Bogamus the Troll
By Nathan Jones
Copyright 2011 Nathan Jones
Smashwords Edition
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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Contents
Bogamus and the Three Billy Goats Gruff
Bogamus and the Three Billy Goats Gruff
‘Waaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrraaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrraaaaaaaaaaaaaggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!’
Bogamus was having a bad day. He had been sneaked, tricked and had just been buffeted off his bridge. Now he was flying through the air, arms flailing and screaming. His bridge, the river under it and the valley it ran through were all getting smaller and smaller beneath him.
The valley was high up in the mountains, far within the Magical Realm and was unusual in two ways. Firstly the valley was inhabited by both creatures of the real world, that you or I might see everyday, but also by magical creatures. You will only ever get to see magical creatures if they want you to see them or if you are magical yourself. Elegant elves, mice, deer, tiny fairies, wolves, rabbits, enormous trolls, goats, toads, mischievous gnomes, spiders, beetles and even troublesome goblins all lived side by side.
Secondly while one side of the valley had sunshine all day long the other side was always covered in shadow. On the fair, sunny side the grass grew lush and green, the flowers bloomed and trees grew tall. The creatures that dwelt there ate well, were strong and full of life. On the other side it was always gloomy. The grass struggled to grow and there were no flowers or trees, only barren rocks. The creatures that lived there had a hard life.
‘Oooooooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhooooooooooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhoooooooooooooooooooooooooo!’
Bogamus was a troll, not a bad sort as trolls go. But then again ‘as trolls go’ does not say much, most trolls are complete stinkers. Trolls are large (Bogamus was ten feet tall), green skinned, bad tempered and have large bulbous noses and long pointy ears. Their long, knobbly fingers stick out of scrawny hands which are on the end of their long skinny, strong arms. They have hunched shoulders, a bent back and round pot bellies. Their legs are thin and bony, they have wide feet with long curly toenails. Bogamus was all these things although his temper was better than most and he did have a nice smile.
Like most trolls Bogamus lived under a bridge, a nice homely bridge that spanned the river and nestled in the middle of the valley. The bridge was made of stone, arched in a humpback. Lichens and moss covered the smooth weather worn stones. The bridge looked as though it had been there for as long as the valley had existed or the river had flowed.
Bogamus looked down at the valley, at the river which ran through it and, of course, his beloved bridge. Being so high up they had all seemed very small. But now they seemed to be getting larger. Bogamus was falling.
‘Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!’
Even in the Magical Realm trolls are misunderstood creatures. When a troll finds a bridge he cherishes it and protects it. Bogamus, being a good troll, guarded his bridge day and night and stopped anyone from crossing it. (Would you want anyone walking over your home?) Troll have amazingly good hearing. Even when asleep they can hear the footsteps of anyone approaching their bridge. What is more if Bogamus heard anyone approaching he would climb out from under his bridge and shout out in his best troll voice:
‘Bogamus the Troll am I.
With a fee-foe-fie.
This bridge don’t come near.
Or I’ll tear off your left ear.
I’ll gnaw your right arm.
To your belly I’ll do harm.
So keep well away.
If you want to see another day.’
All those who heard Bogamus’s fearsome chant would steer well away of the bridge. Bogamus, who was really quite a nice sort of troll, would never actually tear off anyone’s ear or do any of the other things. But as a troll it was his duty to guard the bridge and shout such a warning. It was what trolls did.
The river was getting quite large now and heading straight for Bogamus.
Splosh-slosh-wulosh-slosh-blosh-slosh-splush-slosh-losh-slosh-wulosh-slosh-blosh-slosh-splush-slosh-losh.
The river was swift flowing, so much so that none of the creatures could cross from one side to the other. (Except for the birds, insects and fairies who can all fly.) The only way to cross the river was Bogamus’s bridge. But Bogamus, who dearly loved his bridge, would not let anyone or anything cross his bridge.
Nobody knew why Bogamus lived under a bridge when a troll could quite easily build a fine house in one of the nicest places in the valley. Maybe it was to catch the fish that swam in the river? But Bogamus did not really like fish. If you asked him why he lived under a bridge he would say, ‘It’s because that’s where trolls live.’ If you then asked him why trolls live under bridges then he would say, ‘Well we’ve got to live somewhere. I mean, who ever heard of a troll living in a bungalow?’
‘Blub-a-bloob-a-wub-blub-a-bloob-a-wub-blub-a-bloob-a-wub-a-bloob-a-wub-blub-a-bloob-a-wub-blub-a-bloob.’
Bogamus was sinking in the river. He moved his arms and kicked his legs, trying to get back to the surface. If he could get to the shore then he might be able to get back to his bridge. But no matter how hard he swam it was all he could do to stay afloat.
How had a powerful troll like Bogamus been sent flying through the air to land in the river? Which of the creatures in the valley had done this? Was it a trick by the gnomes? Or more trouble from the goblins? Maybe a pack of wolves had chased him off his bridge? Perhaps a powerful wizard had cast a spell on Bogamus?
Was it any of these that had sent Bogamus flying? No. It was goats! Three goats to be precise.
Bogamus gave up trying to swim and instead just floated and let the river take him out of the valley. As he floated he thought to himself, “How did three goats send me flying off my bridge?”
At the beginning of the day three goat brothers were living on the barren side of the valley. They were called Fydor Gruff, Mydor Gruff and Bydor Gruff: the three billy goats Gruff. Fydor was the smallest, lightest and nimblest of the three brothers. Mydor was a middle sized goat, and the most intelligent of the three. Lastly Bydor was the largest and strongest goat.
It was a hard existence for the three goat brothers on the barren side of the valley. They had to spend all day searching for food among the barren rocks and had no time to play. They could see the fair side of the valley and longed to cross the river and feast on the green grass there. However, they knew all about Bogamus and the warning he shouted to all who approached his bridge.
The three billy goats Gruff each had a plan to get past Bogamus and cross over the bridge.
