Bridge Trolls

“My name is Orgub. I am a troll. I live under bridge. Bridge is very nice. I like bridge. Bridge is home.”

To most people, that’s all they know about me, but I’ll give you some more information. I am seven feet tall. I have green skin. I have five teeth.  I ask a question to people crossing the bridge. If they answer correctly, I let them pass. If they answer wrong, I eat them. 

I eat most people. Life is good. 

Bridge connects two towns. People must go over the bridge or go through a swamp. Swamp doesn’t have trolls but there are lots of homeless people. Most choose the bridge. 

One day, I noticed fewer people were crossing my bridge. Sometimes that happens when I eat too many people in a short span of time. But I didn’t think I had; only like two or three in the last few days and they hadn’t seemed like the types whose disappearances would cause much stir in the towns. So, I was confused. 

Finally, someone crossed the bridge. I stop them of course and demand they answer a question. 

“Answer question!” 

“Oh, hello Orgrub. How are you?” The villager asks me. I think I recognize him. Clyde, I think. It’s hard to tell humans apart. But Clyde is familiar. 

“I fine. Now question!” It is important to keep up appearances of stupidity to the humans. Makes things easier. In reality, we Trolls are just as smart as anyone else. Especially me.

“Shoot,” Clyde says. Clyde has answered many questions in his life. Clyde is one of the only people not afraid of me. I usually give Clyde easier questions.

“Why no people on bridge?” I asked him. 

“They built a new bridge south of here,” Clyde answers, “and fewer people are being eaten on that one… Sorry buddy.”

I tried not to let my dismay show. I had been the one and only bridge troll for the last two hundred years, and now they just decided to get another? I angrily stopped myself from eating Clyde and slunk back under my bridge. 

I spent the whole next couple of days thinking. Not that I could do much else, nobody crossed the bridge the whole time! Except Clyde who barely counts. Finally, I said to myself, “Okay Orgrub, let’s go get this over with.” I didn’t know exactly what I was about to get over, but I knew something needed to be done. 

At night, I crept through the swamp, creeping and crawling to avoid the homeless people, until I finally found the other bridge. 

It looked terrible. It was all clean and well-maintained. The new troll hadn’t even set out any human bones to decorate. I was filled with confidence; I was dealing with a rookie. Time to put this kid in his place. 

I saunter under the bridge and arrive at a well-lit shack. An entrance mat stands between me and the inside as well as an open door. I don’t have either at my bridge. I step over it and into the abode. A dark shape outlined by the torchlight calls out as soon as I enter. 

“You’re supposed to knock before you enter,” it says, “or did you see the entrance mat?” 

The truth was that I couldn’t read at all. But I just nodded to avoid that insecurity. Then I realized that the shape wouldn’t be able to see said reaction, due to the fact that they were turned around, so I said audibly “Whoops.”

The shape turned around and I gasped. It was a female troll. Female trolls are very rare. In fact, most people think that trolls are a male-only species, given the fact that we are magical, however, that is a misconception. Females do exist, they can be identified by their single eye and gaping underbite. 

I stand there gaping back at her for a little while before I can think of something to say. 

“Female troll?” I ask. 

“The name is Logruk,” She says. I do not like her attitude. 

“Well Logruk, I’m Orgrub,” I start, “and you need to stop hogging all the traffic, I’ve gotten like zero business since you started.”

Her eyes narrow and she goes off on this giant lecture about Darwinian Economics and the glass ceiling preventing women trolls from reaching the heights of privileged trolls such as myself. I mostly tune her out.

When she’s done I ask her, “So are you going to lay off?” 

She says she isn’t, so I leave. 

I clear my mind for a second once I’m out the door, that didn’t exactly go the way I thought it would. But I’m not discouraged. I’ve just got to get a bit creative. 

The next week, I’m hard at work. Scrounging wood. Stealing paint from the village and making posters to post around town. I made Clyde help me with the spelling. When I’m finished, my bridge looks completely different. I’ve cleared all the remains from the area, as well as put up a large sign that read, “Superior Bridge Reopening: Gamble for Your Lives!”

I sit under the sign and wait for my posters to grab some attention from the townspeople. Eventually, a small crowd shuffles towards the beginning of the bridge. I wave to them all, 

“Hello townspeople, step right up to take a chance with luck!”

“What’s the game?” A blonde man in a dirty robe asks suspiciously.

I pull out a large bronze coin and brandish it to the crowd. They croon in appreciation of its radiance. 

“I will flip this in the air, if you guess correctly which side it will land on, you can cross the bridge.” You may have noticed I have dropped the “stupid act.” It was a tough choice, but public speaking is hard enough without acting on top of it.

“And if we don’t?” another townsperson asks. 

“Then I eat you, of course.”

The townspeople all huddled together whispering before they broke apart. A man stepped forward, “heads.”

I flipped the coin and watched it tumble through the air. It landed with a thud. 

“It is…” I paused to heighten the anticipation, the crowd leaned forward, and the man winced, “Heads!” The man leaped in jubilation and the crowd cheered around him. He sauntered across, jumping to give me a high five. 

After that, a large stream of customers swarmed to and fro over my bridge, some came simply to watch others test their luck. I got to eat a few people and everyone else seemed to be content. I went to bed that night thoroughly pleased with my success. 

A knock woke me from my sleep. I jolted up, afraid I was being attacked by an excursion of vagrants. Luckily it was just Logruk. Unluckily, she seemed pretty angry.

