by Jack Heckel
Just as Will was wondering if it was a good idea for the Prince to even be standing, much less fighting, Tomas thrust a gleaming silver helmet down over Charming’s head and onto his shoulders. The old man adjusted a few clasps and bolts, and then clapped the Prince on the back with a metallic bang. “You are ready for battle, Your Highness.”
Gone was the fop with the enormous hat, and in his place was a powerful knight in full shining armor. Will caught his breath as he realized that the Prince did indeed look the part of a hero.
The Prince drew his sword and Tomas gave him a shield. He saluted Will. “I would advise preparing yourself, if not for combat, since I intend to slay the monster myself, then for observing, so that you may properly recount my victory.” With this, he strode purposefully toward the wide wooden bridge. He raised the visor on his helmet with the edge of his sword hilt and shouted, “TROLL, SHOW YOURSELF. Your doom is at hand, but know this, your fall this day shall be recounted through the ages as one of the many triumphs for Prince Charming!”
“Niiice maaahnologue. You must aaadmit, he’s gaaaht styyyle,” said a voice from behind Will.
“Huh, I’m not iiimpressed. Diiid you see hiiis faaace?” asked a much deeper voice.
Will put his hand on his sword and turned, but all he saw were the goats. The trio looked at him with identically bored expressions. Then the littlest butted his head against Will’s leg in an obvious request for more bread. Will absentmindedly fed the kid as he watched the unfolding drama on the bridge and quietly wondered if he was losing his mind.
“Troll, show yourself,” commanded Charming as he beat on his shield with his sword and stepped onto the bridge.
GRABBING THE SIDE of the rail with one of his enormous taloned hands, Gnarsh vaulted from the riverbank beneath the bridge to land opposite the armored Charming. The wooden timbers of the structure creaked ominously beneath his massive bulk. The troll grinned, baring all of his bone-yellow pointed teeth dripping with fetid dark spittle that oozed and stank, and gave a terrifying roar, simultaneously extending his arms wide to demonstrate his massive size and give the Prince a full view of his long dagger-like talons and mottled green and black scales. Gnarsh smiled an evil smile as he saw the horses whinny and rear in panic and the squire and young man standing behind the knight flinch with obvious fear, but his smile turned to a frown as the knight . . . laughed? The troll blinked his great googly eyes in surprise.
Prince Charming chuckled merrily beneath his visor. “Aha! At last, you have chosen to show yourself, fearsome monster! I applaud your dramatic entrance. If you fight with as much flair, I promise you I shall place you foremost in my epic poem. Now let the battle BEGIN!” The Prince shouted enthusiastically as he charged to the attack, swinging his blade.
This isn’t right, thought Gnarsh. Not at all.
WILL’S EYES GREW large as he watched Charming battle the massive creature. “That’s one giant troll.” He couldn’t leave the Prince to face that monstrosity on his own. He had no idea what he could do, but he had to try. Will drew his sword, half raising it and taking a few halting paces forward.
The Prince must have sensed his movement, because even though locked in pitched battle with a creature three times his size, he paused, held the beast off with his shield, and pointed back at Will with his sword. “Hold, William! Your services will be best used in keeping those damnable goats quiet and witnessing my magnificence. I must face this creature alone! It is only as much as I—it— deserves.”
Shamefaced, Will sheathed his sword and returned to the fence. “Smaaart move,” one of the goats bleated, but Will did not hear. He felt suddenly very small. Liz was right. This is what the kingdom needed. How could he possibly protect the people? He was a farce, a lie. He began chewing on the side of his thumb.
On the bridge, the Prince was a blur of flashing metal as he whirled his sword about with expert skill and waded between the troll’s talons with utter fearlessness, blocking the monster’s strikes with his shield and slashing him here and there with his darting blade. Charming laughed again, as if he were truly enjoying the fight. Will shook his head in disbelief; the Prince seemed to have a death wish, why antagonize a creature that could pulverize you into jelly?
Charming’s laughter did seem to be having an affect on the creature. If possible, the troll seemed to have swollen in size with his growing rage until he towered like a small mountain above the steel-clad Prince. “Laugh now, but you will learn fear, little man!” belched Gnarsh as he tried to catch the fast-moving Charming. “I’m Gnarsh the Nasty, foulest troll in the realm!”
