Troll Bridge

by Jane Yolen

  Twelve dairy princesses, where did they go?

  Twelve dairy princesses, I’d really like to know.

  The Devil snatched them from thin air

  So they couldn’t make it to the fair

  And now’s he’s gone and taken them below.

  Erik’s voice had just finished its change, and it sounded pretty rough. But Jakob knew Galen would probably be the one to sing this song, anyway. The lighter, funnier songs were his. He couldn’t carry a really beautiful ballad but was perfect with the humorous tunes. Jakob honestly liked the words so far. They were topical—but had imagery, too.

  And he was singing:

  What’s better than a butter girl?

  Badder than my better girl.

  Best when I’m not buttered up as well.

  What’s better than a butter girl?

  Badder than my better girl.

  Best that I just take them all to Hell.

  Jakob sighed. So much for liking the lyrics, he thought. But that’s probably the part of the song everyone will sing along to. It’ll be our next big hit: “The Badder Better Butter Girl.” Especially if the girls are found. His dad would probably do a deal with the Dairy Princesses and get them to dance on the video in their tiaras and long dresses and …

  Galen had caught the melody now and was roaring out the butter girl chorus with Erik who had shifted to harmony, which, even with his rough voice, sounded pretty good.

  And then, Jakob thought, I’ll hate it. Hate it like all the others.

  He played the song twice through, knowing that the tune, at least, wouldn’t change at all now that he had it firmly in his hand. He’d never forget it.

  Head and hand. That’s how his music was stored. His mother hired transcribers to write it down for them. Write the music down and package it into thin books that sold to teenage boys just starting to strum. But that was just another piece of the Griffson moneymaking machine.

  Jakob certainly never looked at the books. He had no need to. And Galen couldn’t read music well enough to use them. Erik, either. And they wouldn’t write this one down for a while yet. There was sure to be another verse or two, whatever happened to those poor missing girls, gone to Hell—or wherever.

  7

  Jakob

  Back in the car, Jakob stared out the window, idly strumming his guitar and singing the butter girl song softly. His voice occasionally broke, which still embarrassed him. He’d had a gorgeous falsetto until last year.

  “Where are we going?” He didn’t recognize the landscape. But then he never noticed such things. Life on the road was like that. Travel dulled all his senses, especially his sense of direction.

  Now in the front passenger seat, Galen turned around. “Why, we’ll do what Mom and Dad used to do when we were younger. We’ll go without a plan. You’ve probably just forgotten.”

  Jakob tried to remember a time when they hadn’t been traveling for a purpose. Get to a gig, a talk show, a press conference.

  Banging a hand on the steering wheel, Eric added, “We just figure it out as we go along, little brother.”

  “That’s right!” Galen crowed. He ran a hand through his hair. “We’re leaving Duluth now. Heading up the North Shore.” He paused. “Looking for oddballs and oddities.”

  Not one to miss an opportunity at alliteration and wordplay, Erik said, “Chaos and carnivals!”

  Galen looked over his shoulder expectantly, and Jakob suddenly remembered the word their parents had always given to describe their early journeys, all five of them and their gear stuffed into an old station wagon, going where a sunset or a river or an odd old barn led them. A word they’d used before fame and fortune overtook them.

  “Serendipity,” he said. “Surprise and serendipity.” As he said it, a new song burst into his fingers, and he gave himself over to it. Galen glanced back at him and then exchanged knowing smiles with Erik, but Jakob didn’t notice. He was caught by the muse and played frenetically for nearly an hour before placing his guitar gently on the seat next to him, and dropping into an exhausted slumber.

  * * *

  JAKOB WOKE WITH A FUNNY snort. The sun was sinking behind the trees, and the sky shone with a red-orange glow. The car was inching along. “What’s going on?”

  He released his seat belt and leaned forward, peering out the windshield. They were no longer on a major road, in fact they were hardly on a road at all, only a dirt drive with barely enough room for two cars to pass. Pine trees crowded the roadside, leaning over as if trying to peek into the car.

  Erik spun the wheel sharply and the car turned left onto an even smaller path.

  “Wow!” Galen exclaimed.

