The fat, evil troll by Jill from Stechford

The fat, evil troll was humpty-tumptying away to himself.  The treasure he was guarding was losing its interest for him, quite honestly and he wished he had something else to do.  He had tried knitting but couldn't get the hang of the purl stitch and, anyway, once he had knitted himself a scarf, a bobble hat and a pair of gloves he really didn't need anything else.

Every so often, he would leave the cave on the mountain where the treasure was hidden and lollop off down the side of the mountain, across the bridge to the village, snatch a villager or two and lollop back up (well, "lollop" is  a bit strong a word for the upward journey, more of a creep really as it was quite, quite steep) to the cave.

There, he would amuse himself listening to the weeping, wailing and gnashing of teeth coming from the villagers whilst he counted the treasure (had to be done on a regular basis and he desperately needed entertainment whilst doing it).  We won't go into what happened to the villagers once he had finished counting - don't need to know - just accept that they were never seen again.

One day he lollopped off down the side of the mountain and screeched to a halt when he came to the bridge.  It had gone!  No sign of it!  Now he came to think of it, whilst listening to the last couple of villagers, he HAD heard a bit of a bang but hadn't thought any more of it (partly because he was halfway through counting the treasure and was worried he would lose his place).

What to do?  The river was too wide for him to jump and although he had learned to swim when he was a tiny troll he wasn't sure he could remember quite how.

He marched back up the mountain to think.

In the meantime, the villagers were pretty fed up with the troll and his habit of pinching a couple every so often (in fact it was they who had blown up the bridge to stop him) and decided that they could take the matter a step further and steal the treasure from him.

Of course, they had no bridge to help them across the river and they too were not sure they could remember how to swim.  What?  What about boats?  Oh no -  sorry, boats hadn't been invented yet!

Marmalade, a rather sweet and gentle girl came up with an idea.  She had been experimenting with growing different varieties of beans and had come up with a giant bean plant.

She didn't tell anyone but set off for the river and planted her seed on the river bank.  Every day she would go back and check and, eventually the beanstalk was long enough for her to throw it over the river.

The beanstalk grew steadily up the mountainside.  Now it wasn't just long and strong, it was wide and twisty too and soon covered the whole side of the mountain.

The troll, who hadn't been able to make his mind up how to get across the river, noticed the opening to his cave growing dark.  When he stepped out to see what was happening, the beanstalk quickly twisted itself around him.  No matter how he struggled, he was caught firmly in its tendrils.

Marmalade, meanwhile, had crossed the river, using the beanstalk, and had made her way up the mountain.  She came across the troll, by now sobbing loudly and swearing never to be evil again.

She nipped past him and grabbed the treasure.  She quickly took it all back down the side of the mountain and handed it over to the villagers.

The villagers held an enormous party for Marmalade but somehow she felt ill at ease.  She couldn't sleep at night for the thought of the fat evil troll twisting and turning in the beanstalk and the next day she went back up the mountain.

The fat evil troll was quite thin now, he was getting weaker by the minute and was ready to promise anything - anything at all.

Marmalade told him that if he promised faithfully to be no longer fat, or evil, she would release him from the beanstalk.  He agreed.  She made him swear on his own life, of course, who wouldn't since fat evil trolls are not the most trustworthy of creatures?.

She released him. 

At first he thought he might go back to being fat and evil anyway - after all who cares about silly promises?  But, because Marmalade was so sweet and gentle he decided to give being thinner and nicer a go. 

The villagers all became quite fond of him in the end.  They rebuilt the bridge and he was invited to all their parties.  He and Marmalade became the best of friends and she even taught him that elusive purl stitch which meant his knitting experience just got better and better!

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