The Prince stepped back and saluted the creature with his sword, “An excellent attempt to menace me, Gush. Will, pay close attention, a record must be kept of our dramatic exchange.”
“My name is Gnarsh!” the troll bellowed sulfurously, smashing both of his fists on the spot the Prince had just vacated.
Will hoped the record would not include them all being eaten.
CHARMING WAS HAVING a spectacular time. Finally, he was doing what he was born to do—fighting monsters. That the creature had a name would make it all the better for the stories, if only he could trust Will and his brutish squire to bear accurate witness to his greatness. He was certain now that the Lord Protector, that Will, couldn’t match him. The man was slack-jawed with shame, and this would be only the first of many humiliations for the buffoon on their adventure. This was how a hero’s life should be, besting his rival and an evil creature at the same time.
Gnarsh reached out with his left arm and grabbed the Prince’s shield, hoping to rip it away, but in doing so provided Charming with the opening he had been waiting for. Instead of backing away, as any other knight would have done, the Prince stepped forward so that he was inches from the beast. He inhaled the creature’s foul rotting breath and smiled behind his steel visor—he had him. Charming planted his feet and slashed up violently at the beast as it grappled with his shield. The powerful stroke cut completely through the monster’s shoulder, severing the troll’s arm.
Gouts of black ichor spewed from the severed limb, coating the bridge like oil. The troll screamed in agony and collapsed, shaking the wooden timbers of the bridge in a single mighty shock.
Charming stepped away from the quivering body of the troll so that no more than an artistic spray of the foul blood stained his gleaming armor. His visor scarcely concealed his smile. He turned his back on the beast and walked back toward Will and the squire, tossing his shield aside and doffing his helmet.
“Did you see that, Will? That is how you defeat a monster!” The thought of his bruised face crossed the Prince’s mind briefly, but Charming was too happy to care. He sheathed his sword emphatically and raised his arms above his head. I’m back! My father, the King, will surely be impressed when I present him with the head of this horror.
“Squire, retrieve the bottle of Chateau de Chateau, and the wine goblets,” ordered the Prince as he sauntered back toward them across the bridge.
“My Prince! Behind you!” said the squire.
He looked up at the man. Something was wrong. Rather than the rapt admiration Charming had expected, both the squire and Will were staring past him in horror.
“Um, Prince Charming, I’m afraid he’s not dead yet,” said Will.
The goats next to Will bleated suddenly, and for all the world it sounded like they were laughing. Charming gave them a murderous look and they quieted. Surely, he thought, these men are overreacting. The blow had been a mortal wound, and the life would soon leave the troll even if the monster had not yet expired. He would just have to remove the head to make certain. He drew his sword and turned around.
The troll’s green scales had turned a deep purple. Seething with fury, he shoved his severed arm back into his shoulder. With several audible cracks and pops, the sinews knitted back together. Gnarsh flexed his taloned hand. The little
cocky Prince had laughed at him—AGAIN.
Gnarsh spun his googly eyes and gnashed his yellow teeth. “I’ll crack your bones and suck the marrow!” he roared and loped across the bridge toward the knight.
Though he had tossed his shield aside and was unhelmed, Charming returned the creature’s roar and ran to meet the beast’s charge.
WILL HAD NEVER realized how truly insane Prince Charming was. Only half armored, Charming was certain to be crushed by the monster. Will chewed even harder on his finger as he realized that if the troll killed the Prince, he would be next.
“Whaaat an aaass!” the middle-sized goat seemed to say between bites of a prickly thistle plant that had grown up through the slats of the fence.
“You said it,” a distracted Will murmured, and then shouted out, “PRINCE CHARMING, COME BACK! YOU ARE NOT FULLY ARMORED.”