  A short distance ahead was a clearing with yellow police ribbons, like tattered banners, all around, but no policemen in sight.

  “That’s bizarre,” Erik said.

  At one end of the clearing lay a small stone bridge arching over a river. The bridge appeared old enough to have been built by the first Norwegians to enter Minnesota. Pocked and lichen-covered, the bridge was lined with low stone walls. At either end stood stone gargoyle sentries, slope-shouldered, gape-mouthed, and hideous.

  “Look!” Jakob said, pointing. Directly in the middle of the bridge sat the largest fox he’d ever seen. Bright cinnamon and bushy-tailed, it was in profile to the car. Slowly it turned its head to stare at them. The fox’s eyes were jet black, but Jakob was sure it was looking right at him. It had to do with the way its head cocked to one side, then slowly straightened, its eyes never leaving his. Then, giving its head one dip, the fox leapt to its feet and dashed toward the far side of the bridge.

  Follow. The word popped into Jakob’s head unbidden. As if in a trance, Jakob said aloud: “Follow!”

  “The fox?” Galen asked.

  Jakob nodded.

  The fox stopped abruptly and looked back at the car.

  Follow, came the thought again, and again Jakob said “Follow.”

  “Why?” Galen asked.

  Jakob shook himself. “Follow it! Just follow the stupid fox, okay?”

  Galen glanced at the setting sun. “Cool it, little brother. It’s getting dark. We should go back to the main road and find somewhere to stay for the night. Besides, look at those yellow ribbons. Something bad’s happened here.”

  Erik laughed. “The Dairy Princesses happened here. That’s my serendipity!”

  “Or un-happened here,” Galen added. He laughed, shivered, laughed again.

  “So where are the cops?” Erik asked.

  “It’s almost night. They have to sleep sometime,” Galen said.

  “Erik,” Jakob said. “Follow the fox.”

  “Why?”

  “Because … because that’s why we’re on this trip, right? He’s my serendipity!” He poked Erik in the shoulder. “Follow!”

  All of a sudden, Galen looked stern. Lines formed on his forehead. “Erik. No.”

  “Aw, Galen,” Erik said. “You sound just like Dad.” Then, grinning from ear to ear, he dropped the car into drive. “All right, little brother. Let’s go.” He stomped on the gas and the car surged forward toward the bridge.

  The fox saw them coming and raced away, its tongue lolling out of its mouth.

  The bridge’s bottom surface was not macadam but cobblestones, and the town car’s wheels rattled alarmingly as they rolled onto it.

  Sitting back, Jakob clicked his seat belt back into place. He placed a hand protectively on his guitar.

  “Hey!” Galen yelped. “Slow down, idiot!”

  Erik just grinned. “Why should I?”

  Galen punched him in the shoulder. “Because you’ll hit the fox, dummy.”

  Jakob stared ahead. They were at the middle of the bridge, and there below them, at the bridge end, sat the fox idly licking its forepaw.

  “It’ll move,” Erik said.

  It didn’t have to. A sudden surge of dark water as high as a two-story house washed over the car.

  “What the…” excl
aimed Galen.

  Jakob screamed in terror, and Erik grabbed tight to the wheel, trying to keep the car under control.

  Then the car was inexplicably in midair.

  Jakob shut his eyes tight, whispered a quick prayer, and braced himself for impact. None came.

  After a moment, he opened his eyes again. The windows were water-blurred, but he swore he could see a giant greenish hand holding the car by the roof. Jakob blinked, willing the nightmare away. Attached to the giant hand was a giant hairy greenish arm. He blinked again. At the end of that, a naked hairy, slope-shouldered torso, on top of which stood a thick neck. A giant head balanced there, large as a VW bug. It was warty and swamp green, two yellowing teeth poking out of a malicious grin. Jakob blinked a third time, figured he was hallucinating. Or dead.

  “Hello, my pretty young princes,” the creature said in a deep rumble that echoed inside the car. Then it heaved back its arm and dashed the car against the rocks by the riverside. Airbags inflated, and the windshield exploded into a massive spiderweb. Hard kernels of glass showered over Jakob. He tried to shout, tried to scream again, but he couldn’t seem to catch his breath.

