The Age Of Odin

Thirty-Seven

The Taking Of The Trolls

by the bard Bragi

In ages hence, in lands afar,

This tale will oft be told -

How men and gods in unison

Went out collecting trolls.

Decree there came from Odin's lips

That none should dare relent

From capturing the ogreish things,

His forces to augment.

In Jotunheim, in Svartalfheim,

In Alfheim, all around,

Gods of Asgard, men of Midgard,

Ran those trolls to ground.

They baited traps with hapless goats -

Bleating, trembling prey.

The trolls could not resist the lure.

They took it, come what may.

From caves below, the beasts were rousted,

From dens on mountain slopes,

Then were steered and stunned with gunfire;

Caught and bound with ropes.

Some resisted, some fought back,

Some raised a fearful yammer.

None, however, withstood long

Once struck with Thor's dire hammer.

Sleipnir's pilots plied the skies

Flying to and fro.

Twice or thrice, e'en four times daily

Out and back they'd go.

And so it grew, and grew and grew,

The toll of captive trolls,

And more and more was Asgard pocked

With large empenning holes.

Until at last the All-Father

In voice unduly gruff

Announced the numbers did suffice.

"That's it," he said. "Enough.

"We've thirty now at least, I think,

Or forty — maybe more.

I've kept my eye on things, but still

It's hard to know the score.

"What's certain is the stench is bad,

And more will make it worse.

The trolls should be a blessing here

And not a nasal curse."

Their smell is rank, I can't deny,

Enough to make one wince.

Heimdall caught a whiff of it.

We haven't seen him since.

Huginn and Muninn overflew

The troll pens and — don't groan! -

They plummeted to earth just like

Two birds killed with one stone.

Still we must the bright side see.

We must remain firm-chinned.

The trolls will smite our foe ere long -

Not least if he's downwind.