East

Rose

TUKI AND I FIRST encountered each other in a remote hallway in one of the outer buildings, not far from the weaving room. I was very lucky that there was no one nearby when we met, otherwise I would certainly have been exposed and all would have been lost.

When he saw me for the first time, Tuki gave a shrill, keening cry, and then a great toothy smile spread over his face. "Rose," he said happily.

"Tuki," I responded softly, and, looking around uneasily, placed a finger to my lips. He understood, mimicking me with a finger to his own lips, and we had a hurried, whispered exchange there in the hallway. My knowledge of the troll language was severely put to the test, but somehow, with a combination of pantomime and words, I was able to arrange a meeting with Tuki late the next evening in the weaving room. I was fairly confident that I would be alone then but impressed on Tuki that he must come into the room only if he saw I was the only one there.

I had become a favorite of sorts with the trolls who oversaw the weaving and sewing, a pet among the rest of the dumb animals. I was a hard worker, and though I still acted slack jawed and compliant, I was a little quicker to understand what was expected of me than the rest. Because of this, and because of the pressing need for wedding clothing, I had been given greater freedom than the other softskins. I was also working longer hours.

I had tried my hardest to impress upon Tuki that our meeting was a secret but was not sure I had succeeded. All the next day I was on tenterhooks, waiting for a troll to appear and drag me off to an icy dungeon.

But Tuki came alone to the weaving room at the arranged time. I was alone, working on an elaborate crimson-and-orange gown. There was joy in his eyes, and he reached over and touched the skin on my face, with the same pleased wonderment he had always shown. Then he took my hand and led me around the room, pointing to things and proclaiming the troll name for each. Realizing at once he wanted to play our old game, I quickly responded with the Njorden word. By then I already knew many of the troll words he "taught" me but did learn several that I had been puzzled by.

As we began to run out of objects to name, I pulled Tuki over to a stool and had him sit beside me.

"Is Tuki happy?" I asked. I thought he might remember the word, which I had taught him back at the castle. But he did not, so I pantomimed happy as best I could.

He suddenly began nodding emphatically and pointed to me. "Happy."

I thought I understood him to say he was happy to be with me, although he could have meant he thought I was happy. And I remembered the frustration I had felt in trying to communicate with Tuki in the castle. Suddenly I thought of Malmo's story knife.

Again using pantomime and words, I told him that I must get back to work and that he should leave. But I asked him to come back the next night, and eagerly he agreed.

I worked quickly, to make up for the time I'd spent with Tuki. I fell asleep that night trying to figure out what I could use with the story knife instead of snow.

The next night I was ready for Tuki. I had managed to sneak a small sack of white sugar out of the kitchen, right under the nose of the terrible Simka, though she did manage to land a sharp kick to my shin as I ran out. Before Tuki arrived I spread the sugar evenly on the floor in a corner of the room.

When he came in I promptly led him to the sugar-covered floor and bade him sit beside me. I took out the story knife. He jumped up, thinking it a weapon, but I smiled reassuringly and urged him to sit down again. Warily he did, and I started sketching.

I began with a short, simple tale, the one Malmo had first told me about the girl adopted by seals. I think Tuki understood most of it, and when I had finished, he clapped his hands enthusiastically.

"More!" he said, in Njorden.

I told him another story, then another. Finally, I again had to tell him to go so I could catch up on my work. I said there would be more stories the next night. He went, even more reluctantly than he had the night before. I swept up the sugar and hid the bag of it under some fabric.

I did not get much sleep that night, for I had to work very late to get the allotted amount of work done.

The next night I told Tuki one brief tale to start out with. Then I turned to him and said that I had an important story to tell him. It was about me, I said, and why I had come to the ice palace. I don't know if he understood, but he nodded very solemnly and made ready to watch the figures I would draw.

I took a deep breath, and using the story knife, I told Tuki my story from the very beginning, when the white bear first came to our door, to the time I spent in the castle with the white bear—man lying beside me in the bed; from the candle wax dripping on his shirt to my long and perilous search for him. I did not go into detail about my journey, just showed myself crossing land, sea, and snow to reach the ice palace. I then drew the Troll Queen and the white bear—man hand in hand, as though being wed, and myself bending over, weeping.

I looked up at Tuki, who had been silent throughout the entire tale, his eyes round and intent, and saw that there were tears streaming down his ridged cheeks.

"The softskin man who was a white bear must not marry the Troll Queen," I said, my voice hoarse from the telling of the tale. "Will you help me, Tuki?"

He stared at me, tears still wet on his skin.

"Will Tuki help Rose?" I said again, my own eyes bright.

Slowly he nodded.