Winterfrost

by Michelle Houts

  Sure enough, just as the Askø shoreline came into view, the Pedersens’ goose started her slow and steady descent toward land.

  It was high noon when the Pedersens’ goose set down lightly on the icy island of Askø, but the sun was nowhere to be seen. There was no winterfrost here. No magical winter wonderland. Just steel gray and cold. By the time Bettina slid from the goose’s slick white back, freezing rain had begun to fall and the wind drove every drop angrily toward her face. They had flown over the ferry dock, over the dock house, and over the lonely summerhouses that occupied the shore. They had flown into the heart of the small island, where Bettina could not see one sign of humanity whatsoever. A perfect place for an unhappy nisse to live. But where, exactly?

  “Well?” Bettina turned to her feathery tour guide. “What now?”

  The goose honked once and took three running steps. Should she run after the goose? Perhaps she was showing Bettina which way to go next. But before Bettina had time to decide, the Pedersens’ goose flapped her wings several times and took off toward Lolland.

  “Wait!” Bettina yelled into the wind. “Don’t leave!”

  But the big white goose never glanced back.

  “Thanks for the ride,” Bettina muttered.

  She was getting used to her new state of tininess, but even so, she found the enormity of everything around her quite overwhelming. She’d been left in a field of dried brown winter grasses that swayed around her and towered overhead like flagpoles. It was impossible to see over their willowy tops, so she started walking in the direction of the small forest she’d seen before the Pedersens’ goose had landed. A nisse trying to hide would likely make a home in the forest, wouldn’t he?

  At her current size, even small rocks created an enormous challenge. And even though the island wasn’t very big, Bettina knew that her little legs would only carry her so far before the gray sky overhead turned to black and darkness set in. Would she even make it to the woods by then?

  Above, Bettina heard a sharp cry. Ah-ahh! Ah-ahh! A seagull soared over, then dipped low. Bettina ducked, protecting her head with both arms. She’d seen how a gull had snatched Klakke. Was she next?

  But the gull sailed back into the gray clouds overhead, and his cries faded as he disappeared over the sea. Bettina lowered her hands, her heart pounding. She continued toward the woods, still aware of the occasional forlorn call of a distant gull. Soon there were no more cries, and an eerie silence filled her ears. Cold, icy rain fell. The air hung around Bettina’s neck and shoulders like a wet towel, and she shivered. Askø in winter was not the lush, sunny haven she and her family had enjoyed on summer holiday.

  With only the squish of her boots in the wet earth below, Bettina pressed on. At last, she came to a place where trees and bushes began to replace the tall grass. As she walked, the trees grew taller and closer together until she found herself deep in a wooded area. Overhead, the breaks between the treetops seemed few and far between. At least she was out of the rain, if not the cold.

  Now what? Bettina wondered. There were no paths, no way to tell in which direction an unhappy nisse might have made his home. She looked for anything that might be slightly out of place. A thin layer of ice covered the leafy forest floor. Brown dried leaves clung precariously to half-bare winter bushes. Nothing stirred. Not even a leaf moved in the cold, still air.

  And then Bettina heard something. Not a seagull. Not a bird of any sort. A whimper? Her heart raced once more. Pia?

  Bettina stood perfectly still and listened, her eyes scanning the dull, lifeless forest for some sign of movement. Again, a sound. A tiny call.

  “Bettina?”

  Bettina sighed. It wasn’t Pia.

  She searched the underbrush to no avail.

  “Bettina. Up here.”

  She lifted her eyes from the forest floor to the treetops. A small figure, red hat tilted to one side, hung awkwardly by the back of his coat on the lowest branch of a birch tree. His brown-booted feet dangled, swinging impatiently.

  “Klakke!”

  With an embarrassed grin, he waved one small hand. “Hi, Bettina.”

  Bettina grinned back. Despite his role in Pia’s disappearance, she had developed a certain affection for Klakke, and that fondness now warmed her chilled bones from the inside out. She wanted to throw her small arms around the little fellow and squeeze him with delight, but she couldn’t. He was well outside of her reach, even on the lowest branch.