  “Jakob?” Galen called in a panic.

  Jakob couldn’t answer. His throat simply wouldn’t make a sound.

  “Erik?” Galen cried.

  But Erik was gone. He hadn’t been wearing his seat belt and had been thrown clear. That much Jakob could see. He worked frantically at his own buckle. Have to get out. Have to get out. The words kept repeating in his mind. He finally popped the latch and fell painfully onto his neck and shoulders. The car was upside down.

  Somehow finding his voice again, Jakob screamed. But there was no one left to respond. The front seat was now empty.

  “Galen?” Jakob called in a panic. No answer. Rolling over, he tried to open the back door. It was stuck. He put his shoulder to it, a weak effort, but surprisingly the door flew open. Flew off in fact. And there was the giant green creature, holding the door in one massive hand, and an unconscious Erik and a squirming Galen in the other.

  “There you be, young prince.” He snorted and his fetid breath filled the car with the smell of rotting meat.

  And butter, Jakob thought, scuttling backward, but too late.

  The creature dropped the door with a clang, and reached into the car to wrap his hairy fingers around Jakob’s waist. Jakob scratched and clawed at the hand, but he didn’t even break the surface of the rough green skin.

  Even in his panic, Jakob thought: My guitar! He reached out to snag the instrument by the neck and managed a small sigh of relief that it appeared undamaged. But his relief was short-lived as he was suddenly dragged from the upside-down car, his back catching painfully on the ceiling light.

  When Jakob was entirely out, the creature lifted his hands in front of his face and eyed the three boys, nodding with satisfaction.

  Jakob twisted around and glared down at the fox who was still sitting at the end of the bridge, staring up at him with sad dark eyes and, inexplicably, nodding.

  You … you set us up! Jakob thought at the fox. Why?

  Before the fox could answer, the giant creature laughed aloud, a sound so human that it was startling. Then, with the boys clutched in his enormous hand, he dove straight into the river. Jakob felt the black waters engulf him, and he fainted dead away.

  8

  Jakob

  Jakob awoke with a splitting headache. He tried to figure out where he was, but his head was spinning too badly for him to make any sense of what he saw. It took him a moment before he realized what was wrong.

  I’m upside down! And it wasn’t his head that was spinning. It was his whole body.

  His feet had been tied together with thick rope, and the knot thrown over a large hook, so that he hung from the ceiling by his bound feet, rotating slowly. His hands were shackled behind him. As he spun, he caught isolated details of the room he was in: a stained wooden table, a poorly constructed chair, some haunches of meat hanging next to him. He groaned. For a moment it was all he could manage.

  Finally he took a deep breath. “Where am I?” That came out in such a weak, puling way, he thought stupidly, my singing teacher would hate it.

  “Trollholm!” came the immediate answer. “You be in Trollholm.” That voice was deep and gruff, but somehow still childlike.

  Mercifully, Jakob’s spinning stopped as someone grabbed his shoulder. He looked into the upside-down face of another green-skinned creature, like the one from the bridge, but much smaller, barely twice Jakob’s size.

  “Who … what … are you?” Somehow he was afraid he might know. But if he was right, than he had to be dreaming. Asleep in the car and dreaming. Or dead. Because what he was thinking didn’t happen in the real world. Not the world of cars and planes and rock-and-roll.

  “Me? Me? Why, I be a troll, of course!” the creature said.

  “Of course,” Jakob said. “Fol-de-rol.” It was a song from his childhood. And this was a nightmare out of that same childhood.

  “And what be you?” the troll asked.

  Jakob thought for a minute, or as long as his aching head allowed. The troll didn’t seem very bright. “Not a troll?” It was pretty weak for an answer.

  But the troll seemed to find it hilarious, and with a yellow, gap-toothed grin, gave Jakob a swat so hard he knew it was no dream. The swat sent him spinning again.

  “Oddi!” someone called from the next room. “Stop playing with your food!”

  The troll sighed. “Yes, Mother.” Then he skipped out of the room through an oval door, leaving Jakob dizzy and alone.

