Benvenuti
04-26-2011, 11:00 PM
The old, old bridge is wooden and creaky and the water beneath flows very fast. When it was young it was a strong, solid bridge. These days, it rocks and sways dangerously in the wind. Nobody wants to cross it for fear of ending up in the river. But there was a time, long ago, when nobody wanted to cross it for a very different reason.
For underneath that bridge, just above the water line, had been home to a group of trolls. Three trolls, in fact. Brothers. They were fellows who certainly did not like anybody to trip-trap-trot across that bridge – their bridge, they called it. They didn’t like the noise of footsteps. Except when they were hungry. When they were hungry, the sound of footsteps was just like the sound of a dinner bell and they would wake themselves up and get ready to eat. They would send the littlest troll up to collect the dinner and bring it back down to share. You can imagine that they were often hungry, though, because who would be foolish enough to cross that bridge in the first place?
There came a time when nobody ever crossed that bridge at all any more. The trolls had not had a meal for a long, long time and they became about as thin as it was possible for trolls to become.
One morning, the littlest troll woke with a grumbling tummy and listened as usual to the birds in the distant trees. His older brothers were snuggled asleep in the cosiest part, right up against the wooden underbelly of the bridge, in the section that was furthest away from the water. The littlest troll had to sleep in the low area near the water, because there wasn’t room for three up in the cosy part. He remembered one time when he’d rolled into the water as he slept, and nearly drowned. His older brothers had just snored through it all and hadn’t noticed a thing.
The littlest troll dragged himself over to peek out from beneath the bridge. The light hurt his eyes, but he knew that even if he was brave enough to go out, he wouldn’t catch the birds. They were far too quick, even for a hungry troll. Yet he was so hungry. Why didn’t anybody try to cross their bridge any more? They needed visitors to come over the bridge. Where were all the visitors? The littlest troll usually stayed in the dim, comfortable place beneath the bridge, but hunger can make us all do unusual things, and today the littlest troll did something very unusual. He wandered out.
Blinking and squinting in the sunshine, he peered about. Brown, scruffy grass over here. Thick, green grass over there on the other side of the river. No food to be seen. Their bridge was on a bit of a hill, which explained why the river ran so fast in this spot. When he peered bravely into the distance, he could see the blue river snaking away towards some far off land. And then he saw the most amazing thing.
He was so amazed, he actually ran out on to the top of the bridge so that he could see better. Was he mistaken? No, there it was in the distance, plain as day. It was ANOTHER BRIDGE. The littlest troll was very excited. For that explained a lot of things. There were no visitors here, because they were all crossing the river way over there, using the other bridge. The littlest troll scampered back to his safe, dark place beneath their bridge to have a good think.
He thought about that other bridge all morning. Being only little, he started to get very confused about what to do. He thought that maybe he should ask his brothers, then he thought that maybe he shouldn’t and in the end he settled it once and for all. He simply got up and off he went.
Out in the sunshine, he unscrunched his watery eyes towards the other bridge and saw that because of the way the river twisted, it would be quicker to run down the other side. So when he trip-trapped loudly across the top of his own bridge, his two brothers beneath almost had heart attacks in their excitement, thinking that dinner had finally come. They looked around for the littlest troll, wanting to send him up to collect the dinner. Since he wasn’t to be found, the oldest, biggest troll sent the middle sized troll up. But instead of finding dinner, the middle sized troll found a sight to behold.
Across the river was his little brother troll, leaping down the green hill, leaving a trail of squashed grass and broken flowers. He saw his little brother stop suddenly. He had stopped in front of the biggest, meanest looking billy goat that could be imagined.
The littlest troll looked up at the big, mean billy goat. The big, mean billy goat looked down at the little troll.
“What do you think you’re doing, leaping around all over MY field?” demanded the big, mean billy goat.
The little troll trembled. “Please don’t head butt me, Mr Billy Goat, sir, I was just trying to get across to that bridge down there.” He gulped, and looked up at the billy goat. He explain in a small voice, “ I’m very hungry.”
The big billy goat looked down and around and over the troll and laughed as he waved his huge horns about. “I’m going to use you for head-butting practice. I could really use some head-butting practice.”
The little troll thought hard. Thinking comes more easily when one is faced with a large, mean billy goat. “But Mr Billy Goat, sir, a great billy goat like you doesn’t want to waste his time head-butting a tiny little troll like me. Why don’t you wait a while, and head-butt my bigger brother? It would be much better practice.”
The billy goat paused. Maybe the troll was right. He didn’t want to seem too keen to take on a small target. A larger target would seem more fitting for a champion head-butter like him. “O.K.” said the billy goat. “Off you go then!”
