The Troublesome Troll
Prince Robin sat quietly at his father’s feet in the Great Hall. Burning logs spat and crackled in a round stone hearth in the centre of the room. He watched smoke from the fire drift up and out through a hole in the thatched roof. A sinuous black cat stalked sparrows nesting in the oak rafters. The cat was called Shadow. Shadow belonged to the wizard. If any creature as conceited and spiteful as a cat could be said to belong to anyone.
Prince Robin didn’t think he would ever be as good and wise a king as his father. But he did want to be the best king he could be. A good king was like the shepherd who tended his flock day and night. Summer and Winter. Not because people were sheep but...
He felt his father nudge him with the toe of his boot and sat up straighter.
You will be king one day, his father had told him. So listen and learn. An ordinary chair would serve the people better than a throne with a fool on it.
There was no throne as such in the Great Hall. King Roland sat on a large block of dark grey granite with a wolf skin thrown over it. The king had killed the wolf with only a hunting knife when he wasn’t much older than Robin.
I must have flour, said the cook. I cannot bake bread without it!
The miller and his family stood next to the unhappy cook.
There isn’t any flour, said the miller. We need water to turn the mill wheel to grind the wheat. But something or someone has dammed the river.
Faith, thought Robin. No bread? But no bread would mean no toast. And a breakfast with no toast was no breakfast at all. There’d be no crusts to soak up the runny yolk of his boiled egg!
And no honey! How could he have bread and honey if there was no bread?
No bread means the people will go hungry, said the wizard.
Aldhyrwoode could read the prince’s mind as easily as some people could read words printed on a page. Robin blushed and looked away from the wizard. He saw the miller’s daughter smiling at him. She was thought by some to be the most beautiful girl in the kingdom. Her hair was flaming red like a sunset. Curls framed her ivory face and tumbled to her waist. Her eyes sparkled emerald green.
Robin didn’t know why he might think of such a thing, but he imagined her lying naked on his bed, and he was licking sweet sticky honey out of her...
Beaver? The king wondered out loud.
Your pardon, Sire. Said the miller. But I have seen it with my own eyes. No beaver can stack full grown trees one on top of the other like firewood.
That, said the wizard, would depend on the size of the beaver.
The miller’s wife blushed.
The cook forgot how upset he was and started to laugh.
The miller scowled and said, This is serious!
The king raised a hand. He’d heard enough. He turned to the captain of the castle guard and said, Send out patrols. Find who or what is building these dams. And have your men clear away the obstruction, so the river runs freely again.
The captain of the castle guard bowed and said, I will see to it at once, Sire!
If it please you, Sire, said Roger, I can show the captain and his men where the dam is.
Roger’s hair was a darker red than his sister’s, and his eyes were brown not green. And he had freckles. Robin decided he liked Roger’s freckles.
He asked his father the king if he could go with the miller’s son to see the dam.
King Roland nodded. If you hurry, he said. Don’t keep the captain and his men waiting.
The wizard Aldhyrwoode said, I will go with them. Whatever "it" is might still be there.
The two boys raced each other to the stables. Robin told Roger there wasn’t time to saddle and harness two ponies. But you can ride with me, he said. Butternut won’t mind.
They galloped out of the castle gates, kicking up a cloud of dust behind them, and joined the column of mounted men at arms. The mill had been built on a bridge that crossed the river not far from the castle. And the dam was only a short ride beyond that.
What could have done this? Robin asked.
There weren’t just trees blocking the river. Someone or something had rolled huge boulders down the mountain side.
Roger could only shrug.
We should explore, said Robin. Perchance the villain has left us a clue!
Don’t go too far, said the wizard. And stay away from giant beavers.
They made their way back to the mill.
Nothing, said a disappointed Roger. Not a footprint. Or a scrap of cloth. Not even a broken twig.
Robin slid down off Butternut and handed Roger the pony’s reins. He took off his boots and hose and doublet and waded out into the mud of the river bed.
