LJ Idol Wheel of Chaos: "The Three Trolls"
Dec. 1st, 2025 02:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
halfshellvenusThe Three Trolls
LJ Idol Wheel Of Chaos | Week 16, #2 | 1812 words
There was only one bed
x-x-x-x-x
Once, there were three trolls who lived in a cave deep in the heart of the Winsome Woods. The trolls wore rough tunics and carried large clubs, and they terrorized many of the other inhabitants of the forest. When they were not bothering other wood-folk, they squabbled with each other over almost everything.
The cave had only one bed, which the three trolls shared. Some weeks, they argued about which of them had to sleep in the middle and get poked by pointy knees and elbows from both sides. In other weeks, they fought over which of them had to sleep at the edges and risk being pushed out of the bed.
They had arguments about whose turn it was to make dinner, and then the two who had not cooked complained about the menu. The tidiest of the trolls lamented the mess in the cave, while the other two fussed about the sterility and the lack of homeyness whenever the cave was clean.
The heart of it was that trolls were contrarians, and frequently that included being contrary with themselves as well as everyone else.
Trog was a great, hulking beast who longed to be delicate and dainty. He stomped up and down the countryside, scattering squirrels and bunny rabbits with the pounding of his footsteps. His voice was like thunder, its power stripping the leaves from the nearby trees.
Fernwick was smaller, and utterly envious of Trog's size. He was the most forgettable of the trolls, and he was all too aware of it. Piplet was the tiniest, with a screechy little voice that made dogs howl and birds lose their feathers. Piplet resented the world and everything in it with a fury exceeding that of the other two trolls put together.
They were a disagreeable bunch, and when they roved as a pack none dared to approach them.
On a typical day, the trolls might be out tromping through the woods and come across ducks or geese busy doing bird things. The trolls would then proceed to make them sorry for it.
Trog would grab one of the birds and hold it up to his face and shout "Egg!" at it.
Some birds complied immediately, out of fright, and Fernwick would be there to catch the falling egg. But if the bird was very unlucky, it would be male and utterly incapable of laying. At that point, it was either destined to become dinner or to live with public humiliation after its feathers were stolen to contribute to the trolls' bed.
Sometimes there were stray woodsmen or forlorn knights roaming the forest. The trolls often wondered where they kept coming from, but were usually able to chase them away without too much effort.
There were frogs searching for princesses, and wolves scheming against pigs, sheep, and small children. Evil queens, witches, and witch-queens wreaked havoc, and disgraced wizards thwarted everyone. There were even maidens simpering over unicorns, and the reverse. It was all very busy and very strange. Still, the trolls rarely thought about it, as long as there were regular opportunities to be annoying.
One morning, as the trolls were quarreling over why they didn't have some nice jewel-rich mines to work in and whose fault that probably was, a goat wandered by.
The trolls despised goats. Goats were smelly, ill-tempered creatures who were possibly more clever than trolls. It was an intolerable combination.
"Kill!" said Trog.
"Eat!" said Fernwick.
"Scare!" said Piplet, who was absolutely sick of eating goat.
The trolls looked at each other. "Chase!" they shouted together, in a rare moment of agreement. So, the trolls chased the goat back and forth through the forest, until the goat scampered up a hillside that the trolls all thought was too much effort to climb.
"Fun," panted Piplet, whose short little legs had forced him to do much more running than the other two.
"Ja," agreed Trog, who wasn't tired at all.
"Hungry," said Fernwick, who considered the goat a missed opportunity.
Then a sudden crashing sound drew the trolls' attention to the hill above them.
"There!" said the goat, who had reappeared in the company of a very large, brown bear. The goat waved a hoof at the trolls, and said, "Those were the ones who were after me."
The bear glared at the trolls, and then came roaring down the hill at them.
"Run!" Piplet screamed. He took off as fast as his little legs would carry him.
"Aahhh!" the other trolls yelled, as they sped past him and into the forest beyond.
The bear came to a sudden stop and snatched Piplet out of the air. "Well, now," the bear said, eyeing him curiously, "what do we have here?"
Piplet kicked and struggled in the bear's grasp. "Let go!" he yelled.
"What an adorably crabby little thing you are," the bear said. "I think I'll keep you."
"Keep?" Piplet squeaked. "No no no!"
But the bear just loped away on three legs and carried Piplet off to his cave.
Trog and Fernwick finally stopped running, and hid in a thicket of trees. That was when they noticed something was wrong.
"Where Piplet? Fernwick asked.
"Bear?" Trog said.
Fernwick gaped. "Eat?" he said.
"Bear eat Piplet, Trog eat bear!" Trog vowed.
The two of them turned around and ran back in the direction they'd come from. But when they got to the hillside, no one was there.
