The three trolls Grud, Nud and Harold sat around the fire watching the flames. It had been a tiring day. Outside it was forty below and the three had found the ideal place to settle down for the immediate future.

Each had eaten well that day. The inhabitants, the Budwaters were a tasty meal in themselves, not like the Rosenberry’s who were tough, far too chewy and Nud was upset the mother had only one leg to chew on.

But for now there were three contented trolls, the fire was raging, their bellies full, all was good in the world. It was in times such as this that the three would begin to tell their ‘remember when’ stories. They enjoyed these tales as each troll thought up newer stories or added the impossible to previous told exploits.

Harold was the quietest of the three. He tended to sit back and let the other two go at it until he felt they had exhausted themselves and then he would have his say. So he sat quietly in his chair watching the fire and listening to his two compatriots go hell for leather.

Grud remembered the time they had come across a group of travellers on the bridge. They had jumped out at them as their wagon reached the middle of the bridge. With a troll at each end there was nowhere for the wagon to go.

It turned out the wagon contained the Prince and his family making their escape from the kingdom. Grud had listened to the Princes tale, Grud was good at listening, he did a lot of that as he munched on the leg of the Prince’s son.

Trolls don’t go in for table manners so when the time comes to eat its every troll for himself. Being of the gigantic size they are it is easy for them to grab what they want, peel of the outer layers and get stuck in the juicy bits underneath.

Grud like most trolls didn’t hear too well and the only reason he ate the Prince last was because he was fascinated by the prince’s gesticulations as he told his story to Grud’s deaf ear.

Royalty Grud decided had a certain flavour to it and they marked the royals down as a taste to be revisited.

Nud then regaled them with his favourite tale of eating the entire Kings army. He had told this tale so often that any semblance of truth had been lost in the retelling. His efforts though to describe eating the bayonets and cannons were stretching it a bit the other trolls agreed but there was no disagreement about the fresh crunchy bits they found in the front ranks. The further back they went the tougher the eating became. But they all loved hearing the story; the way Nud could imitate the sound of the fresh crunchy bits. He would have them in stitches along with his recounting of the sour taste of the tougher ones, his large face screwed up in mock revulsion.

When Harold turn came about they each looked at him wondering what tale he might tell. Harold as you know was a quieter troll. But he could tell a tale or two.

Harold decided to tell the tale of the only time in all their lives they had actually done something, well something others might consider nice. Grud and Nud hated this tale because it made them look very untroll like.

Harold had a soft spot, which was in itself unusual for a troll.

His soft spot was for the Prairie Fairies. These little fairies were in a tough spot as there had been no rain for many months and the water supply on the prairie was fast disappearing.

The fairies convinced Harold to join them in a rain dance, as they were desperate for rain to fall.

Harold being the softy he was, and Grud and Nud had long believed he was not a true troll like they were. After all Harold had to shave everyday such that his facial hair he wove into vests and socks. Harold was very handy with a pair of needles.

So Harold joined the Prairie Fairies in the rain dance. The entire earth rocked and rolled, mountains shifted and rivers changed course. This went on for some time only to see the heavens darken and a rain like never before fall upon the earth.

It rained so much the Prairie Fairies made their way onto Harold’s body where they camped among the hairy parts of him for the six months it took for the floodwaters to recede.

Harold felt good about that but the other two growled and complained that it was not a true troll story as there was no blood and guts involved, just nice things and trolls could get a bad name if Harold’s act of niceness was spread too far.

There was a silence as the three watched the fire some more each troll reminiscing about the past, the blood, the gore, the things that set a trolls heart on fire.

Then Harold said: remember when we ate the court musicians?

Grud said: Now that rings a bell.

Nud said: We orchestrated it very well……

Said the three together: all to the beat of a distant drum.

They each chuckled in their seats trying to recall whether or not the first violin was crunchier than the piccolo.

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2015/02/06/troll-tall-tales-fairy-tale/