Chapter 1 - The Nisse
Winter had arrived early in Norway. The coldest winter in fifty years. Temperatures plumeted below freezing and a web of frost spread across the land. The nights were long and the days short. Wind and rain lashed the coast, lakes froze over and the summer fields became buried under waist deep snow. Families kept a fire burning in the heath day and night to drive the cold from their homes.
In the Oppland county of Lillehammer, the snow had fallen for three weeks. The pitched roofs of the low, wooden houses and shops were weighed down by thick layers of white. Smooth mounds, like vanilla ice-cream piled against the walls, doors, fences and gates. Drifts of sleet covered the narrow streets and road making the cobbled footpaths and roads slippery. Only the roof of the Stave Church, with its carved dragons and tall spier, was free of snow.
Beyond the city, the great mountain of Nevelfjell and the three summits of Snorvillen, Mostefjell, and Sollifjell stood tall and proud like ancient giants surveying the hidden land. A pale moon sat above the summits, casting a silver glow across the top of the dense forest, but the light couldn't reach below the trees. Only the mountain's wild creatures knew what crept and lurked underneath the branches of the long, cold nights.
In a clearing of Nevelfjell, the silent farmhouse and three barns of Dahl Gore were buried up to their red windows frames with snow. Suddenly a small shadow appeared at the edge of the dark forest. The figure glanced around and sniffed. It looked towards the house and barns before it stepped out of the trees in to the clearing.
It was a man with a white beard, no taller than a child of three or four years old, with eyes the colour of saphires. When he seemed satisfied, he adjusted his red, pointy hat so it sat upright on his large head and tugged his green coat so it sat smoothly over his round stomach. He felt around his waist and a look of worry crossed his face. At the same time, another small figure emerged from the trees, puffing and red cheeked. This time it was a lady with long, white plaites on each side of her round face. She wore the same red hat but had an emboroided white apron over her green coat.
'Tomten of Dahl Gore, you've left your tool kit behind, again,' she scolded, taking a brown leather belt with a gold buckle from her apron pocket. Dangling from the belt were a small hammer, a hard briselled brush and a pair of sissors. 'That's three times this week you've gone to work without it!'
'I'd forget my hat too if it wasn't for you reminding me each day, Elina,' smiled the old man. He took the belt and did it up around his waist. 'You'd best be off home to the hule, where it's safe. There might be foxes or worse out in the forest.'
Elina sniffed and held her head high. 'Those foxes don't scare me, Tomten. It's me they need to watch out for. I'll give their ears a good boxing if I catch them sniffing around the forest. And don't think I won't'
Tomten chuckled and rubbed his round, red noes against Elina's. 'I don't doubt you for an instant, my dear, but it's the young Nisser who need your protection. The boys, Gorm and Gunnhild think they're strong enough to take on the giants and Finna has started wandering into the forest on her own. Last week, I found her on the north side of the mountain, carrying a raindeer home to the hule. She'd heard from the owls it had been injuried and need healing. So off she went to rescue the wildling without calling any guardians for protection!'
'How the children are growing up,' said Elina. 'Soon the boys will have a Nisse beard and their own farm to watch over, and Finna will be digging her own hule and tending to her section of wildlings in the forest.'
The man scratched at his beard and looked towards the farmhouse. 'I've been thinking lately, it might be time to pass my belt onto Gorm or Gunnhild. Age is creeping up on me, Elina. I'm not as fast or strong as I once was and the foxes are growing in numbers and becoming more cunning. Maybe there needs to be a younger Nisse to watch over Dahl Gore.'
'Nonsence! You'll be able to protect the farm for decades,' said Elina. 'Gorm or Gunnhild aren't experienced enough to give Farmer Gore the help and good luck he relies on. And, what about the Skogkatts? They need a wise Nisse to help them protect the farm against the foxes and trolls. Who would help Fredrick and Neeve to train their kittens to become guardians of the gore and forest if you're not here?'
Tomten knew there was no point arguing with his wife once she had made up her mind. Elina patted him on the shoulder. 'You are a Nisse. It's in your blood, Tomten. What on earth would you do if you weren't guarding the farm?' She pointed across the clearing towards the farm house just as a grey tail with a white tip slipped inside through the cat flap. 'Is that young Torbjorn sneaking inside after curfew? Cheeky kitten!'
'Yes, that's him,' said Tomten. 'Torbjorn is the biggest and strongest of the three kittens and will make a fine guardian if he would only listen. He's too busy looking for adventures instead of paying attention.'
'Even more reason for the farm to have an old Nisse like you to teach him right from wrong!' said Elina. She rubbed her noes against Tomten's. 'Have a good evening. I'll see you back at the hule when you've finished.'
Tomten nodded. 'I'll be home before sunrise.' He watched as Elina turned and disappeared into the shadows of the forest without leaving any footprints of having been there.
