“It has happened again,” growled Jurgen.

Henne stopped dead, her hand to her mouth. Almost she dropped the duck that she was carrying.

“Oh no, husband!” she exclaimed. “Where?”

“Thorketl Side.” He flung his pattens into the corner and kicked on his sealskin slippers. “It has dug from end to end. There is not one full row of turnips left.”

“Is it certain? It is indeed a mouse?” Henne wrung the duck’s neck.

“Of course it is certain, wife!” Jurgen sat down at the table and picked up the quart mug of ale that awaited him. “I have seen for myself. I have stood in the tunnel. I have smelt it. I have seen the droppings. True, they are large, but there is no doubt. It is indeed a mouse.”

“But it is so big!”

Jurgen leaped to his feet, his face purple with anger. “Of course it is big, wife!” He lammed both his fists down on the table top. “That is why it is called a Giant Underground Mouse! Because it is a mouse, it tunnels underground and it is big!” He calmed a little, sat down and took a pull at his ale.

Henne plucked the duck in silence. Finally she nodded.

“This can not be borne,” she declared. “How can I fill our stomachs without turnips? But a Giant Underground Mouse, that is shaman’s business. Tomorrow you must visit a shaman. Tomorrow.”

“Yes, wife,” said Jurgen. “You speak wisely. Tomorrow I visit the shaman Koivienen.”

Henne shook her head. “Koivienen is a powerful shaman.”

“Yes, wife. A powerful shaman indeed. The only shaman who has proved himself already strong, powerful enough to challenge a Giant Underground Mouse. It is Koivienen that I should visit. But have no fear, wife. I can handle him. A shaman however powerful is no match for Henne’s husband!” Jurgen laughed.

But Henne went on plucking the duck in silence.

So thus the next day Jurgen reached Koivienen’s kyrka. Jurgen blessed the Gate, waved to each of the Three Heads, nodded to each of the Four Fires, and finally walked up to the Dreamhouse. There he paused, unshouldered his axe, and leant on it. Casually.

Unusual it was, this Dreamhouse of Koivienen. Instead of the dark wigwam of sticks covered with blackened hide, it was tooth‑white, pure, perfect, its chisel‑sharp top seeming to bite the sunlight and the snow.

“The Spirits bless your steps, most open-handed one!” called out Koivienen, sitting in its doorway. “Although they are readier to bless those who perform the ceremonies with dignity. Alas, the more carping of the spirits would say that a proper bow is not adequately replaced by a mere nod, O most noble visitor!” He rose to his feet.

“But then,” retorted Jurgen, “there are others, equally carping, who would say that a proper Dreamhouse is not adequately replaced by a mere tooth, All-seeing One. Especially by the tooth of a Giant Underground Mouse.” He patted it – and saw with satisfaction that the shaman winced at the familiarity – and then he began to sharpen his axe with his whetstone. “Which brings me to the matter on which your expertise is both manifest and urgently required. I have a Giant Underground Mouse eating up my wife’s turnips, and I want it rid of.”

“Ah,” said the shaman. Jurgen noted that each scrape of the whetstone seemed to cause him to wince. “In that case you need a Giant Underground Cat to chase away the Giant Underground Mouse.”

“Indeed?” answered Jurgen, swinging his axe to make sure he had not disturbed its balance. “And where do I find such a Giant Underground Cat? Such an one has never been heard of in these parts.”

“Ah,” said the shaman, eyeing the axe blade nervously. “In that case you need a Giant Underground Dog to ­– ”

“NO!” Jurgen swung the axe over his head and smashed it into the ground inches from Koivienen’s toes. The shaman leapt back and bounced off the Dreamhouse.

“NO!” Jurgen hefted the axe back on his shoulder and glowered into the shaman’s face. “No. I need YOU. You are courageous and powerful! You have defeated a Giant Underground Mouse before; this we know and believe, for is not this your Dreamhouse its tooth? You know what is to be done, and you have the bravery to do it. Now you will come with me and you will do it.”

And so, the next day, Jurgen sat Koivienen down on a hill overlooking Henne’s farm, with a very small mug of Henne’s ale at his elbow. He looked up at Jurgen, who patted his axe, and at Henne, who was stuffing a duck with turnip.

Koivienen stood up, and in his proper shaman voice began a high wordless chant.

In the farthest corner of his fields, Jurgen saw a mound suddenly appear. The shaman twitched, but continued his chant.

“Ah,” said Jurgen, approvingly. “Now we shall see how a shaman can fight!”

Jurgen saw the mound stretch and grow, as if some huge animal were tunnelling just below the surface of the land. The shaman twitched again, and for a moment his chant faltered, but he lifted up his voice afresh and the chant resumed.

“Ah,” said Jurgen, again. “Now we shall see the strength of a true shaman!” He hefted his axe in case the shaman needed any support.

The mound was coming straight for them now. Jurgen watched clods being flung high in the air, as if the burrowing animal were desperate to reach them. The shaman twitched and gasped, and his chant faded to a whimper, but it was too late. The mound was before their faces.

“Ah,” said Jurgen, for the third time. “Now it comes. Now we shall see your power unleashed, shaman Koivienen!”

Suddenly, and almost at Jurgen’s feet, the end of the mound split in two and a huge grey head broke out, its cavernous mouth wide open, its huge teeth glistening white – all but one. The Giant Underground Mouse had a tooth missing, right at the front.

Its eyes stared straight at Koivienen. “YOU!” it roared. “THIEF! WE MEET AGAIN!”

The shaman made gibbering sounds. His mouth opened and shut several times, like the mouth of a duck.

“SO, THIEF!” the Giant Underground Mouse bellowed, “YOU SHALL NOT ESCAPE ME THIS TIME! GIVE ME BACK MY TOOTH OR – ”

But Koivienen did not stay to hear the words of the Giant Underground Mouse. The shaman ran and ran, and the Giant Underground Mouse ran after the shaman, and Jurgen ran after the Giant Underground Mouse, and Henne ran after Jurgen, until they all came back to Koivienen’s kyrka.

And the Giant Underground Mouse ran past Koivienen. Suddenly it burrowed into the ground and up again right under Koivienen’s Dreamhouse. There was a loud click, and Jurgen saw the Giant Underground Mouse grinning wide, all its teeth in place and gleaming, before diving back deep into the earth.

Jurgen never saw the Giant Underground Mouse ever again.

“Courageous and powerful!” he said to the shaman.

“There are many different powers in the seven worlds,” retorted Koivienen, collecting the cushions from where his Dreamhouse had been. “Powers of the arm, powers of the mind, powers of the word–”

“And powers of the leg,” answered Jurgen. “Rarely have I seen a grown man run so quickly, and from battle!” He turned on his heel and left the kyrka without even blessing the Gate.

But Jurgen was not ungrateful to the shaman. With his axe he chopped down branches enough, and with them he built Koivienen a new, proper Dreamhouse of branches and hides. And Henne made him a pillow stuffed with duck down for him to dream on.

So Jurgen had his fields, Henne had her turnips, Koivienen had his Dreamhouse, and the Giant Underground Mouse had his tooth.

And they all lived happily ever after.