*
Gertrude was not too pleased about his nomination for Grand Troll. He did not want the position. It wasn't because of the responsibility. He had shouldered more than his share while growing up. He wasn't too happy with his mother, either. He had to work some of his frustration and anger out, so he set to cutting firewood. With each blow of the axe, he released his frustrations.
Winifred watched her son through the window. She knew that he wasn't happy about the nomination for Grand Troll. She hadn't had a chance to talk to him. He came home from the meeting and immediately started to chop wood. She also had to get busy with her baking. She was way behind and it was going to be a long, exhausting day. Derry had offered to help, but then Derry would have gotten behind on her sewing. Winifred was just pouring a couple of hot mugs of blog when she heard a great commotion from outside. A horse’s whinny sounded, a cloud of choking dust filling the still air. She ran and threw open the door to be greeted by a horse’s behind. “What is going on?!” she hollered.
Gertrude had been startled, too. He turned to see the horse galloping into the yard, and had raised the axe to his chest, causing the horse to rear, kicking up the dust.
Andre quieted his horse. “Are you Sir Gertrude, the frog-troll?” Andre dismounted his stallion, holding onto the reins.
“What do you want of me?” Gertrude kept the axe to his chest, at the ready in case the uniformed human should charge.
“I am Andre, commander of the guards. I have a letter for you from Princess Norman.” With that, Andre thrust the letter forward.
Gertrude retrieved the letter from Andre’s hand, a feeling of apprehension welling up inside. He examined the outside of the letter and saw the official seal of the king. Looking at Andre and then back down at the letter, he opened it and began to read.
Andre waited patiently. Gertrude put the letter down to his side. “May I take a reply back to Princess Norman?” Andre inquired.
“Lift me up on your horse, behind you, and I will go now if you believe it would be proper.” Gertrude studied Andre’s face for an answer.
It was Andre who was hesitant at this point. He had never been in this close proximity with a troll, and the thought of a troll riding on the same horse briefly unnerved the commander. Andre’s answer came when he mounted the huge horse and reached his hand down to give Gertrude a lift up into the saddle behind him. “Hold tightly, Sir Troll, as I do not like to linger in one spot too long.”
Gertrude put his hands firmly around Andre’s waist. The horse responded to the commander and, at full gallop, riders and steed vanishing in a cloud of dust.
Winifred watched and listened as the event unfolded in front of her. She had tried to protest her son going by himself, but everything happened so quickly that she didn't have time to react. She also had the problem of the horse’s rear end blocking the doorway. All she could do was watch her son ride off with one of the king’s guards towards the castle. She looked across her yard and saw Derry then looked down and saw a piece of parchment on the ground. She unrolled it and began reading.
Derry's short, fat figure appeared beside her, and she, too, began to read the letter. “Your son is going to the castle?” An incredulous look of wonder crossed her face.
All Winifred could do was nod. “You can wait with me over a cup of blog ‘til Gertrude comes home.” Winifred turned, followed by Derry, and they disappeared through the hovel's doorway.