Roger said, Take care! If the captain’s men clear a channel you will be swept away!
I think I see something, Robin called back.
Suddenly there was the sound of rushing water.
The captain’s men must have broken through the dam.
The river raced towards him...
All Robin could see was a wall of white water!
The river washed over him. The cold made Robin gasp. He came up coughing and spluttering. He could see Roger pointing at the bridge from the river bank.
Roger was shouting, THE WHEEL! Robin! GRAB THE WHEEL!
Then he was under the bridge. The mill wheel was right there.
This is it, thought Robin. My one chance!
He made a desperate grab for one of the wheel’s wooden spokes. Lost his grip. Reached again. Caught another. And was hauled up out of the water by the turning mill wheel. His arm ached. The force of the river hitting the mill wheel’s timber paddles had almost wrenched it out of the socket. But he was safe. And still alive!
Faith, said Robin out loud to himself. Almost drowning is becoming a habit I should try to avoid in future.
He looked around. It was dark inside the mill. The boards under his feet were wet and slippery and the air smelled of rotting damp. The mill wheel creaked. The paddles turned. Robin saw a tangled mop of dark red curls. And then Roger was sprawled on the floor. Dripping. Trembling. Retching.
Robin helped him to his feet.
Roger spat out a mouthful of river water. Faith, he said. But I NEVER want to do THAT again!
Really? Robin asked. I thought it was fun!
Roger led Robin to the small room that was his and stripped off his wet clothes. He laid them out on his bed to dry and wiped himself with an empty flour sack. He gave another to Robin. The sack was coarse and it scratched. But it did take the mud off.
It was quiet in the mill. Too quiet.
The wheel, said Roger. It has stopped again!
They ran to see why. Robin thought he saw something hiding in the shadows. A shadow in a shadow. No. Not a shadow. But...
Shadow!
Robin pointed and said, There!
That? Roger asked. T’is only a cat.
Not just any cat, said Robin. It’s the wizard’s cat!
We thought it a stray, said Roger. My sister feeds it.
And very nicely thank you, said the cat.
Robin looked at Roger.
Roger looked at Robin.
You can talk! They said together.
Of course I can talk, said Shadow.
There were voices. Getting closer. Louder.
Shadow said, The Master comes. And he leaped on to a window ledge and was gone.
The wizard and the miller walked in through the mill’s open doors together. The miller’s wife and daughter were behind them. The miller’s wife had found Robin’s clothes.
Aldhyrwoode looked Roger up and down with an odd smile on his face and winked at Robin. The pen doesn’t stop to think whose is the ink well, he teased.
Never mind who’s been dipping their nib, said the miller. Why is my wheel not turning? The river runs! I don’t understand it!
He reached up and grabbed the edge of a broad paddle and tried using all his weight to pull it down. But the wheel didn’t move. He wrapped his arms around the vertical pole that was meant to turn the grinding stone and tried to shift it. But still nothing. He checked the gears and cogs where they fitted with the spindle. But there was nothing wedged anywhere that might stop them.
He swore and stamped his feet and tore handfuls of hair out of his already balding head moaning, Why? Why? Why?
Robin tugged on the wizard’s sleeve. Before, he said. When there was only mud. I thought I saw something under the bridge.
Aldhyrwoode looked puzzled. What kind of something? He asked. Man or beast? Fish or fowl?
None of those, said Robin. And all of them.
The wizard stroked his beard and said, Could it be?
What is it? Robin asked.
The wizard didn’t answer. He turned and strode out of the mill. Robin and Roger were right behind him. He stopped suddenly to draw his wand out of the sash tied around his flowing robe, and they almost bumped into him.
The wizard put his hands to his mouth and called, Curmudgeon! Is that you?
A voice called back from under the bridge, Who wants to know?
It’s your old friend - Aldhyrwoode!
You’re no friend of mine!
Show yourself!
