Troll Mountain: The Complete Novel

Chapter 21

As the sun crept lower in the western sky and storm clouds moved in for the night, the trolls of Troll Mountain gathered in the Great Hall for the wedding of Prince Turv to the she-troll, Graia.

Throughout the afternoon, none of the trolls noticed Düm going about his labors — dragging sleds of food and positioning his prized barrels of salt around the hall. He placed them thus: one up on the king’s podium, solely for the king’s personal use; and three at the bases of three of the mighty columns of the hall (the fourth column, the north-eastern one, stood within the kitchen area and so didn’t require one).

Raf, however, observed him every step of the way, and at one point, Düm risked a furtive glance up at Raf.

Then Düm went upstairs to the windswept Winter Throne Hall with the last two barrels and there — standing alone up on the magnificent open-air platform — he placed one barrel beside the king’s winter throne. The sixth and final barrel he placed beside the north-western column of the Winter Throne Hall, for all the trolls to use. He also did one other thing.

Then, as the storm clouds took over the sky completely, night came, and the troll wedding began.

The Great Hall was abuzz with celebration.

Mead flowed, trolls danced, and the Troll King looked out over his minions and smiled. He threw back a goblet of frothing mead and belched loudly.

Then the wedding ceremony began and Turv and Graia stood on the steps of the king’s podium, facing each other, Turv in his most princely attire and Graia dressed all in white, with wildflowers in her hair — an oddly sweet and delicate touch, Raf noticed, among such an indelicate race of creatures.

The she-troll looked miserable. Standing off to the side, so did Düm.

The king presided over the wedding ceremony.

“If any here should object to this union, let them say it now!” he called.

Silence answered him. No one—

“I have an objection!”

The crowd of trolls spun, searching for the objector. Their eyes rose as one.

It was Raf who had spoken.

King, challenge, Fighting Platform, during the wedding feast.

Raf swallowed deeply. He hoped he had interpreted Ko’s cryptic message correctly.

“I object to being the celebratory meal for this foul occasion. King of the Trolls, I challenge you to combat on the Fighting Platform!”

The stir that followed Raf’s words was unprecedented in troll history.

A human challenging a troll? Even more astounding, he was challenging the king! And as every troll knew, the king had a special privilege when it came to challenges—

“What did you say!” the king roared.

“I said, I challenge you, King of Fools, King of Nothing!” Raf said defiantly, although on the inside his heart was pounding. This was what Ko had meant for him to do, wasn’t it? “Or do you refuse my challenge?”

The king’s huge gray face reddened with rage. His tusks ground against each other.

“You challenge me? You challenge me …!”

Then the king’s furious anger transformed into cool menace.

He nodded at his champion, the huge troll Grondo, as he spoke to Raf: “You are not as clever as you think, thief. For while no troll may refuse a challenge, the king alone is accorded a singular privilege: if he be challenged, he can send his champion to fight on his behalf. We can’t go having fools challenging the king anytime they want, now can we?”

Grondo stood to his full imposing height and the crowd started chanting, “Grondo … Grondo …”

Even Turv, halfway through his own wedding ceremony, had a look of bloodlust in his eyes and he joined in the chant.

The king grinned nastily. “Be careful what you wish for, thief. You want a fight, I’ll give you a fight. Take him down! Let us all repair to the Winter Throne Hall and the Fighting Platform! After this thief is vanquished, we shall finish this ceremony and devour his flesh! To the Fighting Platform!”