Troll Bridge

by Jane Yolen

  Jakob’s head was pounding insanely. He fought hard not to pass out and instead said calmly as he spun, “I … know … how … you … feel … I … have … two … older … brothers … too.” And strangely, he did understand Oddi. Sometimes, it was tough being the youngest. Watching your older siblings getting bigger and better stuff than you; watching them doing things you weren’t allowed to yet.

  Oddi eyed him suspiciously. His big green lower lip trembled. Then he grabbed Jakob’s head in one of his big hands, stopping him spinning and almost snapping his neck.

  “Maybe I can help you,” Jakob said with an effort.

  Oddi pulled Jakob forward until they were nearly nose to nose. “How?” he asked.

  Almost overwhelmed by the stinking breath, Jakob forced himself to stare unblinking into the troll’s big green eyes. Yeah, he thought. How indeed?

  Apparently, Jakob was silent for too long, because Oddi pulled a hand back to swat him again.

  “Wait! We can … um…” Jakob thought hard. “We can trade places.”

  Oddi stopped with his hand in the air, a hand that was filthy, dirt-encrusted. He stuck the finger into one giant nostril as if that helped him think. “Trade places?” he said at last.

  “Yes. I can trade places with one of the bigger princes.” Jakob tried to smile reassuringly. It turned out to be hard to smile upside down. “Who would know but you and me?”

  “Hmmmm,” Oddi hummed, pulling the finger out again, “That might be working.”

  Jakob told himself. Don’t sound too eager. Then he smiled in what he hoped was a friendly manner. “You’ll have to get me down first.”

  Oddi nodded happily. Grabbing Jakob by the shoulders, he heaved upward till Jakob’s feet were free of the hook. Then he tossed him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and made for the door.

  “Wait!” Jakob cried, desperation overcoming caution. “Won’t your mother be angry if she comes back and finds you gone?”

  Oddi thought a moment. “I … I suppose she be very angry. We be having to hurry.”

  “You’ll never make it back in time.”

  Oddi sniffed despondently. “What can we be doing?” He set Jakob on the floor.

  We? Good, we’re a team now. Jakob made his voice calm, authoritative, adult. He looked up at the troll. “Untie me,” he said, “and I’ll run to your father’s other house, and trade places, sending my bigger brother back here.”

  Oddi looked doubtful, his big eyes scrunching up into half-moons, his finger once again in his nostril.

  Jakob said gently, “Remember—you’ll be getting the big meal, and your half brother only a snack. I know the prince I’ll trade with. His name is Erik.” Jakob dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “And he’s fat!”

  A spot of drool formed at the corner of Oddi’s mouth and tendrilled grotesquely to the floor. “Fat,” he breathed.

  Oddi quickly untied Jakob’s hands and Jakob slipped his feet free of the rope then rubbed them briskly to try to get some feeling back.

  “Wait a minute! Wait a minute!” Oddi cried. “I just be thinking of something.”

  Jakob broke into a sweat. He looked around for a weapon. Although there were plenty—enormous knives, cleavers, axes hanging from pegs on the larder wall—he doubted he could heft a one. But that didn’t matter anyway because he didn’t get a chance to move a single step toward any of them before Oddi grabbed his shoulders in a crushing grip.

  “My mother be just as angry to find you gone,” Oddi said. “Maybe even more so.”

  Jakob was speechless. The little troll was stupid, but not—it turned out—quite stupid enough. So close to freedom, Jakob thought, and still so far.

  Jakob clenched his puny fists and prepared to do battle. But instead of retying Jakob’s feet and hands, the troll said, “I be knowing what to do.” He had a strange look on his face, somewhere between a grin and a dropped jaw. Then he stepped back, and with a wave of his warty hand, disappeared.

  In his place, stood … Jakob.

  Jakob looked at his mirror image, mouth agape. “But … but…” He couldn’t figure out what had just happened.

  “Hurry,” Oddi said in Jakob’s voice. “Be tying me. Before mother be back.” He chortled. “Oh, this be great fun!”

  Some fun, Jakob thought, especially if it leads to the stew pot. But he was careful not to say that aloud. Instead, he shook himself from his trance, and grabbed the ropes. Looped a piece around his—er … Oddi’s—feet and tied a fat knot. Then he tied the troll’s hands, examining the left hand carefully. No guitar-playing calluses on his fingertips. Not as exact a copy as it first appears.