  Klakke’s cheeks grew pink, perhaps from the cold or more likely the awkward situation in which he found himself.

  “I seem to be stuck.” Klakke sighed. “I think that crazy bird meant to drop me at Ulf’s house, but instead I got caught in this branch.”

  Klakke was indeed in a predicament. And Bettina wasn’t at all sure how to get him out of it. She reached as high as her small arms would allow. She missed him by what seemed to her to be several feet, but in reality was probably only a few inches.

  “Don’t worry, Klakke,” she said. “I’ll get you down.”

  Bettina searched the forest floor for something that might be useful, but everything seemed either too small to be of any use or too large for her to pick up on her own.

  “There!” Klakke pointed to a very long stick.

  Under normal circumstances, it would have been a small thing for Bettina to pick up the stick, but at present, her circumstances were far from normal. The stick was enormous and as big around as a log!

  “Just try it!” Klakke’s legs swung higher with excitement. “You may be surprised.”

  Bettina shrugged and bent to grab the stick. To her amazement, it was incredibly light for something so large.

  She dragged it close to the tree.

  “How . . . ?”

  “Nisse strength,” Klakke explained.

  “But I’m not a nisse.”

  “No, I guess not, but somehow you managed to become our size, and it looks like you’ve got the strength to go with it.”

  Your size will always work to your advantage.

  Bettina smiled. Gammel was right again.

  “I, um, don’t want to seem impatient,” Klakke began, “but could you . . . ?”

  “Oh! I’m sorry, Klakke!”

  Bettina rested one end of the long stick against the branch where Klakke hung. The other end she planted firmly in the wet soil.

  “That looks sturdy enough. Can you climb down?”

  Klakke grabbed the stick. He pushed and pulled and turned and twisted, but he still couldn’t loosen the back of his jacket collar from the tree.

  “You’ll have to come up,” Klakke said apologetically, his face redder than before.

  Bettina stared up the slanted stick. It seemed a long way from the ground to her new friend. She hoisted herself onto the makeshift ramp, and, much to her surprise, she was able to scramble to the top just as quickly as she had climbed the ladder to the haymow in the barn at home many times before. By the time she reached Klakke, Bettina was beaming with confidence.

  “Don’t you worry,” she told him. “I’ll have you unhooked in no time!”

  It only took one try for Bettina to unsnag Klakke’s brown coat from the tree.

  “Whee!” Klakke hollered as he slid down the stick to the ground below. “I’m free!” (Klakke wasn’t used to spending too much time in any one spot.)

  Bettina laughed and descended with a bit more caution.

  “Thank you, Bettina Larsen!” Klakke stared at her intently, and a huge grin spread across his round face.

  Bettina was excited to meet Klakke face-to-face at last. This was the nisse who lived in the barn, watching her do her chores, sometimes helping. And sometimes, perhaps, causing a little mischief ? She remembered the time just days before when Pia had giggled while peering high into the barn’s rafters.

  “It’s very nice to meet you,” Bettina said. She extended her hand, which Klakke shook enthusiastically.

  “You were very brave just now, climbing up to save me,�
�� he told her. “You remind me of someone.”

  “Do I?” Bettina was curious. “Human or nisse?”

  “Nisse, of course,” Klakke answered. He knew so few humans. “She’s my twin sister, Klara.”

  “You have a twin?” Bettina started. “Ah, yes, of course you do! I should like to meet her someday.”

  Klakke looked wistful for a moment. “I should like to see her again someday,” he said. “It’s been far too long.”

  The young nisse said no more about his sister. He just continued to smile at Bettina, perhaps a bit tongue-tied in her presence. It was, after all, his first nisse-human interaction, except, of course, for the brief moments he had spent with the adorable baby Pia.

  Pia. The very reason both Bettina and Klakke had come to Askø. And although neither could be certain, both held on to the same hope. The hope that Pia was close by. And the hope they’d see her again very soon.

  As if he could read her thoughts, Klakke said to Bettina, “We should go speak to Ulf.”

  Bettina was surprised.

