by Lee Bacon
“There’s a problem that needs to be fixed,” says the farmer. “If you help us with it, we’ll let you go free.”
Kara and I both nod eagerly.
“We’ll do it!” she says.
“Absolutely!” I say.
Perhaps we answered too quickly. Because as soon as the farmer and his wife explain the task, it becomes perfectly obvious.
Their problem is probably going to get us killed.
The farmer and his wife lead us across the stable. And just in case either of us has any ideas about escaping, they keep their weapons raised and ready. The pitchfork jabs dangerously close to my side. Fred yelps when the farmer pokes him in the shoulder with the shovel.
“Keep movin’,” grunts the farmer.
Fred and I scramble forward until we reach the chicken coop. I remember wondering last night: why were all the cages empty?
Well, now they’re not all empty.
Because Xyler is locked inside one of the cages.
“We found yer feline friend,” growls the farmer’s wife. “Tried to bite me while I was lockin’ ’im up.”
Her husband prods the cage with his shovel. “Last week, this entire coop was full a chickens. Then one mornin’, they were gone.”
“Every last one of ’em,” says the woman.
“What happened?” I ask.
The farmer glares at the empty cages. “They were stolen. By a troll.”
At least now I know why Gerta was being so mysterious about the empty coop last night. The cow must’ve wanted us to believe that the chickens migrated south for the winter because the truth was much scarier.
There’s a troll chicken thief on the loose.
And as if that’s not bad enough, the farmer and his wife have even worse news.
“We can’t have that monster rampagin’ our farm,” the man says through gritted teeth.
“Which is why we want you kids to kill it,” says his wife.
It’s a good thing I’m already leaning against the wall. Otherwise, I’m pretty sure I’d be lying on my back right now.
“We…we’re only kids.” Fred sounds like he’s just as freaked out. “How are we supposed to kill a troll?”
The farmer’s wife shrugs. “That’s fer you to figure out.”
“Otherwise, I’ll march the two a you vagrants down to the nearest barracks,” says the farmer.
The idea of facing off against a troll might be terrifying, but it’s not as bad as being captured. We were lucky to make it out of the palace once. If we’re marched back there in chains, we’ll never get out again.
“We’ll do it.” I take a deep breath, steadying my voice. “We’ll kill the troll.”
The farmer grins, revealing a mouthful of rotten yellow teeth. “Good. And just in case you think about runnin’ off before the job’s done, we’ll hang on to yer cat.” He rattles Xyler’s cage. “Fer safekeepin’.”
Fred and I wander through a field of tall grass, trying to come up with an idea.
“How in the seven moons are we going to do this?” he asks.
“Don’t ask me.” I kick a clump of hay. “I’ve never even met a troll before. Now I’m supposed to kill one?”
I give the hay another fierce kick. Our task is hopeless.
“Moo.”
Fred and I whirl around to see Gerta approaching.
“I’m so sorry about all this,” says the cow. “The farmer and his wife don’t usually come to the stable so early. I suppose they’ve been paranoid lately because of the chickens—”
“You mean the chickens that got stolen?” I interrupt. “By a troll?”
“Why’d you lie to us?” Fred stares at Gerta, hands on his hips. “Why didn’t you just tell us what really happened?”
Gerta shakes her head sadly. “I…I couldn’t. I made a promise.”
“A promise?” Fred asks. “To whom?”
But instead of answering, the cow darts her eyes past us. Following her gaze, I spot the farmer. He’s stomping our way.
Gerta’s attention snaps back to us. “There isn’t much time. You must listen. I can help.”
You already lied to us once, I think. Why should we trust anything you say?
But I swallow my skepticism. Whatever Gerta’s about to say, it’s obviously important. We might as well hear her out. “The farmer will offer you weapons,” says the cow. “But they won’t do you any good against the troll.”
“Well, that’s just great,” I mutter. “Like we didn’t have enough reasons to be afraid already.”