  “All right, prince, now be hanging me from the hook!”

  Jakob considered just running, what with the troll tied up and all. But he didn’t know if Oddi could change back again. Maybe he needed to wave his arms around, and maybe he didn’t. So Jakob figured the longer Oddi held his enchantment, the more time Jakob had to escape and save his brothers. So, wrapping his arms around the disguised troll, he gave a giant heave.

  Oddi didn’t budge.

  Jakob tried again. It was like trying to lift a truck. The troll might look like Jakob, sound like Jakob, even (thank God) smell like Jakob. But …

  “You must weigh a thousand pounds.”

  “It be called a seeming,” the troll said, as if that explained everything.

  And maybe it does, Jakob thought. The troll only seemed to be Jakob, but wasn’t. He wondered if he should just try running.

  “Oh,” Oddi said. “Be standing back, prince. I be having another idea.”

  Jakob stepped away and watched in astonishment as the troll crouched low, then launched himself upward in a perfect backflip. At the apex of the leap, Oddi hooked his feet over the ring, and hung upside down, swaying back forth. He winked at Jakob.

  Jakob was too astonished to wink back.

  “My parents be returning soon. I be hungering for this fat companion of yours.” His upside-down grin was like a gargantuan frown. “Run, little prince, run!”

  “You know,” Jakob said, “I’m not really a prince…”

  “Of course you be a prince,” Oddi said. “Only princes be trying to rescue princesses.” Then he grinned and said again, “So run, little prince.”

  Jakob finally ran, making for the oval door. But he stopped before opening it, turned around. “Which way do I go?” he asked.

  “You go…” Oddi began, but then he stopped and cocked one ear forward. “Uh-oh.”

  That’s when Jakob heard a deep, grumbling jet plane kind of voice from the other side of the door.

  “Family! It be I, Aenmarr, come to eat my first meal of the evening.”

  9

  Jakob

  Jakob jumped away from the door, in a full panic now. What to do? What to do? There were no other exits to the room and the only place to hide was under the rough wooden table. He glanced around frantically for one second more, then scuttled underneath, crouching in the shadow of one of the back legs, and praying it would conceal him.

  “Wife? Son? Where be you?”

  “Ooh, Father be home,” Jakob heard himself say. No, it was Oddi speaking from overhead but in Jakob’s voice now. “I think we be in trouble.”

  I’m not in any more trouble than when I was before, tied and hanging upside down. Jakob grabbed his knees to stop his shaking as he listened to the thumping footsteps approaching. Then the door swung open and two gigantic bare green feet stomped into the room. The toenails were long and yellow and caked with dirt. They looked more like claws.

  “Hmm,” the father troll rumbled. “Aenmarr be home but all alone. Botvi must be taking Oddi with her to gather vegetables.” Jakob heard a metallic scrape as Aenmarr pulled a tool off the wall. “I be starting the preparations without them.”

  There was a sudden whoosh and a thwock. Then a thud sounded behind Jakob and he turned to see his own head lying on the floor, staring at him with lifeless eyes. Bile rose i
n Jakob’s throat.

  Puke and you die, he told himself, knowing that the noise of it would make Aenmarr look under the table. He swallowed hard.

  There was another thud above him, as something heavy hit the table. Then there came a disconcerting assortment of chopping, slicing, snapping, grinding, squishing, squelching, and other revolting sounds.

  Jakob bit his lip and covered his mouth with his hand, trying with all his might to keep his food in his stomach where it belonged.

  That could be me, he reminded himself. It still might be. Me—or my brothers. He kept quiet as Aenmarr continued his gruesome work. I have to save them, he thought fiercely. But as the minutes stretched on and his mind created visions to match the sounds above him, he realized something. Whatever happens, I can’t cause the death of anyone else.

  Apparently finished, Aenmarr gave a loud cry of, “To the pot!” and stomped out of the room.

  A door squeaked open. “Husband, I be home. Be you seeing Oddi?”

  “I be seeing only the prince in the larder. He be in the pot stewing.” Aenmarr chuckled, a noise like a lion snorting. “We be going to the dining room to have ourselves a feast.”

