While she found all of this information interesting, it didn’t tell her what she needed to know. At last she found a chapter in the back of the book, “The Disgruntled Nisse.” She drew in her breath and began to read.
While most nisse are good-natured and can even be quite forgiving when overlooked by their families, every nisse has his limit. If a farmer and his family fail to appreciate their barn nisse, trouble can quickly begin. This is especially true on Christmas Eve, when every nisse expects to be treated to rice pudding.
“Oh no!” Bettina cried, remembering the Christmas Eve telephone call and the disorder that followed. In all of the holiday confusion, the Larsens had forgotten to set out the rice pudding for their nisse!
She read on:
Usually, a disgruntled nisse will retaliate with seemingly random acts of mischief. Watch for orneriness in the barn — items missing, flat tires on tractors, animals in other animals’ pens. Most of the time, an unhappy nisse means no harm but only wishes to make others aware of his displeasure for a short period of time before things return to normal.
Bettina thought of how she’d found the barn in utter chaos and of the goats’ feed.
Of course, there is the occasional nisse who strays from the ways of his kind and becomes not only disgruntled but dangerous. The nisse folk do not like to talk about this infrequent occurrence, and, therefore, the author of this book was unable to gather sufficient information except to say: Do not cross an angry nisse. It will not end well for you or your family.
Bettina shuddered. Had Pia fallen into the hands of a curious nisse? Or had she been taken by a more dangerous being?
She searched the book for any mention at all of a nisse taking off with a human baby but found nothing. She couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or a bad one.
Bettina read into the night, forgetting that she hadn’t eaten any supper. She continued reading into the wee hours of the morning until she was unable to focus on the blurry pages of the book. And finally, with her head on the kitchen table, the exhausted girl slept — which was good. She’d need to be rested for the day ahead. She’d need more than just sleep, though, if she was to find the nisse and bring baby Pia home.
Bettina woke with the first sliver of sunlight in the kitchen window, her neck stiff and her stomach growling. Anxious to set out in search of Pia, she quickly made a bowl of oats and milk and stirred in a few raisins. When she was finished eating, her stomach was satisfied and she felt calmer and more confident than she had the night before. Pia was not far, she was certain.
She put together a small lunch pack of rye bread, liver pâté, and sliced cucumbers. She wrapped it tightly in foil and added a few cookies, not knowing how long she might be gone. Along with a bottle of water and a small flashlight, she placed the food into a backpack and headed out into the snow. Bettina was surprised to see the winterfrost had remained overnight. She had never known winterfrost could last more than a day.
First she headed for the barn; the animals would need to be cared for before she could set out to search for Pia. She tried to sneak inside quietly, just in case the nisse was about. If she could surprise him, she might get a glimpse of him. Or better yet, she might catch him! She hadn’t thought of what she would do if she actually caught a nisse. Perhaps she should have brought a box or some other container from the house. But the thought of a nisse trapped in a container of any sort sent a shudder right through her. Being trapped would surely make any nisse angry, wouldn’t it?
Despite her stealth, Bettina found no one to surprise but the animals. It was, in fact, Bettina who was surprised when she stood before the feed bunks, brimming with fresh rations. Once again the barn chores were done. The animals were all fed.
She turned her head toward the hayloft.
“Thank you,” she offered, hoping a sign of gratitude would please her helper. “Thank you.”
Bettina pushed open the big barn door to look outside. She already knew that she’d find no tire tracks or footprints in the barnyard. Still, she scratched her head. Why would a disgruntled nisse go to such lengths to do her work for her?
There was no point standing around wondering. It was time for Bettina to find some answers.
Anyone who might have happened by the Larsens’ garden on the December afternoon when Pia disappeared would have seen something so unlikely, so unbelievable, they’d have questioned their very sanity. It was a sight to behold, this little nisse carrying a baby more than twice his size. But, of course, no one did happen by the Larsens’ garden on that December afternoon. And by the time Bettina Larsen woke from her nap to discover the baby missing, Klakke was deep into the forest.