“If you want to defeat the troll, there’s only one thing you’ll need,” Gerta says.
“What’s that?”
“Cheese.”
It takes my brain a split second to catch up with what the cow just said. I’m sure I must’ve misheard her.
“Hold on. Did you just say…” I let out an astounded breath. “Cheese?”
Gerta nods.
Even in our dire situation, I can’t hold back my sarcasm. “Any particular kind of cheese you’d recommend? Cheddar? Swiss? String?”
The farmer’s footsteps clomp through the grass, heading toward us. Gerta casts a quick glance at him, then turns her pleading eyes back on us.
“I know how crazy it sounds,” she says. “But you must do it. When the farmer gets here, come up with an excuse—”
“I hate to break up the conversation.” The farmer clomps up to us, showing off his rotten grin. “But I believe you kids have a troll to kill. We don’t have much in the way of weapons round the farm, but I can offer you my shovel. Or maybe a kitchen knife?”
“We don’t need any weapons,” Fred replies.
I shoot him a nervous look. Is he really going along with Gerta’s plan?
The farmer’s forehead wrinkles. “No weapons? You sure ’bout that?”
Fred’s face has gone pale, but he doesn’t change his mind. “Yes. We’re sure. Although—uh…it might be difficult to face a troll on an empty stomach. If you would see fit to feed us before we depart, we would appreciate it.”
The farmer runs a hand through his hair. “I s’pose a bit a breakfast couldn’t hurt. What were you thinkin’?”
Even as the words come out of my mouth, I can’t believe what I’m saying. “Do you have any cheese?”
A few minutes later, the farmer returns with a block of cheese. As he approaches, he points toward the rocky hill that looms over the farm like a long, jagged claw. Near the top is a cave.
“See that cave?” he says. “That’s where you’ll find the troll. Don’t return till it’s dead. And we expect to see proof that the job’s done.”
He shoves the cheese into my hands.
“Good luck.”
And so the prince and I set out. Up the steep, stony incline. Navigating our way between massive boulders and the sharp branches of long-dead trees.
Higher and higher and higher.
Inside my chest, my heart’s hammering. Although I’m not sure whether that’s because of the tough climb or the dread pulsing inside me. Maybe both.
Emerging from behind a cluster of boulders, Fred and I stumble to a halt. There it is, right in front of us.
The cave.
For a long moment, all we can do is stare into the vast opening. A thick, murky darkness looms inside.
“I guess this is the place,” Fred mumbles in a soft, shaky voice.
“Guess so.” I stare into the dark mouth of the cave, fear swirling in my stomach. “You sure about this?”
Fred hesitates. “No.”
“Me neither.”
I’m about to suggest we turn back. There has to be another way. Another chore we can take care of around the farm. Something with a slightly lower chance of being horribly killed. But before I can get the words out, a noise echoes from deep within the cave.
“ROOAAAAARRRR!”
The sound rattles my rib cage. Every cell of my body wants to run, but my knees have turned to jelly. I doubt I’d make it te
n feet before collapsing into a terrified heap.
A movement stirs the darkness inside the cave. Massive footsteps shake the ground beneath me.
An instant later, the troll emerges.
The troll is twice as tall as even the tallest man. Built like a boulder, with a massive stomach and hands that could crush your skull like a grape. Its skin is a sickening shade of green. Its feet clobber the ground with each step.
Standing at the edge of the cave, the troll opens its mouth to release another thunderous roar.
I feel my last glimmer of courage flicker away. Beside me, Kara shivers like a leaf in the wind. I wouldn’t be surprised if she turned and fled. Instead, her fingers tighten around our secret weapon.
The block of cheese.
She raises the cheese above her head. And in a loud, trembling voice, she calls out, “W-we…b-brought this for you!”
A look of utter astonishment falls over the troll’s big green face. Its black eyes peer at the cheese in Kara’s hands. When it opens its mouth, I’m expecting another bone-rattling roar. But what comes out instead is a gentle, squeaky voice.