The Prince gave a jaunty wave in response, and then timing the troll’s speed to perfection, he sidestepped the creature as it pounced and thrust his blade into the ribs of the beast as it landed. The sharp sword dug deep into the monster, sending black ichor spraying across the bridge. For once, Charming did not pause to admire his masterstroke. Instead, he spun behind the troll with the grace of a striking snake. The creature looked about for the Prince, it seemed to have no idea that he was standing directly behind him. Charming winked at Will and, smiling broadly, swung his blade in a wide arc and cut the monster off at the knees. Once again, the troll howled and collapsed to the ground.
The Prince, breathing a little heavier now, spun back to Will, who was wide-eyed in astonishment. After everything he had seen of Prince Charming at the castle, who knew that the man could actually fight, much less that he would be a true sword master. It made Will paled at the memory of their first meeting. Absent the hand of fate, and a bloody great chunk of metal, he would have killed me without breaking a sweat.
“Will, watch as I deliver the coup de grace. I will make it tasteful, as befits such a worthy opponent.” Charming almost turned, then stopped and looked at him more closely. “Are you feeling okay? You look a little green.”
As the Prince was talking, the troll was literally regathering himself. He lunged forward, grabbed his severed legs and, with a sickening wet sound and a painful grunt, shoved them back onto his kneecaps.
Finally, the Prince turned to address the creature, “Gash, prepare yourself . . .”
Charming blinked as the monster rose again and howled with rage, “My name is Gnarsh!” And the battle was rejoined.
The Prince’s skill with arms was mesmerizing, but even Will’s unsophisticated eyes could perceive that there was less flair with each assault. The Prince was beginning to tire.
“The fiiirst clump of thiiick green graaass iiin the paaasture says the troll wiiins,” said the medium-sized goat. “Aaany takers?”
“Heh, thaaat troll ain’t aaall thaaat,” said the big goat.
“Weeell, put your beeelly where your aaabsurd, groteeesquely laaarge mouth iiis.”
Will was so engrossed in watching the desperate fight that, at first, he took no notice of the conversation between the two animals. But, as the bleating continued, little by little the words filtered through to the conscious part of his mind. Slowly he turned his head and, wide-eyed, looked down at the goats at his feet.
“ . . . wait, aaare we betting thaaat the troll driiives hiiim off or eeeats hiiim?” the large goat was saying.
“Eeeats him,” said the medium-sized goat, to Will’s horror.
“III’ll taaake it,” said the big one.
Will knew that there were a great many things that he didn’t know, but one thing he did know was goats, and these were not normal goats. Normal goats didn’t talk, or at least no goat had ever spoken to him. There was the time a rather foppishly dressed house cat had given him advice on how to court Gretel, but admittedly that was in the alley behind the Toad & Donkey, and he had been pretty far into his cups. Still, he could say with confidence that no animal had ever spoken to him while he was stone-cold sober.
His silent, mouth-open stare finally caught the attention of the kid. “Guys, you haaave aaan aaaudience,” it said in a high voice.
The arguing goats both turned and stared up at him defiantly. The large one said, “Biiit of aaadvice friend, don’t staaare. IIIt’s rude.”
“Aaand close your mouth, you look liiike a slaaack-jawed haaalf-wiiit,” added the middle-sized beast.
Will closed his mouth with a snap and shook his head, trying to clear it. He had never spoken to a goat before, so he said the only thing that came to mind. “You talk?”
The small one giggled, the medium one snorted, and the large one said in a deep but quiet voice, “Weeell, we don’t alwaaays saaay baaah, iiif thaaat’s what you mean.”
“Maaaybe he iiis a haaalf-wiiit,” the middle one interjected.
“Cooome on, guys, giiive hiiim a breaaak,” said the smallest one.
“A breaaak,” bleated the big goat. “Heee’s staaanding over here taaalking to us while hiiis friend gets offed by thaaat tosser of a troll.”
“So, you aaadmit the troll wiiill wiiin,” interrupted the middle-sized goat.
“III diiidn’t saaay thaaat . . .”
The two goats started arguing with each other again and the smallest one rolled its eyes at them. “Don’t worry aaabout theeem, theeey’re just brothers.”
Will held up his hands, “Please, please, normally I would be thrilled to talk to you. Trust me, I live for this kind of thing, but could you be quiet? I need to think. If that troll eats the Prince, I have to fight it. I don’t know how to fight trolls. What am I going to do?”
