The Prodigal Troll

by Charles Coleman Finlay

  "These are our friends," Windy repeated.

  "Then let them eat," Maggot said. He smiled at her again.

  Hunger outvoted any lecture she intended to give. She reached down to snap off the vines that bound the deer to the poles. In its side, she noticed the broken-off point of one of Maggot's sticks. He had to get close to the horns to do that, and she looked over him quickly for signs of new wounds. He'd suffered a lot of injuries in his twelve years. But he appeared fine. The other trolls still held back, although she could almost hear their stomachs rumbling.

  "What will you eat?" she asked. They had learned long ago that carrion made Maggot ill. He had to eat meat fresh, soon after it was dead, or not eat it at all. He had so many weaknesses, and struggled so hard to overcome them.

  "I've eaten," was all he said. She doubted it. He'd never put on the weight he needed or grown the way he should. She opened her mouth to say so, and saw him smiling at her, as if he knew exactly what was coming next. "I killed a striped-tail the same evening, and ate it myself."

  Aha, she thought. Trying something small first, then something bigger. Very typical of him. And not waiting long before the second venture either. Also typical.

  The other trolls jostled for position, pushing the smaller ones back while they waited for her to take first piece. Windy chomped down on the rear flank, severing the hip joint with her massive jaw, ripping the flesh with her nails, and pulled away a whole leg. The others crowded in as soon as she stepped away, jumping back only when the gasswollen belly popped. The two children licked those parts up off the ground, while every other part of the animal disappeared within moments. Some of the trolls took more than others while a few had none at all, and those looked to steal any loose scraps.

  The meat tasted sweet. Windy gobbled it up quickly, shoving moist chunks of it into her massive cheeks.

  Maggot circulated among the trolls. They curled their shoulders against him, ready to run away. They didn't know, as she did, that he wouldn't steal their food because he couldn't stomach it. When he came close to Stinker, the troll rose up and growled at him. Maggot dodged behind him and scampered away. She thought she'd seen one of the sharp sticks in his hand, but when she glimpsed him again, the wooden tooth was gone. Stinker squatted down again.

  A second later, in between the sounds of meat being ripped off bones, she heard a pop followed by a howl of pain.

  Stinker danced around and around, waving his arms and slapping at his behind. As he spun away from Windy, she saw the stick poking out of his bottom. Maggot must have propped it under him, where his own weight on it punctured his thick skin.

  She couldn't help herself; she started to laugh-and so did most of the others. When Stinker dropped the other haunch-that was the piece he'd ripped free-to grab at the stick with both hands, Maggot rushed in. He scooped up the meat and hurried away to the young female, who sat there with nothing to eat.

  It was a courtship gift, all very proper. And, coming from Maggot, not proper at all. Windy's laughter died in her throat.

  Frosty frowned in open disapproval. It was a glare so very like Windy's mother, it made her feel at home, even though her mother had died during the past winter. The young female appeared stunned, but she made the proper gargling sound in response, grabbed the meat, and ran away to eat it.

  Stinker hopped over to Frosty and asked her to remove the splinter. She did, and as soon as it came out, he grabbed some of the ribs from her pile of bones and scooted off. Soon bones crunched by thick teeth, and the sucking out of marrow, were the only sounds in the woods besides the waterfall.

  Windy sniffed the air. The mood was mixed. The trolls were glad for the scraps of meat, but Maggot made them nervous. He made her nervous too when he went over and flirted with the girl.

  He whispered to her first, drew a laugh, and that wasn't so bad. Then they rubbed faces together, and she bent over abruptly, presenting her sex to him. It was neither swollen nor properly red, and she continued to eat and look around while she did it. Windy suspected that the girl was only trying to make Stinker jealous. But Maggot sniffed at it, stood up, and waved his sex at her face to show he was interested. When he rubbed up against her, the adults were caught between horror and humor. But since neither Maggot nor the girl gave off the proper musk, and since the girl was so much larger than he was, they treated it like an uncomfortable joke.

  Windy sighed miserably.

  She'd always hoped that Maggot would find a nice girl to mate with and settle down. She didn't care for grandchildren so much, but his happiness mattered to her. She knew that she and Ragweed had been happy, even if only for a short time. She wanted that for her son.