“You…You brought me…cheese?”
Kara’s head bobs up and down once. “Yes.”
“No sharp pointy things? Or hard clobbering things? Or flaming hot things?”
Kara’s head shakes back and forth once. “No.”
“Does that mean that…you’re not here to hurt me?”
Well, actually we’ve been sent to kill you. These words hang heavy in my mind. But I keep them to myself. Even though the troll is enormous and scary looking, there’s something in his soft, curious voice. Something childlike. Something that makes me think he’s just as uninterested in bloodshed as we are.
And so I raise my own voice, and I reply: “We mean you no harm. We’re just here because—well…because of some missing chickens.”
The rest of the story comes pouring out. Kara and I take turns telling the troll about how we spent the night in the stable. How we were discovered by the farmer and his wife. And about the terrible task they assigned us.
The troll listens in silence. Once we’re done, he seems relieved.
“I just want to apologize for all the scary roaring earlier,” he says. “Most people have a pretty low opinion of trolls. They show up at my cave to yell and throw things. I’d rather frighten them off before the situation gets violent.”
I stare at the giant green monster, too stunned to respond. I had no idea a troll could be so…un-troll-like.
“So I’m guessing you didn’t eat the chickens?” Kara asks.
“Of course not.” The troll seems repulsed by such an idea. “I don’t even eat meat.”
Kara’s jaw drops. “You’re…a vegetarian?”
“I suppose you could call it that.”
“But then…what happened to the chickens?”
“I’ll show you.” The troll steps back, gesturing into his cave. “Come inside. I have some jelly that will pair nicely with that cheese.”
This isn’t how I expected events to turn out, but it’s certainly better than having our heads ripped off.
Kara and I follow the troll into his cave. Along the way, he introduces himself as Groosel. “But my friends call me Groo,” he adds. “So you can call me Groo, too.”
Trailing behind him, I stare in awe at my surroundings. This cave is nothing like what I’d imagined. Homemade candles hang from the ceiling, casting a soft glow across the space. A layer of moss has been laid over the ground like a fuzzy green carpet. Framed portraits of somber-looking trolls gaze out from the walls.
Groo gestures to our well-furnished surroundings. “Just because I live in a cave doesn’t mean it shouldn’t feel like home.”
“It’s gorgeous.” Kara stops to admire a crackling fireplace that’s been carved into the stone. “Do you live here alone, or do you have—uh…cavemates?”
“I’m the only troll here.” Groo lets out a heavy sigh. “My family and I used to live in a troll settlement just beyond the Borndal Mountains. We had a good life there. Unfortunately, not all trolls shared our commitment to nonviolence. There were attacks against my family, and…”
Groo’s voice trails off. His dark eyes land on a framed painting of a female troll. Dark hair hangs around her pale green face. Maybe she was his sister. Or his wife. Either way, Groo obviously misses her.
“I was the only one who made it out alive,” he says in a strained voice. “I thought maybe I could live in a human village instead. But that didn’t work out so well, either. Half the villagers wanted to kill me. The other half wanted to enslave me. Once again, I had to flee. And from then on, I knew—if I wanted to live in peace, I had to live apart from society. Away from humans. And other trolls.”
“Don’t you get lonely?” Kara asks.
“Oh, but I’m not alone. Come on, I’ll show you.”
The ground trembles beneath us as Groo stomps deeper into the cave. Kara and I follow him. Along the way, we take in the sights. There’s a sofa carved from stone. And a wooden tube that runs from the ceiling, channeling rainwater into a barrel. A basket on the counter contains a huge pile of eggs.
Parting an ivy curtain, Groo introduces us to yet another surprise.
His cave comes with a backyard.
The stone walls open up to reveal a vast, hidden valley deep within the tall, craggy hill. Light pours in through a gap in the rocky ceiling, shining down on a meadow of tall grass and bright flowers. A stream trickles under an opening in the stone. Orderly rows of crops—corn, wheat, lettuce—have sprouted across one side of the yard. And wandering through all of this, pecking and flapping and squawking, are several dozen…
Chickens.
