The Bell Beneath the Snow

Fira was carrying mistletoe, Nubo had a basket of nuts, and Orumi was coming home from the forest with empty paws. A moment earlier, he had been holding pine cones, but he had thought they would look nicer on the trees. Now one of the pines was growing cones tied with bows.

They were nearly back at their cottage when they heard a bell.

Ding. Ding.

Nubo stopped.

“Is someone coming on a sledge?”

The path behind them was empty. So was the path ahead.

Ding. Ding.

This time, the sound seemed to come from beneath their feet.

Orumi crouched beside a snowdrift.

“Perhaps the snow is calling someone.”

Nubo put down the basket. He took a few steps to the right, then came back. The bell rang again: two short chimes, a pause, then two more.

“It keeps repeating,” he said. “Even when the wind drops.”

Fira brushed the snow aside with a petal arm. Dark bark appeared beneath the white layer.

“I remember this log. It was lying across the gully in autumn. It’s hollow inside.”

She followed a barely visible ridge in the snow. Among the roots of a spruce tree, she found a round opening. From inside it came a clear:

DING. DING.

“Hello!” she called.

The reply sounded faint, as though someone were speaking through a very long pipe.

“Here! Down here!”

Nubo knelt beside Fira.

“The sound is travelling through the log. That’s why the bell seemed to be underneath us.”

At the other end of the log, at the bottom of the gully, sat a small traveller. Her hood looked like a folded leaf. Beside her stood a sledge with a wooden trunk on it. She held a little brass bell in her hand.

“I’m Tala,” she called. “I was following the old path down to the bridge, but the bridge has gone. My sledge slid down the slope. I could climb out by myself, but I’m not leaving this.”

She patted the trunk.

“Presents?” asked Fira.

“My violin. I’m going to play at my sister’s house. I promised I’d be there before supper.”

Nubo looked down. He was already reaching into his bag for a rope when Fira stopped his arm.

“Not this way. There are loose stones under the snow. Further along, there are hazel trees. Their roots hold the bank together.”

She went around the snowdrift and pointed to a narrow, gentle slope.

Orumi looked at Tala, then at her sledge. He imagined a broad staircase, the sort that made it easy to carry large things uphill. Steps with rough wooden treads appeared on the slope Fira had chosen.

“There. Like that,” he said, pleased. “They’ll be useful on the way back, too.”

Fira went down first. She helped Tala to her feet and brushed off her hood. Nubo tied the trunk to the sledge, then passed the rope over a strong, low branch of a hazel tree. This let him pull steadily while Fira guided the runners. Orumi walked beside Tala, carrying the bell.

Back at the top, the traveller opened the trunk. Her violin lay safely inside its soft case.

“Will we make it?” she asked.

Nubo glanced at the sky.

“Show us the way. We’ve already got the nuts for supper.”

They reached Tala’s sister’s house just as candles were being lit in the windows. The door opened before they had time to knock. Soon they were surrounded by greetings, the smell of mushroom soup and the scrape of chairs being moved.

Fira received so many hugs that her mistletoe ended up crooked.

“But what about your supper?” Tala asked when the friends began to get ready to leave.

Nubo looked at the extra chairs being brought to the table.

“I think it’s just changed its address.”

Tala took out her violin. Orumi sat down with the bell. He waited so patiently for the right moment that Fira leaned towards him.

“Now?”

He nodded and moved his hand gently.

Ding.

This time, the sound did not lose its way beneath the snow. It rang out between the violin notes and the clink of spoons, just above the basket of nuts.