Troll Bridge (21 page)

Jakob sat up straight. “Really?”

“Really,” Selvi answered.

“Then why did you not take the fiddle and go?”

She was silent for a long time.
Deep thinking,
he supposed. “Be looking at me, Little Doom,” she said at last. “Be really looking at me. How could I be making my way, how could my son, in the world of men? They would be knowing me for what I am and be killing me and mine. As long ago, so it be now.”

He nodded. “There are many humans who would not understand,” he said. “Who would hate you. But some…”

She smiled at him and shifted beside him. It was like a mountain moving. “Then we be welcoming such ‘somes' if they be liking to visit us here.”

But he knew, as she knew, that no one but he and Moira and possibly his brothers would ever come across the bridge into Trollholm. It could be a quiet place, out of the world, when things got too hard for them. But who else could they trust with the secret? He turned and looked deeply into her eyes.

She looked back. “Now, Little Doom, let us be making our new Compact out of trust, not fear. Out of love, not hate.”

Jakob beamed. “I'll write a song about it.”

“And then be teaching it to us?” Selvi asked.

Jakob nodded enthusiastically. “And then be teaching it to all of you.”

He stood and clapped his hands together till he had everyone's attention, not easy above that hubbub. But at last he managed it. This time even his brothers listened.

“Hey,” he said. “We be going home.”

COMPACT

I give to you,

A promise made,

From fate to fate

The game is played.

The music slides on

Note by note,

We look for love,

We live on hope.

The bridge across

The waters wide

Cannot hold back

The surging tide.

Beneath the falls

We sit and wait

To see what love

Transforms to hate.

And I will hold out friendship's hand,

Heart to heart and land to land.

The larder's full,

The pot is boiled,

The plan is laid,

The plot is foiled,

The fire's set,

The flames are high,

The flag's unfurled

Against the sky.

The war is joined,

The bullet milled,

The wound is open,

Blood is spilled.

And hate is answered

Fast by hate,

The peaceful word

Is spoke too late.

Still I will hold out friendship's hand,

Heart to heart and land to land.

Still I will hold out friendship's hand,

Across the bridge, from land to land.

    —Words and music by

    Jakob and Erik Griffson

    and Moira Darr,

    from
Troll Bridge

 

 

 

Radio WMSP: 10:00
A.M.

“So there's been a huge break in the Dairy Princess case, Jim?”

“Yes, Katie
—
everyone is safe. Everyone except Mr. Sjogren the photographer who gave his life for the girls. There will be a memorial service for him Sunday here in Vanderby and next week in the Twin Cities.”

“A hero, Jim?”

“A real hero, according to Moira Darr, the harp prodigy who is the only one of the princesses who actually remembers anything of what happened on the fateful day they were kidnapped by the madman, Grimma Foss.”

“Are the kids okay, Jim?”

“You betcha. Except for a few bumps and lumps. The youngest Griffson boy, Jakob, has some burns, plus a hairline fracture of his right tibia. The middle boy, Erik, has quite a shiner. The oldest, Galen, has marks around his wrists and ankles where he was tied, upside down by his own account, though he's been very funny and charming about the whole thing. The girls
—
except for Moira who'd gotten away early
—
were treated rather better until the end. Administered some kind of knockout drug. The police chief says the doctors are still trying to figure that one out.”

“Still, they must have been frightened.”

“Yah, I can't even begin to imagine it, Katie. Four days under the thumb of that madman. The Dairy Princess Association has committed to hiring bodyguards for their contestants. It's a different world we live in now.”

“How did they finally escape, Jim?”

“Somehow they got loose of their bonds, overwhelmed Foss, tied him up, and brought him back over the bridge. There he went stark raving mad. Evidently he was planning to ‘marry' the girls and kill the boys.”

“He must have been stark raving mad all along, Jim.”

“I agree, Katie. Jakob Griffson told us that Foss said he was a musician down on his luck, which was how he managed to get the boys into his clutches. Seems they're suckers for such a story.”

“Bet they won't be such suckers anymore, Jim.”

“Yah, I imagine not. Now I did some interviews I'd like you to hear, the first with young Moira.”

“Are you relieved to be free, Moira?”

“I'm relieved we're
all
free, Mr. Johnson.”

“
Of course you are. Now, according to the boys, you were quite the heroine.”

“I think I was just lucky, Mr. Johnson.”

“Lucky?”

“Lucky to have friends like Jakob Griffson.”

“Well, Jim, that certainly is a composed young woman
.
Must be all that stage training. Hmmm, do you suppose there's something going on between…”

“He's fifteen and a half, Katie, and she's sixteen going on thirty-five. But here's what Jakob had to say.”

“We'd never have escaped that madman without Moira's help. For a classical musician, she's quite something.”

“And the other brothers, Jim?”

“They said almost the same thing.”

“Should that be the last word on the story then?”

“No, Katie, I think that should belong to Mr. Foss.”

“BLAME IT ON THE TROLLS! AENMARR DID IT. AND NOW HE'S A ROCK. ROCK AND TROLL. AIEEEEEE.”

“Who is Aenmarr, Jim? An accomplice?”

