Trolled

by Bruce Coville

  Old trollishness, with all its ferocity and anger, is still quite clearly present, of course. But there seems to be a new strand of behavior rising, especially among the troll-hags.

  I suppose this should not be a total surprise. It was noted long ago that the trolls began to change in response to the changes in the human world. As the human world continues to change, should we not expect the same of trolldom?

  The great mystery, actually, is how closely are the two worlds connected…and, even more important, WHY are they connected?

  What do these changes, most especially the rise of kindness among the younger generation, mean for trolldom overall?

  Will there be some sort of crisis if this goes on?

  Is it even possible that trolls might begin to interact with the human world?

  The idea is staggering.

  Cody’s Life Log

  10/30 (continued)

  With the stone for light and Korkaya continuing to provide directions, we made our way deeper into the mountain. I say deeper, because with few exceptions every tunnel we followed sloped gently downward.

  The rotten-egg smell grew stronger as we descended.

  “’Tis a fair stink indeed,” muttered Angus into my ear. “I doubt any amount of scrubbing could get it out of the walls!”

  Though there was a fair amount of traffic in the tunnels, we were usually able to draw aside into some niche—there were a lot of them—when we knew someone was approaching. We always had plenty of warning; even before the tunnel ahead would begin to glow, we could hear the singing of the tonttu or troll (the troll voices were much deeper, of course) who was bringing the stones to light.

  More often than not, the traveler was a tonttu intent on some business, and not seeming to care that we were such an odd group—cat, raven, human boy, and brownie.

  The trolls, however, were truly frightening. If we could not quickly find a niche or side tunnel, I would drop to the floor and pull the tonttu’s cloak around me, hiding Angus and the glow stone. The trolls were enormous…the largest of them could easily have gripped my entire head in one of his massive hands and then crushed it.

  “Don’t worry,” Askeladden reassured me after the first incident. “Most of them are not very observant. And the more heads they have, the less they notice.”

  I saw that other groups sometimes had a cat, always of unusual size, walking ahead of them.

  “Askeladden, is there something special about cats here?” I asked during a stretch of travel when no one was around.

  “If you mean, are we recognized in this world for our full worth and value, then I would say yes, that is the case,” he replied smugly.

  After a while the air grew cooler and didn’t stink so strongly. When I mentioned this, Korkaya said, “That’s because we’re moving away from the heart of the mountain now, toward the outer edge.”

  A final turn brought us into a passage that, after about a hundred yards, came to a dead end in a circular space. In the center of the opposite wall was a windowless wooden door, a single huge slab held in place by roughly worked metal hinges.

  “This is the place,” Korkaya said.

  “Are you sure ’tis the lad’s grandfather on the far side of that door, and nae some hideous monster?” Angus asked.

  “Fairly sure,” replied the bird. “It can be easy to get turned around in these tunnels.”

  Which didn’t do much to make me feel more secure. But since it seemed as if there was no choice, I said, “How do we open the door?”

  “You might try using the key,” said Askeladden.

  I sighed. “You know, the light is pretty low here, cat. And you can see better in the dark than I can. So have you spotted the key, or are you just being sarcastic?”

  “Look on the wall behind you,” said the cat, who was sitting with his tail wrapped around his front feet.

  I turned. Sure enough, hanging from a metal peg that had been pounded directly into the cave wall was a metal ring. From it dangled two old-fashioned keys, one nearly a foot long, the other only about a third that size.

  “It’s over there so the prisoner can’t reach it,” said Korkaya. “Though that seems unnecessary, since there’s no window in the door anyway.”

  I had to stretch up to lift the key ring off the peg. I crossed to the door. My hands were trembling, partly because I feared that someone would catch us trying to free the prisoner, partly because I was finally going to meet my grandfather, who had been so mysterious to me for so long.

  The keyhole was at eye level for me, and it was clear that it required the bigger key. I inserted it, but my trembling fingers made it rattle in the lock.

  “Hurry, Cody!” hissed Askeladden.

  Finally I managed to work the lock. I heard a satisfying click and the door swung open.

  I stepped into the cell.

  On the far side was a stone table. Above it a barred window opened onto the outside world.

  The man sitting at the table had turned toward us. He had broad shoulders and shaggy blond hair. One eye was covered with a black patch. But what made me gasp was that, aside from the patch, he looked so much like my father that for a moment I almost thought Dad had somehow ended up here in Troll Mountain.

  Except he actually looked younger than Dad.

  “Cody?” he cried, leaping to his feet. The action created a clanking sound, which was when I realized he was held to the table by a long chain. “You are Cody, right? What in the world are you doing here?”

  “I came to rescue you. What did you expect after you sent that message and asked me to read it to Askeladden?”

  “I expected you to provide Nettie with the cauldron so that if she truly wanted to, she could try to rescue the prince. I certainly didn’t expect you to come with her!”

  “But I had to come! The cauldron only works for someone in our family.”

  He blinked in surprise. “I didn’t know that! Mother only told me the family had a magic cauldron. She never told me the rules for using it! I am so sorry, Cody. I didn’t mean to drag you into this danger.”

