Nancy Farmer
THE ISLANDS OF THE BLESSED
To Harold
May we find the Islands of the Blessed together
Pangur Ban
Written by an unknown eighth-century Irish monk in the margins of a manuscript, when he was supposed to be copying the Bible.
Translated by Robin Flower in The Irish Tradition, Oxford University Press, London, 1947.
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Jack: Age fourteen; an apprentice bard
Hazeclass="underline" Jack’s sister; age eight; stolen by hobgoblins
Lucy: Jack’s foster sister; lost to Elfland
Mother: Alditha; Jack’s mother; a wise woman
Father: Giles Crookleg; Jack’s father
The Bard: A druid from Ireland; also known as Dragon Tongue
Ethne: Daughter of the Elf Queen and the Bard
Pega: An ex-slave girl; age fifteen
Mrs. Tanner: The tanner’s widow; mother of Ymma and Ythla
Ymma and Ythla: The Tanner girls; ages ten and eight
Brother Aiden: A monk from the Holy Isle
Gog and Magog: Slaves of the village blacksmith
King Brutus: Ruler of Bebba’s Town
Father Severus: Abbot of St. Filian’s Monastery
Sister Wulfhilda: A nun
Allyson: Thorgil’s mother; deceased
Thorgiclass="underline" Olaf One-Brow’s adopted daughter; age fourteen
Olaf One-Brow: A famous warrior and Thorgil’s foster father; deceased
Skakki: Olaf’s son; age eighteen; a sea captain
Rune, Sven the Vengeful, Eric the Rash, Eric Pretty-Face: Members of Skakki’s crew
Egil Long-Spear: Sea captain and trader
Bjorn Skull-Splitter: Olaf One-Brow’s best friend
Einar Adder-Tooth: A pirate
Big Half and Little Half: Brothers working for Adder-Tooth
The Bugaboo: King of the hobgoblins
The Nemesis: The Bugaboo’s second-in-command
Mr. Blewit: Hobgoblin foster father of Hazel
The draugr: Avenging spirit
The hogboon: Soulless being that feeds on life
The Shoney: Ruler of the fin folk
Shair Shair: The Shoney’s wife
Shellia: Their daughter; also known as the drauger
Whush: A fin man
Man in the Moon: An old god; exiled to the moon
Yarthkins: Also known as landvættir; spirits of the land
Pangur Ban: Large white cat from Ireland
Odin: Northman war god; lord of Valhalla and the Wild Hunt
The Mountain Queen: Glamdis; ruler of Jotunheim
Fonn and Forath: The Mountain Queen’s daughters
Schlaup Half-Trolclass="underline" The Mountain Queen’s son
Chapter One
THE GATHERING STORM
Jack’s fingers ached and blisters had formed on the palms of his hands. Once he could have done this work without harm. Once his skin had been covered with comfortable calluses, protecting him from the slippery handle of the sickle, but no longer. For three years he’d been freed of farmwork. He’d spent his time memorizing poetry and plucking away at a harp—not that he’d ever equaled the Bard. Or ever would.
Sweat ran down his forehead. Jack wiped his face and only succeeded in getting dirt into his eyes. “Curse this job!” he cried, hurling the sickle to the earth.
“At least you have two hands,” said Thorgil, sweating and laboring nearby. She had to hold the bracken ferns in the crook of her arm and slice through them with her knife. Her right hand was frozen, useless, yet she didn’t give up. It both impressed and annoyed Jack.
“Why can’t someone else do this?” he complained, sitting down in the springy bracken.
“Even Thor does inglorious chores when he’s on a quest,” said Thorgil, stolidly dumping an armload of bracken into a growing pile. She turned to gather more.
“This is no quest! This is thrall work.”
“You’d know,” retorted the shield maiden.
Jack’s face turned even hotter as he remembered how he’d been a slave in the Northland. But he swallowed the obvious response that Thorgil herself had been a thrall as a child. She was prey to dark moods that rippled out to blight everyone around her. That was the word for her, Jack thought grimly. She was a blight, a kind of disease that turned everything yellow.
Nothing had worked out since she’d arrived in the village. It took the utmost threats from the Bard to keep her from revealing that she was a Northman, one of the murdering pirates who’d descended on the Holy Isle. Even as it was, the villagers were suspicious of her. She refused to wear women’s clothes. She took offense readily. She was crude. She was sullen. In short, she was a perfect example of a Northman.
And yet, Jack had to remind himself, she had their virtues too—if you could call anything about Northmen virtuous. Thorgil was brave, loyal, and utterly trustworthy. If only she were more flexible!
“If you’d shift your backside, I could harvest that bracken. Or were you planning on using it as a bed?” Thorgil said.
“Oh, shut up!” Jack snatched up his sickle and winced as a blister broke on his hand.