Trolls

As a child I was told a fairytale about three goats crossing a bridge to get to the lush green meadow on the other side. It's called The Three Billy Goats Gruff.

The first goat was small and as he crossed a big, fat, hairy troll jumps up from under the bridge and stopped him.

‘This is my bridge Goat you dare to cross, for your insolence I shall gobble you up.’

‘Troll, I am but a small, skinny goat, I will make a poor meal for you. There will be another goat along soon that shall make a much better feast’.

Being hungry, the Troll decided to wait and let the small goat pass.

Moments after the kid crossed, another goat came along. This one was bigger than the first, but still quite small. He’d seen what the first goat had done and decided to try the same thing if the Troll were to appear.

Once again the Troll jumped out and stopped the goat in his tracks.

‘Goat, this is my bridge, how dare you cross?’

‘I am but a medium sized goat, Troll. I know that a much larger, meater goat than I shall be crossing very soon, he’d make a much bigger meal for you.’

Being greedy and famished, the Troll decided to wait for the next goat and let the goat cross into the clover filled meadow.

After a few minutes had passed the Troll tummy was rumbling, he was very much looking forward to this large meal he had been promised.

The clippity clop of hooves let him know another goat was trying to cross his bridge. He jumped out from underneath the bridge with a growl. There, standing before him was the biggest, plumpest goat he ever did see. He was a beauty. A lovely long beard and shining curved horns.

‘You dare to step on my bridge Goat!?’

‘I do, Troll. Who are to stop me?’

‘This is my bridge, and I say who goes and I say you cannot pass. You are to be my dinner, for you are nice and fat.

The goat was not happy about this, so he put his head down and charged at the Troll. The goat butted the Troll in the belly with his horns and tossed him in the air. As the Troll came down, the goat caught him again and threw him off the bridge.

The goat looked over the rail of the bridge and couldn’t see the Troll. He was gone.

The goat crossed into the meadow and ate the grass with his friends.

They never heard from or saw the Troll again. Maybe he had died, or maybe he was just too ashamed at being bested by smartest beasts than he, to show his face again.

Thanks to http://www.nydamprints.com/goatsgruff.html