  “Do you know how upset I would have been if I’d had to send Nettie off in that cauldron and hadn’t been able to come myself?” I demanded.

  My grandfather stared at me for a moment, then began to laugh. Not a scornful laugh, more a sound of delight. “I suppose I should have expected no less from my grandson.” His face turned sober. “Even so, I am sorry you have done this. A crisis is growing in Troll Mountain, and it is not a safe place to be.”

  I glared at him, then put my hands on my hips and said, “I come all the way across the Shadow Sea to rescue you and that’s all the greeting I get?”

  His face twisted in surprise. Then he smiled and spread his arms. His voice low but filled with something deep and wonderful, he said, “Come here, Grandson! I am happier than I can say to meet you at long last! It has distressed me not to be a bigger part of your life.”

  “Why weren’t you?” I asked, trying not to let too much pain sound in my voice.

  “Look at me,” he said. “Do I look like I could be your father’s father? When he was growing up, it was fun to remain so youthful. But after a while it became strange, and upsetting. Though I was thirty years older than him, we looked nearly identical. When my wife passed away, I decided it was a good time to move to Finland, where I was able to ‘reset the clock’ on how old I actually am. Your dad never quite forgave me for leaving. It has been killing me not to be more a part of your life.”

  That was all it took. I ran to his arms. He threw them around me, lifted me off the floor, and spun me in a circle.

  Something deep inside me—the huldra part?—knew him, and knew at once that we were kin and we were close.

  Finally, he put me down.

  “Let me unlock your leg chain,” I said, holding up the smaller of the two keys.

  When I was done he said, “Thank you, Grandson. Now let’s figure out what we should do next.”

  “Tell
you what, boss,” put in Korkaya, fluttering over to land on his shoulder. “First thing, why don’t you close that door so it’s not so obvious you’re on the loose? Then say hello to the rest of us. Then we can talk about what to do next.”

  My grandfather nodded. “Correct, as usual, Korkaya.”

  He strode across the cell, extracted the key, and closed the door. “Don’t worry,” he said when he saw the look on my face. “It doesn’t lock automatically. And we’ve got the key inside with us, thanks to you. Now, who is your other friend?”

  When I introduced Angus, my grandfather said, “Clearly you’ve been up to even more than I realized, Cody. You’ll have to tell me about it in detail if we ever manage to get out of here.”

  “Getting out shouldn’t be so hard. I’ve come with the family cauldron, so I can fly you back to the human world, wherever you want to go. But I feel like first we should make sure Nettie is all right.”

  He frowned. “Do you know where she is now?”

  “She went to look for her mother,” said Angus.

  Grampa Raimo bent his head forward and ran his fingers through his hair. “I hope this doesn’t blow up in our faces,” he muttered.

  “Why?” I asked. “What’s going on? You said there was a crisis of some kind.”

  “It’s King Wergis. He was always fierce, but he has grown much worse in recent years. These days even the largest of the trolls walk in fear of his wrath. There is no telling when he will lash out, what will upset him, what punishment he might decree. Rebellion is brewing, and the last thing we want is to be caught in the middle of a troll civil war. I hope Nettie will be able to free the prince, but if the king finds out she’s here, it could be catastrophic. His anger at her has grown volcanic. I’m torn, Cody. We should leave as soon as possible. But I don’t want to abandon Nettie if she needs our help.”

  I started to answer. Before I could speak, the cell door swung open and we heard a shout of alarm.

  Nettie, afterward (continued)

  My mother turned to me. I knew at once that I had spent too much time in the human world, for her face seemed even more hideous than I had remembered.

  What had my exile done to my trollishness?

  Her eyes grew wide when she saw me. For a moment I thought I spotted a fierce joy. But that look passed at once to anger, then confusion, then fear.

  Afraid of me? That couldn’t be possible. Afraid for me, for what my father would do if he found I had returned? That seemed unlikely as well. So my own confusion was complete.

  Finally, she said, “Nettie, what are you doing here? Does your father know you’ve come back?”

  I was surprised to hear what seemed like real concern in her voice.

  “I have returned because I learned that Gustav Fredrik is alive and in danger,” I said. “I have returned because I learned what you did to him.” I took a deep breath, then added, “And I have returned because there is unfinished business between us.”

  My heart was leaping within me like the lava in the heart of the mountain. Though my hands were trembling, I managed to keep my voice steady. In tones of steel, I said, “I need to know, Mother, how you could have done what you did to me.”

  My mother lowered her head in shame, something I had never seen before, never even imagined possible. Her voice soft, she said, “Your father made me do it, Nettie. I was weak. I should have protected you better.”

  This startled me almost beyond belief. I had never in any way imagined her to be weak.

  Then I thought about my father, the most terrifying being I had ever met. And in that moment I understood that my mother, for all the strength I thought she possessed, might indeed have been living in fear of him.

  I had to harden my heart against this, or the pain of that admission would have knocked me to my knees.

  So I turned to the next question.

  “How is my father? Of what temper? What mood?”

  My mother’s face twisted and she said, “His mood grows worse, daughter. Much worse. He is caught in a constant fury and has become a tyrant. All in Troll Mountain walk in fear of his anger, and that fear is made much greater because there is no telling what might trigger it, what might unleash the next wave of his wrath.”

