When you’re two on the mountain

Lars Thorup, 2026-10-05

The branches of the pine trees hover dark and heavy over us, laden with large heaps of snow. Behind a flat slab of rock a gnarled tree trunk has wedged itself upward and now rests like some kind of backrest of a small bench. Dad has brushed the snow off the stone, and we're sitting on our gloves, letting our tired legs dangle freely in the air. Our skis stick up from a snowdrift a few yards away, and Dad now opens his backpack and brings out all the good stuff.

The lunch consists of sandwiches; one with brunost and one with sausage between slices of the bland Norwegian bread. 'Moose sausage!' Dad had kept repeating enthusiastically this morning. After so many miles on the trail, everything tastes wonderful. We don't speak. Dad looks around the clearing between the pines. I sit there, wondering how far it is home. Once we have finished eating, Dad brings out the thermos and pours a cup of hot blackcurrant juice. We take turns sipping it before it gets cold.

"Hush..." Dad says, staring in between the pine trees.

Neither of us has said a word yet, but I become even quieter, peeking in the same direction as Dad. And now I see a movement, and then shortly afterwards, a moose is approaching cautiously. It has to lift its legs high in the deep snow, whilst constantly looking around before taking a few more steps. A little way behind it, a slightly smaller one appears. They are no more than twenty meters away, and I can clearly see their watchful eyes and black snouts.

"Hush..." Dad whispers again, so softly I can barely hear it.

We sit completely still, while the two moose walk slowly past us along the edge of the clearing and disappear among the snow-covered pines and down the slope.

"I don't think they saw us," Dad says softly, looking back at me.

"They were so close!"

"We were lucky with the wind. It's blowing towards us, so they probably couldn't smell us."

"Was that its young, the other one?"

"Yeah, maybe her calf from this summer."

I laugh out loud.

"Why do you call it a calf? It isn't a cow!"

"Well, that's how you call the young of a moose. A calf. Moose calves."

We sit quietly for a while, sipping the rest of the hot juice. I need to pee, and jump off the rock bench; the sudden movement causes a branch to snap, sending a big heap of snow down right in front of us.

"Oops!" I say, standing still, but no more snow falls down.

The glittering snowflakes drift down gently and the forest falls silent. I step a little further away and struggle to pull the many layers of clothing aside so that I can pee.

Then I stagger back on my aching legs and sit down beside Dad. He picks out the dark chocolate bar and breaks off a row for both of us.

"Ah, this is good," Dad says. "Don't you think?"

"Is it a long way home?"

"We're more than halfway. This is a loop trail, after all. We'll be home before it gets dark. Are you tired?"

"Yeah, a little."

"Let's stay here a bit longer. I'll just have a look to see what sort of finch it was that we saw before. You can rest your legs a bit more then."

Dad finds his bird-watching book in the backpack and starts browsing, reading a bit here and there.

I lean against the tree trunk and look around the clearing while blinking a little. Once again, something is moving. I squint and try to see what it is. Maybe a mouse?

I see the little green pointed hat. Squinting even harder, I can see a little fellow. He has a big beard but he is tiny himself. He is coming along on skis and is sledge tied behind him. He is coming towards me, and after him comes yet another one, also on skis but with a red pointed hat and rosy cheeks.

I wave at them. The little man changes course, and soon they are standing in front of us. In the sledge, two tiny children are wrapped up warmly in thick blankets.

"Are you elves?" I ask as they stop right below me.

"Elves?" he replies and bursts into laughter. "Elves! Yes, sure, we are! What else could we possibly be? We don't look like trolls, do we? Or what do you say, my dear? Maybe we have been transformed into goblins?"

"Alright, then. I do think you look like elves."

"And you look like a human child, yourself. Aren't you a long way from home for a boy like you? Where do you live?"

"We are staying on the other side of Birkevattnet, right by Mosbo. Is it a long way from here?"

"Nah, surely not for humans with long legs."

"I'm a bit tired though. We walked all the way north round the lake. But now we've eaten and rested a bit."

"North round the lake, you say? I'm sure you'll manage then. Don't you have a sledge?"

"No, just skis."

I turn around and point at the four skis, sticking out of the snowdrift like withered branches.

I look towards Dad, who is still browsing his book and now lifts the binoculars to his eyes in order to scan the forest. I am just about to tell him that we have got company.

"You're a tough guy," the elf says.

"My dad says I can do it. Do you really think I am tough? My dad never says that."

"Oh, yeah, all around the lake, that's more than ten miles. That would take us several days. Is it your dad who decides how far you can walk?"

"Nah, I suppose he cannot decide that, can he? I just have to walk, right?"

"Oh, you should know that only you can decide what you're capable of. No one else can decide that for you. You need to tell your dad that you should have a say when the two of you walk the mountains."

"Well, but I am only a boy."

"When you're two on the mountain, you're two to make decisions."

"Yeah, that does sound reasonable, I guess."

"Father Elf only gives reasonable advice," Mother Elf says with a laugh. "At least he thinks so himself! But this time, he is right, I have to admit."

"Well, actually we better go now," Father Elf says. "By the way, have you had anything to eat? Remember that without food and drink!"

"Oh, yeah, we had a good lunch," I say. "With brunost and moose sausage!"

"Sounds great!" the elves say in unison. "Have a safe journey home!"

Then they set off on their skis, and I watch them as they disappear into the woods.

"Well my boy, are you ready to move on?"

I look up at Dad with a start. He's smiling at me.

"Did you see the elves, Dad?"

Dad chuckles.

"Elves? Didn't you maybe doze off a bit?"

"No, no. There were two elves with a sledge. I spoke with them. Didn't you hear? They just left in that direction."

"Well... maybe I did see something moving over there just before. And there have always been elves here in the forest, I suppose."

"I saw them! And spoke with them."

It's clear to me that Dad doesn't really believe me. Maybe it was just a dream?

"Right, let's go," Dad says, "so we don't get cold."

"Okay, I think I can walk again, but not too fast. I want to walk in front, then I can decide how fast we walk."

Dad looks at me in surprise.

"Yes? Okay, then!"

We put on our skis and take off. The weather has brightened up a bit, although the sun is still hidden behind the low clouds. The shadows make the trail easy to follow, and I can feel in my legs that the food and the break have done me good.

"I long to sit by the fireplace," I shout back to Dad. "Can I light the fire when we get back?"

"Sure thing!" he shouts at me from behind.

Translated from Danish by Lars (with help from Anja)