  “You know where to find his home?”

  “It’s not far.” Klakke motioned to a narrow path barely visible at the base of the very same tree that had snagged him.

  Together, they set out. When their tiny boots fell into step with one another, Klakke began to speak.

  “Gammel sent you, I suppose,” he said.

  “Well, yes. He said Hagen was certain that Pia was with the nisse named Ulf. And that Ulf would need my forgiveness for something he’d done to my family years ago. But, Klakke, I don’t know what to do when I find him!”

  The young nisse shook his head. “Oh, what a fine mess I’ve created!”

  The pair walked over crisp, frozen leaves, barely making a sound in the winter afternoon.

  “I think I can help you, Bettina. There are some things you should know. For starters, Ulf once lived on Lolland, but he left years ago.”

  Bettina nodded. Gammel had told her as much.

  “Did you know Ulf ?” Bettina asked. “Were you friends?”

  Klakke smiled, but the smile didn’t last long.

  “Yes, I knew him. But, no, we weren’t exactly friends.”

  “Oh.”

  “We were — we are — cousins.”

  “Oh!” Bettina was surprised.

  “Ulf is older than me. He had a farm and a family to care for on Lolland. And he took his work quite seriously,” Klakke told her.

  “So, Ulf wasn’t a woodland nisse but a barn nisse.”

  “That’s correct. But then something happened. The worst that could happen to a barn nisse.”

  Bettina pondered Klakke’s words. What was the worst that could happen to someone charged with caring for a barn filled with animals? Her eyes grew wide.

  “Oh no! He did something to harm someone’s farm animals?”

  “Well, yes, in a manner of speaking. His negligence led to an animal’s death. A very special animal. It was the farmer’s favorite horse.”

  Bettina felt immediately sorry for the innocent horse and farmer. She adored horses. It was a passion passed down through generations of Larsens. Far was quite proud of Hans and Henrietta. And Farfar? Oh, Farfar had treasured every one of his horses. Most especially a beautiful white Arabian gelding named Kasper. Farfar had spoken of Kasper with such admiration and sadness, as Kasper had met an awful fate when someone left his stall unlatched one night . . .

  The heart inside Bettina’s chest stopped beating for just a moment.

  “Klakke, when? When was Ulf a barn nisse? And whose, Klakke? Whose nisse was he?”

  Klakke sighed.

  “Now you see why I must tell you this before you meet Ulf. Before I came to Lolland, he was your nisse. Well, not yours, exactly, as you were just a newborn when he left.”

  Bettina’s pace slowed. Ulf was the Larsens’ nisse.

  “Tell me more, Klakke. Tell me everything.”

  “Well, Ulf cared for your family for nearly a hundred years. He knew your far when he was just a boy. And your farfar, too. He took care of the animals, slept in the very mow I sleep in now, watched out for the family. He was very conscientious.”

  “How, then, did he forget to latch the horse’s stall?”

  “That question is the very source of this conflict, Bettina.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand, Klakke.”

  Klakke sighed. “Ulf maintains it was an accident. His father suspected otherwise.”

  “Ulf’s father?”

  “Ulf’s father, Gammel.”

  Oh! Things were starting to come together. Ulf was Gammel’s son, Pernilla’s brother.

  “And all this happened . . .” Bettina began.

  “. . . twelve years ago,” Klakke finished.

  “When I was born?”

  “When you were born.”

  Bettina had more questions, but Klakke had stopped walking.

  “There it is.” He pointed to the tree before them.

  “Where?” Bettina stared but saw nothing that looked like a nisse home. No dark doors beneath craggy roots. No small openings between the bark.

  “I don’t see —” she began.

  But then something caught her eye. A line. A very straight line among the curved lines of leaves and twigs. She narrowed her eyes and moved closer, and as she did, she gasped.

  There, at the base of the tree, was a small brown nisse-size house. Its earthy colors blended perfectly with the surrounding woodland. Its roof sported a thin layer of frost. Upon closer inspection, Bettina realized that the roof was shingled neatly with row after row of perfectly laid pinecone scales. Ulf was as resourceful as every other nisse she’d met.

