Free Troll Mill by Katherine Langrish Page B

into the damp, unhealthy siftings that covered the floor. The walls seemed to squeeze inward like a tighteningfist. He caught his breath and hurried toward the door, tripping over the hearth in his haste, and kicking up wads of damp ashes.
    The yard seemed bright after the darkness indoors. Loki shook his ears till they rattled, and trotted toward the lane, but Peer called him back. “No, boy, we’re not leaving yet.”
    Arnë may have a boat
, he thought.
But I’ve got a mill!
    He shut his eyes and imagined the yard cleared and swept, with gleaming cobbles. The mill with a new roof of trim, shining thatch. Shutters and doors mended; sheds and outhouses rebuilt. Everything tidy and cool and clean, indoors and out. He saw himself welcoming the neighbors as they brought their sacks of barley and rye. For a second, he even allowed himself to imagine Hilde, standing in the mill doorway, smiling at him and throwing corn to the chickens from the pocket of her apron. There’d be no more miserable hand-grinding for Hilde if she were the miller’s wife….
    He’d be that miller: the miller of Troll Fell, the best they’d ever had!
    Now to make a start. There’d been someold tools leaning in a corner of the barn, a collection of toothless hay rakes and rusty scythes. He found a battered old shovel and began scraping moss from the cobbles.
    Loki watched, his tail swinging slower and slower. At last he seemed to realize that they would not be going to the village after all. He settled down with his nose on his paws, keeping a wary eye trained on the mill.
    “That’s right, Loki,” panted Peer. “On guard!” The edge of the shovel rattled noisily over the cobbles, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to hear anyone coming up behind him.
    It’s like that game, where one child turns his back, and the others creep up closer and closer….
He whirled, checking the dark openings of the barn and sheds, half expecting to see figures freezing into stillness. Of course, no one was there. It felt almost too quiet.
    Can I really change this place?
    Thin clouds leaked across the sky like spilled milk, and the sunlight faded. Peer fell into a stubborn rhythm. He kept his head down, still haunted by the feeling that if he looked up, his uncles would be there: Baldur lounging in the doorframe, picking his teeth;Grim caressing the head of his massive dog; both of them keeping their sharp little black eyes fixed on him.
    They’ve gone
, he repeated to himself.
They’ve gone!
    At last he took a rest, leaning on the shovel. “What do you think?” he said to Loki, dropping a hand to pat him. “Is that enough for today?”
    Loki rose, his short fur bristling under Peer’s fingers. He barked once, staring at the mill door. Peer looked up sharply.
    But the mill’s empty! I’m sure it was….
    Lifting the shovel like an axe, he tiptoed over the cobbles and sidled up to the mill door. Had something slipped past him while he wasn’t looking? He listened. There was no sound from within. After a second or two he gave the door a push and jumped back. Still nothing moved.
    Peer felt foolish. Loki had probably seen a rat. He ducked under the lintel and stepped boldly into the mill. It was much darker inside than it had been earlier, and for a moment or two he was half blind. The musty, moldy smell rose into his nostrils. Hecoughed, blundered forward a couple of paces, and stood screwing up his eyes, scanning the room. This end, by the door, didn’t bother him. The feeble daylight showed him it was empty, except for a couple of worm-eaten stools and a pile of sacks. But the far end was a different matter. Anything might be crouching up in the shadow-draped loft or hiding in one of the big square grain bins with their slanting lids.
    He took another tense step forward, level now with the hearth.
Aaahhh!
There was a sound like a shifting sigh. Peer swung around. He stared at the dirty bunk beds against the wall. Nothing moved, but the whole shadowy