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Well hello, children. I was just enjoying the comfortable shade to be found under this bridge. No, that's not my abandoned fishing pole next to the stream, and of course I'm not hiding under here. What kind of disagreeable monster would I be to try to hide from such delightful and persistent children? Hmm...monsters who hide under bridges...that reminds me of a story.
Once upon a time there was a fearsome troll who lurked under a crumbling stone bridge that passed over an evil river. The troll's name was Floopthorp, the bridge's name was Municipal Project 51C, and the river's name was the Stranglesnare. I think it's safe to say that two of them were envious of the third one's name, but alas, not everyone can have parents who are civil engineers.
Municipal Project 51C was not a particularly pretty bridge when it was new, and it had become even less so as it fell into disrepair. Many trolls would have been scandalized to live under such an ugly and poorly maintained bridge, but not Floopthorp. All Floopthorp cared about was that the Stranglesnare was an incredibly malevolent river and that Municipal Project 51C was the only bridge across it for leagues in either direction. How far is a league? Far enough that people were willing to cross over Municipal Project 51C rather than take a detour to an alternate route.
The Stranglesnare was an awful river. Rivers are a lot like people - they can be good or evil, can be calm or tumultuous, are made mostly of water, and usually contain at least one skeleton. The Stranglesnare was cruel, turbulent, very wet, and contained rather more skeletons than was typical for a river of its size. It took perverse glee in drowning people who were unfortunate enough to end up in its waters, and it applied extra effort to overturning ferries and sinking boats that were set upon its surface. It also screamed a lot in places where it tumbled over rocks - places where a more polite river would have contented itself with a civilized low roar.
As such, a bridge was your surest and safest way across the Stranglesnare, even if that bridge was little more than a collection of loose stones that were too lazy to actually fall apart. And yes, even if that bridge also had a troll lurking under it, which of course this one did, as I mentioned previously.
Lurking under bridges is, of course, one of the more traditional careers for a troll, and Floopthorp had always wanted to carry on that proud tradition. His parents had hoped he'd follow in their footsteps and become a civil engineer like they were, but he had his heart set on bridge lurking and could not be swayed. He was happy to find Municipal Project 51C uninhabited, and had moved right in.
Whenever someone approached his bridge, Floopthorp used a complex matrix of variables to determine how to proceed, factoring in the subject's apparent wealth, threat potential, size, probable deliciousness, and whether or not they were a goat. All goats were immediately devoured, regardless or how wealthy they might appear. Other travelers were charged a toll, or eaten, or thrown into the murderous river as Floopthorp saw fit. However, nothing in this system accounted for the possibility of another troll trying to cross Floopthorp's bridge, and so when another troll tried to cross his bridge he was left uncertain about how to proceed. Floopthorp was trying to figure out if it would be rude to ask another troll to pay his way across or if he should just let the other troll cross for free, when the other troll, whose name was Glyptocroft by the way, explained that he didn't wish to cross - he wanted to lurk under Floopthorp's bridge.
Floopthorp was aghast. Trolls never challenged each other for bridgeship. The very idea was barbaric. Trolls were ordinarily very polite about patiently waiting for another troll to die or move on before even considering taking over a bridge for themselves. Floopthorp was torn between outrage and horror before Glyptocroft hastily explained that he didn't want to replace Floopthorp - he had his own bridge in a nearby county that was currently being minded by an ogre friend of his. No, Glyptocroft just wanted to lurk there for an hour or so as a tourist.
This idea was somehow even more unsettling than fighting for bridgeship of Municipal Project 51C. Trolls are very solitary creatures, and it was unheard of for two of them to lurk under a bridge at once. But Floopthorp had to admit to himself that he wasn't entirely sure why the idea seemed so terribly wrong, and reluctantly agreed to let Glyptocroft lurk with him for a bit.
Well, Municipal Project 51C was so excited by the novelty of being lurked under by not one but two trolls that it quivered in delight. Alas, it really was badly in need of maintenance, and this quivering caused it to collapse. Trolls are very resilient creatures, and Glyptocroft and Floopthorp survived having several large pieces of stone fall on them. However, the Stranglesnare was positively outraged to have so many rocks dropped into it at once, and immediately flooded its banks and swept away the remains of the bridge and both of the trolls, and none of them were ever seen again.
The lesson to be learned here is that tourism is a destructive industry that can lead to deadly ecological catastrophes. That, and if you encounter someone lurking under a bridge you should leave them alone unless you want to risk being drowned.