He looked into the eyes of the three goats. They stared back silently. “And now I’m talking to goats. I’m going mad, that’s it, isn’t it? I’m going mad from the pressure.”
Will ran a sweaty palm through his tousled hair and looked past the squire to where Charming was performing his deadly dance with the monster. Despite Charming’s remarkable ability to avoid being hit, the troll didn’t seem to be suffering much from all the abuse the Prince had delivered. All it would take would be one slip. If one of those talons struck him, it would be over.
Behind him the largest goat was talking again, “He’s got skiiill, you haave to giiive hiiim thaaat. The problem is thaaat heee’s using a sword—beginner’s mistaaake. Now, whaaat III would do . . .” The words washed over Will, unacknowledged if not unheard. There was no solution; the Prince just had to beat the beast.
CHARMING WAS GROWING tired. Despite all the blows he had landed, all the seemingly fatal wounds he had inflicted, this troll (Grush was it?) would not die. The Prince almost felt sorry for the creature. It had waged its struggle valiantly, but the duel could only have one outcome. Still, he needed to end it soon. If only he could get the beast to bend down . . .
“Squire, I have need of my shield. Quickly!” He signaled with his hand, and the old man slid the shield over the wooden planks toward him. The troll did exactly what he had expected.
Gnarsh saw the movement and heard the sound of the shield sliding on the planks of the bridge. He lunged down and grabbed its edge with his dagger-like claws and, in a massive show of strength, bent the thing in half. The troll chortled menacingly. “Your precious shield won’t save you this time, little man.”
“Fortunate that I won’t need it, then, don’t you think?” asked Charming, and he launched his attack. The troll, distracted by the shield, had allowed the Prince too close. If Prince Charming had anything to do with it, that would be the beast’s last mistake. Gripping the hilt of his sword with both hands, he swung the heavy blade upward and through the monster’s neck. A fountain of ichor exploded skyward, raining Charming with black goo.
The Prince, breathing heavily and blinking away the sweat from his stinging eyes, moved back from the troll. They a
ll watched as the headless body fell heavily onto the bridge. The severed head rolled over to the rail, where it came to a rest, its great googly eyes still staring angrily, if unmovingly, out at an unfriendly world. It had truly been a worthy battle.
Prince Charming raised his sword once in a wearied salute, and walked back toward Will and the squire. “Let it be known throughout the kingdom that, on this day, Prince Charming vanquished the mightiest of trolls, Gharsh, in single combat. Now, Squire, clean my armor. And Will, why don’t you stop playing goatherd and retrieve the head?”
“IIIS HEEE ALWAAAYS this insufferaaable?” asked a deep voice.
“Always,” Will answered quietly. He watched Charming strike a pose, and then in rising disbelief he saw the troll’s arms twitch and reach out as though searching for something. At last the talons clutched the head and pulled it back onto the severed neck.
“Charming!” said Will, “Charming!” He waved his arms wildly, hoping to break the Prince’s reverie.
“What is it? Can’t you see I’m enjoying my moment of victory?” the Prince said in annoyance.
Pointing behind Charming, Will and Tomas both shouted, “He’s not dead yet!”
“AND MY NAME is GNARSH!” roared the troll as he stood once more. Though its head was a little lopsided, the creature looked about the way it had when the battle began.
Charming’s face became a scowl. He turned wearily back to the troll and walked slowly onto the bridge. “How dare you? I’m Prince Charming. I defeat monsters. You are a monster. You die. When I kill you, you should at least have the decency to stay dead.”
The Prince raised his sword with a trembling arm, “Before I slay you—again—I want you to know that I was planning to put you in my epic poem. Now that you are being so childish about meeting your proper end, I doubt I will be inclined to mention you at all, you disgusting, filthy, ugly beast.”
Gnarsh smiled his rotten smile. At least he was making the right impression. That was nice to hear. In high spirits, he bellowed, “I’m going to eat you! After today, no one will remember the Lord Protector and his dragon; they’ll just remember that I, Gnarsh, ate Prince Charming! Then I will find this dragon slayer and eat him. How sweet would his meat taste? What a feeling, to devour the greatest hero in all the land.”