  Alone! Jakob gulped. If he were alone, where were his brothers. Escaped? Drowned?

  Or already eaten.

  He took a deep breath. Trolls, it seemed, had very big and yellow teeth. And probably very big appetites. Even—it appeared—the little ones. That was all he knew so far.

  And then he realized he knew something more. Trolls—at least little ones—weren’t very bright. Maybe even … stupid. Stupid. He could do something with stupid. If he could only get his hands free. And his feet. And stop the rope from spinning.

  Jakob wriggled his hands behind him. They were firmly fastened at the wrists. By gritting his teeth and working hard, he managed to squeeze himself up into a sitting position, something an Olympic gymnast might have admired, his face right next to the ropes binding his feet. His stomach muscles burned with the effort.

  What now, though? he thought. He had to hurry before the troll kid came back. Had to get free. But his hands were still bound, and the ropes at his feet were too thick to chew through. Jakob tried anyway. The rope tasted like a burlap sack, and he didn’t make any headway at all before his strained stomach muscles gave up and he collapsed upside down once again. Blood rushed back into his head, and it started throbbing anew.

  “Owwwww!”

  Jakob tried to ignore the pain in his head, the burning in his stomach, and when the muscles finally relaxed a bit, he forced himself to sit up again. This time, he grabbed a piece of the knot in his teeth, and tried to work it loose. The knot didn’t budge, and Jakob collapsed once more, panting heavily now.

  Voices filtered in from the next room.

  “I be going to gather vegetables, Oddi,” the mother troll roared in a voice like a freight train. It was super loud as if she had only one tone. “When your father be returning, it be into the stew pot with yonder prince.”

  Jakob didn’t like the sound of that at all. Redoubling his efforts to undo the knot, he nearly took his front teeth out. But the knot remained stubbornly whole.

  “And Oddi,” the mother troll continued in her unrelenting voice, “don’t be going into the larder again!”

  “Yes, Mother,” Oddi replied, but there was mischief in his answer. As soon as the door slammed behind her, he skipped back into the room where Jakob was hanging.

  “Mothers!” the troll said and giggled. Then he noticed Jakob spitting out rope fiber in disgust.

/>   Oddi looked at him, eyes wide. “What be you doing?”

  Jakob thought furiously, but only managed to come up with the plainest of truths “Eating rope,” he said.

  “Why? Does it taste good? Should I be trying?”

  Very stupid, Jakob thought, thankfully. He spit out the last bits. “Why,” he said as calmly as he could, “I’m trying to fatten myself up. I’m hardly a meal for three trolls at this size, am I?” He hoped the answer was no.

  Oddi looked him up and down hungrily. Then he reached out and pinched Jakob’s arm. Jakob bit his lip to keep from crying out. The pinch felt as if it went right to the bone.

  “I suppose not,” Oddi said slowly. But he didn’t sound convinced.

  “Well, didn’t your father bring two others like me in? Only bigger?”

  Oddi nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, yes. My father said he be out of practice hunting, what with the Compact and all. But I think he be doing fine, don’t you?”

  Jakob didn’t understand what the troll was talking about, but he figured it was better to be agreeable, so he nodded back just as enthusiastically. “Absolutely.” Then, because it made his head hurt worse than ever, he stopped nodding. Trying to sound nonchalant, he added, “What happened to the other two?”

  “Two?”

  “Two princes,” Jakob said. It was like making conversation with a bowl of Jell-O. Green, stinky, dangerous Jell-O.

  “Oh, them.” Oddi frowned. Of course, from Jakob’s angle, it looked like a smile. And not a pleasant smile at that. “They be taken to father’s older two wives.”

  He sounds a little jealous, Jakob thought. “Do the other wives have children?”

  Oddi nodded, his frown deepening. “Two boys. One each. Older than me.”

  If he weren’t green already, Jakob thought, I believe he’d be turning that color, now. “So, your half brothers get the big tasty morsels, while you’re stuck with scrawny little me?”

  “Yes!” Oddi grunted. A hippo grunt, not a pig grunt. “It be not fair.” He stomped a big green foot and gave Jakob a petulant swat that sent him spinning again.