  This chilled my heart, and I hoped dearly I could leave the mountain without having to see him.

  I pressed on to the most important question. Hardly able to get out the words, I asked, “And what of the prince?”

  “Gustav Fredrik is hidden deep away. Even so, he is in constant danger, for your father seeks him daily.”

  Her face was marked with a grief I had never thought to see there. She took a step forward and reached toward me.

  I flinched.

  “Nettie,” she whispered. “Oh, Nettie, I have been mourning your absence for over a century. I have never forgiven myself for the part I played in your leaving.”

  Against my wishes, I felt a pang of concern for her and asked, “Are you all right?”

  She shook her head. “I do not know. These are strange days. I am changing. We are all changing, all except your father. He clings to the past, clings to pride, clings to what he feels he is losing. The world outside our mountain moves too fast for him, and he is baffled in how to deal with it. Rather than finding a way to live with change, he digs in his heels and demands that it stop. But it will not stop, and the fact of that drives him to ever greater fury.”

  “I am sorry for that,” I said, and truly meant it. “But he is no longer my concern. Tell me, is there any way to wake the prince?”

  My mother’s face grew bleak, and her next words caused me to stagger. “None that I know of.”

  After so much hope, after such a seemingly impossible journey, to learn that it was all for naught pierced me to the core.

  “Then it is best to leave things as they are?” I asked.

  Mother shook her head in misery. “No, it is not. Every day the chance that your father will find the coffin and smash it grows greater.”

  “And the prince will die if he does,” I said. “But if we cannot wake him, he is as good as dead anyway.”

  My mother shook her head again. “It is worse than that. If the coffin is simply smashed, rather than being opened with the proper spells, the prince’s body will indeed die. However, his unleashed spirit will wander aimlessly for all eternity. Now he merely sleeps. But if he is not released to death with gentle words and good intent, his spirit will roam the halls of Troll Mountain in endless misery and loneliness.”

  I stared at her in horror. “Then why have you not released him already?”

  “I do not have the strength,” she murmured, and for the second time I heard shame in her voice. Looking up at me, she wrung her hands and said softly, “We are not supposed to appreciate human beauty, Nettie, but he is the most beautiful thing in my life, and I have not been able to let that go.”

  “So you have held him at the cost of his soul,” I said, nearly choking on my fury. Then, though each word seemed to scorch my throat as I uttered it, I snarled, “If you cannot do it, I will do it for you.”

  It was in that moment that I truly understood I must indeed love the prince. If not for love, how else could I do this terrible deed?

  “Better you than your father,” replied my mother.

  “Better me than my father,” I agreed. “Now, take me to the prince.”

  Even as I realized it was not a request but a command, Mother drew a deep breath, nodded slowly, and said, “Follow me.”

  Cody’s Life Log

  10/30 (continued)

  Standing at the door of the cell was a tonttu. The little man carried a tray that held a mug and a couple of bowls. His expression kept changing, so it was hard to tell whether he was frightened, angry, or betrayed.

  I suppose it’s possible to feel all those things at once.

  “Who are these…these others?” he cried. “Where have they come from?”

  “Come in and calm down, Erkki,” said my grandf
ather. “We have things you need to know.”

  Wide-eyed, the tonttu stepped into the cell. Still holding the tray, he kicked the door shut behind him. “Have I not treated you with respect and kindness?” he said bitterly. “Is this how you repay me?”

  “Be sensible, Erkki,” said Grampa Raimo. “With that door unlocked, I could have been long gone by now if I had wanted to. It’s not as if I have fled from your care.”

  “Well, that’s true,” sniffed the tonttu as he set down the tray. Then he tilted his head and said, “Why didn’t you flee?”

  “Because we have important work to tend to and I need your help.”

  “You do?” said the tonttu. I could hear a hint of eagerness in his voice.

  “We do,” said Grampa R. “Let me bring you up to date. To start with, this is my grandson, Cody. Korkaya Raven you already know. The very small person is a brownie named Angus. He hails from Scotland, where his folk are not unlike the tonttu in how they relate to the human world. As for the cat, he belongs to my mother and—”

  “I most certainly do not belong to your mother!” interrupted Askeladden. “I do not belong to anyone. I am…connected…to your mother.”

  “I stand corrected that you are connected,” replied Grampa Raimo, smiling and bowing his head. Again he turned back to the tonttu. “The cat is my mother’s companion. These three have come here for a purpose, and with news that will surprise you.”

  At the mention of news, the tonttu’s eyes lit up and he said, “Do tell. You know I love a good bit of gossip!”

  My grandfather smiled. Clearly he knew he had the tonttu. Voice low (even though there was no one but us to hear), he said, “Princess Nettie has returned to Troll Mountain!”

  Erkki gasped and put a hand to his chest. “This could be wonderful,” he whispered. “Or it could be the end of everything.”

  “Precisely,” replied my grandfather. “Now, can you gather some others and help us? I am fairly certain that if she can get her mother to cooperate, Nettie will be heading for the prince. I would like to meet her there in case we can assist in whatever she decides to do.”