"Stand back, milady," Sir Alagard dismounted and drew his sword as he approached the wooden bridge, placing himself protectively between Tania and the troll.

"In the name of King Leobold, I'll cut down this filthy troll. No longer will it prey on hapless travelers."

"Now, wait just one moment!" Vrisk the Stout planted his hands on his hips.

Alagard stopped in his tracks, confused by the ringing tone of command in the troll's voice.

"First of all," Vrisk began, "calling me a 'filthy troll' is very hurtful. Didn't your parents ever teach you any manners?"

"Well, yes," Sir Alagard said. "But...you're a troll."

"So manners don't apply to me because I'm a troll? That's species-ism, that is. I know we trolls are uglier than a donkey's backside, but that's no reason to treat us with such disrespect." Vrisk spat at Sir Alagard's feet and looked over at Tania. "I don't know if I'd stick around with this lot, lady!" he yelled. "He's like to ditch you the moment you get a white hair."

Tania covered her mouth, masking her unladylike giggle.

"And," Vrisk continued his tirade, "Second of all, I built this bridge. Spent days hauling logs, chopping them into just the right size, lashing them together, getting my poor unmentionables wet each time I forded the river. I think it's quite reasonable for me to charge a toll, don't you?"

"But..." Alagard seemed at a loss for words. "You're a troll."

"Yes, we established that two minutes ago. Do try to keep up with the conversation, please. Anyhow, you know what's not reasonable?"

"What?" Tania asked, merriment dancing in her eyes.

"Pulling out a sword and threatening bloody murder instead of paying a toll. That's unreasonable."

"He has a point, Sir Alagard," Tania smiled. "We should pay him and be on our way."

"W-well, he could be lying!" Sir Alagard stuttered. "Say he just happened upon this bridge, claimed it as his own, and is reaping profits despite never having lifted a finger for it."

"Also unreasonable: accusing strangers of lying with absolutely no evidence to back it up."

"Fine, fine," Sir Alagard grumbled as he fumbled around in his coin-purse. "Hope it's worth eating tasteless gruel and sleeping in bug-ridden beds when we're out of coppers."

---

/r/theBasiliskWrites

Sir Balenwood retorted, “You call five sovereigns reasonable!? Look at the state of this bridge! There’s no way any part of that toll is going into maintenance or labor! You’re just a polite highway robber, like the rest of your kind.”

The troll reached into his satchel and retrieved a document, presenting it to the knight close enough to read but not close enough to snatch. His eyes were glazed over and he moved slowly. He responded in an even tone, “Do you see this? This is a royal charter commissioning this bridge. This part here says that our company holds the legal right to design, maintain, and require payment for the use of this bridge. Part of that goes to labor, part of it goes to critical maintenance, and guess what? The rest goes back to your king in taxes. I could say the same about your kind, but I wouldn’t since it’s against terms to disparage humans or humanity as a requirement of the charter. We trolls had to make a lot of concessions after the war, so I’d really appreciate it if you respected your own laws and stop hassling me about this as if I had any part of deciding how much you’re paying here.”

The knight glared at the troll. The argument seemed consistent but he suspected that something was off. Even the modern movable bridges near the capital charged only a single sovereign. There was no way this provincial and crude structure could justify such an expense. Balenwood pointed his finger aggressively at the troll, “Some of that might be true, but there is no possible way that the price was set to five. Do you know what I think? I think you saw a wealthy looking human and figured you could squeeze me and I would throw you a few coins without thinking about it. Maybe you’ve met other humans like that but not me. I learned all about you trolls when I was deployed. You hate humans and wish nothing but harm to all of us. How dare you bring the war into into this?”

The troll rolled his eyes, “You’re the one who brought politics into this when you called me a ‘filthy troll.’ If you can’t understand why anyone would be hostile to a soldier in an invading army I’m not going to try to explain it to you. I’m more interested in right now. Right now, per the treaty, per the economic interests of our two nations, per the good faith effort to prevent future conflict by the kings of our nations, etcetera etcetera, I have the right to refuse service to any human or troll as I deem fit. Now the toll is six sovereigns or you can turn right around.”

Sir Balenwood’s face flushed and he gritted his teeth, he began to shout but quickly restrained himself to a barely contained and stilted fashion of speaking, “That is illegal. You can’t arbitrarily change the price, and you can’t pocket coins without reporting them to our tax office. I will pay the correct price as determined by the charter. I will happily pay the rate determined by law and not a copper more.”

