The grog was flowing down their throats after the midnight
meal. Now, I ate before heading out so I demurely nibbled on a delicious mushroom
stew. Only later did I start to worry that
I had been poisoned. Who knows what a troll can tolerate that will kill a
human. But I was feeling good, and while I did not try the grog, I don’t think
they noticed.
It started with a dare. First Oton, then Blade were wading
along the shore, but that was not going to be enough to prove who was brave
enough to take a full-fledged dip in the recently frozen water. It is my understanding that most trolls
dislike the water, but a few are accustomed to long soaks. What we would call a
soothing hot tub, they would call a cauldron. These trolls appear to be suited
to the cold and prefer cold water, if any at all.
Well, a few more rounds of the grog pitcher had the younger
trolls amped up. Several had waded out into chest high water, but they did not
look comfortable. I was really starting to relax and enjoy myself when a primal
roar startled me from my boulder. It was immediately followed by a banshee howl
so chilling I started to panic, and look for cover. Next thing I knew, the
shadow of a troll leapt from a tree that had partially tipped over the river.
Arms out, head tucked, tail erect and toes pointed— it was a perfect swan dive
into the river. Only a small ripple marred the entry of the diving troll.
No one moved. I don’t think they had ever seen anything like
it. Who was it? Seconds later a drenched head popped to the surface and Twig
beamed back at the partiers. “Now, that’s
taking a dip,” he called out to the others.
So began a diving contest of half-drunken trolls climbing
higher and higher into the branches of the once mighty oak. Several belly flops
later, they had finally had enough. I don’t remember the last time I laughed so
hard. I can’t wait to go back.
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