"Climb," Trog said, and Fernwick nodded. The two of them worked their way up the hill, with Trog pulling Fernwick up when needed.
There was no one at the top of the hill, either.
"Goat!" Trog shouted.
Fernwick shook his head and punched him. He and Trog traded glares. Then Fernwick called out "Goat?" in a soft voice.
The goat poked its head out from behind a bush. "Yes?"
"Where Piplet?"
The goat stared at him, and then recognition dawned on its face. "Is that your tiny friend?" he asked.
"Yes!" Fernwick said.
"Bernard seemed quite amused by him," the goat said. "The bear? He took your friend with him when he left."
"Where?" Trog demanded.
The goat thought for a moment. "Probably his cave. It's near the end of the forest, past the wishing well."
The trolls tromped their way to the other side of the woods, looking for the bear's home. Once they found it, they hid around the side of the entrance and peeked inside.
The bear was there, clutching Piplet in his paw. Piplet appeared to be frozen with fear.
Trog and Fernwick rushed into the cave. "Give Piplet!" Trog ordered.
The bear didn't even look at them. "No," he said. He smiled as he ran a claw through Piplet's mossy hair.
"Piplet now!" Trog insisted.
The bear growled at them. "No," he said again.
Fernwick felt a trickle of despair run through him. "Piplet?" he pleaded.
Piplet looked terrified, and the bear gave no sign of relenting. "Please?" Fernwick asked in a very small voice.
The bear turned and faced them. "It's not much fun when you're the one who's frightened, is it?"
Even Trog was only half the size of the bear, and he knew it. Trog sighed and shook his head. "No," he said quietly.
"If I give this creature back to you, you must promise to stop terrorizing the other wood-folk. Or I shall have to hunt you down and teach you another lesson," the bear said.
Fernwick nodded sadly. "Promise," he said.
Trog's fingers tightened on his club, ready to take up the fight, but he forced himself to remain calm. "Okay," he finally breathed out.
The bear set Piplet down and released him. "Remember your promise," the bear called after the trolls, as they scampered off into the forest.
Over the next few days, Piplet hardly spoke at all. That made it easy for the trolls to remember the bear's threat.
But they found they had questions about the promise they'd made. Were they still allowed to eat lesser creatures? They assumed so, because bears and other predators did. Stealing, however, seemed like it might be forbidden now. That was a problem, because stealing was how they got most of their food and money.
It was Fernwick who realized that the trolls had never really been part of the local economy. They produced nothing and they earned no wages, and they'd never had anything to barter with but fear. How were they supposed to make their way in the world?
Trolls were known for being nasty and strong. They weren't allowed to use their nastiness to get what they needed anymore, so Fernwick decided they would have to use their strength. But getting anyone to hire them would require persuasion.
The trolls, who were only familiar with using yelling and clubs as persuasion, were going to have to become nice. Or at least, nicer.
This was truly the second-most terrible thing that had ever happened to them.
"Hello!" "Hello." "Hello?"
The trolls practiced conversation, having finally paid attention to how some of the other forest inhabitants talked to each other. When they thought they had learned enough, they approached one of the local farmers to see about work.
Trog pointed to a group of carts full of squash. "Move!" he said.
"No!" Fernwick chimed in. He held his hands out peaceably to the farmer. "Move to market?" he asked.
"How much?" the farmer said.
"Two pennies?" Fernwick said.
"All right."
So Trog and Fernwick marched the carts to the market while Piplet rode on top of one of them and looked out for other work opportunities.
The trolls were able to remove trees and help build houses and stables for others in and near the forest. They rescued lost sheep from tricky ravines and put fallen knights back on their horses. They saved beleaguered maidens and unfortunate forest creatures from the cruel fates forced upon them by evil stepmothers and queens.
Piplet wasn't able to be much help, but was willing to bite anyone who needed it. He was never quite the same after his encounter with the bear, not having realized how vulnerable he was without the other trolls. He had also not been prepared to be considered "cute," which was unfortunate as there would have been many opportunities to rent himself out for children's parties.
With the extra income, the trolls were able to buy another bed closer to Fernwick's size. They also put a nice, small mattress in a box for Piplet, who would never be in danger of falling out of bed again.
The trolls were still nasty to one another at times, and still quarreled over cooking and other chores. But they got along better with everyone else in the forest.
They never ran into the bear again. But they remained forever ready to defend their behavior to him if they ever did.
–/–
If you enjoyed this entry, please vote for it in the poll here.
LJ Idol Wheel Of Chaos | Week 16, #2 | 1812 words
There was only one bed
x-x-x-x-x
Once, there were three trolls who lived in a cave deep in the heart of the Winsome Woods. The trolls wore rough tunics and carried large clubs, and they terrorized many of the other inhabitants of the forest. When they were not bothering other wood-folk, they squabbled with each other over almost everything.
