by Jane Yolen
“A hero, Jim?”
“A real hero, according to Moira Darr, the harp prodigy who is the only one of the princesses who actually remembers anything of what happened on the fateful day they were kidnapped by the madman, Grimma Foss.”
“Are the kids okay, Jim?”
“You betcha. Except for a few bumps and lumps. The youngest Griffson boy, Jakob, has some burns, plus a hairline fracture of his right tibia. The middle boy, Erik, has quite a shiner. The oldest, Galen, has marks around his wrists and ankles where he was tied, upside down by his own account, though he’s been very funny and charming about the whole thing. The girls—except for Moira who’d gotten away early—were treated rather better until the end. Administered some kind of knockout drug. The police chief says the doctors are still trying to figure that one out.”
“Still, they must have been frightened.”
“Yah, I can’t even begin to imagine it, Katie. Four days under the thumb of that madman. The Dairy Princess Association has committed to hiring bodyguards for their contestants. It’s a different world we live in now.”
“How did they finally escape, Jim?”
“Somehow they got loose of their bonds, overwhelmed Foss, tied him up, and brought him back over the bridge. There he went stark raving mad. Evidently he was planning to ‘marry’ the girls and kill the boys.”
“He must have been stark raving mad all along, Jim.”
“I agree, Katie. Jakob Griffson told us that Foss said he was a musician down on his luck, which was how he managed to get the boys into his clutches. Seems they’re suckers for such a story.”
“Bet they won’t be such suckers anymore, Jim.”
“Yah, I imagine not. Now I did some interviews I’d like you to hear, the first with young Moira.”
“Are you relieved to be free, Moira?”
“I’m relieved we’re all free, Mr. Johnson.”
“Of course you are. Now, according to the boys, you were quite the heroine.”
“I think I was just lucky, Mr. Johnson.”
“Lucky?”
“Lucky to have friends like Jakob Griffson.”
“Well, Jim, that certainly is a composed young woman. Must be all that stage training. Hmmm, do you suppose there’s something going on between…”
“He’s fifteen and a half, Katie, and she’s sixteen going on thirty-five. But here’s what Jakob had to say.”
“We’d never have escaped that madman without Moira’s help. For a classical musician, she’s quite something.”
“And the other brothers, Jim?”
“They said almost the same thing.”
“Should that be the last word on the story then?”
“No, Katie, I think that should belong to Mr. Foss.”
“BLAME IT ON THE TROLLS! AENMARR DID IT. AND NOW HE’S A ROCK. ROCK AND TROLL. AIEEEEEE.”
“Who is Aenmarr, Jim? An accomplice?”
“A troll, or so Foss says.”
“You mean like … I’m a troll, fol-de-rol, nine feet tall and nine feet wide, mean and green and hungry, Jim?”
“[Laughs.] The police have been all over the area and they’ve found no indication of anyone else involved. The kids swear it was Foss who was behind their disappearance. Foss and no one else. And they have absolutely no reason to lie about it.”
“Thanks, Jim. And now to Bob with the sports. How about those Timberwolves, Bob?”
Songs from Troll Bridge
BUTTER GIRLS
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.
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.
Twelve dairy princesses sleeping in a box,
Pretty plastic tiaras upon their curly locks.
Grim the groom who grabbed them up
And made them drink the poisoned cup,
And now he’s got them caught behind cold locks.
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.
TELLER, TELLER
Teller, teller, tell me a tale,
Of love and fear and duty,
I want to die in the arms of love,
I want to die for beauty.
For beauty is the only truth,
And death the only lie,
I want to sing a final tale,
And love before I die.
So tell me quick,
If I’ve been heard,
Else, maim with a phrase,
Kill with a word.
Princess, princess, give me a kiss,
A kiss of love, of pleasure,
I want to lie in the arms of love,
I want to sing of treasure.
For passion is the only truth,
And death the only lie,
I want to know your lips on mine,
And love before I die.
So tell me quick,
If I’ve been heard,
Else, maim with a phrase,
Kill with a word.
HUNG UP FOR DINNER
Long pig, sweet meat,
Strong swig, fleet treat,
I don’t want to be hung up.
For dinner.
Short tale, long death,
Quart ale, wrong breath,
I don’t want to be hung up.
For dinner.
Give me a choice of meat or soy,
Give me a choice of girl or boy,
Give me a choice or give me chance,
A great big meal or a real romance.
Slow boil, quick take,
Low oil, thick steak,
I don’t want to be hung up.
For dinner.