  So Maggot's earnestness worried her. However much the other trolls considered the pantomime a joke, Windy knew that he was serious about mating with the girl. The girl noticed it too, at about the same moment, because she squealed and jumped away. When Maggot stood there confused, Stinker growled and charged, shoving him to the ground.

  "Wrestle him!" Little Thunder shouted.

  The others in the little band took up the chant at once. "Wrestle, wrestle!"

  Stinker's face wrinkled happily at the suggestion. He reared up on his hind legs, almost eight feet tall and over two hundred fifty pounds, battering his chest with the danger-death warning. "I challenge you!"

  Maggot sat on the ground. He looked at Windy, his eyes cold and certain. There were times when she wished he were not so completely fearless or that he would not take such risks. But what could she do?

  She smacked her lips: yes.

  He stood up-two feet and a hundred pounds shy of Stinker's sizepounding death on his chest, using cupped hands instead of knuckles to make a sharper, cracking sound in place of the deep resonant bass.

  The adults formed a rough circle around the edge of the glade. Or, rather, a half circle spread out behind Stinker. Windy sat alone in the other half of the circle. The girl hovered on the edge between the two, knuckle-walking toward Windy then back again toward her band.

  "You're a baby bird in a nest," Maggot said, snapping his fingers in Stinker's face. "I'm going to crush you like that!"

  "You're a worm!" Stinker screamed. "And I'm going to squish you like a, uh, like a, like a worm!"

  Maggot fell forward to stand on his hands, and waved his foot at Stinker's face. "You're a snake in the grass-I'm going to break your skinny little snake-neck between my toes."

  Some of the other trolls laughed at this. It was a good trick, something none of them could do. Besides, the insults were a big part of the fun of wrestling, and Maggot was good at them. Telling a troll he had a neck was like telling a twelve-year-old he smelled like milk.

  Stinker was not so good at insults. He grabbed at Maggot's foot like a fish going for a fingernail. Maggot flipped backward and landed upright. Stinker rushed him, but Frosty thrust her long arms between them.

  "Are you done talking already?" she asked.

  "Just let me at him!" Stinker said.

  Frosty looked to Maggot, who bounced up and down a little nervously. He lifted his chin. "Just have him bend over," he said, "so I can fart in his ear to see if he knows his name."

  "Let me at him!"

  "Not until I say ready," Frosty commanded. "Do you both agree to this?"

  They did.

  "Does anyone vote against it?" She looked at Windy.

  Windy refused to raise her hand. Sooner or later, Maggot had to learn what was going to happen to him if he picked fights with other males over a girl.

  "Let them wrestle already," Big Thunder hollered.

  Frosty turned back to the boys. "There's to be no eye poking, or nose gouging, and no killing, but everything else is fair. Do you both agree to that?"

  "What if I smash him by accident?" asked Stinker. "What if I fall on him? He'll squish like a berry."

  "What if I rip his head off?" Maggot spit back. "What if I rip his head off and drink his brains out of his skull? Oh, wait, I can't-he doesn't have any.
"

  "No killing!" Frosty told Stinker. "You'll fight until I say stop." She stepped back with her arm outstretched, dropped it suddenly, and cried, "Go!"

  The first exchange happened quickly. Stinker charged with his arms upraised to strike; Maggot dropped to the ground and kicked Stinker's ankles out from under him. As Stinker crashed into the dirt, Maggot attempted to leap past him for the poles he carried the deer carcass in on-going for his sharpened sticks, Windy realized-but Stinker lurched to his feet and thrust his hand out wildly. Maggot smacked into the giant forearm and flopped on his back with a sharp cry of pain.

  Stinker took a running leap high into the air so he could crush Maggot. Windy gasped aloud; but her son rolled out of the way, and Stinker slammed hard into the ground. Maggot came up with a handful of dirt and flung it into Stinker's face.

  When Maggot made another dash for his sticks, Little Thunder moved to intercept him. The delay allowed Stinker, howling and blind, to lurch after Maggot's scent. His flailing hand caught her son's ankle and tripped him. Maggot fell down, and Stinker fell on top.