Fydor knew that while Bogamus had very sensitive hearing it would be easier to sneak across the bridge while the troll slept. If he could get up early enough and creep in absolute silence then he could get across while Bogamus lay asleep.
That morning Fydor got out of bed even before the sun was up. He packed his things and clip-clopped over to the bridge. When he was some way off he could hear Bogamus snoring beneath the bridge. Even so he was careful to approach the bridge as quietly as he could. He reached the bridge and crept forward, stepping on the soft mosses where his hooves would make no noise. After his first step on the bridge he stood quite still to check that Bogamus was still asleep.
On the other side of the valley three birds were perched in a tree, tweeting at each other. The wind blew along the valley, rustling the grass. Two squirrels were looking around, waiting for the first glimpse of morning sunshine. Beneath the bridge Bogamus snored.
Fydor advanced a few more paces, carefully keeping his hooves on the quiet, mossy parts of the bridge. Fydor was still worried about the troll. He stopped again to check that the troll was still sleeping. The birds were now hopping from branch to branch, trying to get a better view of Fydor crossing the bridge. The wind still rustled the grass. The squirrels flicked their bushy tails as the first rays of sunshine warmed and tickled them. Beneath the bridge Bogamus kept snoring.
Fydor was relieved, he was nearly half way across the bridge. Maybe this was going to be easier than he had first thought. Relaxing a little he took another step forward. But one of his rear hooves slipped on the moss, still damp with morning dew. The hoof screeched across the bare stones and it was all Fydor could do to stop himself falling over. With his heart racing Fydor steadied himself and listened.
The birds were getting excited about the goat crossing the bridge and were tweeting all the louder. The wind was still rustling the grasses but now it was also whistling under the bridge. The squirrels, who were too busy to see Fydor, started chasing each other in the morning sunshine. Fydor wished that they would all keep quiet, they might wake the troll up. Fydor could hear Bogamus rolling around in the mud beneath the bridge and muttering to himself.
‘Whar-es-it? Whar-es-it? Is someone there?’
Fydor dared not breath for fear that Bogamus would get up to see what the noise was. Fydor strained his ears and listened.
‘Whar-es-it? Uhhmm. Narfing. Mmmmmmnnnnnn.’
Soon Bogamus was once more snoring. Relieved Fydor quickly and quietly finished crossing the bridge. Once he was over he turned a somersault to celebrate and began eating breakfast by munching on the juicy grass and enjoying the morning sun.
Mydor woke up as his younger brother was crossing the bridge. He was too large and noisy to creep over the bridge and besides Bogamus would soon be awake. Mydor would have to find another way.
It was around lunchtime when Mydor, hungry from a fruitless morning searching for food, approached the bridge. Bogamus had noticed Fydor somersaulting on the fair side of the valley and was not sure which side of valley the smallest goat should be on.
When he saw Mydor approach Bogamus roared his usual warning:
‘Bogamus the Troll am I.
With a fee-foe-fie.
This bridge don’t come near.
Or I’ll tear off your left ear.
I’ll gnaw your right arm.
To your belly I’ll do harm.
So keep well away.
If you want to see another day.’
Mydor approached the bridge with a wry smile on his face. His smaller brother’s plan had worked, now he would to try out his own plan.
‘Halt! You may not pass,’ growled Bogamus in his most scary troll voice.
‘My response shall be in verse.
Why may I not this bridge traverse?’
Said Mydor who, being so clever, always talked in rhyme.
‘Because this is my bridge and I say so,’ Bogamus told him.
‘From the other side I came this morn,
while crossing I heard you yawn.
Not wishing to disturb your rest,
to continue across I thought best.
Of this side, I tire,
to return, I aspire.’
Bogamus wasn’t sure whether this was true or not. He had heard something or someone creeping around early that morning. Could that have been this goat?
‘If stopping me is your intention
then, it seems to me,
that I could not be,
allowed to pass in the opposite direction.’
Bogamus looked confused by this, but the clever goat continued.
‘When passing this way upon the morn
your voice should have bellowed to warn.
Preventing passage thither,
to stand among these grasses wither.’
‘Er …. yeah,’ said Bogamus who was having difficulty keeping up with this exceedingly bright goat.
‘Belonging on the other side,
of this river which runs wide.
I should not be made to dilly-dally,
in this part of the valley.’
This was indeed true, Bogamus knew that if the goat belonged on the other side of the valley then it was his trollish duty to keep him there.
‘But I can fix this mix
we find ourselves betwixt.
If you could stand aside,
over this bridge I would stride.
Then all would be as it were
and none would need to err.’
‘Are you sure that came from the other side this morning?’
‘Well I stand here on hoof,
which must count as proof.’
Bogamus scratched his head and thought hard about what he had heard. Eventually he said, ‘Well I suppose so. I mean we cannot have goats on the wrong side of the valley can we? You had better cross.’
‘If you say so,
then across I will go.’
Mydor clip-clopped over the bridge. When he got to the other side he danced a jig, found his younger brother and started to enjoy his lunch of fresh, green grass.
Bydor was the largest and strongest of the three goats. He was not as clever as Mydor or as sneaky as Fydor but his brute force more than made up for this. His plan involved waiting until the evening. It was not easy for him watching his younger brothers enjoying the grass while he struggled to find anything to eat. His stomach growled and rumbled as the day wore on. However, he knew that he had to wait until the sun was close to setting before he could hatch his plan.
When the sun was low in the sky it would just shine a little along the length of the valley and provide a little light to the barren side. Bydor positioned himself so that he stood between the setting sun and the bridge causing his shadow to grow long and making him seem to be a truly massive goat.
Bydor rapped his hooves on the stony ground sending a clattering sound echoing along the valley. He bellowed and roared with all his might. The clattering and roaring and bellowing echoed around filling the valley with the sounds of not one goat but of a thousand angry goats.
