A troll under the bridge

A long time ago, in a place far away, there lived a troll. He is small, hunched and dark as a deathly night. His eyes are piercing, his brows are forever frowning, and he has a face that made white knights crinkle their noses in disgust. He speaks rarely; but when it does his voice seeps like a poison, hateful and unrelenting.

He was never particularly sad, nor was he particularly happy. It’s just that maybe misery was his best friend and happiness is his best enemy. It is both source of entertainment for him and also source of despair. Companions? He had few, or none at all. He despises company, mistrusts friendship. Whosoever extends their arms, even so slightly, would get a bite back from the ferocious troll.

He guarded the old bridge in the huge, enchanted forest; and whoever pass by that tickles his fancy—looked either weak or gullible, he will attack mercilessly, ruthlessly until they ran home, tails tucked between their legs. From the innocent little children to the charismatic young princes, all be defeated to his power.

As luck would have it, one day a beautiful princess came to the forest. She walked up to the bridge and lo and behold, the raging mean troll jumped in front of her with arms wide. “Who dares to pass will receive my wrath!” said he. She just shook her head. She had to walk past the bridge; there is no other way to get across.

“You dare to disobey me?” The troll jumped in front of her ready for attack. He screeched, poked, pulled, screamed, insulted, and belittled the princess. He tried anything and everything he could.

But the princess just smiled, and extended her hand.

“I know you’re lonely,” said her, “come, have a walk with me.”

And suddenly all the anger was spent, the hatred vaporized, as he took her hand and stood up. His eyes lost its fury, his face lost his frown, and his mouth lost his scowl. He was no longer angry, nor was he hateful.

At the first sight of love, he—he became a human.