Don't Feed The Troll

The Quest

Two things made my first month in Seattle less than ideal. The first was having a name like Ragnhild Eilifsdotter working at the Ballard Starbucks. I'd tried to think of a nickname that would be easier for customers that might stop looking at my nametag like it was some sort of riddle, but no luck so far.

I'd promised my parents I would visit a distant relative and grant him a single favor. In return he would give me his blessing. The Fremont Troll; a being that most people think is simply an interesting sculpture. What they don't realize is that the legends of trolls turning to stone in the daylight are true, but they don't stay stone. Most trolls spent the sunlit hours sleeping, but roamed at night. Frode Iverson was an exception. He never left his bridge. This was most likely because he too big for a glamour to hide his true appearance. Since he was the oldest kin in Seattle, each Troll or Huldre had to pay him tribute.

I'd been avoiding my meeting him for weeks, but since I had a phone call scheduled with my father Saturday, tonight had to be the night. I wished there was someone for me to talk to who had already gone through this process, but I was the first of the Huldre folk to move to America. The menfolk had gotten tired of their women loving and marrying human men, so they locked our people away in the hills a century ago. We Huldra finally convinced them to let us out and I was the first to move so far away. I could have asked one of the trolls, but they were never very talkative and would probably have laughed at my fears. One of the things I hate the most was a troll laughing at me. Troll laughter was one of the cruelest things I'd ever heard, which was why I didn't go ask one my cousins. I'd have to make the visit without any hints or help.

Unlike Huldre folk, the trolls couldn't go among humans without changing their appearance. A Huldra looked like a human woman except for her tail, but a troll didn't look like anything but what it was. Not that any of the truly strange ones tried to pass as human. The ancient ones with twelve heads stayed home in the Northlands.

It was the younger folk who bought glamour from a shaman and left their native mountains to explore the human world. Most of the male trolls in Seattle worked as bouncers at bars and nightclubs. I smelled the magic that made them look human. I hadn't met any female trolls. If I'd been able to find one, I might have asked a female about her experience in hopes that girl power would make her more willing to talk to me. But she might have been as reticent as a male. In my experience, many trolls felt that we looked down on them. I was sure there were some of my people that did, but I wasn't one of them.

Having lived inside a hill since before cars were invented; I never learned how to drive. Fortunately Seattle had a pretty good public transportation system and I walked long distances without getting tired. I hiked from work to the bridge and my date with Frode. I reached his lair about an hour after dark. As I walked up the hill under the bridge, I felt a cold wind blowing up my skirt. Frode was crouched under the cement bridge with a small car wrapped in one hand. He looked to be still asleep.

I drew closer and said, "Master Iverson, its Ragnhild Elifsdotter. I've come to hear the favor you request and do my best to fulfill it."

Frode opened one eye and then the other. "You're a pretty one, ain't you? All grown up; the last time I saw you, you were running about the halls on all fours like a young hound."

I suppressed a sigh. "That was quite some time ago." It'd been two centuries to be exact, but it wouldn't be wise to point that out. "I don't mean to be rude, but please can we get on with this?"

Frode snorted and shook his head, dislodging some dirt. "Young people these days have no respect for the old ways. Since you're so impatient, I'll tell you what I want; you are to bring me a princess."

I stared at him for a long moment. "You want me to bring you a princess?"

He nodded, dislodging more dirt. "That's what I want from you. If you fail, you will not receive my blessing. You know what that means, don't you, girlie?"

If I didn't get his blessing, I was screwed. Nothing would ever go right for me in Seattle. It was a curse you couldn't break. I would have to move somewhere else and start all over again. I liked Seattle, so I was going to do my best to satisfy him.

"I don't know about the others who've come here," I told him, "but I'm not going to do anything illegal. I won't kidnap some poor human for you so you can eat her for dinner."

"Who said anything about dinner? When I eat these days, I prefer sheep. I want company. If you're so squeamish, you can find a willing girl. I don't care; in fact, I'd prefer it."

"How am I supposed to find a princess in Seattle? America doesn't have royalty. Is there some specific princess you were thinking of who's coming here for a visit?"

"Where you find the princess isn't my problem."

"Does this girl have to be a real royal princess or will some other type do?"

"There are other types of princesses than royal ones?"

I nodded vigorously. "There are all kinds. Aren't you really just looking for a pretty and refined girl? Why are you stuck on a princess? The ones I've met weren't very nice."

"I suppose she doesn't have to be royal, any type will do."

"Do you think you could come up with some sort of gift for this girl? If she gets something out of it, that would help me convince her."

He thrust his hand through the dirt, something trolls can do, and pulled out a large burlap sack. It was full to bursting with gold coins. I was pretty sure I could find a "princess" who would be willing to keep him company for just a fraction of that wealth.

"All right, Master Iverson, we have a deal. I will find you a princess," I said. "Are you placing a time limit on this quest?"

"No longer than a year and a day, but the sooner the better."

"I'll work as fast as I can." I curtsied. "Until we meet again, Master Iverson."

"Good fortune, girl."