An Argument
o, I suppose you think you’re brave now, don’t you? Brave and special.’
They were back inside the tree hole, sitting on a small pile of damp leaves in the dark, and Bridget the Brave was in a huff, her tiny crossed arms matching the frown on her face.
‘Don’t be like that. I didn’t ask to be drimwicked.’
‘Being an ordinary mouse was never good enough for you, was it?’
Miika shook his head. He had just saved Bridget the Brave’s life and, for once, he decided to say what he really felt. ‘You sound jealous.’
‘No, Miika, I’m not jealous. Because, unlike you, I’m not ashamed of who I am. I am a mouse. A fearless and brave mouse.’
‘I’m not ashamed,’ said Miika.
‘Hmmm,’ said Bridget the Brave, scratching her belly. ‘I think you have a problem with being a mouse.’
‘No, I don’t.’
‘Think about it. You left your family behind—’
‘My family didn’t want me! My mum didn’t even give me a name!’
Bridget the Brave ignored Miika’s protests. ‘Then you went and became best friends with a human . . .’
‘And?’
‘Now you live with a pixie . . .’
‘So?’
‘And you wanted to be drimwicked!’
Bridget the Brave said drimwicked as if it was a swear word. ‘I DID NOT WANT TO BE DRIMWICKED. I DID NOT ASK TO BE DRIMWICKED. I DID NOT PLAN TO BE DRIMWICKED! AND I JUST SAVED YOUR LIFE!’
‘No, you didn’t. I had the situation entirely under control.’
‘That isn’t true, Bridget, and you know it.’
‘Bridget the Brave – that’s my name.’
‘Sorry, Bridget the Brave. But you wanted my help. You said you were scared.’
And with those words his companion’s eyes widened with rage. ‘Liar! I never said that! How could I – Bridget the Brave – ever say such a thing!’
‘I’m sorry. Maybe I misheard.’
And Bridget the Brave scowled some more. It was the scowliest scowl Miika had ever seen. ‘The truth is, Miika, whether you planned it or not, you were drimwicked because you fell off your silly reindeer friend, Blister.’
‘Blitzen.’
‘What?’
‘He’s, um, called Blitzen.’
‘Yeah. That’s what I said. Blister. And it also only happened because the elf girl knew you . . .’
‘Wow,’ whispered Miika. ‘You really are jealous, aren’t you?’
Bridget the Brave burped a mushroomy burp. ‘Why would I be jealous of a mouse who doesn’t really want to be a mouse? You see, Miika, I know what I am. I am a mouse.’
‘Same here.’
‘No. Not really. I want to be a mouse. And I am a mouse. A wild and free forest mouse, living in my tree hole, eating mushrooms and sleeping on a bed of leaves. Meanwhile you live in that weird yellow cottage, eating gingerbread crumbs and sleeping on a comfy rug by the fire and spending the whole year looking forward to Christmas. It’s really very, very sad. You are a traitor to mice. And, quite frankly, I don’t think we can be friends any more.’
‘What?!’
But Bridget the Brave was adamant, and she stood up and went over to the bright entrance of the tree hole. She pointed out at the snow and fallen pine cones. ‘Go on. Get out. Go and be with the magic creatures. You clearly prefer them to mice.’
Miika felt as though he might cry, and he had never cried in his life.
‘This is ridiculous. Please, Bridget . . . the Brave. This is silly.’
But Bridget the Brave shook her head and pointed out towards the snow again.
‘Fine,’ Miika said. And he kept on saying it as he left and went back into the cold, even when Bridget the Brave couldn’t hear him any more. He kept saying the word as he walked, through the snow and the giant pines and silver birches, all the way back to the Truth Pixie’s cottage.
‘Fine,’ he said, trying not to think about the warm wet feeling in his eyes and the sad heavy feeling in his body. ‘Fine. Fine. Fine . . . Fine.’
A Life of Infinite Loneliness and Crushing Disappointment
he Truth Pixie was busy writing a list of her least favourite pixies of all time, and Miika was lying on his rug by the warmth of the fire.
‘The Grump Pixie . . .’ muttered the pixie. ‘He is number thirty-seven. The Awkward Stare Pixie. Definitely number thirty-six . . .’
