Troll Tryst by grannycougar

Troll Tryst
by
� grannycougar

Just at dawn on March mornings in the Pacific Coast Range of Oregon, when the ferns are slick and slithery from the weather all bleak and blithery, when the woods are wet and weepy with spring, you will hear nasty beasts sliding down hillsides on their backsides, hooting and hollering up misty ravines in celebration of the troll mating season. The sound always reminds me of a rare troll named Hogwallow, who made the most of a mysterious malady.

Hogwallow seemed to be a normal, smelly, slobby troll during his first few years. His parents watched with pride as he marked the milestones of troll development-----the first time he picked his nose, the way he drooled messily into his early teens, his voracious appetite for green pond slime, and his growing ability to create havoc wherever he went. He seemed gifted with a keen knowledge of annoyance, an uncanny sense of the perfect place for pestering forest creatures, and demonstrated terrific timing for his troll-foolery.

Imagine his parents� dismay when, at age fourteen, something happened that was of great concern to the whole troll community. Everyone hoped, at first, that it was just a stage he was going through, but as one year passed, then two, then three, marked by steady deterioration, they finally resigned themselves to the fact that Hogwallow�s malady had no remedy.

You see, Hogwallow suddenly stopped drooling. He would carefully wipe his chin on a leaf when his mouth ran over, causing more than one old troll to stop and stare in horror. Even more alarming, he was seen washing in a clear brook on several occasions, sometimes attempting to comb his hair and clean his teeth. Before long, he had moved his bed out under the stars, claiming a need for fresh air and sweet breezes as he slept. By the time he had reached early adulthood, none of the other trolls would associate with Hogwallow, finding his cleanliness highly offensive to noses which were used the the stench of normal trolls. He found himself living on the fringe of society, viewing life from afar, never included in the activities of his peers.

On the whole, Hogwallow didn�t find his solitary life unbearable, for he made friends with some of the forest creatures. Gradually, they had calmed, discovering that troll noises unaccompanied by an acrid troll smell meant no apparent danger, as it would only be mild-mannered, sweet-smelling Hogwallow minding his own trollish business. Within a few months, even his appearance ceased to offend, for the little animals began venturing close enough to look into his eyes, and thereby into his heart, to discover that Hogwallow was really an extraordinarily handsome and honorable fellow. They knew with their special wisdom that the heart is the only true measure of another�s worth and beauty. The animals often joined him in his business of doing tidy, clean things, chatting with him while he harvested sweet fruits and berries or succulent vegetation to replace the dead frogs and other rotten refuse trolls normally prefer.

One day, as Hogwallow lay in the sun near his favorite clear stream, humming a tune and combing his mangey troll hair , he heard a crashing in the bushes nearby and turned to see a young troll maiden foraging for slugs. Now, having reached the age when young lady trolls arouse more than momentary interest in you man trolls, Hogwallow watched intently for an hour or so till she waddled away into the underbrush. For the first time, it occurred to him that living without the company of other trolls might not continue to be the satisfactory arrangement it had been so far.

He had recognized the female troll as Stinkweed, the trollette next door from his old neighborhood. She had been his special friend until Hogwallow was stricken with his mysterious malady. Stinkweed had been understanding and tolerant of his symptoms at first, even secretly allowing him to wash her face and comb her hair on occasion. Finally, though, she had given in to her adolescent fear of being different and taken up with an especially odious young troll named Beeo.
Reawakened interest in Stinkweed led Hogwallow to start sneaking around in the bushes near the troll camp, where he would sit watching her activities, trying to determine whether she was romantically involved with anyone in particular. It soon became clear to him that she wasn�t. Beeo had married someone else and Stinkweed remained little more than a wallflower among those of her age group.

After watching for several weeks, pondering the problem all the while, Hogwallow finally decided to try to get Stinkweed�s attention. To break the ice, he went to a slippery rock one rainy morning, rubbed a little mud on himself, and settled back, picking his nose and sucking on a succulent slug. It wasn�t long before Stinkweed lumbered out of the bushes, nearly falling over him before noticing him.

