The Perils of Untying Love – Episode 7
I don’t mind telling you that being turned away by a troll with bad breath and an attitude problem got right up my nose. There I was, lord of the castle, barred from crossing a measly bridge in my own domain unless I crossed his hairy palm with gold.
It’s not that I don’t have any gold coins. I keep a handful in a chest in my rooms, but besides those, there’s a secret vault under the castle’s keep brimming with treasure. All ill-gotten, by the way, and accumulated over the centuries by my greedy ancestors.
No, my annoyance had more to do with being treated like a commoner. And to make matters worse, the unfairness of making me pay a toll, while allowing Trewla to cross without paying a penny.
Which is why, after being denied entry to the bailey, I didn’t head to my rooms for a gold coin as I’d originally intended, but to my studio.
You may recall that my studio is at the top of the castle’s tallest tower, which in most buildings of that kind would mean I’d be out of breath by the time I got to the top. Not so with mine. What with a warp in space-time caused by a misfiring spell, which I may have cast some years ago, climbing to the top of the tower entails going down the tower’s spiral stairs.
Suffice to say, instead of being breathless, I was overflowing with energy upon entering my studio. Without hesitation, I marched to my desk, seized my book of spells, and leafed through the pages until I found the one I sought.
Filled with righteous indignation, I stabbed a finger at the page and recited the magic words out loud.
With a pop and a puff of smoke, I turned into a rat.
This was no accident, I hasten to add. You see, as a rat I could scurry along the castle’s drains and thus bypass the beastly troll. Another advantage was, as a rat I wouldn’t be recognised. I’d have a free run of the bailey and I’d be able to poke my little twitchy nose into every nook and cranny. Cosferas wouldn’t stand a chance of hiding from me. After an hour, the spell that had transmogrified me into a rat would wear off and I would transform back into my normal strapping epitome of manhood.
My whiskery lips pulled back over my chisel-teeth as I imagined my human self heroically grabbing Cosferas by the collar and frogmarching him to wherever Trewla was. She’d be so grateful I’d found the pesky brownie, her opinion of me would improve a hundredfold.
With a bounce in my step, I scampered out of my studio.
Like much of the castle, nobody had ever bothered to improve the ancient drains. They were still the same uncovered, stinking channels they had been when the castle was new. But they made wonderful corridors for rats to roam about the place.
I darted along the alley leading to the bailey, and when I came to the open drain, I slipped into it long before nearing the troll’s bridge. Trying to ignore the stench, I scuttled along the ledge next to the trough carrying the effluent.
When I came to the bridge I skidded to a stop. Beneath the stone arch of the bridge, sitting on the same ledge I was on, was the troll. If I’d had hands, I would have slapped my forehead. In my excitement I’d forgotten that trolls live under the bridges they guard.
My plan to bypass the troll by going under the bridge instead of over it, lay in tatters.
I was about to turn around and run away when the sound of snoring came to my ears.
The troll was asleep.
I gritted my teeth, jumped into the sludge flowing along the drain, and with my heart in my mouth, paddled towards the bridge without making a sound.
As I passed under the bridge’s arch, I nearly lost control of my bowels when the great hairy troll snuffled and stirred. My legs froze, and my body began to sink until all that was above the surface was my tiny pink nose, my ears, and my eyes bulging with terror.
I was sure he’d seen me, but as I floated past, he settled back and was soon snoring peacefully again.
I drew a lungful of air in through my nostrils. Movement returned to my legs, and bright-eyed, I paddled onwards until I was far enough away for the troll not to hear me as I dragged my soaking body back onto the ledge.
I shook the drops from my fur, and on light feet, I scurried along the ledge, chuckling to myself. All was going well. I was safely in the bailey, and in a minute or two I’d leave the drain and begin searching for Cosferas.
My joy was short-lived. A flash of movement came from above and in an instant I was tangled in a net.
“Got you,” said a voice.
I was yanked into the air and found myself dangling in front of a familiar green face.
“Not as fat as I’d like,” said Grimmon, poking me through the net with a yellow fingernail. The points of his ears twitched. “But you’ll make a tasty snack.”
He grinned. I wan’t comforted by the sight of his sharp teeth coated in grime. Judging by the tiny clawed toes wedged between his incisors, his last meal had been a rat too.
“Release me at once, you idiot! It’s me!” I shouted. But instead of words, all that came out of my mouth was a stream of indignant squeaks.
“My, you’re a feisty one,” he said. “All the better. Anger will make your flesh so much sweeter.” He swung the net over his shoulder. “I’m looking forward to nibbling on it, but before I do, I have an errand to run.”
With that he set off into the bailey with me squeaking with rage, trapped in the net bouncing against his back.
*** Continued in episode 8 ***
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