Bogamus tried to cover his ears and rub his eyes only to find that he couldn’t do both at once. He could not believe what was happening. Fydor has mysteriously appeared on the good side of the valley and Bogamus did not know why. Then Mydor had come up with some complex and dubious reason why he should be allowed to pass over the bridge. Judging by what he could hear and see, he was now faced by an army of a thousand enraged goats.
When he was sure that he had Bogamus’s attention Bydor lowered his head and clattered his horns on the rocky ground, pounded his hooves one more time and let out a final mighty bellow down the length of the valley. Before the final echo had died away he had started to charge towards the confused troll.
Poor Bogamus didn’t even get time to shout out his usual warning. Bydor’s horns buffeted Bogamus off the bridge just as Bogamus was trying to leap out of the way of the approaching goat army.
By time Bydor had crossed the bridge Bogamus was caught in the fast river, screaming for all he was worth and floating away from the bridge, the goats and out of the valley.
The three billy goats Gruff did a dance to celebrate their victory and then all three munched on the green grass of their new home.
But this was not the end for Bogamus. Why don’t we follow him as he drifts down the river and see what happens to him?
Bogamus and the Knight
Bogamus did not meet his end with a prang from a billy goat’s horn. Instead he floated down the river feeling more shame than pain. As a mighty troll he should not have been sneaked, tricked and scared by three goats. A pack of wolves or a pride of terrifying lions might be able to get the better of a troll. But goats should should not have been a problem. How could he ever face his fellow trolls again?
While he was pondering these and other troll matters he drifted into some reeds. He was struggling to free himself when he felt a sharp poke in his back.
‘Halt vermin and declare yourself,’ boomed a well spoken voice from behind him.
Slowly Bogamus turned around to see a knight on horseback wearing armour (which in Bogamus’s opinion had seen better days) and pointing a long stick with a sharp point at Bogamus.
Bogamus’s reaction was instinctive. He stuck his thumbs in his ears, wiggled his fingers and stuck his tongue out with a rasp. Now a knight’s horse is trained for warfare. When faced with terrifying circumstances it does not flinch or tremor. Unfortunately the knight was less well trained. He screamed in fright and fell off the back of the horse, leaving his lance, for that’s the proper name of the knight’s pointed stick, sticking up in the air. The horse glared at Bogamus.
‘What do you mean poking me with that stick? Do you know what kind of a day I have had?’ shouted Bogamus using his best enraged troll voice.
‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ pleaded the knight. ‘You see it is my job to patrol this land and keep it safe for the twelve damsels.’
‘The damsels?’
‘Yes, they live near here. I’m a knight, and a knight’s job is to protect his land from things such as goblins, ogres, dragons and ..... er ….. well, trolls. In return for this protection the damsels should reward their knight handsomely.’
‘So you spend your time prodding innocent trolls like me because of these damsels do you?’
‘Well no, you see the knight before me did the job too well and scared off all the monsters. There has not been any trouble here for years. The twelve damsels take me for granted and I do not get any reward. Instead they spend all there time working on the farm and never pay any attention to me. I mean my armour is in such a state that it is a disgrace.’
‘It is quite smudgy,’ agreed Bogamus. ‘Why don’t you clean it?’
‘A knight is not supposed to clean his own armour, others should do that for him. A knight should wear his armour and look dazzling when doing so.’
At that moment a woman’s voice could be heard approaching. ‘Knight! Knight! Where are you knight?’
‘It is one of the damsels. I cannot be seen talking to a troll, quick you had best hide in the reeds.’
Bogamus was curious. He wanted to find out more and so he happily burrowed his way into the reeds and hid. Buried in the reeds his eyes peered out and his ears twitched as he listened. He could see and hear what happened, but could not be seen.
A young woman wearing a bright pink dress stretching from her feet to her neck and a matching pink hat that was tall and shaped like an upside down ice cream cone walked up to the riverbank. Pink ribbons trailed from the top of her hat. ‘Ah! There you are knight,’ said the damsel (who Bogamus later learned was called Deirdre). ‘One of the poles holding up our clothesline has broken. Hand over your lance as a replacement until we can get another made.’
‘But I need this to protect the land’ responded the knight.
‘Don’t give me that’ snapped Deirdre. ‘The land will be perfectly safe with or without your lance. You will just have to make do. Now hand it over.’
‘Oh, very well fair damsel.’ The knight handed his lance over to Deirdre.
‘Thank-you.’ Deirdre turned to leave. ‘By the way knight, your armour is in dreadful condition. You should get it cleaned.’
After a moment the knight said, ‘It is all clear. You can come out now.’
Bogamus emerged from the reeds in an even muckier state than was normal for him. Bogamus had a wry smile and said, ‘I have an idea.’
The following day the damsels were going about their business. They all wore the long dresses and tall conical hats that Deirdre had worn the day before. However, to allow easy identification, each damsel wore a different colour. Deirdre wore pink, Samantha wore lime green, Elizabeth wore violet, Bethany wore Orange and so on. Some were studying plans of the farm and working out which crops to plant where, others were busy carefully filing the plans and calculating how many seeds should be sown to grow enough food for all the damsels, one was carving a replacement pole for the clothes line, a group of damsels were building a rowing boat out of wood, while another group were working in the forge making tools. The knight rode on his horse around the busy damsels. The damsels did their best to avoid and ignore the knight.
Suddenly one of the damsels called Beatrice, who wore a navy blue dress and conical hat, emerged from some nearby woods screaming. ‘Help! Help! There’s a troll in the woods. Help! Help!’
‘Have no fear fair damsel,’ called the knight. ‘I shall hasten to your rescue.’ The knight spurred the horse towards the commotion waving his sword in circles above his head and shouting ‘Tally-Ho!’
Right on cue Bogamus emerged from the woods a safe distance behind Beatrice. His thumbs were pressed to this ears, his fingers waggling, his tongue was stuck out and he was rasping for all he was worth. He chased after Beatrice but made sure that he never quite caught her up. The other eleven damsels all screamed in unison, dropped their things and ran for safety, with their hands clutched around their ears.