The littlest troll did not wait to be told twice. He ran helter-skelter, fast as he could down through that field and off towards the other bridge. In the meantime, the middle sized troll could not believe his eyes. Yes, the sun was bothering him, but he was sure that he had seen right. He couldn’t resist, and had to go and see what his little brother was up to. Maybe there would be some dinner in it.
So the middle sized troll also ran across the top of his bridge towards the field containing the large billy goat. The thud-thud sound of his feet gave the biggest troll underneath quite a surprise. He could not understand why nobody was bringing dinner. As there was nobody left to send, he grumbled and went up himself.
The biggest troll was just in time to watch his younger brother, the middle sized troll, be confronted by a rather large and gruff looking billy goat. The middle sized troll looked up at the billy goat, though not quite as “up” as the littlest troll had needed to look.
He smiled lamely at the billy goat. “Hi. I see you’ve met my little brother.” The billy goat looked him up and down and sideways for a while, as if measuring him up for some unknown purpose. “You’ll do,” said the billy goat, then took a few steps back and lowered his head, as if ready to charge.
“Wait!” cried the troll, who now understood the predicament he was in . “I see – you are obviously a champion in your field. Let me think, let me think. Yes – a champion fellow deserves champion equipment. You don’t want to head-butt me, I’m not the one you want. You need the biggest, toughest target so that you can fully display your big and tough capabilities.” Like the littlest troll, the middle sized troll gulped. He nodded towards the adjoining field. “I can see the lady goats are admiring you.”
In fact, at the edge of the field, a group of lady goats had gathered, as if waiting for a show. “You really should try to give them a good display,” said the middle sized troll, bravely. “Why don’t you wait for my older brother? Use him for head-butting practice and the ladies are SURE to be impressed!”
The billy goat looked at the troll, and looked across at the lady goats. He puffed out his chest. “O.K”, he said. He put his nose in the air, as if a troll of such size was not worthy of his attention. “Be off with you.” Like his little brother, the middle-sized troll did not wait to be told twice.
In the meantime, the biggest, oldest troll watched, trying to work out what was going on. He didn’t like being out in the open, but if his two brothers were doing it, then maybe there was good reason. He scrambled over their bridge, with nobody listening from beneath and ran over the field, trying to catch up with his rapidly escaping brother.
Unfortunately, a very large billy goat was in the way. The lady goats watched, quivering with interest. On one side was a large billy goat, head lowered, ready to go. On the other side, running madly towards it, was a rather large and blinking troll. With the sun in his eyes, the troll could not see the billy goat, but the ladies thought that he was in full attack.
The collision was spectacular. The troll, though starving, was still rather large and it was the billy goat who went spinning through the air. The troll did not even seem to notice, and ran off into the distance to follow his brothers. The billy goat did some amazing spins and turns in the air, before landing with a thump in the adjoining field, right next to the amazed and admiring lady goats. He had just become the hero who had saved lady goats from a raging troll.
The troll himself just kept running, and being bigger and older he soon caught up with the middle sized troll. They ran on together but couldn’t find their little brother. Tired, thirsty, hungry and not at all enjoying the bright light, the two older trolls wandered down to the river bank for a drink and a rest. The river here was slower and wider than up the hill where they lived. They commented how that bridge over there was longer than their own. Which now made them feel homesick.
A familiar whistle came from the direction of the bridge. Their little brother appeared from underneath, waving to call them over to where he was hiding, beneath the new bridge. It was an amazing reunion. The trolls hugged and high-fived, even though they had only been away from each other for about half an hour. Suddenly, the little troll put his fingers to his lips, signalling them to be quiet.
“From now on, we do things my way,” he whispered. He peeked out from beneath the bridge to watch a horse drawn cart approaching. The older brothers could now hear the clippety cloppety sound, which the littlest troll had heard before they did. Young ones always have better hearing. The older ones wanted to rush up and get dinner. The youngest one held his hand up, signalling for them to stop. He sneaked away and the older two sat and waited in confusion. The clippety cloppety sound started to fade away after the horse and cart completed its trip across the bridge.
Moments later, the little troll reappeared, grinning. He had in his arms two large breadsticks and three pumpkins. They all looked at each other for a moment, almost not believing that it was true, then gobbled up all the bread and the pumpkins. They especially liked the raw pumpkin. It seemed that they were camping under the main bridge which led to the market. Every Tuesday, cart after cart of food would pass over this bridge.
