THE KING OF ELFLAND’S DAUGHTER
fields we know, he knew only one pace of time, and so had no means of comparison.
“How many years have gone over you,” asked the troll,“ since we spoke in Erl?”
“Years?” said Orion.
“A hundred?” guessed the troll.
“Nearly twelve” said Orion. “And you?”
“It is still to-day ” said the troll.
And Orion would not speak any more of time, for he cared not for the discussion of a subject of which he appeared to know less than a common troll.
“Will you carry a whip,” he said, “and run with my hounds when we hunt the unicorn over the fields we know.”
Lurulu looked searchingly at the hounds, watching their brown eyes: the hounds turned doubtful noses towards the troll and sniffed enquiringly.
“They are dogs,” said the troll, as though that were against them. “Yet they have pleasant thoughts.”
“You will carry the whip then,” said Orion.
“M, yes. Yes,” said the troll.
So Orion gave him his own whip there and then, and blew his horn and went away from the twilight, and told Lurulu to keep the hounds together and to bring them on behind him.
And the hounds were uneasy at the sight of the troll, and sniffed and sniffed again, but could not make him human, and were loth to obey a creature no larger than them. They ran up to him through