The cave had only one bed, which the three trolls shared. Some weeks, they argued about which of them had to sleep in the middle and get poked by pointy knees and elbows from both sides. In other weeks, they fought over which of them had to sleep at the edges and risk being pushed out of the bed.
They had arguments about whose turn it was to make dinner, and then the two who had not cooked complained about the menu. The tidiest of the trolls lamented the mess in the cave, while the other two fussed about the sterility and the lack of homeyness whenever the cave was clean.
The heart of it was that trolls were contrarians, and frequently that included being contrary with themselves as well as everyone else.
Trog was a great, hulking beast who longed to be delicate and dainty. He stomped up and down the countryside, scattering squirrels and bunny rabbits with the pounding of his footsteps. His voice was like thunder, its power stripping the leaves from the nearby trees.
Fernwick was smaller, and utterly envious of Trog's size. He was the most forgettable of the trolls, and he was all too aware of it. Piplet was the tiniest, with a screechy little voice that made dogs howl and birds lose their feathers. Piplet resented the world and everything in it with a fury exceeding that of the other two trolls put together.
They were a disagreeable bunch, and when they roved as a pack none dared to approach them.
On a typical day, the trolls might be out tromping through the woods and come across ducks or geese busy doing bird things. The trolls would then proceed to make them sorry for it.
Trog would grab one of the birds and hold it up to his face and shout "Egg!" at it.
Some birds complied immediately, out of fright, and Fernwick would be there to catch the falling egg. But if the bird was very unlucky, it would be male and utterly incapable of laying. At that point, it was either destined to become dinner or to live with public humiliation after its feathers were stolen to contribute to the trolls' bed.
Sometimes there were stray woodsmen or forlorn knights roaming the forest. The trolls often wondered where they kept coming from, but were usually able to chase them away without too much effort.
There were frogs searching for princesses, and wolves scheming against pigs, sheep, and small children. Evil queens, witches, and witch-queens wreaked havoc, and disgraced wizards thwarted everyone. There were even maidens simpering over unicorns, and the reverse. It was all very busy and very strange. Still, the trolls rarely thought about it, as long as there were regular opportunities to be annoying.
One morning, as the trolls were quarreling over why they didn't have some nice jewel-rich mines to work in and whose fault that probably was, a goat wandered by.
The trolls despised goats. Goats were smelly, ill-tempered creatures who were possibly more clever than trolls. It was an intolerable combination.
"Kill!" said Trog.
"Eat!" said Fernwick.
"Scare!" said Piplet, who was absolutely sick of eating goat.
The trolls looked at each other. "Chase!" they shouted together, in a rare moment of agreement. So, the trolls chased the goat back and forth through the forest, until the goat scampered up a hillside that the trolls all thought was too much effort to climb.
"Fun," panted Piplet, whose short little legs had forced him to do much more running than the other two.
"Ja," agreed Trog, who wasn't tired at all.
"Hungry," said Fernwick, who considered the goat a missed opportunity.
Then a sudden crashing sound drew the trolls' attention to the hill above them.
"There!" said the goat, who had reappeared in the company of a very large, brown bear. The goat waved a hoof at the trolls, and said, "Those were the ones who were after me."
The bear glared at the trolls, and then came roaring down the hill at them.
"Run!" Piplet screamed. He took off as fast as his little legs would carry him.
"Aahhh!" the other trolls yelled, as they sped past him and into the forest beyond.
The bear came to a sudden stop and snatched Piplet out of the air. "Well, now," the bear said, eyeing him curiously, "what do we have here?"
Piplet kicked and struggled in the bear's grasp. "Let go!" he yelled.
"What an adorably crabby little thing you are," the bear said. "I think I'll keep you."
"Keep?" Piplet squeaked. "No no no!"
But the bear just loped away on three legs and carried Piplet off to his cave.
Trog and Fernwick finally stopped running, and hid in a thicket of trees. That was when they noticed something was wrong.
"Where Piplet? Fernwick asked.
"Bear?" Trog said.
Fernwick gaped. "Eat?" he said.
"Bear eat Piplet, Trog eat bear!" Trog vowed.
The two of them turned around and ran back in the direction they'd come from. But when they got to the hillside, no one was there.
"Climb," Trog said, and Fernwick nodded. The two of them worked their way up the hill, with Trog pulling Fernwick up when needed.
There was no one at the top of the hill, either.
"Goat!" Trog shouted.
Fernwick shook his head and punched him. He and Trog traded glares. Then Fernwick called out "Goat?" in a soft voice.
The goat poked its head out from behind a bush. "Yes?"
"Where Piplet?"