Then she looked up and saw Miika and the sadness of his droopy ears. ‘What’s the matter with you?’ she asked.
‘It’s a long story. I don’t want to bore you with it.’
‘Well, that’s good. Because I don’t want to be bored.’ And the Truth Pixie carried on with her list. ‘Number thirty-five. The Incessant Humming Pixie . . .’
Miika decided to act as if the Truth Pixie was interested. ‘I had only one mouse friend. And now I don’t even have her any more. She thinks that now I’m drimwicked, it’s proof I don’t want to be a mouse.’
‘Well,’ sighed the Truth Pixie, ‘to be fair, you don’t act like a mouse.’
‘What?’ said Miika, sitting up.
‘Look at you. You’re on a rug. By the fire. You’re practically a cat.’
‘That is a disgusting thing to say, Truth Pixie.’
The Truth Pixie shrugged. ‘The truth is all I have.’
Miika groaned. ‘I just feel like I’ll never fit anywhere. I’m not an elf. I’m not a human. I’m not a pixie. And I’m not even a mouse. Not a proper one . . .’
The Truth Pixie nodded, without looking up from her list. ‘You’re probably right. A life of infinite loneliness and crushing disappointment may await you.’
‘Great,’ grumbled Miika.
‘But I’m the same,’ said the Truth Pixie. ‘No one likes me either. Well, apart from Nikolas, but he doesn’t count because he likes everyone. Even you. And at least me and you have each other to talk to. I mean, don’t get me wrong, you can be very annoying, but at least you’re there. And that means a lot sometimes. Having somebody who’s there.’
Miika forced a little smile. ‘Um, thanks . . . I think.’
The Truth Pixie stopped writing her list for a moment and looked up from her little table. ‘The truth is, you’ll never be happy with yourself if you spend your life worrying what people think of you. And I should know. Every pixie in the entire world thinks I’m awful because I tell the truth. And pixies don’t really like the truth. It gives them a rash. Sometimes, if they’re flying pixies, it even makes their wings fall off.’
‘Wow. I didn’t know that.’
‘Well, I can’t lie, so believe it. I didn’t ask to be like this. I didn’t ask to be a Truth Pixie. I didn’t ask for my aunt to cast a spell when I was little that meant I would have to tell the truth for ever. We don’t ask to be who we are. But when we are who we are there’s very little point hating who we are. Because who we are is WHO WE ARE. Understand?’
‘I think so,’ said Miika.
And he smiled and liked these words and found them soothing. But he still felt lonely inside, and although he didn’t like that feeling, he didn’t tell the Truth Pixie about it. He just lay back down on the rug in silence, watching the glowing fire and sighing now and again.
A White-Spotted Love Button Mushroom
he next day, Miika went out searching for mushrooms, but it felt strange having to do it all alone. He missed his friend. When he heard a familiar voice calling his name from behind a tree, his heart lifted like a flying reindeer.
‘Bridget the Brave? Is that you?’ Miika called back.
And it was indeed his scruffy friend. Or, former friend. Miika stood still as Bridget the Brave scurried around to see him. She held out a tiny green mushroom with white spots.
‘I found it earlier,’ she said.
‘A white-spotted love button mushroom,’ gasped Miika, knowing them to be the tastiest species of mushroom in the whole of the Far North.
‘I saved it for you,’ said Bridget the Brave meekly. ‘To say sorry. About yesterday. I didn’t mean what I said. I was just shocked, you know, from Snow Owl. Even Bridget the Brave has moments of weakness.’ She smiled at him. ‘Maybe I should change my name to Bridget the Brave Ninety-Nine Point Nine Nine Nine Per Cent of the Time? It’s just not as catchy. And I should have said thank you for saving my life. I was too proud. I was a bit –’ she struggled to say the next word ‘– jealous. You were right, and I’m sorry. Will you forgive me?’
Miika took the mushroom and ate the mushroom and enjoyed the mushroom. It wasn’t quite as good as cheese. But it was, without question, among the top ten mushrooms Miika had ever tasted.
‘Yes!’ he said. ‘Of course I forgive you. But, one question: the next time an owl tries to eat you alive should I just leave them to it?’