Now, I should probably be getting home. But you children are welcome to stay here and enjoy the water.
Once upon a time there was a fearsome troll who lurked under a crumbling stone bridge that passed over an evil river. The troll's name was Floopthorp, the bridge's name was Municipal Project 51C, and the river's name was the Stranglesnare. I think it's safe to say that two of them were envious of the third one's name, but alas, not everyone can have parents who are civil engineers.
Municipal Project 51C was not a particularly pretty bridge when it was new, and it had become even less so as it fell into disrepair. Many trolls would have been scandalized to live under such an ugly and poorly maintained bridge, but not Floopthorp. All Floopthorp cared about was that the Stranglesnare was an incredibly malevolent river and that Municipal Project 51C was the only bridge across it for leagues in either direction. How far is a league? Far enough that people were willing to cross over Municipal Project 51C rather than take a detour to an alternate route.
The Stranglesnare was an awful river. Rivers are a lot like people - they can be good or evil, can be calm or tumultuous, are made mostly of water, and usually contain at least one skeleton. The Stranglesnare was cruel, turbulent, very wet, and contained rather more skeletons than was typical for a river of its size. It took perverse glee in drowning people who were unfortunate enough to end up in its waters, and it applied extra effort to overturning ferries and sinking boats that were set upon its surface. It also screamed a lot in places where it tumbled over rocks - places where a more polite river would have contented itself with a civilized low roar.
As such, a bridge was your surest and safest way across the Stranglesnare, even if that bridge was little more than a collection of loose stones that were too lazy to actually fall apart. And yes, even if that bridge also had a troll lurking under it, which of course this one did, as I mentioned previously.
Lurking under bridges is, of course, one of the more traditional careers for a troll, and Floopthorp had always wanted to carry on that proud tradition. His parents had hoped he'd follow in their footsteps and become a civil engineer like they were, but he had his heart set on bridge lurking and could not be swayed. He was happy to find Municipal Project 51C uninhabited, and had moved right in.
Whenever someone approached his bridge, Floopthorp used a complex matrix of variables to determine how to proceed, factoring in the subject's apparent wealth, threat potential, size, probable deliciousness, and whether or not they were a goat. All goats were immediately devoured, regardless or how wealthy they might appear. Other travelers were charged a toll, or eaten, or thrown into the murderous river as Floopthorp saw fit. However, nothing in this system accounted for the possibility of another troll trying to cross Floopthorp's bridge, and so when another troll tried to cross his bridge he was left uncertain about how to proceed. Floopthorp was trying to figure out if it would be rude to ask another troll to pay his way across or if he should just let the other troll cross for free, when the other troll, whose name was Glyptocroft by the way, explained that he didn't wish to cross - he wanted to lurk under Floopthorp's bridge.
Floopthorp was aghast. Trolls never challenged each other for bridgeship. The very idea was barbaric. Trolls were ordinarily very polite about patiently waiting for another troll to die or move on before even considering taking over a bridge for themselves. Floopthorp was torn between outrage and horror before Glyptocroft hastily explained that he didn't want to replace Floopthorp - he had his own bridge in a nearby county that was currently being minded by an ogre friend of his. No, Glyptocroft just wanted to lurk there for an hour or so as a tourist.
This idea was somehow even more unsettling than fighting for bridgeship of Municipal Project 51C. Trolls are very solitary creatures, and it was unheard of for two of them to lurk under a bridge at once. But Floopthorp had to admit to himself that he wasn't entirely sure why the idea seemed so terribly wrong, and reluctantly agreed to let Glyptocroft lurk with him for a bit.
Well, Municipal Project 51C was so excited by the novelty of being lurked under by not one but two trolls that it quivered in delight. Alas, it really was badly in need of maintenance, and this quivering caused it to collapse. Trolls are very resilient creatures, and Glyptocroft and Floopthorp survived having several large pieces of stone fall on them. However, the Stranglesnare was positively outraged to have so many rocks dropped into it at once, and immediately flooded its banks and swept away the remains of the bridge and both of the trolls, and none of them were ever seen again.
The lesson to be learned here is that tourism is a destructive industry that can lead to deadly ecological catastrophes. That, and if you encounter someone lurking under a bridge you should leave them alone unless you want to risk being drowned.
Now, I should probably be getting home. But you children are welcome to stay here and enjoy the water.
