Free West of the Moon by Katherine Langrish

sell you to the trolls.”
    Peer’s heart turned to ice.
    â€œSo now you’ll come with me, won’t you?” Granny Greenteeth coaxed. “You’ll help old Granny. Baldur Grimsson wants that gold to build a bigger mill. I’d drown him sooner! But he never puts a foot wrong. He knows I’m after him.”
    â€œLet me go,” Peer croaked. “Please…”
    â€œAh, but where?” she cried. “Come to me, Peer, come to me.” She stretched out her arms to him and her voice became a low musical murmur like the brook in summer. “I’ll take you – I’ll love you – I’ll look after you. Who else will? I’ll give you an everlasting bed. Come down under the water and rest. Ressst your weary bones.”
    White mist rose from the millpond, flowing in soft wreaths over the plank bridge and swirling gently around Peer’s knees. His teeth chattered and his head swam. How easy it would be to let go, to fall into the soft mist. No one would grieve. All for the best, maybe.
    â€œAll for the bessst,” Granny Greenteeth agreed.
    Far away a dog barked, sharp and anxious. Peer blinked awake. “No!” He looked at the old woman. “Loki loves me,” he said thickly. “No, I won’t!”
    In a whisper of wind, the mist blew away into the willows.
    Granny Greenteeth nodded. “You’re stronger than you look, Peer Ulfsson. Not this time, then,” she said softly. “But I’ll wait. One day you’ll call to me. And I’ll be listening. I’ll come!”
    She jerked, twice, threw her stick away and fell sideways. Her cloak twisted and clung to her body; she lay on the ground kicking – no, flapping: an immense eel in gleaming loops as thick as Peer’s leg. It raised a head with narrow glinting eyes and snapped its trap-like jaws before slithering over the bank into the pond. The black water closed over it in silent ripples.
    Peer leaped off the plank. He raced down the path, drummed across the wooden bridge, hurled himself into the barn, dragged the door shut behind him and leaped into the straw. He grabbed Loki and hugged him.
    â€œIf you hadn’t barked, Loki – oh!” Loki licked his face. At last Peer stopped shaking. “I got away. But what shall I do? They’re going to sell me under the hill. Under the hill!”
    Suddenly he was hot with anger. The Grimssons had sold his home, taken his money and treated him worse than their dog – and now they were going to sell him? Trade their own nephew for troll gold?
    â€œWe’ll see about that!” he exclaimed to the dark barn. The oxen munched indifferently. The hens, roosting in the beams, clucked in disapproval and irritably ruffled their feathers. Peer no longer thought of them as his hens. They had transferred their loyalty to the black cockerel, who plainly despised him. He hugged Loki again.
    â€œFeatherbrains! Traitors!” he called.
    The hens squawked in shocked surprise. For a moment, Peer wondered if they had understood. But it was only the Nis, in high spirits, tipping them off their comfortable perches. He could hear it giggling. Loki’s hackles bristled under his hand. Hen after hen fell clumsily from the rafters and ran about in the straw. One ran right over him, digging its hard claws into his stomach.
    â€œStop it,” he called.
    The Nis pranced about in the beams, kicking down dust and feathers. “News!” it carolled.
    â€œI don’t care,” Peer groaned. “All right, what news?”
    â€œNews from Troll Fell!” said the Nis slyly.
    â€œAll right, I’m interested – go on !”
    The Nis hopped. “The Gaffer’s son will marry the King of the Dovrefell’s daughter,” it said.
    â€œYou told me that already.”
    â€œBut now there’s more, Peer Ulfsson. Much more! I hear your uncles saying that now…” it took a deep breath,