The goat stared at him, and then recognition dawned on its face. "Is that your tiny friend?" he asked.
"Yes!" Fernwick said.
"Bernard seemed quite amused by him," the goat said. "The bear? He took your friend with him when he left."
"Where?" Trog demanded.
The goat thought for a moment. "Probably his cave. It's near the end of the forest, past the wishing well."
The trolls tromped their way to the other side of the woods, looking for the bear's home. Once they found it, they hid around the side of the entrance and peeked inside.
The bear was there, clutching Piplet in his paw. Piplet appeared to be frozen with fear.
Trog and Fernwick rushed into the cave. "Give Piplet!" Trog ordered.
The bear didn't even look at them. "No," he said. He smiled as he ran a claw through Piplet's mossy hair.
"Piplet now!" Trog insisted.
The bear growled at them. "No," he said again.
Fernwick felt a trickle of despair run through him. "Piplet?" he pleaded.
Piplet looked terrified, and the bear gave no sign of relenting. "Please?" Fernwick asked in a very small voice.
The bear turned and faced them. "It's not much fun when you're the one who's frightened, is it?"
Even Trog was only half the size of the bear, and he knew it. Trog sighed and shook his head. "No," he said quietly.
"If I give this creature back to you, you must promise to stop terrorizing the other wood-folk. Or I shall have to hunt you down and teach you another lesson," the bear said.
Fernwick nodded sadly. "Promise," he said.
Trog's fingers tightened on his club, ready to take up the fight, but he forced himself to remain calm. "Okay," he finally breathed out.
The bear set Piplet down and released him. "Remember your promise," the bear called after the trolls, as they scampered off into the forest.
Over the next few days, Piplet hardly spoke at all. That made it easy for the trolls to remember the bear's threat.
But they found they had questions about the promise they'd made. Were they still allowed to eat lesser creatures? They assumed so, because bears and other predators did. Stealing, however, seemed like it might be forbidden now. That was a problem, because stealing was how they got most of their food and money.
It was Fernwick who realized that the trolls had never really been part of the local economy. They produced nothing and they earned no wages, and they'd never had anything to barter with but fear. How were they supposed to make their way in the world?
Trolls were known for being nasty and strong. They weren't allowed to use their nastiness to get what they needed anymore, so Fernwick decided they would have to use their strength. But getting anyone to hire them would require persuasion.
The trolls, who were only familiar with using yelling and clubs as persuasion, were going to have to become nice. Or at least, nicer.
This was truly the second-most terrible thing that had ever happened to them.
"Hello!" "Hello." "Hello?"
The trolls practiced conversation, having finally paid attention to how some of the other forest inhabitants talked to each other. When they thought they had learned enough, they approached one of the local farmers to see about work.
Trog pointed to a group of carts full of squash. "Move!" he said.
"No!" Fernwick chimed in. He held his hands out peaceably to the farmer. "Move to market?" he asked.
"How much?" the farmer said.
"Two pennies?" Fernwick said.
"All right."
So Trog and Fernwick marched the carts to the market while Piplet rode on top of one of them and looked out for other work opportunities.
The trolls were able to remove trees and help build houses and stables for others in and near the forest. They rescued lost sheep from tricky ravines and put fallen knights back on their horses. They saved beleaguered maidens and unfortunate forest creatures from the cruel fates forced upon them by evil stepmothers and queens.
Piplet wasn't able to be much help, but was willing to bite anyone who needed it. He was never quite the same after his encounter with the bear, not having realized how vulnerable he was without the other trolls. He had also not been prepared to be considered "cute," which was unfortunate as there would have been many opportunities to rent himself out for children's parties.
With the extra income, the trolls were able to buy another bed closer to Fernwick's size. They also put a nice, small mattress in a box for Piplet, who would never be in danger of falling out of bed again.
The trolls were still nasty to one another at times, and still quarreled over cooking and other chores. But they got along better with everyone else in the forest.
They never ran into the bear again. But they remained forever ready to defend their behavior to him if they ever did.
–/–
If you enjoyed this entry, please vote for it in the poll here.
no subject
Date: 2025-12-04 01:46 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2025-12-04 06:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2025-12-04 07:11 pm (UTC)This was fantastic. As always.
no subject
Date: 2025-12-04 08:03 pm (UTC)I love the idea of a collection of fables! That has never occurred to me. EXcellent (Mr. Burns voice) food for thought. Thank you!
no subject
Date: 2025-12-04 11:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2025-12-04 11:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2025-12-05 06:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2025-12-05 09:23 pm (UTC)Plus, I liked thinking about how much they would have to bend themselves to stop bullying everything they came into contact with, and also to even just communicate effectively with others in a way that would bring about work and money for them. :D