Right about the time that Bettina was dashing about the garden in a panic, Klakke was making a discovery of his own. Despite the fact that he was many times stronger than a human, the child he carried was becoming heavy. The real burden Klakke bore, however, was not the physical weight of the child in his arms. It was the fact that he had no plan. The realization that he had probably made a mistake wore heavy on him like an oversize winter coat.
Baby Pia didn’t seem at all alarmed. In fact, she seemed to rather enjoy the bouncy jaunt through the frosty forest. She giggled and reached for the soft white seedlings that sped by, knocking the winterfrost free from their branches and sending showers of frost to the ground below. Pia didn’t seem to know or care where she was headed.
Klakke knew. There was only one place he could go, short of going back to the Larsens’. And there was no turning back, of that Klakke was certain. He’d already taken risks no nisse should take. He’d risked being seen, and for all he knew, someone could have been watching from that big kitchen window. Returning to the Larsens’ home would just add to his ever-growing list of mistakes.
So onward he ran, toward the crooked oak, toward Gammel and the others. And toward certain judgment. What would Gammel say? And what would he do? What could he do, now that Klakke was in possession of a human child?
Klakke’s tiny brown boots finally stopped at the base of the largest oak tree in the forest. There he gently laid the baby in a bed of frost-covered leaves.
“I won’t be long, little one,” he said, his voice high and a bit crackly with nerves. “Don’t you be frightened, you hear me now?”
Baby Pia, seeing Klakke’s small face, laughed. It was a hearty laugh from deep within her belly. She recognized the little man who just that morning she had caught a glimpse of, perched atop a bale of hay high up in the mow, while Bettina fed the animals. Once again Pia was filled with joy at the sight of Klakke.
Klakke, like most nisse, had a round face with rosy cheeks that looked like two small apples. His dark eyes sparkled, and his pointed red hat flopped just a bit to one side. At sixty-two years old, his beard was fully grown, and it was as brown as the curls that peeked out from beneath his hat. He would be at least a hundred before his beard and hair would turn gray.
Pia fussed a little when her new friend disappeared from sight. Her distress only added to Klakke’s already-frazzled nerves.
“No, no. Don’t fret. Klakke will be back,” he said over his shoulder, and dove beneath a gnarled root at the base of the tree. Under the root, which stood only as high as the small nisse’s hat, was a small oak door. He lifted the iron knocker gingerly and let it fall with a soft tap.
There was a long silence. At last, a plump nisse woman in a long moss-colored skirt and an embroidered white blouse opened the door. Her tall green nisse cap didn’t droop like Klakke’s. Long, tight braids tied with green ribbons hung on either side of her kind face. Everything about her was neat and tidy. When she saw her visitor, her eyes widened with surprise.
“Klakke, my dear!” she exclaimed, and threw her small arms around him. “You knocked so quietly, I didn’t suspect it was you!” Klakke wasn’t known to be the quietest nisse in the forest.
“Hello, Pernilla.” Klakke shifted nervously, glancing over his shoulder to be sure baby Pia was safe.
&nbs
p; The nisse woman took Klakke by the hand and pulled him inside. It had been a while since he’d been back to the house under the big oak. Klakke looked around and smiled. Nothing had changed. The wood-plank floor was neatly swept; the fire in the fireplace burned brightly, and Gammel sat before it, reading so intently he hadn’t heard the knock on the door.
“Is everything all right, dear?” Pernilla inquired of Klakke, her voice low. “It’s not quite dark, and you shouldn’t be out, you know.”
“Well, I, um,” Klakke stammered, and avoided looking Pernilla in the eye. “I guess I ought to speak with Gammel.”
Pernilla nodded, deep lines in her brow indicating her concern.
“Gammel, dear,” Pernilla called. “Look who has come home.”
Immediately she blushed, her rosy cheeks becoming even redder than before. Gammel would surely correct her, ever so gently. The old oak was not Klakke’s home. It never had been. Klakke’s home was with the Larsens. But Pernilla was so fond of her younger cousin that she hoped he’d consider the house beneath the oak tree his second home.