The troll approached the gate to the bridge. Sir Balenwood sighed a breath of relief that this troll had finally seen reason, but let out a gasp when the troll threw a chain over it. He turned around and announced, “Now it’s seven sovereigns or I refuse service. If you have a complaint I believe your tax office is about a three day ride that way. If you want to take this to court I suggest you prepare for a legal fight. I’m not budging on this.”

Without thinking Sir Balenwood shouted, “Let me through, you insolent creature!”

The troll shrugged, “What are you going to do, attack a citizen of an allied nation and create the worst diplomatic crisis of the last century? I don’t think you’re going to do that. I’m about ten seconds from closing shop for the day. My rate is eight soveriegns or I’m going back into my office and you can find someone else to waste time with.”

Sir Balenwood was furious, but his anger gave way when he realized his situation. He let out a long, exasperated sigh that developed into a roar, “Fine! Eight Sovereigns. I will remember this, troll!” He dug into his coin purse and counted out the fee.

The troll, not reacting to the display, took that coins and set about opening the bridge without another word.

“I’m not demeaning your work, but you’re doing a horrid job at maintaining the infrastructure. And I’ve met plenty of groomed trolls who don’t smell like you.”

“How dare you. I put lots of sweat into this bridge.”

“I sweat too, but the difference here is that I take a bath once in while. I admire your passion, but we need to change it up a little.”

“What do you mean?”

“No more tolls. We’ll pay you on behalf of the kingdom.”

“But I like the Troll Toll rhyme.”

“I like it too, but we have to think about the big picture. The more we don’t charge for roads, the better. A citizen should be able to travel the roads to spend money at local businesses.”

“That makes sense.”

“It’s nothing against you or how you run things. I find myself admiring your work, just not your stench.”

“I’ll take a bath.”

“You’ll find that you’ll attract more females with that attitude.”

"Ford."

"What's that?" The Troll demand. "Wha' are you on about now?"

"It's ford the river. Forging the river would mean grabbing it between a pair of tongs and beating it repeatedly with a hammer. If you're a man that's able to build a bridge from nought but river stones, you should know that. I have no plan to beat this river into a sword! It's foolishness."

The Troll huffed, casting his gaze about in the manner of a man convinced he was the butt of a prank. Then he scratched his head. "I s'pose that's true. Consider me corrected."

The bog poor traveling artist smiled a mouth of cracked, blackened teeth, and held out his hand. "That will be two coins for the grammar lesson."

"What?! That's robbery!"

"First of all, calling it 'robbery' is unfounded." The artist huffed out a rotten breath. "And I find it hurtful. Second, I put a great many years into mastering the English language, and great expense in reading every book I could put my hands on. Therefore, it's quite reasonable to charge a rate when I educate others on the proper usage of grammar. Just the same as you claim for crossing your bridge."

The Troll scoffed and scratched at his head, but then realized that to a degree the man was correct, and if he agreed, then the man agreed to pay his toll. That would resolve the whole confusion. But still, the whole thing bothered him.

"I still don't agree on two coins. Even I only charge one coin to cross my bridge!"

The Artist crossed his arms over his swollen gut and squinted down at the Troll, ascertaining the width and breadth of the being, right up until his floppy hat sagged down into his eyes. He pushed it back, and from beneath the hat was revealed a most revolting smile.

"I see where our confusion lies, friend troll. If I gave you a coin to cross your bridge, I would only be crossing it this one time, correct? Odds are good we'll never cross paths again. As a man in search of continuous education, I won't be back to these parts."

"That may be so..." The Troll grudgingly agreed.

"And if that's so, my coin only gets me use of your bridge, this one time, yes?"

"Well, yes, but what does that have to do with anything?"

The Artist raised a finger in the air, pointing toward the sky as if revealing a great mystery of life. "Next time someone scoffs at your toll, what will you say? That they should forge the river? Or ford the river? To ford is to cross, while to forge is to beat."

"Well, ford the river, now that I know better..." The Troll muttered sheepishly.

"And rightly so! You'll be using my lesson the rest of your life!"

The Troll, unable to find a fault in that logic, handed over two coins from the meager pouch on his belt. The Artist put the both into the fat pouch on his, and then summarily removed one coin to return it to the Troll. It was even one of the Troll's own coins.

"And there. The toll is paid! I shall have my coin's worth and pass!" The Artist proclaimed with a smug laugh.

And having eyed the Artist's fat pouch of coin, the Troll retrieved a broad wooden club from beside the bridge and set about beating down the Artist, until the man was as limp as a rag on the ground. He continued until the coins were scattered about, glistening in the early morning sun, and the Artist was himself a work of great impressionism. The Troll kept on till nearly midday, stamping and stomping, smashing and crashing.