Groo gestures to the birds. “See what I mean? I’m not alone here after all.”
A look of realization flashes across Kara’s features. “You had no intention of killing the chickens. You wanted to give them a home.”
Groo nods. “The farmer and his wife kept them under miserable conditions. Locked inside crowded cages. Unable to roam around. It was chicken abuse. So I did the only ethical thing. I rescued them. Brought them here, where they can have a better life. I provide them with an open, happy environment. And they provide me with eggs.”
Lumbering into the meadow, Groo tosses giant handfuls of seed to the mob of excited chickens. I think back on all the awful things I’ve heard about trolls over the years. That they’re brainless monsters. Beasts that destroy entire villages. Savages.
Groo disproves all that.
“Only Gerta knows what really happened to those chickens,” he says. “And she promised she wouldn’t tell anyone.”
“That explains why she lied to us,” I say. “But why the secrecy?”
“Because.” Groo lets out a heavy sigh. “The truth could get me killed. The only thing keeping humans away is fear. They think I’m a brutal monster. I can’t let them find out I’m—”
“A vegetarian with a free-range chicken farm?” Kara suggests.
Groo nods ruefully. “Once they discover the truth, they won’t fear me. And if they don’t fear me, they’ll come after me with sharp pointy things and hard clobbering things and flaming hot things.”
I shudder at the thought that humans can be so cruel. But of course we can. I’ve seen plenty of evidence to prove it lately.
Casting a glance around at Groo’s hidden paradise, I say, “We won’t tell anyone about this place.”
“Or about you,” Kara adds.
The troll gazes down at us gratefully. “Thank you.”
“But we still have a problem.” I dig my hands into the pockets of my cloak. “The farmer and his wife. If they don’t get evidence of your death, they’ll have us arrested.”
The troll scratches behind his big green ear. “I’ve been thinking about that. And I might have an idea that can fix both our problems.”
“What’s that?”
He gives us a steady look. “I want you to kill me.”
The three of us sit down at an enormous stone table in the cave’s dining room. In front of us is a platter of cheese and jelly. “Plus some of my delicious homemade bread,” Groo adds. As we eat our breakfast, the troll explains his plan.
“It’s simple, really,” he says between bites of cheese. “The farmer and his wife want me dead. So that’s what we’ll give them. A death scene.”
“But…” Fred’s eyebrows knit together. “How?”
“We’ll fake it.”
“Do you think they’ll believe that?”
“Sure. As long as we put on a good show.” Groo pops a giant piece of bread into his mouth. “You said they want proof, right? Well, why not let them witness my death for themselves?”
I gaze up at the troll, impressed. “This could actually work.”
“Everyone gets what they want,” he says. “The farmer and his wife will believe the big, bad monster is gone. You kids can go free. And if the humans think I’m dead, they won’t show up at my cave, trying to kill me.” With the sound of clucking chickens in the background, we work through the rest of the details. By the time we’re done with breakfast, the plan’s in place.
“Let’s go.” Groo presses his massive hands against the table, rising from his seat. “We have a death to fake.”
The three of us hike down the hill until we reach a flat section with a perfect view of the farm below. It’s the ideal spot for a staged fight. Close, but not too close. We want the farmer and his wife to see everything that happens, without being able to tell none of it is real.
It’s a lot like a school play. We even have props. Groo lumbers behind us, carrying a giant lump of moss that’s been stitched and tied into just the right form. Fred’s holding a flaming torch. And I have a big rock that I found outside Groo’s cave.
Once everyone’s in their positions, Groo stands at the edge of an overhang and releases a horrendous roar. The noise echoes across the valley below. Just as we’d hoped, Groo’s sound effect gets the attention of the farmer and his wife. They come stumbling out of the house, peering up the hill in the troll’s direction. Even from a distance, I can see the revulsion and terror in their faces.