  Her son's pale skin glistened in the bright moonlight as he wriggled half-free. He and Stinker rolled over several times in their struggle. The lopsided little circle of hooting spectators moved with the pair as they tumbled down the slope to the side of the pool below the waterfall. Stinker ended up on top, spit flying out of his mouth as he pounded his hands at her twisting, dodging son. Windy's fingers kneaded her breast anxiously. Maggot groped in the mud, then smashed his fist into Stinker's nose. She assumed he had picked up a rock as a weapon, but he hadn't. Instead, he shoved a big ball of mud up Stinker's nostrils, choking him. As the troll curled away gagging, Maggot squirmed free.

  Or almost free. Stinker grabbed Maggot's foot with one hand while the other clawed at his clogged nose. Maggot whipped around, and she heard a snap followed by a howl of pain-he'd broken Stinker's finger to break his grip.

  "Run," she whispered, hoping he would hear her. "Run, run far away, run fast, and I'll come find you when it's safe."

  But he didn't run. He pounced on Stinker's back, slipping his arm under the troll's and pressing his forearm down on the back of Stinker's neck. Windy's eyes went wide. This was a practical joke that Maggot played on her often, holding her arm out of the way so he could tickle her.

  "Run," she pleaded.

  Then Maggot did the same with his other arm, something he'd never done to her. Stinker spun in a circle, unable to reach Maggot, who perched on his back like a trollbird.

  "Rip the maggot's head off!" Little Thunder screamed to his son, and the other trolls screamed with him, slapping their hands on the ground. The uproar made Windy tremble.

  "Bite him!" Rose cried. "Bite him really hard!"

  "Fall on him!" Big Thunder yelled.

  The last suggestion made the most sense, and someone had just suggested that they vote on it when Stinker took the initiative into his own hands-or rather legs, as his hands flapped uselessly over his head-and flopped backward. Windy plunged her fingers into the loam and groped for bedrock to root herself to. She wanted to run to Maggot's aid, but knew she could not. Not yet. But as soon as the two hit the ground, she would rush in-

  They didn't hit the ground.

  Maggot had anticipated Stinker's move. As the troll fell back, Maggot kicked his legs out and landed upright. With his feet planted firmly, he bent Stinker's chin into his chest. Then, with a heartwrenching cry, he folded the troll over double.

  Stinker's skin turned a darker shade of gray. He couldn't breathe. The veins stood out on Maggot's head, like ridges in the moonlight. Windy held her place. All fell silent except for the rush of the waterfall as they watched her son strain his long legs to snap Stinker in half and grind him into the dirt.

  Surely, Windy thought, looking at her son, his heart will burst. If his didn't, hers would.

  That's when the girl shrieked and rushed forward. She leapt on Maggot's back, slapping and clawing him. "You beast! You, you animal ! "

  Maggot let go instantly and fled across the glade for one of the trees. He dashed in among the branches and climbed above the height of the trolls. "Hey, Fart," he taunted, between loud, ragged breaths. "Your mama had to run and save you!"

  It was all the more effective as an insult because Windy sat there and did nothing. The other trolls howled with laughter, even Little Thunder, as the girl cradled a sulking, weary Stinker in her arms.

  "Look at mama troll with her baby!"

  "Better clean his nose, Mama, it's a mess!"

  Windy let go of the dirt, brushed it off her fingers, and relaxed. They'd ridicule Stinker for years for losing a wrestling match to her boy.

  Frosty lumbered over and sat down beside Windy. Neither one said a word. Then Frosty reached out and started grooming her, picking off loose scales of skin and crawling bugs. Windy sighed in contentment.

  "That was good fun," Frosty said, crunching a big tick between her molars. "Your son, he fights like a troll."

  "He's a good troll," Windy said.

  Little Thunder overheard and grunted his approval. "He brought us some fresh rotten meat. That was good. You and your son, you can come visit our band any time you want."

  "Visit, but not stay," Frosty said firmly, with a glance at Rose. "We can take a vote, and you and he can argue otherwise, if you insist. But I won't support it."

  Windy didn't insist. She'd heard the same thing many times before, from Sulfur Springs down south to Deep Hole Gorge in the east. "We're just glad for your hospitality. Maybe I could come to your den to sleep for the day, and tomorrow night I can tell you what I've seen in the seven bands."

