The troll began at once to rise and dip over the buttercups as though he
had almost borrowed its speed from the swallow and were riding the lower
air. Such speed was new to the dog, and he went in a long curve after
the troll, leaning over as he went, his mouth open and silent, the wind
rippling all the way from his nose to his tail in one wavy current. The
curve was made by the dog's baffled hopes to catch the troll as he
slanted across. Soon he was straight behind; and the troll toyed with
speed; breathing the flowery air in long fresh draughts above the tops
of the buttercups. He thought no more of the dog, but he did not cease
in the flight that the dog had caused, because of the joy of the speed.
And this strange chase continued over those fields, the troll driven on
by joy and the dog by duty. For the sake of novelty then the troll put
his feet together as he leaped over the flowers and, alighting with
rigid knees, fell forwards on to his hands and so turned over; and,
straightening his elbows suddenly as he turned, shot himself into the
air still turning over and over. He did this several times, increasing
the indignation of the dog, who knew well enough that that was no way to
go over the fields we know. But for all his indignation the dog had seen
clear enough that he would never catch that troll, and presently he
returned to the farm, and found his master there and went up to him
wagging his tail. So hard he wagged it that the farmer was sure he had
done some useful thing, and patted him, and there the matter ended.
And it was well enough for the farmer that his dog has chased that troll
from his farm; for had it communicated to his livestock any of the
wonder of Elfland they would have mocked at Man, and that farmer would
have lost the allegiance of all but his staunch dog.
And the troll went on gaily over the tips of the buttercups.
Presently he saw rising up all white over the flowers a fox that was
facing him with his white chest and chin, and watching the troll as it
went. The troll went near to him and took a look. And the fox went on
watching him, for the fox watches all things.
He had come back lately to those dewy fields from slinking by night
along the boundary of twilight that lies between here and Elfland. He
even prowls inside the very boundary, walking amongst the twilight; and
it is in the mystery of that heavy twilight that lies between here and
there that there clings to him some of that glamour that he brings with
him to our fields.
"Well, Noman's Dog," said the troll. For they know the fox in Elfland,
from seeing him often go dimly along their borders; and this is the name
they give him.
"Well, Thing-over-the-Border," said the fox when he answered at all. For
he knew troll-talk.
"Are the haunts of men near here?" said the troll.
The fox moved his whiskers by slightly wrinkling his lip. Like all liars
he reflected before he spoke, and sometimes even let wise silences do
better than speech.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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