  * * *

  NOT AN HOUR LATER, KNEELING by the big oval door, Jakob listened to the sounds of Aenmarr and Botvi eating their son for dinner.

  “By the rotting bones of Thor,” Aenmarr’s voice was a deep, contented rumble, “this be the best stew I be eating in centuries.”

  Jakob heard a slurp.

  “I believe you be right, husband,” Botvi replied. “But where be our son, Oddi, to enjoy this meal with us?”

  “I be not knowing this. But I be having the hide off of him if he be not here by daybreak.” Aenmarr gave a roaring chuckle. “Or if he be stupid enough to stay out in the sun, I be putting him in the garden for the birds to perch on!”

  “Aenmarr! Do not jest. I be worrying about him.”

  “I be finding him, Botvi. But only when dinner be done.” A great belch shook the door. “When all my dinners be done.”

  “Bah!” Jakob heard the scrape of a chair being pushed back. “All you do be eat, husband. I be finding Oddi myself. Before sunrise.”

  There were footsteps and the sound of a door creaking open, then slamming. Aenmarr grunted. “All you be doing is complaining, wife. I be going to Trigvi’s next. Perhaps she be more even-tempered.” Jakob heard Aenmarr’s chair sliding back. “Huldres when you woo them, and hags once you marry.” His voice was growing softer as he moved away, like thunder from far off. “As sure as the sun turns you to stone.”

  Jakob heard the sound of the door creaking open again, but no slam. Then silence.

  Collapsing against the larder door, Jakob breathed a deep sigh. Safe. For now. His underarms were slick with sweat, the same way he sweated when a gig went bad. The walls of the troll’s house seemed to be pressing in on him. It was a panic attack. He could taste the fear in his mouth, that awful iron taste.

  Oh God, no, he thought, trying to force himself to breathe slowly. Not now. He had to move. He had to think about his brothers. He had to breathe. Aenmarr was surely on his way to this Trigvi’s to eat one of them.

  Forcing himself to his feet, Jakob yanked on the big oval door. It was heavy as a tombstone, but creaked open. He peeked in. The room was unadorned. There was only a single long rough-carved wooden table with three large stoneware bowls on it, only one still containing any stew. Three high-backed wooden chairs sat around the table. A fire crackled in a fireplace that was as big as the ruined town car. And high up on the far wall, suspended by two wooden pegs tucked under its headstock, was Jakob’s guitar.

  He rushed over to get it down, but it was hanging too high up to reach. So he tried to haul one of the huge chairs against the wall.

  It’s like trying to move a piano!

  For a moment he stared critically at his guitar, as if blaming it for hanging up so high. Then he sighed. Probably couldn’t reach it even if I managed to get the chair over there, anyway.

  As he passed the huge fireplace, he noted the bathtub-sized cauldron suspended over the flames by a long iron bar. Vile smelling liquid popped and bubbled over the sides. Jakob thought of Oddi and gagged.

  No sicking up, he warned himself. He wondered if any of his childhood heroes—King Arthur, Spider-Man, Stevie Ray Vaughn—had ever felt this way. His mouth twisted wryly. None of them had ever encountered a troll.

  He found another door, a huge thing two stories high that wasn’t shut completely, and listened a minute, afraid he might hear the trolls returning. When he heard nothing, he pushed the door open another crack—which was a feat in itself as it was like moving a truck—and found himself outside.

  It was night. Pitch black.

  They can’t see me. I can’t see them. Good news, he thought, and bad.

  The heavy door creaked closed after him. He wondered if Oddi’s mother, Botvi, was still out looking for him. And he wondered how good troll ears really were. He was afraid he’d find out all too soon.

  “Oddi?” he heard Botvi calling out in her freight train voice. “Be that you?”

  Yep, Jakob thought, I’ve found out way too soon. He scrambled away from the door, panicked and blind in the pitch dark.

  “Where you be running to, my son?” Botvi said, closer now. “Hold still, you be looking so strange.”

  Oh no! he thought. Of course trolls can see in the dark. It’s sunlight they can’t stand. Reaching out his hand, he trailed it along the rough stone of the house until he reached the corner and the wall dropped away. Then he darted around the side of the house and—he hoped—out of sight. Charging off into the darkness, he ran as fast as he could. Maybe his eyes were adjusting to the dark, because after a bit he began to distinguish actual shapes against the general flat, depthless black. He tripped over the first—a humped-up tree root.