  "That smells good. And your son? Where will he spend the day?"

  Even Frosty knew that it would not be safe for Maggot to stay there, not until Stinker got over his anger. "He can take care of himself," she said loudly. "He's a grown troll."

  She glanced over. Maggot smacked his lips at her, and descended from the tree. His skin looked like dropped fruit in the moonlight, covered with dark bruises and deep cuts. As he ran off into the woods, she worried less than she had only two nights before. He'd proven that he could take care of himself. She was proud of him, prouder than ever.

  So why did she feel so sad?

  he air outside the cave blew wonderfully cold in the short daylight. In the summertime, cool air inside the cave refreshed her; now it felt warm compared to the winter wind, almost enough to make her feel sluggish. Windy longed to run out and roll in the snow to wake up, but the last wings of daylight still feathered the cave's entrance.

  Some of the other trolls walked up from the deeper recesses of the caverns, rubbing their eyes. "Is he back yet?"

  Windy opened her mouth and thrust out her tongue.

  The trolls frowned, but not much. One of them chewed on a bigeared bat that had fallen from its perch high up in the cave. Sometimes the trolls threw stones at the bats to knock them down. Thousands hung upside down on the tall ceilings of the caverns, night creatures like the trolls and hard to catch in the summer when they flitted around too fast for the eye to follow. But they seemed to sleep all winter long and were easy to capture. One in the mouth melted away to nothing like snow. A whole pile of them didn't add up to a decent meal, though it was something crunchy to snack on.

  Windy sighed. Winter was the best time of year for a troll. It was easier for her to stay active in the cold, and the nights were so long that there was enough time to eat and play. Best of all, it was the season of meat: weaker animals succumbed to the harsh temperatures and foundered in the deep drifts, leaving plenty of carrion for the trolls. She scratched the back of her neck, then her elbow. Scales of gray skin floated through the air like snow. That was the only problem-their thick skin dried up and came off in big flakes that left the skin beneath pink and raw.

  She thought of Maggot's thin skin, no longer so white, scorched brown by the sun, rubbed raw by the wind, with so little fat beneath it that she wondered how he staye
d warm at all. In comparison, her own itchiness didn't seem like such a big problem.

  The last trolls straggled up from their day's sleep. There were no children in this band-the last had been killed by a cave bear during the summer-and none of the females were pregnant. Yet these seventeen individuals constituted the largest remaining band of trolls in all the eastern mountains. Windy knew of nine at Blackwater Falls, and seven each in the bands at Deep River Gorge and Sulfur Springs. There were some farther north, in the Black Rock country, some said, or toward the Big Deep Water. The Piebald Mountain remnant from way down south had moved north a few winters before, looking for a place without people. It was believed that there were many far to the west, in the mountains beyond the sunset, but no one living had ever seen them.

  A shadow fell across the cave's entrance. As the trolls surged toward the promise of darkness, a thin, almost skeletal figure entered.

  One of the girls gasped. "What an ugly troll!"

  "He's beautiful!" Windy snapped. The girls dissolved in giggles, and she realized she'd been had.

  Maggot was still short, not even six and a half feet tall, and painfully thin at a little over two hundred twenty pounds, but he had grown as big as could be expected. He was eighteen or nineteen winters old now-Windy had lost count of the years. His pale skin was covered with more scars than she could count or remember. The new and fading marks overlapped each other, from the numerous deep scratches left by the nails of other trolls to two long purple worms across one thigh left by a bigtooth lion. Some of them he'd never explained to her, nor had she asked him to.

  Ragweed snorted. He was the biggest male in the band, grown boulder-bellied with age and presumably wise. He stood next to his current mate, a pretty young girl named Cliff, and glared balefully at Maggot. His nose wrinkled, and he shouldered his way forward.

  Windy sniffed and smelled the same odor, of many people, but no one stood there except her son. "Maggot?"

  He stepped out of the light into the dark, and she saw him clearly then. He wore something on his feet, not just wrapped animal skins but things shaped from the forelegs of deer. They had the people scent on them, as did the skin across his shoulders.