Finally, fully spent, the Troll leaned on his club. "To ford is to cross, while to forge is to beat." He repeated before scooping up the Artist's fat purse. "But I should have my money back, because you sir do not appear to be a sword."

Thag huffed and puffed with effort of expressing his emotions as the female troll stared at him with a dumbfounded look. The human male behind her politely covered his laugh with one hand as her expression slowly changed to rage. With a scream of anger she backhanded Thag, sending him stumbling back and almost knocking over his sign. Then, her skin turning from rocky purple to a bright red-purple, she turned around and fled back the way she had come.

Thag hauled himself up and stared after her, shaking his head in confusion. This was the third time this month Stoga had attempted to cross the bridge without paying, but this was the first time she had gotten violent. She was lucky his father had taught him to control his temper!

The human approached the bridge, pulling out the 5 copper toll. He seemed to hesitate, then smiled at Thag. "Uh, pardon me, friend troll, but you weren't any chance raised by humans were you?"

"What?" asked Thag. "How did you know that?"

"Well, I did hear a rumor that a childless couple in town had adopted a troll and you do speak better Common than most trolls. I only ask because I thought maybe no one had told you about troll mating customs."

"Mating customs?" Thag repeated, confused.

"You know, courtship and such," the human said, waving his hand vaguely. "Romance."

"No, what does that have to do with anything?" Thag demanded.

The human shrugged. "It's just that in the troll culture in this area, the females are supposed to be the aggressors. They taunt the males and call them names; if the male likes the female, he will submit to the name-calling and give the female a small gift, such as, perhaps, a free bridge crossing. Then the female apologizes for what she said and gives the male...ah...a nice experience. If they both enjoy the experience they are married in a short ceremony that involves jumping over a fire, I believe. It just seems like it might be relevant to your situation, friend troll."

Thag stared for a solid ten seconds. Then he blew a whistle that was hanging around his neck. A small gnome ran out of the toll booth and saluted. "You called, Sah?"

"Yes, Tingle--can you man the gate?" Thag asked as he ran rock-like hands over his boulder-like hair, eroding it to near-smoothness. I'm taking a break and maybe a long lunch--its a, uh... family emergency."

"Yes, Sah! You can count on me, Sah!" The gnome saluted again. "What about this human, Sah?"

Thag glanced at the man and gave him a wink. "Oh, him--he's good. I'm using my pass for him."

The human looked surprised. "Thank you, sir!"

Thag grinned as he set off after the fair Stoga. "Oh no, thank you!"

My people have a proud history. For millennia we honed our skills as engineers, builders of roads, tunnels, and yes, bridges … we have always been nomads, and for aeons these pathways were trod by troll feet alone.

Then men appeared. For a time we were content to let them pass upon our roads, though we kept out of sight when one walked by. Most were harmless, but we’d heard tales of their run-ins with other wild folk, terrible acts of cruelty and destruction. They could be only rumors, we said, but better to take precautions. In time, the men learned to build roads and bridges in imitation of our own, and even believed they had invented them. We were willing to encourage this illusion.

But as the humans became more numerous, our bridges were clogged with their carts and wagons, made filthy by the droppings of their yoke animals. Beggars took up residence there, and though the robbers who waited along our roads were hoping for wealthy merchants, they were content to use our folk for target practice.

And as the kingdoms of men grew, several found occasion for war. Then our roads were filled with men on the march, thousands in tight ranks, pulling their siege engines behind. Our bridges became points of contention as the battle lines wavered across rivers and canyons. Soon they began to burn our bridges and collapse our tunnels, to deny their use to the enemy. By the time the war was won, centuries of our finest work was laid to ruin.

It was then that troll folk realized we could not continue as we had for so many years. We were no longer content to live our secret lives, to share our creations with the humans and trust in their beneficence. A huge labor was ahead of us, the task of rebuilding all that was lost - and now timber was less plentiful, as the human townships spread, and the best quarries had been claimed by their hands.

It became clear that certain crucial materials could only be got through the use of human money. Always we had disdained this practice, seen the cruelty and avarice gold inspired in men - but we had no choice. It was decided that an envoy of the troll folk would be positioned at each newly completed bridge, to collect a toll from all who wished to pass, and inform the humans of the debt they owed our people.

More than money, this was about the esteem of our folk - finally we would be recognized for the great engineers and hardy builders that we are. In time, our bridges, and the trolls who guard them, will become heroes of the human race. I am sure of it. Some of my fellows call me naive, say that men will never hold true respect for those who are not like them - but I say they are wrong.

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