"To talk ... is hard ... I can only do ... little." He paused, took a breath. "Your questions ... I cannot ... answer."

I sat still, mesmerized by his hollow voice and the blurred edges of the words. The sound came from deep down in his chest. His mouth moved but not the way people's lips move when they talk. I could see glimpses of his black tongue, rippling.

"Anything you need ... wool, color." He stopped again and breathed heavily. "Ask."

I nodded. "How long am I to stay here?" I could not help myself; I had to know.

"Cannot ... answer" was all he said. Then, "Stay ... with me."

"I cannot leave?"

"Stay ... no harm." It seemed to be getting more difficult for him, as though finding words was almost an impossible strain.

"But the woman in the kitchen, who is she? May I speak to her?"

The bear had begun to lumber toward the door. His steps were unsteady, his eyes clouded.

"Was there something you wanted me to make on the loom?" I asked.

The white bear kept moving, though just before going through the door, he turned his head sideways and the words "no harm"came again.

I sat for a moment, watching the now empty doorway.

I found myself wondering why he had brought me to this room to speak to me. Then my stomach rumbled and I realized I was starving.

I grinned. The white bear was making sure I ate.

It is difficult to explain, but after that interaction with the bear, I felt more at peace.

Nothing had changed, I didn't understand any more than I had before, and I was still a prisoner. And yet for some reason the words "no harm" comforted me and stayed in my head. For some reason I believed them.

I ate a nourishing meal from the stewpot, accompanied by dark bread and a cup of goat's milk. Then I returned to the loom and worked until I was sleepy. I had no idea whether it was day or night. I would have to make more of a routine for myself so that I would know when the day was done, although when I exited the weaving room, most of the lamps in the hall had been extinguished.

So it was nighttime—at least in the castle carved into the mountain.

A small lamp had been lit and left for me by the door. I picked it up and made my way down the darkened corridor. It was eerie, walking through the echoing halls of the castle, but I firmly repeated to myself the words "no harm."

I went to the room where my knapsack had been placed and unpacked the little I had brought with me. The bed looked a lot more comfortable than the red couch. And it was, far beyond anything I had ever slept on. It was large, so large I felt that my whole family might easily have fit in it.

Several oil lamps set in wall sconces lit the room. The oil in the lamps was different from any I had known in Njord. It smelled sweeter and burned cleaner and more slowly. But I had been unable to discover how to light the oil lamps myself. I looked for flints or some kind of striker but found none. In the castle there was no need to light a lamp myself, for each time I entered a room, lamps and candles were already burning.

When I was ready to sleep, I blew out all the lamps and candles but one, so the room wouldn't be completely dark.

As I lay there nestled in the softness of the mattress and comforters, I thought of my family. At home I was used to sleeping with at least my two sisters, and I felt lonely and strange, lying by myself in that large bed.

I slept. Sometime later I awoke, softly. My sister Sara had just climbed into bed and I pulled a little away, because her feet were always chilly and I was so warm and drowsily content in the soft...

Suddenly I came wide awake. I was not at home and it was not my sister who had climbed into bed beside me.

Troll Queen

I STILL HAVE MY father's decree in my Book:

My daughter, the princess, has defied me and taken a high-born softskin. As punishment she shall forthwith be bound by my edict in this matter.

The boy stolen from the green lands shall be transformed into a white bear. He will reside in the castle carved into a mountain in the softskin land we call Suudella, and he will be given enough arts so that he may survive. A Huldre servant will also be supplied to serve him in the castle in the mountain.

Further, no request that he shall make of one of Huldre shall be denied. Except the request to be released from his enchantment. To be released from the enchantment, the white bear that was a softskin must abide by and satisfy a set of inviolable conditions.

These conditions shall be made known to him in their entirety.

So it has been decreed, and let this stand as an example to those who would defy their king.

Rose

IT WAS PITCH-BLACK in the room. I lay there in the darkness, my heart pounding and my limbs stiff, thinking desperately of what I could use as a weapon to protect myself. But the figure beside me in the bed stayed well away; there were at least two arm-lengths between us, so large was the bed. It briefly adjusted the covers and then lay still.

Of all the things that had happened to me during the past days, this was surely the strangest, the most confusing. At first I wondered if the white bear himself had climbed into bed with me. But though it was a large bed, it was not so large as to fit both a huge bear and myself, with two arm-lengths between. And as my pounding heart slowed, I reasoned that, based on the tilt of the mattress, the weight of whatever was beside me was not much heavier than my sister, although it was difficult to judge because of the distance between us and the softness of the mattress.

The minutes went by and there was no movement at all from the figure. At first my mind whirled frantically, trying to fathom who or what it was. The white lady or man from the kitchen? Or another such person of the castle whom I had yet to meet? Was it indeed human? Or beast? Perhaps an enchanted king or some kind of ghost or spirit. But gradually my thoughts ran out and my fear and confusion seemed to drain away. Amazingly, I slept.

When I awoke there was a dim light in the room. The door was partially open and the light was coming from the lamps lining the hall. I could see that there was no one in the bed next to me, and for a moment I wondered if the whole thing was a dream. But the bed linens on that side of the bed were rumpled, and I knew it wasn't.

There was food waiting for me when I went down to the red-couch room, but I was distracted as I ate the porridge and fruit. I could not stop thinking about the strange episode of the night before. I thought about it continually through the day, as I sat at the loom. I kept having the nagging feeling that, despite the evidence of my own senses, it had been the white bear that had lain beside me. I alternately dreaded and looked forward to going to bed that night. I dreaded it because the whole thing might happen again, and I looked forward to it also because it might indeed happen again and maybe this time would be explained. I resolved to keep the oil lamps in the bedroom lit.

The white bear did not visit while I wove, which, oddly enough, disappointed me. Though I doubted I would get an answer, I still yearned to ask him for an explanation of my night visitor.

When I was done weaving for the day, I ate a meal of meat stew and bread, and, taking the oil lamp with me, went up to bed. The lamps in the hall were no longer burning.

I washed, then put on my nightdress from home. I left one wall lamp lit as well as the handheld lamp, which I put on the table by the bed. I slipped under the covers and waited. I was determined to stay awake so that if the visitor came again I would be able to see its face.