Gammel, a stout old nisse with a long beard that flowed like a river of gray over his broad chest and abundant stomach, looked up from his book without getting up. He peered over the top of a small pair of round wire-rimmed eyeglasses.
“Well, I see,” he declared, a wry smile curling up from both sides of his mouth. “Home he may be, but home he must go when he’s finished.”
At that, Gammel stood and strode slowly over to the young nisse. He, too, greeted Klakke with a hearty hug.
“Come,” said the old gentleman. “Come sit by the fire and tell me what is new with the Family Larsen.”
“Well, sir . . .” Klakke began, but he got no further. Two tiny nisse children burst in from an adjoining room.
“Klakke’s here! Klakke’s here!” they cried with glee, throwing themselves around his knees, dancing and cheering.
“Good day, Tika. Good day, Erik,” Klakke greeted the little ones.
Behind them another gray-bearded nisse man, older than Klakke but not nearly the age of Gammel, entered the room.
“Good day, Hagen.”
Hagen was a burly nisse, hardworking and strong. He greeted Klakke with a hearty hello and a handshake so firm, Klakke tried not to wince.
“It’s good to see you, my boy.” Hagen grinned and slapped the young nisse on the back.
“And you, too,” Klakke agreed, but instead of taking a step farther into the room, he turned nervously to look at the door behind him. Gammel, being the eldest and wisest, picked up quickly on Klakke’s behavior.
“Klakke?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Have you someone with you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, then, who is it? Don’t be rude and leave our guest standing outside in the cold.”
Gammel took two quick strides toward the door, but Klakke stood in his way.
Gammel looked up in surprise.
“Klakke.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Look at me.” Gammel’s voice was stern.
Klakke obeyed and stared directly into the small black eyes of his elder. Gammel’s eyes narrowed in thoughtfulness and then widened in disbelief.
“A human child? Klakke!”
“Yes, sir.” Klakke broke eye contact with Gammel. He stared down at the neat wooden floor.
Pernilla and Hagen gasped in unison. Even the little ones became suddenly quiet. All eyes turned to Gammel, who didn’t hesitate a moment.
“You must bring the baby inside,” he declared. “Immediately.”
Klakke wasted no time following Gammel’s instructions. But when he emerged from beneath the big gnarled root, he was perplexed. There was no baby Pia. He was sure he’d left her right outside the house, at the base of the tree. Indeed, he could see the impression of her blankets in the frost-covered snow. He darted quickly around the oak, first in one direction, then in the other.
Klakke took off his cap and ran his plump fingers through his thick curls. Once more he studied the spot where he had left Pia. And once more all he saw was a small impression in the snow where the woven blanket containing the baby had been not long before.
Reluctantly, Klakke returned to the tiny house under the tree. This time he didn’t knock. Instead, he gingerly opened the small wooden door and stepped inside. Hagen, Pernilla, and the children were waiting, excited to meet the human child, but Gammel stood by the fire, one boot on the hearth, stroking his beard.
Pernilla was the first to ask.
“Klakke, where is the babe?”
Gammel kept his eyes fixed on the fireplace.
“She . . . she wasn’t there,” Klakke stammered. “She’s missing. I’m sorry, Gammel. I don’t know what happened.”
Nisse, by nature, are slow to anger, and Gammel had lived enough years to know that quick tempers lead to no good. He didn’t scold Klakke. He didn’t pace or appear to ponder the situation. But when Gammel finally looked up, his small black eyes had lost some of their sparkle.
“I feared something like this would happen.”
He seemed to be speaking to Hagen, who nodded solemnly. Even Pernilla appeared to understand whatever it was Gammel wasn’t saying aloud. Klakke looked from one nisse to the next, hoping to make sense of their unspoken words.
“Do you believe this is his doing?” Pernilla asked, eyes wide.
“I do,” Gammel confirmed.
“ ‘His’ whose?” Klakke asked, his tiny toes tapping nervously on the smooth oak floor.