“How could you steal all my clientele?” She shouted at me.

“I could ask you the same question!” I replied with a grin. I was proud of how smart my response was.

Logruk was quiet for a bit. Then she looked up at me, there was a fire in her eyes.

“You better not think this is the end!” She said before she stormed out.

I smiled at her shrinking silhouette. I felt good. It wasn’t exactly like when I ate a human, but it was similar. I think I was excited.

The success of my new strategy continued for about a week until it started to taper off. I asked somebody crossing the bridge what the big deal was. 

“The other bridge is starting to give out rewards for those who answer her riddles correctly.” He said. 

I was shocked. I could understand changing up the business model to garner more clientele, but Trolls do not give rewards. We aren’t sphinxes, we aren’t guardians of treasure. We exist only to cause mischief and eat people. That is tradition, and there is nothing more important than tradition.  At that point, I knew I needed to get my hands dirty. 

That night, I took some of the remaining posters and had Clyde write new messages on them, “Don’t trust the treasures,” or “Rewards are bewitched,” “Female trolls aren’t as smart as male trolls.” I don’t know if that last one would actually sway anyone, but it made me feel good to write it. I took to the night and nailed my posters wherever I could. 

Sure enough, over the next few days, my business boomed. The posters were working! I was contemplating giving Logruk another visit to gloat when suddenly, it cut off.

I couldn’t even ask somebody crossing the bridge, it was completely empty. I crept into town that night and noticed other posters covering mine. They were brightly colored and had helpful art decorations to grab attention. The art was so evocative even I was able to understand them. The first one read, “Male trolls are hungrier than females,” that one may have been true. Then I read another, “The coin is weighted to land on the wrong side, gambling is a trick!” I was enraged, how could she cast such poisonous aspersions on my trade? Sure, she was right, the coin was definitely weighted weirdly, but she had no way of knowing that. 

I decided that our feud had to end right then and there. Logruk had crossed a line. Somehow. I grabbed a torch off the wall and headed to Logruk’s bridge. 

I threw the torch onto the bridge and the thing went up like tinder. Actually, exactly like tinder since apparently that’s what they had constructed it out of. The thing was ablaze in moments, and people started pouring out of their homes to check out what the hubbub was all about. I melted into the night with a wide grin on my face. 

So business is back to normal now. I have a steady stream of customers, and Logruk is nowhere to be found. I heard she had gone into the swamp. Who cares though? I certainly don’t. 

Not at all. I love it. I just sit around all day. I can go back to asking the questions like I did before. Everything is as it was. Life is good.

Right? 

Somebody’s walking over the bridge! I pop out and stop him 

I roar my opening, “Answer questi–oh, hello Clyde.” It is Clyde!

“Hello Orgrub,” Clyde says, “What’s the question?”

“Uhhh…” To be honest, I hadn’t thought of one yet. Then, almost by accident, I ask, “How do you know if you’re happy?” 

Clyde seems confused, “Excuse me?” 

“You heard me,” I say, “answer the question.”

Clyde thinks about it for a second before answering, “I suppose it is when you’re excited to face the day, no matter what it holds.”

I sit down on the side of the bridge, “I was worried you’d say that.” 

Clyde sits down next to me, “What’s wrong?” he asks. 

“Ever since I burned down Logruk’s bridge, I can’t help feeling bored with my life,” I mutter, “I was so happy with my life before her, and now I have that life back, why do I feel so empty?”

Clyde gives me a sideways smile, “It seems like you like the other troll buddy.” Then he pats my arm, “You should go find her.” 

At first, I want to disagree with Clyde. Maybe even eat him. But slowly, what he says sinks in, and I realize it to be true. I pop up from my seat and turn to Clyde. 

“I’m going to find her, thank you, Clyde.” 

Clyde sighs a breath of relief, “So you’re not going to eat me?” 

“Not yet,” I call over my shoulder, leaping from the bridge. 

I land with a thud and then look up. I realize what I have to do. I set out into the swamp with fear in my heart. After a while, I come upon the first group. They’re sitting around a fire, singing a song; homeless people. I’m about to turn away, fear folding around my spine, but from somewhere inside me, I summon the courage and jump out into their clearing. 

They appear to be startled by this. Why, I do not know. I stammer out my question, 

“W-ww-where’s Logruk?” 

They have no idea. What a waste. I hike on to the next clearing and repeat my question, same result. After a few hours, I’m finally pointed to the correct location. There’s a tree that spans the length of a shallow pond, and underneath sits Logruk. 

 “Get out of here!” She yells. 

“I am sorry I burned down your bridge,” I say with my eyes on my feet. 

She looks at her feet and mutters, “I’m sorry I called you a liar.”

I find it within myself to forgive her. Then I ask, “What can I do to help?”

She turns away, hiding tears in her eyes, “Too late now,”

“Maybe not,” I say. 

“Well, I don’t have a real bridge anymore,” Logruk says gesturing to the log over her head, “so I’d disagree.” 

“You could live with me,” I say. 

Logruk looks confused, “But what about tradition, no troll has ever shared a bridge.” 

I crouch next to her, and offer her my hand, “I guess some things are more important than tradition.” 

So now the bridge is Logruk and Orgrub’s bridge. Things are different from how they used to be, but that does not mean they are bad. Except for the villagers using the bridge. It’s probably bad for them, we eat a lot of them.