The little troll became the boss. On Tuesdays, they would take a little bit from each cart, so nobody really noticed. The littlest troll did not allow any visitors to be eaten, so nobody stopped using the bridge. And they all lived happily ever after.
For underneath that bridge, just above the water line, had been home to a group of trolls. Three trolls, in fact. Brothers. They were fellows who certainly did not like anybody to trip-trap-trot across that bridge – their bridge, they called it. They didn’t like the noise of footsteps. Except when they were hungry. When they were hungry, the sound of footsteps was just like the sound of a dinner bell and they would wake themselves up and get ready to eat. They would send the littlest troll up to collect the dinner and bring it back down to share. You can imagine that they were often hungry, though, because who would be foolish enough to cross that bridge in the first place?
There came a time when nobody ever crossed that bridge at all any more. The trolls had not had a meal for a long, long time and they became about as thin as it was possible for trolls to become.
One morning, the littlest troll woke with a grumbling tummy and listened as usual to the birds in the distant trees. His older brothers were snuggled asleep in the cosiest part, right up against the wooden underbelly of the bridge, in the section that was furthest away from the water. The littlest troll had to sleep in the low area near the water, because there wasn’t room for three up in the cosy part. He remembered one time when he’d rolled into the water as he slept, and nearly drowned. His older brothers had just snored through it all and hadn’t noticed a thing.
The littlest troll dragged himself over to peek out from beneath the bridge. The light hurt his eyes, but he knew that even if he was brave enough to go out, he wouldn’t catch the birds. They were far too quick, even for a hungry troll. Yet he was so hungry. Why didn’t anybody try to cross their bridge any more? They needed visitors to come over the bridge. Where were all the visitors? The littlest troll usually stayed in the dim, comfortable place beneath the bridge, but hunger can make us all do unusual things, and today the littlest troll did something very unusual. He wandered out.
Blinking and squinting in the sunshine, he peered about. Brown, scruffy grass over here. Thick, green grass over there on the other side of the river. No food to be seen. Their bridge was on a bit of a hill, which explained why the river ran so fast in this spot. When he peered bravely into the distance, he could see the blue river snaking away towards some far off land. And then he saw the most amazing thing.
He was so amazed, he actually ran out on to the top of the bridge so that he could see better. Was he mistaken? No, there it was in the distance, plain as day. It was ANOTHER BRIDGE. The littlest troll was very excited. For that explained a lot of things. There were no visitors here, because they were all crossing the river way over there, using the other bridge. The littlest troll scampered back to his safe, dark place beneath their bridge to have a good think.
He thought about that other bridge all morning. Being only little, he started to get very confused about what to do. He thought that maybe he should ask his brothers, then he thought that maybe he shouldn’t and in the end he settled it once and for all. He simply got up and off he went.
Out in the sunshine, he unscrunched his watery eyes towards the other bridge and saw that because of the way the river twisted, it would be quicker to run down the other side. So when he trip-trapped loudly across the top of his own bridge, his two brothers beneath almost had heart attacks in their excitement, thinking that dinner had finally come. They looked around for the littlest troll, wanting to send him up to collect the dinner. Since he wasn’t to be found, the oldest, biggest troll sent the middle sized troll up. But instead of finding dinner, the middle sized troll found a sight to behold.
Across the river was his little brother troll, leaping down the green hill, leaving a trail of squashed grass and broken flowers. He saw his little brother stop suddenly. He had stopped in front of the biggest, meanest looking billy goat that could be imagined.
The littlest troll looked up at the big, mean billy goat. The big, mean billy goat looked down at the little troll.
“What do you think you’re doing, leaping around all over MY field?” demanded the big, mean billy goat.
The little troll trembled. “Please don’t head butt me, Mr Billy Goat, sir, I was just trying to get across to that bridge down there.” He gulped, and looked up at the billy goat. He explain in a small voice, “ I’m very hungry.”
The big billy goat looked down and around and over the troll and laughed as he waved his huge horns about. “I’m going to use you for head-butting practice. I could really use some head-butting practice.”
The little troll thought hard. Thinking comes more easily when one is faced with a large, mean billy goat. “But Mr Billy Goat, sir, a great billy goat like you doesn’t want to waste his time head-butting a tiny little troll like me. Why don’t you wait a while, and head-butt my bigger brother? It would be much better practice.”
The billy goat paused. Maybe the troll was right. He didn’t want to seem too keen to take on a small target. A larger target would seem more fitting for a champion head-butter like him. “O.K.” said the billy goat. “Off you go then!”