Bridget the Brave laughed. ‘Well, I suppose it’s what I deserve.’
‘Yes, it is. But I won’t. I would save your life all over again. Just to punish you and’ – he started laughing with her – ‘to make you realise how awesome my powers are.’
Bridget the Brave came close to Miika. She placed a little mouse arm around her friend and whispered in his ear, ‘Do you want to see something special?’
Miika counted to ten to keep her waiting – and because mice aren’t great at arithmetic this took quite some time – but eventually he said, ‘Sure.’ Because he could never resist seeing something special.
‘Then follow me.’
Bridget the Brave skipped away, leading him over the snow, past a fallen branch, and then a little further through more even snow until they reached a large tree. Or rather, the trunk of a tree. It had a few small branches sticking out of it, but mainly it was trunk, and the top was as wide as the bottom.
Bridget the Brave pointed to a little hole that had been made by a woodpecker. ‘Look inside,’ she said.
So Miika did and didn’t see much except darkness.
Bridget the Brave darted around the base of the trunk to a bigger-sized hole on the other side, about the size of a horseshoe.
‘Look. It’s hollow,’ said Bridget the Brave. ‘This is the Hollow Tree. Hollow from top to bottom. It’s not a pine or a silver birch. It’s not like my tree with a tiny little hole for me to live in. This tree is all hole. It grows exactly like this – like a giant bucket made of wood. A perfect hiding place.’ She was gesturing wildly with her little arms. ‘Now, I’ve been thinking about something. And I have a plan. A brilliant plan. Are you ready for an adventure? A brave adventure.’
Miika remembered one of Bridget the Brave’s earlier plans to squeak rude insults at a passing wolverine, which nearly got them both killed.
Bridget the Brave was full of plans. Dangerous plans.
And Miika always went along with them, because he liked having a friend, even if he secretly knew she was dangerous. If he ever raised an objection, Bridget the Brave would call him a coward and go in a huff, so Miika agreed to all kinds of silly stuff.
And now was no different.
Miika felt happy to be back with his friend again. Having a friend was a better kind of magic than being drimwicked. Even if it was a friend like Bridget the Brave.
‘Yes,’ he said, trying to hide his worry. ‘Of course. I’m ready for an adventure.’
‘That’s good,’ said Bridget the Brave. ‘Because I have just thought of the best adventure EVER.’
irst, I have a test for you . . . Move that,’ said Bridget the Brave, pointing over to the heavy-looking branch of a pine tree.
‘What?’ Miika’s eyes bulged with worry and confusion.
‘Go on, see if you can use your drimwick powers. Lift it up into the air.’
Miika stared at the snowy branch. But nothing happened. Move, he said in his mind. Rise.
It was no good. The branch stayed where it was.
‘Well, that is disappointing,’ said Bridget the Brave, with a tut.
But just at that moment Miika could feel it. That warm feeling of strength. The branch moved, just by a whisker. And Miika knew it could move some more. Indeed, the difference between a still branch and a moving branch was infinitesimal. Once his mind had made something move a little bit, he realised he could make it move A LOT. The very next moment, the large twisted branch trembled, then lifted high into the air. The snow fell from it in thick clumps as it wobbled upwards, glowing faintly from the magical drimwickery Miika was using.
‘I’m doing it. I’m doing it,’ said Miika. ‘Look!’
‘I can see!’ Bridget the Brave said, her tail wiggling in delight.
‘It’s actually pretty easy,’ said Miika casually, as the branch floated above them.
‘Now, Miika, my dear friend, you remember that troll cheese I told you about?’ said Bridget the Brave excitedly, still staring at the hovering branch. ‘The most amazing and special cheese I ever tasted?’
‘Urga-burga cheese?’ said Miika, letting the branch fall to the ground with a thud.
He remembered how Bridget the Brave had described it.
The greatest and stinkiest cheese in the whole universe . . . a mouldy blue colour, like a clear sky, and it doesn’t just taste brilliant, it makes you feel brilliant. One taste and you’re happy for days.
