The heavens were no
longer blue, but encased him like a globe of green glass. The sea was
milk-white, and as far as he could see rolled small white waves tipped
with silver ripples. In the midst of all this white lay numerous little
islets, absolutely coal black. Whether they were big or little, whether
they were as even as meadows, or full of cliffs, they looked just as
black. Even dwelling houses and churches and windmills, which at other
times are white or red, were outlined in black against the green sky.
The boy thought it was as if the earth had been transformed, and he was
come to another world.
He thought that just for this one night he wanted to be brave, and not
afraid--when he saw something that really frightened him. It was a high
cliff island, which was covered with big, angular blocks; and between
the blocks shone specks of bright, shining gold. He couldn't keep from
thinking of Maglestone, by Trolle-Ljungby, which the trolls sometimes
raised upon high gold pillars; and he wondered if this was something
like that.
But with the stones and the gold it might have gone fairly well, if such
a lot of horrid things had not been lying all around the island. It
looked like whales and sharks and other big sea-monsters. But the boy
understood that it was the sea-trolls, who had gathered around the
island and intended to crawl up on it, to fight with the land-trolls who
lived there.
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