�Well, Hogwallow! I�m surprised to find you here! I thought you didn�t like slugs anymore. What are you doing around here?� gargled Stinkweed.
�Oh, I do get the yearning for a little morself to feed the fancy of my troll�s soul once in awhile, my smelly sweet, � Hogwallow replied with a flirtatious burp, asking slyly, �What are you doing here? Collecting slugs for Beeo�s dinner?�
Blushing a brilliant blue, Stinkweed angrily kicked a rock with her left foot, stomped her right foot, and flung her gourdful of slugs into the bushes. �No, I didn�t get them for Beeo�s dinner! I�ve seen you hanging around in the bushes watching me, so don�t you dare poke fun at me, you weird one! You�re not the one to poke fun at someone else, you know, you with your strange, stuck-up ways!� With that, she thundered off through the underbrush, not to return for the rest of the day.

Every day for the next week, whenever Stinkweed came to the slugbeds, there sat Hogwallow, lazily picking his teeth as he watched her. She never paid any obvious attention, but her lonely trollish heart gave an extra thumpety-thump to think she had an admirer, however strange he might be. Besides, he did leave a bouquet of the most divinely smelly skunk cabbage every single day, and that was her most favorite stinky smell of all. She never gave him the satisfaction of knowing she cared, always stepping on the the flowers or kicking them aside in mock disgust, but she couldn�t help enjoying his attention immensely.

On the eighth day of this ritual, Hogwallow sat up in shock when Stinkweed waddled into view, for she had combed a little section of hair on the top of her head and wrapped it with a morning glory stem so that the flower hung daintily over one warty ear in a most fetching way. Looking sideways in his direction to see what effect this might be having on Hogwallow, Stinkweed bent to her work of gathering slugs, coyly posing in her most trolluring positions as she went. When she finished her work, she turned in Hogwallow�s direction, smiled, and seductively waved a tattered old toothbrush at him as she sidled back into the forest.

Heart beating wildly, thoughts racing madly, Hogwallow breathlessly forced his weak knees to carry him back to his den, scheming for a way to win the heart of the trollette of his dreams. Far into the night, a light burned in the love-stricken troll�s solitary lair. When morning came, Hogwallow emerged with a carefully folded sheaf of leaves upon which he had laboriously written a poem. This was a marvelous, , miraculous feat, since trolls don�t know how to write and usually only pretend to.

Carefully placing the poem with the usual bouquet of skunk cabbage, Hogwallow watched with teeth chattering and knees rattling as Stinkweed read his love poem. He held his breath as she glanced at him before reading it a second time, this time out loud:

FROG MUSIC
Come with me to the realm of elves,
Down deep in the forest
We�ll amuse ourselves,

In a hidden glen where toads tumble,
�Mid breezes stirring
Trees to mumble

We�ll arrive and enchanted be
On a star-dazzled bed
As you shall see.

The coverlet is clover, all fluffy and green,
Scented with violets
So fresh and so clean.

We�ll absorb moon-blessings as we lie
Carressing each other
Under the sky.

As a stream of earth-tears giggles past,

And woods incense
Overcomes us at last,

As fairies dance and angels sing,
We�ll make love to frog music
In honor of spring.

Hesitantly, Hogwallow crossed the creek toward Stinkweed. To his delight, she reached out her hand to take his, smiling as she did so.

We aren�t to know the touching scene that took place next, but our story ends happily, as anyone could guess. Hogwallow and Stinkweed were joined in happy trollimony for many, many years.

If you hear a whooping and hollering and limbs crashing in the Pacific Northwest forests in springtime, have no fear. It�s probably the recovering troll colony founded by Hogwallow and Stinkweed, who taught them to direct no malice nor mischief toward anyone. Maybe they�ll ask you to join in the festivities, whooping and hollering and sliding down the hillsides on your backside.

by~~ Ellen Easton