The Wealding Word Read Online Free PDF Page B

with twigs. In a patch of sun he stood, cursing, tugging, and kicking at a fallen branch twice his size. Suddenly he broke off his squeals and jerked his head around, his huge nose sniffing the air.
    “Hello Tomkin!” Rawley called, bounding out of hiding to greet him. Nell followed cautiously behind, surprised that her pets knew the creature.
    “Ahhh! Oooo! I am not supposed to be seen by her kind,” Tomkin wailed. Shielding his face from Nell, he yanked hard on the branch one more time, but the part he grabbed snapped off. The troll tumbled backward, landing at Nell’s feet with a broken twig in his hand.
    “Nell is a friend of ours, Tomkin. She won’t give you away,” Rawley said.
    “What’s the matter, anyway?” asked Sola.
    “The Wind!” Tomkin replied crossly. The troll shook his fist at the sky. “He blew this branch across my doorstep while I was out, and I can’t make it budge!”
    “Maybe we can help,” Nell said. Though the hairy little man looked rather odd, he certainly wasn’t a grumlin. She and Rawley dragged the branch away from the tree to reveal a door nestled among its roots.
    “Thank you indeed.” Tomkin grumbled. Begrudgingly he said, “Hrrmmph. And now I must repay you with a favor: such is the way of the Groomlanen. But you can’t tell people you’ve seen me. I’ve no wish to spend my life in a cage!” He took hold of his door handle, saying, “If ever you lose your way in the weald, call for me,Tomkin. If perchance I hear you, I’ll answer.” With that, the tiny door slammed shut.
    Nell remembered the acorn in her pocket. She knew that, despite his words, she might never meet this little forest troll again. Now could be her only chance to reach the witch’s tower. “Wait!” she yelled. “Can you take me to the white tower? To the Witch of the Weald?”
    Rawley and Sola looked at each other questioningly. The cat ventured, “But why? She’s probably forgotten all about the bracelet.”
    The door squeaked open just enough for Tomkin’s long nose to poke out. “That is a very odd favor to ask.”
    “I need to see her,” Nell pleaded, “I lost a bracelet of hers, but I have something else to make up for it. Please, can you take me to see Lady Zel?”
    The door opened a little more, revealing a tangle of beard. “Well…” Tomkin hesitated, “if it’s what you wish, so be it! But the way runs through Murkly Marsh.” He wagged his finger in warning. “It’s a long, hard journey in the swamp – and it’ll take most of the day. I hope you know what you’ve asked for!”
    Nell didn’t. She hadn’t considered the distance, or the dismal marsh: the swamp was a well-known haunt for knucklers, grumlins, and candlewisps. Suddenly it didn’t seem so important to meet the witch, at least not today .
    Seeing Nell fret, Rawley licked at her hand. “It will be all right. Tomkin knows every path. Besides, I’ll be there with you.”
    The troll soon returned from his tree carrying a cloth-covered basket. Before anyone could speak, he grumbled, “All favors are final! It’s one less promise hanging over my head.” He peered at Nell, shaking his great beard in disapproval. “Umhm. Where’s your coat? It’s midwinter! You people,” he fumed, “always rushing into things! Well, too late for it now. Off we go!”

C HAPTER 4
    M URKLY M ARSH
    The friends set out toward the swamps with Tomkin. As Nell followed him, she couldn’t help but recall the trolls from Lexi’s stories. Always they had mossy beards drooping to their feet, hot tempers, and an evil magic about them – but while Tomkin was fiery, Nell doubted he was dangerous. He often tripped on his beard, and would gingerly tuck it under his arm when they came to a thorny patch. Occasionally he did battle with the pickers, wielding his tiny walking stick and scolding the canes that snagged at him.
    Sola whined as they walked, “I hate this marsh! It’s the middle of the day but the place is so dark.”
    Nell