The littlest troll did not wait to be told twice. He ran helter-skelter, fast as he could down through that field and off towards the other bridge. In the meantime, the middle sized troll could not believe his eyes. Yes, the sun was bothering him, but he was sure that he had seen right. He couldn’t resist, and had to go and see what his little brother was up to. Maybe there would be some dinner in it.
So the middle sized troll also ran across the top of his bridge towards the field containing the large billy goat. The thud-thud sound of his feet gave the biggest troll underneath quite a surprise. He could not understand why nobody was bringing dinner. As there was nobody left to send, he grumbled and went up himself.
The biggest troll was just in time to watch his younger brother, the middle sized troll, be confronted by a rather large and gruff looking billy goat. The middle sized troll looked up at the billy goat, though not quite as “up” as the littlest troll had needed to look.
He smiled lamely at the billy goat. “Hi. I see you’ve met my little brother.” The billy goat looked him up and down and sideways for a while, as if measuring him up for some unknown purpose. “You’ll do,” said the billy goat, then took a few steps back and lowered his head, as if ready to charge.
“Wait!” cried the troll, who now understood the predicament he was in . “I see – you are obviously a champion in your field. Let me think, let me think. Yes – a champion fellow deserves champion equipment. You don’t want to head-butt me, I’m not the one you want. You need the biggest, toughest target so that you can fully display your big and tough capabilities.” Like the littlest troll, the middle sized troll gulped. He nodded towards the adjoining field. “I can see the lady goats are admiring you.”
In fact, at the edge of the field, a group of lady goats had gathered, as if waiting for a show. “You really should try to give them a good display,” said the middle sized troll, bravely. “Why don’t you wait for my older brother? Use him for head-butting practice and the ladies are SURE to be impressed!”
The billy goat looked at the troll, and looked across at the lady goats. He puffed out his chest. “O.K”, he said. He put his nose in the air, as if a troll of such size was not worthy of his attention. “Be off with you.” Like his little brother, the middle-sized troll did not wait to be told twice.
In the meantime, the biggest, oldest troll watched, trying to work out what was going on. He didn’t like being out in the open, but if his two brothers were doing it, then maybe there was good reason. He scrambled over their bridge, with nobody listening from beneath and ran over the field, trying to catch up with his rapidly escaping brother.
Unfortunately, a very large billy goat was in the way. The lady goats watched, quivering with interest. On one side was a large billy goat, head lowered, ready to go. On the other side, running madly towards it, was a rather large and blinking troll. With the sun in his eyes, the troll could not see the billy goat, but the ladies thought that he was in full attack.
The collision was spectacular. The troll, though starving, was still rather large and it was the billy goat who went spinning through the air. The troll did not even seem to notice, and ran off into the distance to follow his brothers. The billy goat did some amazing spins and turns in the air, before landing with a thump in the adjoining field, right next to the amazed and admiring lady goats. He had just become the hero who had saved lady goats from a raging troll.
The troll himself just kept running, and being bigger and older he soon caught up with the middle sized troll. They ran on together but couldn’t find their little brother. Tired, thirsty, hungry and not at all enjoying the bright light, the two older trolls wandered down to the river bank for a drink and a rest. The river here was slower and wider than up the hill where they lived. They commented how that bridge over there was longer than their own. Which now made them feel homesick.
A familiar whistle came from the direction of the bridge. Their little brother appeared from underneath, waving to call them over to where he was hiding, beneath the new bridge. It was an amazing reunion. The trolls hugged and high-fived, even though they had only been away from each other for about half an hour. Suddenly, the little troll put his fingers to his lips, signalling them to be quiet.
“From now on, we do things my way,” he whispered. He peeked out from beneath the bridge to watch a horse drawn cart approaching. The older brothers could now hear the clippety cloppety sound, which the littlest troll had heard before they did. Young ones always have better hearing. The older ones wanted to rush up and get dinner. The youngest one held his hand up, signalling for them to stop. He sneaked away and the older two sat and waited in confusion. The clippety cloppety sound started to fade away after the horse and cart completed its trip across the bridge.
Moments later, the little troll reappeared, grinning. He had in his arms two large breadsticks and three pumpkins. They all looked at each other for a moment, almost not believing that it was true, then gobbled up all the bread and the pumpkins. They especially liked the raw pumpkin. It seemed that they were camping under the main bridge which led to the market. Every Tuesday, cart after cart of food would pass over this bridge.
The little troll became the boss. On Tuesdays, they would take a little bit from each cart, so nobody really noticed. The littlest troll did not allow any visitors to be eaten, so nobody stopped using the bridge. And they all lived happily ever after.