  “This is it?” she asked Klakke.

  Klakke nodded.

  The tidy little bungalow seemed too neat and well kept to be the home of Ulf. Wasn’t he supposed to be disgruntled, unsociable? This place looked most hospitable. Maybe it was a trick. Like the witch’s candy cottage that lured Hansel and Gretel too close.

  “Should we . . . should we knock?” Bettina asked.

  “You do it,” Klakke urged. Of course, he wasn’t necessarily anxious to see Ulf. And Ulf couldn’t possibly be happy to see his younger cousin, who had taken over his duties with the Larsens.

  Bettina hesitated no longer. The time had come. Klakke held his breath as she lifted the iron knocker and let it drop. From inside came a muffled reply.

  “Come in.”

  Bettina opened the door, and the two stepped inside.

  The kitchen was surprisingly similar in design to Gammel’s. An empty fireplace, an elaborately detailed enamel stove, and a line of closed alcoves along one wall. But the place was darker and emptier. It lacked the warm, homey feeling that the nisse family had created in the house under the oak back on Lolland.

  Bettina scanned the room for Pia but saw no sign of a baby. Or anyone else for that matter.

  “Hello?” she called. “Is anyone here?”

  “Back here,” came the same low voice.

  Bettina and Klakke shared a look of apprehension before Klakke nudged her toward a long, narrow hall. Slowly they crept down the hallway until it opened into a large gray room, where a grapevine rocking chair sat before yet another fireplace. This fireplace was aglow with a roaring fire, but even that didn’t seem to bring much warmth to the room. A pair of brown-booted feet rested against the edge of the hearth and kept the creaking rocker in motion.

  “That is Ulf,” Klakke whispered, pointing to the dark figure whose back was turned.

  Then he ducked behind Bettina and hid.

  The boots on the hearth abruptly stopped the rocker, and the mysterious Ulf stood to face his guests. Bettina could feel every muscle in her small body tense up. Behind her, she felt Klakke tremble.

  Ulf was a bit taller than either Gammel or Hagen, and a good bit taller than Klakke. He was dressed in traditional nisse garb, minus a hat. Short gray hair, a bit disheveled, topped his head, and a short gray beard
fell just below his chin. He was thinner than any of the nisse men, perhaps a sign that he lacked the good cooking of a kind nisse woman.

  But it was his eyes that most set him apart from the others. They were small and round and blacker than the darkest of Danish nights. Bettina held his gaze for only a moment before looking quickly away. His eyes were as cold and empty as the room in which they stood.

  “Bettina Larsen,” Ulf said flatly. “I knew you would come.”

  “I didn’t have much choice,” Bettina answered hotly, then feared that she might anger the nisse with her temper.

  His face showed no emotion. “You were sent.”

  Once again, Bettina was faced with trying to discern a statement from a question. He seemed to know that Gammel had sent her.

  “Yes, I was. I am here to find my baby sister,” she stated, trying to sound as if she had some control over the situation.

  Ulf nodded. “In good time.”

  Then he tipped his head to one side.

  “I can see you back there, Klakke,” he said. “You’re not fooling anyone.”

  Klakke slowly stepped out from behind Bettina.

  “You can? Oh. Sorry,” he said shyly. “And, um, hello.”

  “What are you doing here?” Ulf asked sharply.

  Klakke stayed near Bettina for support.

  “I . . . I had to find the . . . the baby,” Klakke stammered.

  “Well, it seems you’ve succeeded.”

  Ulf took a step to the side. Bettina gasped. There, behind the rocker, stood a wooden cradle much like Tika’s and Erik’s. In it, baby Pia slept soundly.

  Bettina rushed to peer inside the cradle. Pia looked peaceful and content in the cozy cradle. She was swaddled in a thistledown blanket, as soft as the socks Bettina still wore.

  “Pia!” Bettina whispered, mesmerized by her sister’s sweet face. She gently stroked the baby’s plump cheek, being ever so careful not to wake her. “I was afraid I’d never see you again!”