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    The Troll's Belt
    The Troll's Belt
    The Troll's Belt
    Ebook74 pages56 minutes

    The Troll's Belt

    By J.M. Ney-Grimm

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Young deceit sprouts timeless trouble.

    Motherless Brys Arnsson digs himself into trouble. Bad trouble. Tricked by a troll in J.M. Ney-Grimm's richly imagined North-lands, Brys must dig himself and his best friend back out of danger. But that requires courage . . . and self-honesty. Traits Brys lacks at depth.

    A twist on a classic, The Troll's Belt builds from humor-threaded conflict to white-knuckle suspense.


    PRAISE FOR THE TROLL'S BELT

    "I loved this story! It is lively, perky and interesting. While the author notes it is "a re-casting of Hansel & Gretel with a Norse twist," I found the storyline to be much more creative and original. I am looking forward to reading more from J.M. Ney-Grimm!" —W. Walsh

    "The writing style is fantastic. It's somehow youthful (as it's through the eyes of a twelve year old) and mature at the same time. Normally, it would be a challenge to discuss...responsibility, loyalty and forgiveness with such a young "voice," but Ney-Grimm does so easily. The result is a thought provoking tale...Heartily recommended, and it's made me look forward to reading more of her work!" —James J. Parsons


    EXCERPT FROM THE TROLL'S BELT

    Brys slammed the door behind him and stomped across his room in fury.

    It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair.

    Did Jol have to sweep the floors each afternoon when school let out?

    No.

    Did Jol have to wash the curing cheese wheels in his motter's dairy?

    No.

    Did Jol have to help put up vats of kraut when too many cabbages were ready in the garden?

    Of course not.

    It wasn't fair, it wasn't fair, it wasn't fair!

    He banged open the shutters of his bed nook, threw himself down on the mattress, and punched his pillows a few times.

    And now he wouldn't get to go to the solstice bonfire either, shun it!


    ABOUT THE AUTHOR

    J.M. Ney-Grimm lives with her husband and children in Virginia, just east of the Blue Ridge Mountains. She's learning about permaculture gardening and debunking popular myths about food. The rest of the time she reads Robin McKinley, Diana Wynne Jones, and Lois McMaster Bujold, plays boardgames like Settlers of Catan, rears her twins, and writes stories set in her troll-infested North-lands. Look for her novels and novellas at your favorite bookstore—online or on Main Street.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherJ.M. Ney-Grimm
    Release dateOct 3, 2017
    ISBN9781386992042
    The Troll's Belt
    Author

    J.M. Ney-Grimm

    J.M. Ney-Grimm lives with her husband and children in Virginia, just east of the Blue Ridge Mountains. She's learning about permaculture gardening and debunking popular myths about food. The rest of the time she reads Robin McKinley, Diana Wynne Jones, and Lois McMaster Bujold, plays boardgames like Settlers of Catan, rears her twins, and writes stories set in her troll-infested North-lands. Look for her novels and novellas at your favorite bookstore—online or on Main Street.

    Read more from J.M. Ney Grimm

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      Book preview

      The Troll's Belt - J.M. Ney-Grimm

      The Troll’s Belt

      ~ A NORTH-LANDS STORY ~

      A recasting of

      Hansel and Gretel

      with a twist

      by J.M. Ney-Grimm

      Copyright © 2011 J.M. Ney-Grimm

      Cover art:

      They saw that the cottage was made of bread and cakes

      by Kay Nielsen

      For

      Lucy Ann

      &

      Ben

      Table of Contents

      The Troll’s Belt

      Months of the Hamish Year

      Titles by J.M. Ney-Grimm

      Author Bio

      The Troll’s Belt

      Brys slammed the door behind him and stomped across his room in fury.

      It wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t fair.

      Did Jol have to sweep the floors each afternoon when school let out?

      No.

      Did Jol have to wash the curing cheese wheels in his motter’s dairy?

      No.

      Did Jol have to help put up vats of kraut when too many cabbages were ready in the garden?

      Of course not.

      It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fair!

      He banged open the shutters of his bed nook, threw himself down on the mattress, and punched his pillows a few times.

      And now he wouldn’t get to go to the solstice bonfire either, shun it!

      Lars’ patter had promised that all the kids old enough could come early and build the fire. Lars said there would be rope-climbing contests, a juggling tournament, and limb-running races.

      Shun it! Shun it! Shun it!

      Why had he answered back when Patter reminded him of the sweeping chore? He knew it was his responsibility.   It was just . . . that he’d thought he’d finished everything.

      Pilka and Pehmea, their household reindeer, retrieved from today’s herd boy, milked, and settled in the byre.

      Cheeses washed, turned, and re-weighted.

      Clean laundry fetched from Aunt Mersela and put away.

      And the mended chair delivered to Froiken Ildsdotter.

      Everything tidy, the chores complete, and his time his own. The schoolmaster had even refrained from setting homework in honor of the evening festival, so the rest of the day was his.

      Except then Patter had returned unexpectedly from the mill – something about a caliper-and-chisel set forgotten and needed for one of the men – just as Brys was heading for the entry staircase.

      Patter took one look around and said sternly, Why is there still mud on this floor?

      And Brys had answered, "Because you tracked it in."

      And that had been that: a nasty shouting match between them, culminating with Patter’s decree that Brys spend the afternoon and evening in his room. Not fair!

      He gave another punch to his pillows, but it was half-hearted.

      I should have just bitten my tongue. Why didn’t I?

      It wasn’t really about the sweeping. It was . . . that Patter seemed to think Brys was trying to skive off without finishing his chores on purpose. Why couldn’t he assume the best, instead of the worst? Or have asked . . . something else?

      Brys had just forgotten, that was all.

      And this wasn’t the only instance either. Patter seemed poised for criticism, pouncing on each small fault, convinced Brys wanted to do less than his fair share. And it just wasn’t so.

      He knew why – besides milking the reindeer, splitting firewood, weeding the garden, and repainting the house stilts with rendered pine sap – he had to do a bunch of other stuff too. Sweep, wash dishes, dust, put away clothes, help put up vegetables and all. It had been him and Patter alone for all his life.

      Jol had his motter, Aunt Mersela, to pitch in on all the daily chores.

      Now, it was true that Aunt Mersela was known to split firewood when her temper was up, so Jol had to wash dishes on those days. But they had three to do all that needed doing.

      He and Patter had just themselves. And Patter did the mill accounts in the evenings at home.

      How had Patter managed? Way back when?

      Brys could remember that when he was very, very small, he’d spent days with Aunt Mersela and nights at home and hadn’t any chores. In fact, he’d thought Aunt Mersela his motter (and called her so) until he went to school and learned otherwise.

      But Patter must have done everything himself.

      No . . . maybe not.

      They’d always eaten at Aunt Mersela’s and Uncle Karl’s table. He remembered that, now he came to think. Even after he started school, they walked across the garden between the two houses every morning for breakfast and every evening for supper. And Aunt Mersela had packed his and Patter’s dinner pails. She still did their laundry.

      So Patter hadn’t had to worry about meals or cleaning up after them. Really he’d organized things pretty well. And Uncle Karl – Patter’s younger brother – had been generous with help.

      Why couldn’t Patter understand now that Brys knew how things were? Knew he

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