“A troll, or so Foss says.”

“You mean like … I'm a troll, fol-de-rol, nine feet tall and nine feet wide, mean and green and hungry, Jim?”

“[Laughs.] The police have been all over the area and they've found no indication of anyone else involved. The kids swear it was Foss who was behind their disappearance. Foss and no one else. And they have absolutely no reason to lie about it.”

“Thanks, Jim. And now to Bob with the sports. How about those Timberwolves, Bob?”

Songs from Troll Bridge

BUTTER GIRLS

Twelve dairy princesses, where did they go?

Twelve dairy princesses, I'd really like to know.

The Devil snatched them from thin air

So they couldn't make it to the fair

And now's he's gone and taken them below.

And he was singing:

What's better than a butter girl?

Badder than my better girl.

Best when I'm not buttered up as well.

What's better than a butter girl?

Badder than my better girl.

Best that I just take them all to Hell.

Twelve dairy princesses sleeping in a box,

Pretty plastic tiaras upon their curly locks.

Grim the groom who grabbed them up

And made them drink the poisoned cup,

And now he's got them caught behind cold locks.

And he was singing:

What's better than a butter girl?

Badder than my better girl.

Best when I'm not buttered up as well.

What's better than a butter girl?

Badder than my better girl.

Best that I just take them all to Hell.

TELLER, TELLER

Teller, teller, tell me a tale,

Of love and fear and duty,

I want to die in the arms of love,

I want to die for beauty.

For beauty is the only truth,

And death the only lie,

I want to sing a final tale,

And love before I die.

So tell me quick,

If I've been heard,

Else, maim with a phrase,

Kill with a word.

Princess, princess, give me a kiss,

A kiss of love, of pleasure,

I want to lie in the arms of love,

I want to sing of treasure.

For passion is the only truth,

And death the only lie,

I want to know your lips on mine,

And love before I die.

So tell me quick,

If I've been heard,

Else, maim with a phrase,

Kill with a word.

HUNG UP FOR DINNER

Long pig, sweet meat,

Strong swig, fleet treat,

I don't want to be hung up.

For dinner.

Short tale, long death,

Quart ale, wrong breath,

I don't want to be hung up.

For dinner.

Give me a choice of meat or soy,

Give me a choice of girl or boy,

Give me a choice or give me chance,

A great big meal or a real romance.

Slow boil, quick take,

Low oil, thick steak,

I don't want to be hung up.

For dinner.

Hot ice, cold drink,

Caught twice, old stink,

I don't want to be hung up.

Over dinner.

DOOM

Doom, Doom, Doom

Come back.

In my wee room

I'll hack and whack.

I'll cleft your skull,

And split your skin,

From crotch to jowl,

From toes to chin.

And then I'll make

A tasty stew,

And in I'll take

The rest of you.

Doom, Doom, Doom,

Doom, Doom, Doom.

Doom, Doom, Doom

I'm back.

My fiery room

Goes crackle and crack.

I'll tell you true

And I'll not lie,

I'll give to you

A chance to fly.

And then we'll make

Another pact

Or else I'll take

Your living back.

Doom, Doom, Doom,

Doom, Doom, Doom.

Doom, Doom, Doom

I'm back.

My fiery room

Goes crackle and crack.

The Dairy Queen,

Who wears the crown,

Can be real mean

And wear you down,

So make a deal

Another pact

Or you will feel

Your sons hijacked.

Doom, Doom, Doom,

Doom, Doom, Doom.

PRINCE CHARMING COMES

The goose flies past the setting sun,

Plums roasting in her breast,

Sleeping Beauty lays her head down,

A hundred years to rest.

And fee-fi-fo the giant fums,

And to my dark Prince Charming comes

A-ride, ride, riding.

Into my night of darkness

My own Prince Charming comes.

The witch is popped into the oven,

Rising into cake,

The swan queen glides her downy form,

To the enchanted lake.

And rum-pum-pum the drummer drums,

As into darkness my prince comes

A-ride, ride, riding.

Into my night of darkness

My own Prince Charming comes.

It's half past twelve and once again

The shoe of glass is gone,

And magic is as magic was,

And vanished with the dawn.

For Pooh has hummed his final hum,

The giant finished off his fums,

They've drawn their final breath,

For into darkness my prince comes

A-ride, ride, riding.

For into darkness my prince comes,

On his bony horse called Death.

COMPACT

I give to you,

A promise made,

From fate to fate

The game is played.

The music slides on

Note by note,

We look for love,

We live on hope.

The bridge across

The waters wide

Cannot hold back

The surging tide.

Beneath the falls

We sit and wait

To see what love

Transforms to hate.

And I will hold out friendship's hand,

Heart to heart and land to land.

The larder's full,

The pot is boiled,

The plan is laid,

The plot is foiled,

The fire's set,

The flames are high,

The flag's unfurled

Against the sky.

The war is joined,

The bullet milled,

The wound is open,

Blood is spilled.

And hate is answered

Fast by hate,

The peaceful word

Is spoke too late.

Still I will hold out friendship's hand,

Heart to heart and land to land.

Still I will hold out friendship's hand,

Across the bridge, from land to land.