smell drifted over Jack again.

He couldn’t help it. He fainted. He had just met his first troll.

He was lying on an incredibly soft bed. The room he was in was so beautiful, Jack thought he must have died and gone to Heaven. The walls were painted like the ones in the Bard’s Roman house, except that these pictures were new. Jack saw trees covered in flowers, a house with a man and woman sitting outside, and children playing with a dog.

The floor was made of different kinds of wood, inlaid to make a pattern of autumn leaves. A metal bowl filled with glowing coals stood on an ornately worked metal stand. Jack felt its warmth on his face, which was the only part of him sticking out of the covers.

The coverlet, too, was a marvel of color and design, and it was padded with feathers. Jack sank down under it, as snug as an acorn in its cup.

Bits of memory began to come back. Carefully, he felt his shoulder. It was swathed in a bandage and didn’t hurt as much as he’d expected. He’s waking up,someone said. No, not said.Something else. The words just appeared in Jack’s mind.

He’s kind of cute for a two-legged deer.

You give him breakfast and I’ll tell Mother.Jack heard heavy feet and a door open and shut.

I’m not in Heaven after all,he thought miserably. I’ve been taken prisoner by Jotuns. Maybe if I keep my eyes closed they’ll think I’ve gone back to sleep.

“It won’t work,” said a harsh voice. “We can tell when humans are lying.”

Jack opened his eyes and just as quickly closed them.

“I know. Trolls take getting used to. Personally, I think humans look like boiled frogs, but I’ve learned to overlook it.”

Jack opened his eyes again. The troll—female he guessed from the bulges under her blouse—was even larger than the male he’d encountered at the ice bridge. She, too, had orange hair sprouting from her head. Her shoulders were covered, so he couldn’t tell whether she had hair there, too. Her ears stuck out like jug handles, and she wore heavy gold earrings that dragged the lobes down until they dangled below her chin. Her upper lip rounded over two dainty fangs—dainty in comparison with the male troll.

For all that, she was much better groomed. Her nails were clean and polished. Her teeth, though alarmingly large, were orderly. Her expression was cheerful. If she’d been standing farther away, Jack thought she wouldn’t be completely horrible.

The Jotun barked, a sound that made Jack burrow deeper into the bed. “Not completely horrible! I like that! Well, you’re not completely horrible either, though your manners need work.”

“I’m sorry,” Jack said.

“It’s all right. My name’s Fonn. My sister Forath and I have been watching over you.”

“Thank you,” Jack said, not sure exactly what “watching over you” meant. Perhaps they were only making sure he didn’t run away before they ate him.

Fonn barked again. It seemed to be a kind of laugh. “We don’t eat two-legged deer anymore—unless we bag one in a fair fight. Especially, we don’t eat humans who arrive with the queen’s missing chess piece.”

“I’m glad I still had it. I was afraid I’d dropped it when I fell off the bridge.”

“Frith gave it to you, eh?”

Jack nodded.

“She’ll want something in return. Frith never does anything unless it’s for a selfish reason. Mother’s been upset that she couldn’t host a chess game for the Norns. She had a new piece made, but of course it didn’t have magic and they rejected it.”

A dozen questions popped into Jack’s head at once. What kind of magic? Where were the Norns? How did Fonn know Frith? And who was “Mother”?

“Slow down,” said Fonn with her barking laugh. “You aren’t ready for so much activity. I can tell you it was touch and go for a while with that wound on your shoulder. I thought you’d never use your arm again, but Mother sang the poison out.”

“Who’s Mother?” Jack asked.

“The Mountain Queen. Forath and I are her daughters. As is Frith, unfortunately.”

“You don’t look like Frith.”

“Thank you. She had a different father. Poor man. He languished in this room for years, ever wanting to return to Middle Earth and his family. That’s them on the wall.”

The paintings of the man and woman and the children playing with the dog took on new meaning. “Why didn’t the queen let him go home?”

“His family was dead. They died in an avalanche and Mother rescued him, but he never believed her. I’ve always thought his unhappiness may have affected Frith. But, of course”—Fonn sighed, a sound like a small gale—“her real problem is that she belongs nowhere. Humans can marry other humans no matter where they come from. But troll/human or elf/human marriages almost never work, and their children are always torn between two worlds.”

Forath burst into the room, and Jack, in spite of himself, dived under the covers. Twonine-foot Jotuns with bristly orange hair and fangs were a lot to take.

“Come out, you coward,” said Thorgil. Jack reappeared. He was never so glad to see another human. She was dressed in new clothes and sported a new knife at her belt and another strapped to her leg.

“You’ve done all right,” he observed.

“Why wouldn’t I? This is the most exciting place I’ve ever been. I lovetrolls!”

Jack sat up. Dizziness made him lie down again. “Bold Heart! I forgot about him. Is he all right?”

“He’s in the main hall with Golden Bristles. Did you know the queen healed his wing? She sang it back into shape. He’s flying all over the place. I’m a special guest because I’m Olaf’s daughter. Queen Glamdis was in love with him and wanted him in her harem, but she’d given her word he could go.”

“That was lucky for Heide, Dotti, and Lotti,” said Jack. He could imagine Olaf trapped in this room.

“They’d have survived,” Thorgil said carelessly. “The louts—those are male trolls—are champion fighters. They’ve been teaching me dirty tricks.”

“Wonderful,” Jack said, sinking back into the soft mattress. The pain in his shoulder seemed sharper, and his whole body was drained of energy. He felt for the rune. Something was missing. “The thrall collar—” he said.

“Oh, that old thing. As Olaf’s daughter, I inherited you,” Thorgil said. “He said he was going to free you when we returned, so I did it here. Don’t think that gets you out of the quest. You owe me eternal gratitude, and I expect you to die cheerfully if it becomes necessary.”

• Предыдущая
• 58/77
• Следующая