The knight advanced towards Bogamus waving his sword around over his head in circles. ‘Be gone foul beast and trouble this land no more.’
Bogamus took one look at the advancing knight on his horse and immediately turned and started running away. He made a good show of flailing his arms over his head as he fled towards the woods. All the damsels got a good view of him being chased away by the knight.
Once both Bogamus and the knight were in the safety of the woods and out of sight they stopped. Catching their breaths the knight said, ‘Thank-you Bogamus. I must return to the damsels. I will meet you by the river later as agreed.’ Bogamus nodded and wandered off into the woods to do whatever it is that trolls do in woods. The knight had business to attend to.
When the knight emerged from the woods, it was to a very different reception than he was used to.
‘Thank-you so much Sir Knight,’ said Beatrice. ‘How can I ever repay you?’
‘Well, you could return my lance,’ suggested the knight.
‘I will see to it at once. I will personally make sure that the tip and handle are cleaned, polished and shiny.’
‘Very kind fair damsel. I am just glad that no harm came to you or any of the other damsels,’ responded the knight.
Later Bogamus and the knight met at the reeds. They both agreed that the day had gone very well.
‘Do you have any bridges around here?’ asked Bogamus.
‘I don’t think so,’ said the knight. ‘In fact the damsels are having to build a rowing boat so that they can cross the river. I guess that there aren’t any bridges nearby.’
‘Oh,’ said Bogamus looking disappointed.
‘Why are you looking for a bridge?’ said the knight.
‘Every troll needs a bridge. A bridge is a troll’s home. I don’t have a bridge anymore. I need to find a new one to make my home.’
‘What will you do if you cannot find one around here?’ asked the knight.
‘I guess that I’ll have to keep travelling along the river until I find one.’
‘You cannot swim all the way along the river. How are you going to travel?’
Bogamus shrugged.
‘We’ll do the same tomorrow then?’ asked the knight.
Bogamus nodded.
The following day a young damsel called Jasmine, who was dressed in a yellow dress and hat, was out sawing wood for the rowing boat. Bogamus jumped out from the undergrowth. He pressed both his thumbs to his ears, wiggled his fingers and rasped his tongue in the usual fashion. Bogamus bounced forward. Right on cue Jasmine leapt up, clasped her hands around her ears and started screaming. Bogamus had to jump around in front of her rasping furiously for a few moments before Jasmine got her wits together and started to flee. She ran out of the woods screaming for all she was worth.
‘Tally-ho!’ cried the knight and spurred his horse to Jasmine's rescue. The knight advanced towards Bogamus who, as per their arrangement, immediately fled back towards the safety of the woods. Once the knight had finished chasing Bogamus away he turned back to Jasmine to check that his endeavours were having the desired effect.
‘I trust that all is well fair damsel,’ said the knight.
‘Why thank-you for rescuing me brave Sir Knight. Is there anything that you would like as reward for your gallant rescue?’ responded Jasmine.
‘Why, no fair damsel. It is enough to know that you are safe from peril and that the fiend has been driven away.’
‘Surely there is something that I could do for you? Why perhaps I could polish your shield. If I may be so bold brave Sir Knight it does look in need of a clean,’ offered Jasmine.
‘Verily ’tis true. You may clean my shield. My thanks to you fair damsel.’
The knight unstrapped his shield from his arm and offered it to Jasmine who eagerly took it away.
Later that day the knight was re-united with his shield. It was polished to perfection and, reflecting the afternoon sun, sparkled brightly.
And so the pattern continued. Bogamus would surprise one of the damsels and the knight would shout ‘tally-ho’ and ride forth to rescue her. Once he had scared away the troll, the knight would return to the grateful damsels. The damsels soon stopped ignoring the knight. Instead they would greet him saying ‘Good morning Sir Knight’ or (if he was particularly lucky) ‘Brave Sir Knight’. So grateful for their timely rescue were the damsels that they would invariably offer to polish some part of his armour. Indeed all twelve of the damsels seemed quite keen to polish the knight’s armour.
Now there are many parts to a knights armour and they often have unusual names. A knights gloves are called ‘gauntlets,’ his hat a ‘helmet’. What is more his legs are covered by ‘greaves’ instead of trousers and his shirt is called a ‘hauberk’. These are strange names to be sure, but if you are a knight then these are the proper words and using the proper word is very important to a knight.
After a few rescues the damsels inundated their ‘Brave Sir Knight’ with offers to clean and polish his armour. Bethany offered to polish his gauntlets, Miranda offered to clean his helmet, Annabel cleaned his greaves and, after some fuss, Rachel got to polish his hauberk and Harriet his sword. Before too long every part of the knight gleamed and sparkled in the sunlight.
Now if the damsels had a chief then it was Delores. You could tell that she was their chief as she wore a dress, hat and ribbons made of a deep red cloth which had golden thread wound around the edges. It looked very special indeed. Furthermore all the other damsels curtseyed and called her ‘Ma'am’ whenever they spoke to her. Delores had called a meeting with the knight. Bogamus had a feeling that something was about to change.
‘Brave Sir Knight,’ she begun, ‘it is true that you have chased off this dreadful troll on many occasions and have saved all of us fair damsels from his clutches. However, we must now be free of this menace once and for all. I put it to you that as a knight charged with the protection of us fair damsels, you must kill this troll!’
This instruction sent a shiver down the knight’s back. He did not become a knight so that he would have to kill anyone. He wanted to ride around on his horse, wear shiny armour and receive the admiration of the fair damsels. The thought of killing anyone or even the sight of blood made the knight turn pale. Blood was dirty stuff and would ruin the shine on his armour. But Delores, the chief damsel, had instructed him to kill Bogamus. What choice did he have?
All he could say was, ‘Of course I will. For the sake of you and the many fair damsels threatened by this terrible menace.’
Later the knight and Bogamus met to discuss the situation. By dawn they had agreed a plan so that nobody would get hurt and the knight could keep his armour clean.