Not bloody likely! Who’s that with you?
Only a pair of rascals like you, said the wizard. Come out and see for yourself..
We’d very much like to meet you, called Robin politely. Not sounding at all like a rascal.
An ugly face appeared. It wasn’t human, or animal, but bits of both. It had a fish’s mouth. A pig’s snout. A ram’s horns on its head. Its upper body was a man’s. But its arms were too long like an ape’s. It had hind legs like a goat. And a spade tipped tail.
Roger swore. What is that thing?
A troll, said the wizard. And a tricksy one at that.
Do you know him? Robin asked.
The wizard Aldhyrwoode nodded and said, We’ve met before.
The troll put its thumbs in its ears and wriggled its fingers and stuck its long green tongue out and blew a very loud raspberry.
BLLLLLUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRPPPPP!!!
Then it turned around and bent over and shook its hairy wart spotted wriggly jiggly bottom at them.
You forget your manners, said the wizard. He pointed his wand at Curmudgeon’s impertinent posterior and blasted it with a bolt of blue lightning.
Curmudgeon yowled. And he and his still smoking bottom disappeared.
There’s more, warned the wizard. If you don’t come out now!
The troll was back. Hanging upside down from the keystone at the top of the arch that supported the bridge by curved toes that looked like eagle’s talons.
What do you want? Curmudgeon grumbled.
An answer, said Aldhyrwoode. Nothing more.
Then ask, said the troll. And bugger off!
Why are you up to your old mischief again?
Why not? It’s what we trolls do.
What will make you stop this nonsense?
A kiss, said Curmudgeon. From the miller’s daughter.
Ewww, said Roger. Why would anyone want to kiss my sister?
That is my price, said Curmudgeon. It is not too much to ask!
Indeed, said the wizard. She is very beautiful.
We are still talking about my sister, right? Asked Roger.
I will arrange it, said Aldhyrwoode. She will come to you at dawn tomorrow, and you shall have your kiss.
I’ll be right here waiting, leered the troll.
She won’t do it, said Roger.
She must, said the wizard.
The rising sun painted the morning sky with streaks of orange and lavender. The miller’s daughter stood at the edge of the river. There were bubbles in the water. Then the troll was right there. Dripping slime and draped with foul smelling weed. He spread his arms and smacked his lips and made rude smooching noises.
Lay it on me baby!
She cupped his horrible face with her hands and pressed her lips to his.
Then, two things happened...
The miller’s daughter threw up.
There was a puff of luminescent green smoke. And Curmudgeon the troll started to shrink. Smaller and smaller. His eyes bulged. His skin changed from dark and hairy to smooth and slippery. His short stumpy legs grew longer. His fingers and toes were webbed.
He croaked once. RIBBBBBIT!
And jumped back into the river with a splash.
A frog?
The miller’s daughter looked shocked and disappointed at the same time.
A FROG? She said again. But I thought... No handsome prince? Really? You mean I did all that for a frog? A FROG! URRRRK!!!
The wizard shrugged. Sorry, said Aldhyrwoode. But life is not always a fairy tale.
The mill wheel was turning again. There was more than enough flour to bake bread for everyone to have buttered crusts to dip in their boiled eggs. Or thick sliced sandwiches dripping with honey. The cook was happy.The miller and his wife were happy. The miller’s daughter was still recovering.
But a frog is better than a toad.
Robin swung himself easily into the saddle. He reached a helping hand out for Roger to climb up behind him, and they rode away from the mill on Butternut.
The miller’s wife called after them, Your Highness! Your clothes!
Keep them, said Robin. No suit suits me better than the suit I am wearing.
Roger laughed. And mine, Mother.
The miller’s wife threw her hands in the air and said, Boys!
The miller put his arm around his wife and said, Will always be boys. And the good Lord love and bless them for it.
Where are we going? Roger asked.
To see a giant, said Robin. And to swim with a water nymph. And we might even ride a unicorn!