The older nisse ignored Klakke, talking as though he weren’t there at all.
“But it’s been years,” Hagen protested. “What could he be thinking? Coming back now, after all this time?”
“Who’s back? Who?” Klakke’s body bounced involuntarily as he searched each nisse’s face for clues.
“Perhaps he’s returned to make amends.” Gammel’s voice sounded hopeful.
“Or to stir up more trouble,” Hagen added, and suddenly Klakke knew who they were talking about. His hopefulness fizzled like fireworks on Midsummer’s Eve.
Gammel seemed to already have a plan when he finally addressed Klakke again. “We need the sister. You know what to do, Klakke,” he said firmly.
Klakke nodded, determined not to mess up once more. He fled the house and ran deep into the forest, following the large tracks in the snow that could only have been made by Bettina’s boots as she passed the old oak in search of her sister.
The forest was dim, but the snow cover brightened the ground beneath Bettina’s boots. She had entered the woodland at the edge of the garden in exactly the spot where the winterfrost had been shaken loose from the seedlings. Before setting out, she had taken a long look across the field toward the Pedersens’ house. A wispy string of smoke trailed up from the chimney, and she knew Rasmus and Lisa were home. Should she enlist their help? After a moment’s hesitation, she turned again toward the forest and set out alone. If it was a nisse she was dealing with, she reasoned, the fewer humans involved, the better.
Bettina wasn’t at all sure what she was looking for. The book had said that some nisse live in tiny underground houses beneath tree roots, so she kept her eyes low. She walked for almost an hour, through the most familiar parts of the forest. She walked through the sparse acres where Far and Mr. Pedersen had cut wood. She had been with them often, helping to carry logs to the truck parked by the roadside. But she didn’t spend much time searching there, as few hiding places remained in a wood that had been cleared.
Entering the dense, untouched forest once more, she recognized some landmarks. There was the fantastically enormous spruce that she always believed would make the perfect Christmas tree for a family of giants. And then there was the crooked oak that every fall shed millions of fat acorns that Bettina would gather to entice the squirrels into the backyard in the winter. Far wasn’t a big fan of squirrels in the garden any time of year, but Pia loved watching them from the big
window. Only last week, Bettina had lifted her so she could babble and squeal at the squirrels as they tumbled over one another in the garden. Her sounds were so filled with joy and delight that even Far stopped what he was doing to come to the window and watch.
The vivid memory of Pia made Bettina move faster and deeper into the forest. The trees were close together now, pine and beech and oak and fir. With no path to follow, Bettina was well aware that she might be going in circles. But she had yet to come upon her own footprints. If she started to feel lost, she would retrace her tracks in the snow in order to return home.
It was another gray and cloudy day, an exact copy of the one before. The winterfrost clung to everything. The sun stayed away. After walking for what seemed to be half the day, Bettina started to become uneasy. She tipped her head to the treetops, where every now and then a sliver of cold December sky appeared. Was it noon? Later?
Even though Bettina was dressed for the weather, there was a dampness in the air that seeped through layers of fleece and crept with chilling fingers down her neck. How much longer could she continue searching before the cold drove her back home?
As she rounded a Douglas fir, a fat, snow-covered stump appeared, and she decided to sit and rest, using her forearm to clear the snow off the stump. She opened her backpack. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was, and the rye bread and liver pâté tasted better than it ever did packed in a school lunch. She wiped her mouth and stared at the surrounding woodland.
Had she been here before? The stump told her that Far had been here and cut the tree that had once stood tall in this spot. Bettina squinted to see as far as her eyes would allow. The area didn’t seem familiar at all. Everything was still. Nothing moved in the distance, and Bettina stood to zip her backpack, trying to decide whether to go deeper into the forest or to turn back toward home. Perhaps Pia had returned just as mysteriously as she had disappeared. But Bettina knew that was just wishful thinking. Her chances of finding Pia were better out here in the forest than they were at home in the living room.
Winterfrost Page 4