Once again Bogamus was found chasing after a damsel. His thumbs were in his ears, his fingers were waggling and his tongue was rasping. The damsel was screaming for help at the top of her voice and running away as fast as her legs could carry her.
The knight geed his horse into hot pursuit and shouted ‘Tally-ho’. (Since the first rescue the horse had made it clear that he did not appreciate being spurred.) He pointed his lance at Bogamus as he charged after him. A couple of times he almost pranged Bogamus’s behind with the tip of the lance. The knight chased Bogamus around the damsels’ settlement, smashing through the chicken house, crashing around the storeroom (scattering the farm plans across the floor), blasting through the wood yard where the damsels had only just finished making the rowing boat and away towards the river.
As soon as Bogamus reached the river he dived in head first and swam underwater (whatever you may say about trolls they are good swimmers) until he reached the reeds. When he reached there he stayed underwater with only his eyes, ears and nose popping up above the surface so that he could see, hear and breath. Eventually the damsels caught up with the knight.
‘Fair damsels I have vanquished the foul troll that has been menacing your lives. I chased him into the river where he drowned,’ declared the knight.
The damsels (who did not know how well trolls can swim) were very impressed by this.
‘Oh Brave Sir Knight, you have saved us all from the terror of the beastly troll,’ cooed the damsels in unison.
‘So it would seem,’ said Delores. ‘But where is the body of the vile troll?’
‘Drowned and drifting down river no doubt,’ said the knight.
‘Very well then, what would you have as your reward Brave Sir Knight?’
‘Why that fine rowing boat that you fair damsels have been crafting these past few weeks,’ requested the knight.
After some discussion it was agreed that, as the troll must have drowned, the knight could have the rowing boat. Some of the damsels were disappointed by this. Apparently they had wanted to polish his armour some more but Delores was adamant that there would be no more polishing. The knight would get the rowing boat as a reward. The damsels would have to make a second boat.
All of the damsels worked together to move the rowing boat from the workshop to the river. When it was floating on the river and safely secured the damsels all returned to the house to celebrate the drowning of the troll. They even invited the knight to join them.
Later that evening the knight sneaked out of the celebrations, climbed on his horse and rode down to the river. There in the reeds he found Bogamus.
‘It looks like you had better go. Thanks for all you have done. From now on the damsels will treat me as a knight of honour.’
‘That’s all right,’ replied Bogamus. ‘Happy to have helped.’
‘Here is the boat as we agreed. A more comfortable way to travel down river that floating.’
Bogamus nodded.
‘If you come this way again then do pop in. Just take care not to be seen by the damsels. You are supposed to have been drowned.’
Bogamus agreed that he would and climbed into the rowing boat. It had been made to carry four people at a time, but was just the right size for one troll. He grabbed the oars and started to row downstream, leaving the knight behind him.
As Bogamus rowed away the knight waved good-bye.
And that is how it would have ended but just a moment later Delores arrived.
‘Waving at the water lilies are we knight?’ said Delores startling the knight who was still waving to a now distant Bogamus.
‘Well ... er ... no .... er ... just, er, out for an evening troll, err I mean stroll,’ replied the knight.
‘Well now that this troll business is all sorted out we can put you to better use. There is a field near the woods that needs ploughing. You and your horse can see to that tomorrow morning.’
‘Neeeeigh!’ said the horse but his complaint was lost on both Delores and the knight.
‘But my armour will get smudgy again.’
‘Well never mind about that, we need the field ploughed.’
‘But I liked being a knight. How will get my armour cleaned if I have to plough fields instead of fighting monsters?’
‘You will just have to do it yourself, or get your horse to help you.’
‘Neigh, neigh!’ But alas the poor horse was ignored again. Delores gave the horse a glare. She had her suspicions that this creature was not nearly as dumb as it looked. Quite likely it was more intelligent that the knight.
‘Why do I have to do ploughing? I liked being a knight. Why can’t I be a knight?’
‘Well, you could, so long as that field gets ploughed tomorrow morning as well.’
‘So you do need a knight?’
‘Not now the troll has gone. I trust that the troll has been dealt with?’
‘Yes, you won’t be seeing him again.’
‘Well in that case you could still be a knight. Just make sure that you and your horse do the ploughing.’
‘Neigh, neigh, neigh!’ But the poor horse’s complaints were ignored once more and both the knight and his horse had to get used to a life of ploughing, guarding against creatures that would never arrive and, of course, smudgy armour.
Bogamus in the Woods
Bogamus rowed down the river which was gradually broadening. He was still feeling gloomy. The adventure with the knight had cheered him up a bit but he still felt ashamed of being buffeted off his bridge by the three goats. Back in his home valley he would always be known as the troll who was beaten by three goats. Even if one of the goats was unusually sneaky, another uncommonly intelligent and the third a brute. He would have to find a new bridge to make his home. But the further he rowed downstream the nearer he got to leaving the Magical Realm and drifting into the real world. Bogamus did not like the thought of entering the real world. The real world was full of people and buildings and machines and had no space or time for trolls. Not even a good natured troll with a nice smile. Where could he make his new home?
The river flowed into a small wood with tall trees growing on either bank. As he rowed along a high pitched, chirping voice sprang out from the evening shadows across the river.
‘Well there’s a sight I never did see.
A troll in a boat, tee-hee-hee.’
Then from further along the bank another voice seemed to come from a cluster of dragonflies.
‘From under bridge to over stream.
A long journey, it would seem.
Near to far, yet far from home.
I’ll wager he’s tired of being alone.’
Now a third voice joined, this time from behind the boat.
‘What big eyes you have Mr. Troll. Can you see us?’
‘No you can’t!’ responded a shrill chorus from all around.
Indeed Bogamus could not see who was speaking. He couldn’t see any people or animals. Just dragonflies buzzing around in the evening sunlight.
‘What a big nose you have Mr. Troll. Can you smell us?’
‘No you can’t!’ the chorus chirped again.