  “Oooof!” he grunted. He hauled himself to his feet and stumbled on, aware that if he weren’t more careful, he’d be … troll dessert.

  Suddenly a shadow loomed in front of him and his feet tangled in it. He reached out to stop himself from falling again, only to discover the thing was furry, some sort of animal. Flinging himself to one side, he tumbled to the ground.

  “Oddi? I be growing angry.” Botvi had turned the corner of the house, too, and Jakob could hear her footsteps coming nearer. “Be stopping your foolery this instant.”

  Jakob started to scramble to his feet, but froze when he heard a low growl right in front of him. He squinted into the dark. A set of bright white, almost phosphorescent, fangs gleamed inches from his face.

  “Um,” he gulped. “Nice doggy?” he pleaded in a whisper while pushing himself backward on his belly. Toward the troll! Reconsidering quickly, he kicked forward, only to be brought up short by another growl. And the teeth.

  Isn’t this a pretty pickle, he thought, then in a hysterical afterthought he wondered if trolls ate pickles with their meals.

  But the teeth disappeared. Or rather the creature that owned the teeth closed its mouth. Shook its dog-sized head. Dog? he thought before noticing it had a longer, pointier nose than a dog. And as he stared at it, the animal very clearly shook its head at him.

  It’s a fox, he thought. Then, No, it’s the fox. The one from the bridge. The one that got us into this mess to begin with! At that, his hysteria rose again, like a vampire from a coffin, because he just remembered that mess was a soldier’s word for dinner.

  The fox bared its teeth again, but for some reason, Jakob was sure that this time it was more of a grin than a threat. Then with a short bark, the fox dashed past him.

  Sic ’er! Jakob thought as the fox headed toward Botvi.

  “Bah!” she cried almost immediately, throwing something in his direction. “Away with you, ill-omened creature. I be thinking you be Oddi.”

  The fox ran off yipping, and Jakob stayed frozen on his belly, praying the he was somehow hidden from sight. Evidently Botvi was only as smart as a troll, and she turne
d and walked back the way she’d come, her bass drum footsteps quickly fading. “I be wasting my time chasing after foxes,” he heard her say, “when my dear son be lost.”

  Jakob suddenly thought about his own mother and what she’d say when the smashed car was found. If it was found. Nothing, he reminded himself, can be counted on if there are trolls in the world. He would have cried—for his own mother, for his father, for his brothers … but he didn’t have time. He only allowed himself a deep sigh of relief and a whisper. “Thanks, fox.” He heard an answering yip.

  “Now,” he said under his breath, “how do I find my brothers?”

  10

  Jakob

  Jakob took a chance and stood up. He could see nothing. The dark in this place was deeper than anything he’d ever experienced. No moon or stars overhead, which was odd, as the sky seemed cloudless.

  He turned around slowly.

  No light shining through troll house windows or open doors.

  Nothing. Nothing but the deep dark and … He banged the flat of his hand dramatically against his forehead. Of course!

  “No light through windows,” he whispered to himself, “because if they forget to close the shutters and morning comes, the sunlight could accidentally turn them to stone.” But that realization got him nowhere fast. And fast was what was needed if his brothers were to be rescued. Aenmarr could now be at his second wife’s house, in the larder, taking Erik or Galen off the hook and using one of the big knives to—

  He felt a heavy stone in his chest.

  Stop it! he scolded himself, or you’ll bring on a real panic attack, a can’t-move-blinding-throw-up-no-breath attack. He forced himself to breathe slowly until he was calm again. You aren’t a troll, and you have a brain. He just had to use it.

  Turning in a slow circle once more, staring into the blackness, he thought: What good is a brain, if you’ve nothing to feed it with?

  He almost shouted out, “I can’t see anything!” but caught himself before making any noise. He certainly didn’t want Botvi to hear him and come back.

  That’s it! Jakob thought. Hearing. He closed his eyes—not that he could see anything anyway—and shut out everything so he could concentrate on sound alone, letting his ears do their work. After all, he could tune a guitar to open C without an electric tuner. He could guide multitudes of backup singers through three- and four-part harmonies. He could hear missed notes in string sections that even the top producers in L.A. didn’t notice. Listen! he told himself. What do you hear?