Page 2 of A Bridge to a Troll's Heart
“Go on,” said Arlo, the rough timber gone from his voice. The words now came in a gentle rumble. “I have things to do.”
Toby gave a little nod. “If you’re sure.”
Arlo grunted.
Toby crossed the bridge. When he got to the other side, he glanced over his shoulder to find Arlo still watching. With a friendly wave Arlo didn’t return, Toby continued on his journey, wondering what he should bring back for Arlo on his way home.
* * *
Arlo
Arlo shookoff the embarrassment at having been caught wallowing under his bridge. He ought to be happy. He’d finally earned a bridge of his own to guard exactly how he saw fit—and a fine one at that—but he couldn’t bring himself to stop his blasted sniffling. He missed the company of his family and found little comfort in his duty when there was no one to share it with.
This was the way of trolls. They were solitary creatures who sought their own space and protected it with their lives while amassing a hoard of tributes. But Arlo had always been different. He’d hung on to his mother as a young boy, which led to teasing from his older, independent brothers. Then he’d doted on younger cousins.
When the time came for him to leave his childhood bridge, he didn’t want to go. Being alone was hard enough, but as Christmas loomed, so did the cloud of despair that loomed over his head.
Arlo bumbled below the thick wooden planks. He’d dug out a one-room hollow behind the main joist and into the land along the steep side of the riverbank. Dried pine needles made for a soft floor and kept the damp at bay.
He took the kettle off the woodstove and poured a cup of tea. Gazing at his tributes—not many, as he’d only begun his collection a few weeks ago, but a dull tin coin he’d grown quite fond of glimmered even in the low light—he wondered, not for the first time, if it was all worth it.
No one else crossed his bridge all day, but as evening set in, the telltale footfall of a traveler clomped on the overhead planks.
Arlo sprang from his den and leapt onto the bridge, prepared to be fearsome. “Ho there! Who dares cross my bridge?”
Tobias grinned merrily and walked right up to him as if he weren’t afraid at all. “Hello, Arlo. It is I, Toby, and I beg your permission to pass.” Tobias gave a practiced bow, his long ebony hair falling over his eyes. He shook it back in place as he rose.
Arlo puffed out his chest, but before he could demand his due, Tobias held out a plate piled high with colorful shapes.
“I present your tribute.” Tobias thrust the gift forward. “My sister and I made these sugar cookies ourselves, and my nieces and their cousins decorated them for you. See? This one is supposed to be your bridge.” Tobias’s wide smile revealed two rows of straight white teeth. His cheeks were pink from the cold, and his green eyes glittered with delight.
Arlo wasn’t sure which sight he enjoyed more: the mountain of multicolored sugary bliss or the jovial expression on Tobias’s lovely face. Struck by surprise, words failed him, and he only managed to grunt.
Tobias’s shoulders sank. “You don’t like them? Oh well, I’d thought…never mind. What would you—”
“I love them,” Arlo blurted and grabbed the proffered dish. “Especially the one that looks like my bridge.”
Relief crossed Tobias’s features. “Oh good. I mean, it looks more like a brown blob over a blue blob, but little Sophie is only six, so you could hardly expect an actual likeness. Do you really like them?”
Faced with the string of excited babble, Arlo could only nod. He might have felt the corners of his lips curling, but he forced them back down. That was no way for a troll to behave.
“Oh!” Tobias rummaged through his pack. “I almost forgot.” He pulled out a bit of paper. “This is for you too.”
Arlo took the thick square of paper with a pretty green tree on the front and several lines of sloppy scrawl on the back.
“Don’t read it now!” Tobias put his hand over the card and flipped it over. “Read it after I go.”
On the outside, Arlo shrugged, but on the inside, he danced with glee. As far as tributes went, this was the best he’d ever received. A plate of cookies and a tiny painting. He wished he had someone to tell.
Tobias glanced up through his lashes, and Arlo got the impression the man was waiting for something.
Arlo cleared his throat to make sure his voice would rumble with authority. “Right then. You may pass.”
Tobias’s shoulders sank. He didn’t budge.
“Off you go.” Not that Arlo wanted Tobias to leave. Only he didn’t know what came next. “Shoo.”
Tobias kicked a pebble off the bridge into the water, watching as it splashed and disappeared. “I’m nearly home, and there is a little bit of time before dark…”