Bogamus was getting tired of this. He had been cheated by goats and was not going to be taunted by invisible voices.
‘What big ears you have Mr. Troll. Can you hear us?’
‘Yes you can!’ responded the chorus, this time breaking into laughter sending tiny ‘tee-hees’ fluttering into the evening air.
At that moment there was an enormous banging and crashing sound from inside the woods. All the tiny voices started to scream and Bogamus saw that even the dragonflies were scattering. Bogamus panicked and dived into the murky waters of the river, leaving only his eyes, ears and nose above the water. His boat floated nearby.
The crashing and booming came closer. Boagmus could hear the sound of branches being cracked and trees being uprooted. Something massive was coming nearer. Bogamus could not believe his eyes when two legs the size of tree trunks came to the edge of the river. A loud, deep voice boomed out across the woods and the river.
‘Whose been meddling in my woods? Come out so that I can see ya.’
A giant! As tall as trees and much stronger. Bogamus stayed underwater and hoped that the giant would not spot him.
‘Ah! A boat. I’ll use that as a sugar bowl and those two oars will make fine toothpicks.’
With that an enormous hand reached down and picked up Bogamus’s boat and the two oars. Seeming happy that whoever had been meddling in his woods had gone the giant turned around and crashed and bashed his way back into the woods. Bogamus stayed underwater with his eyes, ears and nose just poking above the surface. He wanted to see what the voices did next. He didn’t have to wait long.
‘Has the giant gone?’
‘Yes, I think so. It should be safe to come out now.’
‘What about the troll? Did the giant get him?’
‘I’m not sure. I can’t see the troll, so maybe he did.’ Bogamus smiled to himself, this time the voices could not see him.
‘If he got taken by the giant then he’ll be in a troll lot of trouble.’
‘Don’t joke, this is serious. The giant has been here for a whole week. He has scared all the humans away. They no longer come to the woods for us to play japes and tricks on them.’
‘To lead them astray in our woods, soon lost in changing paths.’
‘Or we appear before a child, our wings fluttering. They will always know they saw us, but will never be believed.’ The voices seemed to take delight in this.
‘But all of this will end soon with the giant in the woods! Soon the villagers will call these the Giant’s Woods and not the Fairy Woods!’
Fairies! Of all magic creatures fairies are the most magical. They are able to hide from a creature of the real world, such as you or I, if they so wish. The only magic a giant has is being big. With that little magic most people would be able to see them with little effort. No mater how magical you are it is difficult to hide when you are as tall as trees. Fairies were more difficult to detect and would only be seen by real people if the fairies so wished. But all magical creatures can, if they put their minds to it, see other magical creatures. The giant could have seen the fairies if only he had known where to look and could have seen Bogamus if he were not hiding in the murky waters of the river. All Bogamus had to do was change the way he looked at things in order to see the fairies.
Bogamus had a long hard stare at one of the dragonflies. It had wings, such as dragonflies have, and a head, as does a dragonfly, and legs, again just like a dragonfly. But dragonflies have six legs and these creatures had only two. There were arms as well; slender arms with delicate fingers on their hands. What is more the head was not a grotesque insect head but had the graceful features of a tiny human being with long flowing hair. If he looked carefully the wings were not insect wings but magical wings that fluttered with all the colours of the rainbow. They were not dragonflies. They were fairies in disguise! Bogamus listened to the fairy voices.
‘And if the humans forget that these are the Fairy Woods then they might forget that fairies dwell here. They might stop believing in fairies, and we all know what that will mean.’
‘No. No. That must not happen.’ The fairies cried in unison.
‘Why don’t we move to another wood? There must be more around here.’
‘We can’t. We are the fairies of the Fairy Woods. These are the Fairy Woods and here we must stay. If we were to leave the Fairy Woods then we would lose our magic and be forever stuck as dragonflies.’
‘Then we must find a way to rid these woods of the giant.’
‘But how can we get such a terrible giant to move?’
At this point Bogamus emerged from the river. He had had enough of hiding underwater and had heard all he needed to hear about the situation. As he emerged the fairies cooed and fluttered away.
‘Well if you fairies cannot move him then I guess that I will have to. Besides I need my boat back.’
Bogamus strode off into the wood leaving the fairies cooing and fluttering by the river. Bogamus was a large troll, but the giant was many times bigger. Even so Bogamus thought he had a plan for getting rid of the giant. He was going to trick the giant just as one of the goats had tricked him. He would make the giant agree to go away, leaving the woods to the Fairies and the boat to Bogamus.
Following the giant took little skill. The giant had broken branches and knocked down trees as he trampled around the woods. Bogamus thought that if the giant stayed here too long then there would not be much of the woods left. Just piles of broken branches and uprooted trees.
Eventually Bogamus found the giant. He was sitting down in a clearing, surrounded by broken trees. He was using one of the oars to remove massive chunks of food from between his colossal, dirty, crooked teeth. How was Bogamus, who was only a ten foot tall troll, going to get the giant, who was as tall as trees, to leave the Fairy Woods? Bogamus had a plan.
Bogamus strode into the giant’s clearing with a big, beaming smile on his face. ‘Congratulations sir,’ said Bogamus with his arms outstretched. ‘You are a lucky winner.’
‘Wot you mean troll?’ growled the giant. ‘Wot ‘ave I won?’
‘Why you are this year’s “Giant of the Year” winner. The judges were particularly impressed by your, er.’ Bogamus paused, what made one giant better than another? ‘Um …. bashing and crashing.’
‘Well, I have always been good at bashin’ things.’ The giant picked up a tree trunk lying next to him. ‘Would you like me to show you?’
‘Oh, no, no, no, no, no. That will not be necessary, I mean just look around here. Anyone can see plenty of evidence of some quality bashing and crashing.’ Indeed the giant must have knocked over at least fifty trees to make the clearing. ‘Hmmm, yes this is some of the best bashing and crashing that I have ever seen.’