‘Yes,’ said Bridget the Brave, sitting down beside a pine tree. ‘Urga-burga cheese. Well, as I told you, I’ve only tasted it once. Back when I was little and still lived with my parents. We lived right on the edge of Troll Valley, and once some of the trolls started having a massive food fight (as trolls do from time to time), and food started raining from the sky. We had never seen anything like it! Stinky troll sausage and rock bread and slime pie. One of the rock bread rolls landed on my brother, Grubber, and he died. Everyone was running as fast as they could to get back to our mouse hole for, you know, fear of imminent death, but then we noticed something. A smell. The most INCREDIBLE smell. The most wonderful, intoxicating, magical smell. The kind of smell that – even when rock bread is falling from the sky – makes you think of nothing else. And so me and my seventeen siblings followed our noses and came across this lump of entirely blue cheese. After much arguing we agreed to divide the cheese into seventeen pieces. One tiny little crumb for each of us. Oh, what a moment! I hoped I would one day taste it again . . .’
Bridget the Brave closed her eyes, remembering.
Miika felt hungry simply hearing this story, but he was also confused.
‘It sounds like really good cheese. But why are you telling me this?’
Bridget the Brave’s eyes sprang open. ‘Because Troll Valley is still there. And it’s not too far from here.’
‘And?’
‘And so are trolls. And so is Urga-burga cheese. And so are adventures!’
Miika shrugged. ‘I’m not sure I follow. What are you suggesting, Bridget the Brave?’
‘I am suggesting that if we start walking now, we could be at Troll Valley before nightfall.’
‘But why would we want to go to Troll Valley?’ asked Miika. Suddenly, he realised. ‘No, Bridget the Brave. We can’t go and steal some cheese from trolls. That is not going to happen. Because they are . . . trolls. Giant, murderous trolls. Trolls who would stamp on us without a second thought. Trolls whose feet are so humungous there would be no escape, no matter how fast we ran. Do you know how many mice are killed annually by trolls? Have you seen the statistics?’
‘No. Have you?’
‘Well, no. But that’s not the point. The point is, it is a lot. We’d be killed.’
Bridget the Brave shook her head as if Miika was missing the point. ‘But, Miika, this is the old you talking. You’ve been drimwicked now, remember? You made Snow Owl shoot through the air. You can lift ginormous branches. You have invincible powers. You are brave.’
‘Yeah, but—’
‘So, all we’d have to do is get to Troll Valley. We’ll sniff out the location of the Urga-burga, then you do your magic and send the cheese flying this way.’
‘But that’s stealing. It just seems wrong.’
Bridget the Brave looked disappointed. ‘Mice don’t steal cheese, Miika. We take it. Because that’s what mice do. That’s our nature. It’s the purest nature of all. A mouse taking cheese. You are still a mouse, aren’t you?’
This made Miika grumpy, but also a little worried he was about to lose his friend again. ‘Of course I am! But it’s also in my nature to be scared by giant angry trolls who could kill us with one not-so-little finger!’
‘You’ve been drimwicked. You aren’t dying any time soon. Please, Miika. Let’s do this together.’
‘But what if we do it, and we’re successful, and we steal – sorry, take – the cheese, and we bring it back here. What then?’
Bridget the Brave laughed. ‘Then we store it in the Hollow Tree. Where no one can find it. Then we eat it. And we keep eating it. Day after day after day. And we stay happy. And we never have to hunt for a boring mushroom ever again.’
‘Yeah, but—’
‘Yeah but yeah but yeah but yeah but . . . I’ve met woodpeckers who repeat themselves less than you, Miika! If you’d tasted Urga-burga you would understand. It is a total no-brainer. Have you never had the guts to just take something?’
Miika remembered being a little mouse, taking the mushroom from his sleeping mother and eating it all by himself.
‘Once,’ mumbled Miika.
‘I am going to Troll Valley with or without you . . . But if you aren’t going to come, don’t bother being around when I get back. I don’t want a coward as a friend.’
And Bridget the Brave started walking, in the opposite direction, to Troll Valley.
‘But you’ll be killed!’
‘Well, you’d better come and look after me then, hadn’t you? Are you a coward . . . or a mouse?’
Miika sighed, and really hoped the taste of Urga-burga cheese was worth it, as he followed his friend deeper into the forest.