Hot ice, cold drink,
Caught twice, old stink,
I don’t want to be hung up.
Over dinner.
DOOM
Doom, Doom, Doom
Come back.
In my wee room
I’ll hack and whack.
I’ll cleft your skull,
And split your skin,
From crotch to jowl,
From toes to chin.
And then I’ll make
A tasty stew,
And in I’ll take
The rest of you.
Doom, Doom, Doom,
Doom, Doom, Doom.
Doom, Doom, Doom
I’m back.
My fiery room
Goes crackle and crack.
I’ll tell you true
And I’ll not lie,
I’ll give to you
A chance to fly.
And then we’ll make
Another pact
Or else I’ll take
Your living back.
Doom, Doom, Doom,
Doom, Doom, Doom.
Doom, Doom, Doom
I’m back.
My fiery room
Goes crackle and crack.
The Dairy Queen,
Who wears the crown,
Can be real mean
And wear you down,
So make a deal
Another pact
Or you will feel
Your sons hijacked.
Doom, D
oom, Doom,
Doom, Doom, Doom.
PRINCE CHARMING COMES
The goose flies past the setting sun,
Plums roasting in her breast,
Sleeping Beauty lays her head down,
A hundred years to rest.
And fee-fi-fo the giant fums,
And to my dark Prince Charming comes
A-ride, ride, riding.
Into my night of darkness
My own Prince Charming comes.
The witch is popped into the oven,
Rising into cake,
The swan queen glides her downy form,
To the enchanted lake.
And rum-pum-pum the drummer drums,
As into darkness my prince comes
A-ride, ride, riding.
Into my night of darkness
My own Prince Charming comes.
It’s half past twelve and once again
The shoe of glass is gone,
And magic is as magic was,
And vanished with the dawn.
For Pooh has hummed his final hum,
The giant finished off his fums,
They’ve drawn their final breath,
For into darkness my prince comes
A-ride, ride, riding.
For into darkness my prince comes,
On his bony horse called Death.
COMPACT
I give to you,
A promise made,
From fate to fate
The game is played.
The music slides on
Note by note,
We look for love,
We live on hope.
The bridge across
The waters wide
Cannot hold back
The surging tide.
Beneath the falls
We sit and wait
To see what love
Transforms to hate.
And I will hold out friendship’s hand,
Heart to heart and land to land.
The larder’s full,
The pot is boiled,
The plan is laid,
The plot is foiled,
The fire’s set,
The flames are high,
The flag’s unfurled
Against the sky.
The war is joined,
The bullet milled,
The wound is open,
Blood is spilled.
And hate is answered
Fast by hate,
The peaceful word
Is spoke too late.
Still I will hold out friendship’s hand,
Heart to heart and land to land.
Still I will hold out friendship’s hand,
Across the bridge, from land to land.
About the Authors
Jane Yolen is one of the most distinguished and successful authors for young readers and adults in the country. She is the author of more than 200 books—including Briar Rose, Sister Light, Sister Dark, Owl Moon, and the immensely popular The Devil’s Arithmetic. Her books have won awards including the Caldecott Medal, two Nebula Awards, the World Fantasy Award, the Jewish Book Award, and two Christopher Medals. She lives in Hatfield, Massachusetts. You can sign up for email updates here.
A working rock-and-roll guitarist in bands such as the Tim Malloys, Cats Laughing, and Boiled in Lead, Adam Stemple has collaborated with his mother Jane Yolen on several music books for children, including The Laptime Song and Play Book and Hark! A Christmas Sampler. You can sign up for email updates here.
AVAILABLE FROM STARSCAPE
Pay the Piper: A Rock ’n’ Roll Fairy Tale
Jane Yolen and Adam Stemple
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
From the Authors
1. Dairy Princess
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
2. Brothers Three
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
3. Music to Their Ears
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
4. Return of Doom
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
5. Doom, Gloom, and After
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Songs from Troll Bridge
About the Authors
Available from Starscape
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously.
TROLL BRIDGE: A ROCK ’N’ ROLL FAIRY TALE
Copyright © 2006 by Jane Yolen and Adam Stemple
All rights reserved.
A Starscape Book
Published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC
175 Fifth Avenue
New York, NY 10010
www.tor.com
eBooks may be purchased for business or promotional use. For information on bulk purchases, please contact Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department by writing to [email protected].
ISBN-13: 978-0-7653-5284-2
ISBN-10: 0-7653-5284-2
First Edition: July 2006
First Mass Market Edition: July 2007
eISBN 9780765386649
First eBook edition: June 2015