‘Oh, ok. Well, what do I win as “Giant of the Year” then?’
‘A free holiday. You are going to spend two weeks in a picturesque valley high up in the mountains. You will enjoy the clean mountain air, spectacular views and the famous mountain food.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Why goat of course. All the goat that you can…..”
‘Eurggggh! Don’t like goat. It’s all stringy. What else is there to eat?’
Bogamus hadn’t expected this. He had never heard that a giant could be a fussy eater. ‘Well, er, if you don’t like goat then I’m sure lots of other things to eat. Err, it’s a lovely picturesque valley just waiting for you to bash and crash your way along it.’
‘Hmmmmm. ‘Ow come I’ve never heard of this “Giant of the Year” award then?’
‘Oh it’s a new thing. The errrr,’ Bogamus had to think, who would give prizes to giants? ‘The Glorious Group for the Growth and Greater Good of Giants only created it earlier this year.’
‘The “Glorious” what?’
‘The Glorious Group for the Growth and Greater Good of Giants, also known as the GGGGGG.’ Bogamus strained his smile a little further.
‘Never heard of it and I’ve been a giant for ages. Besides what’s a troll doing handing out prizes to giants?’
‘Erm …..’ lying was proving to be difficult. ‘I’m on an, er, exchange programme with the TTTTTT. The Troupe of Tremendous Trolls Trying to Thwart Trouble.’
‘Rubbish, you’re making it up.’
‘I assure you that both the GGGGGG and the TTTTTT are ……’
‘What do you take me for? A fool?’ roared the giant, ‘now git lost or I’ll give you a BBBBBB!’
‘A what?”
‘I’ll give you a Big Bang on your Bonce and Brutally Break your Bones. Now git gone, Troll!’
His plan foiled all Bogamus could think of doing was to shout out ‘Oi, giant! Yaaaaah!’ stick his thumbs in his ears, wiggle his fingers, and rasp his tongue for all he was worth. It was the scariest thing that Bogamus could think of, maybe it would work on the giant.
But the giant didn’t even bat an eyelid. ‘I said git lost troll. You thought you could trick me, but you can’t. These are my woods and I’m staying here,’ growled the giant. ‘Nobody can see me among these trees and I likes that.’
Bogamus tried hopping from one foot to the other while still keeping his fingers waggling and tongue rasping.
‘Right, I warned ya! Now git lost.’ The giant started to get to his feet, revealing his true height. Bogamus’s jaw dropped open in disbelief at the enormous size of the giant. He was many times bigger and stronger than Bogamus was or ever would be. Bogamus turned and ran away, back down the path of beaten trees.
Bogamus could here the giant bellowing, ‘I’m coming to git ya and when I git ya I’m gonna eat ya.’ Bogamus screamed and ran even faster, barely looking where he was going. Just his luck to find a giant who wouldn’t eat goat but seemed a bit too keen to try troll instead. What he needed now was a LLLLLL, a “Lift to his Lope Letting him Lengthen his Lead and Leggit”. Failing that he would settle for an RRRRRR, a “Rapid Rush to Reliably Release him from this Rangy Ruffian”.
As Bogamus dashed through the woods he didn’t have time to look where he was going. While running past a particularly large oak tree he stumbled on a tree root and flew head over heals, landing on his back with a thud. Something dropped on his nose and started scampering about. Bogamus ignored this, he was far more concerned about the giant.
The crashing footsteps of the giant approach. ‘Ho, ho, ho. Had a little fall ‘ave we. Now I’ve got ya. Let’s think what I can do with a naughty little troll like you. Try to trick me into leaving the woods did ya?’
The giant loomed over Bogamus and glared down with a snarl on his face. He bent down to get a closer look at his prey.
‘Ho, ho, ho, ho. Ho, ho, o ….o ….o, oh. Ooooh. Oooooooh. Nasty little thing it is. Nasty little thing. Get it away from me. Ooooh, oooh, oh.’ The giant’s snarl had disappeared. Instead his face had turned pink and he started hopping from one foot to the other, prancing and pointing at Bogamus’s nose.
Bogamus did not know what the giant was referring to. He reached up to his nose and grabbed the scampering thing that had landed there. A spider. He put it on the palm of his hand and reached up towards the giant.
‘Is this want you mean?’ asked Bogamus.
‘No! No! Get it away! I don’t want that nasty little thing. Get it away!’ The giant inched backwards, shielding his eyes from the spider with his enormous hands.
Bogamus stood up holding the spider up as high as he could.
‘Don’t you like spiders then?’ asked Bogamus.
The giant squealed and hopped further away from Bogamus.
‘No, they’re nasty little things. Horrible, horrible things. I detest them. Get it away.’
But Bogamus wouldn’t. Instead he held the spider up high and moved towards the giant.
‘No! No! No! Take it away!’ cried the giant.
‘Shan’t,’ replied Bogamus.
The giant stopped, made a sort of groaning sound, then turned, and fled into the woods breaking branches and bashing trees as he went. Before too long Bogamus was alone in the woods with just the spider for company. When Bogamus was happy that the giant had gone he carefully put the spider down, said ‘thank-you’ to it for saving his life and headed back to the river.
He doubted that the giant had fled the woods having seen a single spider. The giant would still need to be flushed out. But Bogamus had another plan and this one was not going to fail. However, he was going to need the help of the fairies to get this one to work.
Bogamus ran back to the river where he found the fairies still disguised as dragonflies.
‘Fairies!’ exclaimed Bogamus.
‘Yes little troll,’ replied one of the fairies. This annoyed Bogamus, he did not like being called little by something that was only a few inches high.
‘You fairies are magical creatures and can appear a dragonflies if you want to.’
‘Indeed we are,’ replied one of the fairy voices.
‘Can you appear as other creatures?’
‘So long as we are within these woods we can appear as any creature you care to mention.’ As if to prove this claim one of the fairies turned itself into a eagle, many times the size of a fairy or dragonfly. The eagle took off and soared along the river. Another turned into a tortoise and a third transformed into a goat.
