The Land of the Silver Apples

down in front of someone who’s hungry is committing suicide.”

“You didn’t—” said Pega.

“Of course I did,” said the shield maiden. “Then I couldn’t find firewood to cook it. I tried to tear off branches, but the trees here must be made of iron. All I could do was hack off a few twigs. When I returned to the fawn, it was gone. I felt something watching me.”

“Crumbs!” said Pega, hugging herself.

“It wasn’t like anything I’ve ever encountered, not like a human, animal, or troll. It was cold. Like a tree. I could feel its thoughts. It wasn’t angry. It merely wanted to get rid of me in that slow, patient way trees have when they ooze sap over an annoying beetle.”

Jack shivered. He remembered the casual way the Hedge surrounding Din Guardi had put out a branch to scratch his face.

“I had the strongest desire to lie down. I knew—I knew,” said Thorgil, her voice suddenly husky, “that if I stayed, I wouldn’t have the strength to resist. So I started running. To be more exact, I went mad.”

“Berserk?” Jack guessed.

“Going berserk would have been fun. All that hacking, chopping, and pillaging… Ah, well.” Thorgil sighed. “What I felt was panic.”

Jack nodded. He knew she hadn’t been able to go berserk since drinking from Mimir’s Well.

“I simply ran… and ran… and ran. When I stopped for breath, the trees closed in around me, so I went on until my legs collapsed under me. I stabbed the moss and screamed to keep it away, but it had all the time in the world. At last I could fight no longer and lay down. I could feel roots creeping around me and moss stealing over my arms and legs. Its thoughts were like decaying leaf mold— oh!” Thorgil shuddered violently. Jack put his arms around her.

He braced himself for a blow—Thorgil wasn’t exactly keen on sympathy—but the shield maiden was too overcome to object. After a while she shook him off and gave him a fierce little smile.

By now the valley was in shadow. Stars were beginning to appear in the deep blue sky, and a cold dampness seeped from the meadow. “Which is it to be?” said Jack. “The trees or the rocks?”

Pega hunched over, looking more than ever like a large frog in a small pond. “After that story I don’t want to get close to the trees either,” she said, “but I want my own rock.”

“I don’t know why you’re in such a snit,” said Jack sharply. Thorgil’s story had upset him more than he cared to admit. “You want to be alone? Fine. Get your own personal rock. We’ll stay here.”

He felt guilty about letting her go, but he was tired and didn’t want to spend half the night arguing. Thorgil had found a protected place between two boulders. They curled up side by side and talked about Jotunheim. The shield maiden went to sleep, but Jack stared up at the sky between the boulders and tried to make plans. He heard Pega sobbing quietly.

Oh, bedbugs, he thought, using one of Pega’s favorite swearwords. I’d better go over there. Then he heard another sound. At first it was a murmur, like a distant stream, but it grew. Jack’s heart stood still. The murmur separated into voices that were almost, but not quite, clear. Pega had fallen dead silent.

Jack stood up carefully. A full moon cast an eerie light over the hillside. He saw Pega sitting not far away, and all around her the rocks flickered as though something was running over them. Beautiful lady, the voices sang. Fairest of the fair. Never weep for we are with you. We adore you. We love you.

“Jack?” croaked Pega, so terrified she could hardly speak.

“Thorgil,” Jack whispered. He knew he would need her help. The shield maiden shot straight up with her knife drawn, ready for action.

“It’s that thing I saw this morning, only there’s more of him,” she said.

“We’re coming, Pega,” said Jack, staff poised at the ready.

We mean no harm, the voices whispered. The lady weeps and so we came. Fairest of the fair. We love you.

“They’re touching me,” squeaked Pega.

“You’re frightening her,” said Jack.

You hurt her, the voices said accusingly. You drove her away and she wept.

“I did not. She wanted to be alone.”

Not her. Not her. Her loneliness called to us. Cruel mud man.

“Jack, get them to stop touching me,” wailed Pega.

“You heard her,” said Jack. “Whatever it is you’re doing, stop it at once.”

“Shall I attack?” whispered Thorgil.

“Not yet. Look, you really are frightening her,” called Jack. “Why don’t you come out in the open so we can see you?”

Lovely one, is that your wish? The voices sounded like wind in trees.

“Yes! Keep your hands to yourselves,” said Pega. Then, like water that suddenly becomes still so you can see into its depths, the creatures appeared. There were hundreds of them! They formed a dense ring around Pega but, fortunately, not too close to her. Jack couldn’t think what to do. How on earth was he going to make all those creatures go away?

They were like small men, dressed in clothes that blended with the rocks. Their skin was covered in blotches, and they had large, sleepy-looking eyes. Their noses were two slits above a wide, lipless mouth, and their hair— what there was of it—was plastered over damp-looking foreheads. They had long fingers that were flattened unpleasantly at the ends.

“Kobolds,” whispered Thorgil beside him.

“You’ve seen them before?” he said in a low voice.

“They infested Olaf’s ship on his trip up the Rhine. He had to get a wise woman to drive them out.”

“Are they dangerous?”

“No,” said Thorgil. “They only play pranks and steal things.”

“Steal things!” cried a voice behind them. Both Jack and Thorgil jumped. One of the creatures was standing far too close for comfort. “Steal things! I like that! After all the nice things we’ve done for you—bringing you food and keeping the Forest Lord busy at the other end of the valley.”

“Olaf also said they were touchy,” added Thorgil.

“I’m sorry,” said Jack, bowing politely. “We didn’t mean to insult you. We’re extremely grateful for your help.”

“Hmf!” said the creature.

“Could you ask your companions to let our friend go? She’s really upset.”

“We aren’t doing anything to her. You’re the ones who made her feel unwelcome.”

“Yes, well, we’re sorry about that, too. Couldn’t you let us go to her?” asked Jack.

“Nobody’s stopping you,” sneered the creature.

Jack and Thorgil approached the ring. It opened to let them through and closed behind them. Jack was aware of hundreds of froggy eyes watching him. He felt their hands flutter against him, like being buffeted by clouds of moths.

“I can see why Pega was upset,” said Thorgil, jabbing at an invisible stomach with her elbow.

“Oh, Jack! Jack!” Pega cried, flinging her arms around him when at last he reached her. “Why are they all here? Why are they watching me? What are they?”

“Thorgil says they’re kobolds.”

“Not quite correct.” A larger and more lavishly speckled creature suddenly popped up beside Pega, and she screamed. “‘Kobolds’ is what we’re called in Germany. Here we’re known as hobgoblins. Some also refer to us as brownies, fenoderees, or, my personal favorite, bugaboos.”

“You’re a bugaboo?” Pega said faintly.

“Dear lady, I am the Bugaboo, the ruler of this place.”

“And I’m his Nemesis,” said the creature who had been talking to Jack and Thorgil earlier.