Bogamus winced at the sight of the goat, these fairies seemed to know too much.
‘What about spiders?’ asked Bogamus.
The giant was feeling a little nervous. He had been shaken by the sight of the spider. Nasty thing with eight legs, they would creep and scamper all over the place. He detested the things and, although he was ashamed to admit it, he was scared of them. What was more there was a nasty little troll loose in the woods who no doubt was up to no good. The giant would have to patrol the woods and find this troll and deal with him properly.
From behind him the giant heard Bogamus calling out, ‘Coo-ee, over here Mr. Giant.’
The giant turned and saw Bogamus grinning at him and waving. Immediately the giant let out a growl and started to chase after Bogamus. The troll did not wait but turned and ran down a path away from the giant. If the giant had not been so angry then he would have noticed that Bogamus was not scared this time, although he was keen to keep a good distance away from the giant just in case.
The giant ran down the path still fuming with rage, turned a corner before entering a clearing and stopped in his tracks. He let out a whining sort of sound. Everywhere he looked there were spiders. There were spiders on the leaves, spiders in the branches, spiders on the tree trunks, spiders on the ground and spiders crawling across silvery webs. There were spiders everywhere! There were large hairy spiders, brightly coloured spiders, spiders with long spindly legs and spiders with strange markings. Some of the spiders were as big as cats or dogs. One seemed to have an orange eye drawn on its back, another’s markings looked like a pair of red daggers. Intricate spiders webs clung to the trees and branches coating the edges of the clearing in a misty lace. When the giant burst into the clearing all of the spiders suddenly jumped up and started fluttering in the air.
Bogamus hoped that the giant would be too overcome with fear and dread to realise that spiders should not flutter. These were, of course, the fairies in magical disguise. The giant turned around, looking back where he had come from he saw that the way was blocked by even larger, even nastier spiders fluttering in the woodland air.
The giant let out a long, slow moan that building into a enormous scream.
‘Spiders! Everywhere! Oh-my-me. Spiders, there must be hundreds of them.’
‘Thousands I would say. Maybe more,’ said Bogamus. ‘You know that woodlands make an ideal place for spiders to live. They must be everywhere: in the trees, on the ground, even crawling up you leg.’
‘Eurrgh. Get me out of here,’ yelled the giant. The fairies fluttered apart revealing a spider-free exit from the clearing. On seeing this the giant started to run through the forest causing the usual devastation as he went.
‘After him fairies. Let’s make sure he leaves the woods for good,’ shouted Bogamus.
Bogamus and all the fairies, who were still in their horrible spider disguises, chased after the giant. This was difficult as the giant was running as fast as his long legs would carry him. But Bogamus had one last thing he wanted to do before the giant left the woods.
Soon the giant had reached the edge of the woods and stood there panting, gazing back at Bogamus and the approaching spiders.
‘Don’t come any closer. I am leaving as fast as I can.’
‘Just one little thing before you leave these woods,’ said Bogamus. ‘Please don’t go thinking that spiders only exist in these woods. Why I bet that there are a dozen spiders crawling around beneath your feet right now.’ (If you try this yourself, please remember that a giant’s foot is much larger than your own.)
Gingerly the giant lifted up his right foot and examined the ground. Slowly he started counting spiders. ‘Arrgh, one. Arrgh, two. Arrgh, three.’ With each spider he counted the giant’s face turned paler and paler. By the time he got to twelve his face was quite white.
‘Oh-my-me they’re everywhere. Spiders! Everywhere!’ The giant backed off away from the woods, Bogamus and the fairies (who were still in spider shape). ‘Everywhere! Wherever I go there are spiders!’ The giant stopped in his tracks and his expression turned to one of dread and hopelessness. Suddenly he screamed ‘Spiders! Arrrghhh!’ and started to run away from the woods. After a short dash he stopped and looked at the ground around him. A moment later he screamed ‘Spiders! Arrrghhh!’ again and set of running further away from the woods. He stopped again, looked around again, screamed again and set off running even further away from the woods, from Bogamus and from the fairies.
As Bogamus watched the giant move further away and get smaller and smaller the edges of his mouth turned up slightly. Gradually this grew into a smile and then a beaming grin. (Bogamus did have a nice smile, by troll standards that is.) Bogamus started to laugh. Just a little snigger at first, but soon he laughed a little louder and then louder still. Soon Bogamus started to roar with laughter and rock from side to side. Finally he laughed so loud that he fell over and curled on the ground up in fits of laughter. On seeing this, and knowing that the giant was now far away, the fairies started to change back into fairy shape. The fairies, who are very fond of pranks, also found the fleeing giant funny and started to laugh as well. Soon the whole group were rolling around in uncontrollable laughter. They were SSSSSS, “Smiling and Shaking at the Surprising Success of their Spider Stunt”, whenever they thought about the FFFFFF, the “Fitting Finish that had Freed the Fairies from a Fearful Fate”. They GGGGGG’d, “Guffawed at the Great Grievance Given to the Grotesque Giant” and went BBBBBB, “Blissfully Barmy at how they Brilliantly Bested the Big Brute”.
After some searching the fairies were able to find Bogamus’s boat in the woods and, with a bit of fairy magic, helped Bogamus move it back to the river. Although one of the oars had been used as a giant’s toothpick it was not in too bad condition and could still be used to row the boat. Thankfully the giant had not been able to find any sugar in the woods to put in the boat.
‘Thank-you so much for your help,’ said one of the fairies as Bogamus prepared to leave. ‘Now that the giant is gone I am sure that the local villagers will soon return and will continue to call these the Fairy Woods for many years to come.’
‘I hope so,’ said Bogamus who would much rather have woods filled with fairies than giants. Bogamus quite liked being the biggest creature around. ‘I don’t suppose there are any bridges around here?’
‘Bridges? I don’t think so,’ replied one of the fairies. ‘We have fairy wings and flutter wherever we want.’
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