Far Horizons: Tales of Sci-Fi, Fantasy and Horror. Issue #11 February 2015 | Page 66

“Go on,” he says, wondering if this could be good
news, but assuming it was a scam.
“I am a storyteller, and I propose to pay you with
something worth more than a coin. I will give you my
stories as we cross the lake, and then you can reuse
them with your customers. Once you are known as a
storyteller, people will come from far and wide to have
you ferry them across the lake.”
The man has pitched his voice so that the boy can hear
too.
The Ferryman shakes his head. “I need coins. I cannot
pay the rent with stories, buy food with stories, repair
the boat with stories. It is impossible.”
“I can see that you are a practical man, a cautious man,
a good father.”
The Ferryman glances at the boy, seeing that he is
listening to the conversation. He turns back to the
Storyteller. “I am sorry. I need coin. I need to get another customer.” He glances around the pier, sees other
negotiations taking place, winces involuntarily and is
glad that the mask hides his features.
“Perhaps, whilst you try to catch the eye of another
customer I can tell your boy a tale, and you can listen
too? A short tale?” The man opens his arms out wide,
“for free.”

“Do you know what a troll is?” the Storyteller, opening
one eye, asks the boy, who nods, his own eyes wide.
“Would you like me tell you tale with a troll then, in
the land of the Fey, the land of the One?” The boy nods
again, eagerly. The Storyteller closes his eyes and takes
a deep breath…
***
There was once a fearsome and grumpy troll that lived
in the Fief of Dusk close to the Wandering Road near
to Hangman’s corner. He was an irksome beast, forever
falling upon travellers and eating them. He had a club
made from the hardest oak with which he would bash
out the brains of his victims. His favourite place was
where the path became so steep that steps had been cut
into it. There he had a massive tree that he’d worked
at and worked at so that he could drop it on the path
when he liked to prevent travellers from running away.
He was known to have eaten The Glitter and Three
Colours Red and almost done for The Seventh Magpie
(although that’s another tale), and for each traveller he
ate, his reputation grew. Yet Wandering Road continued to go past the Troll’s Lair, and it was a road that
was travelled often.
Soon it was safe only to travel in great numbers, and
yet one day a beautiful lady, all by herself, walked along
the road. The Troll spying her thought to himself, Ohho there is a pretty bite of food for my supper, and got
him to his hidey hole ready to spring his trap.

The Lady walked on and came to the steps and sat
The Ferryman shrugs; he can see no harm in it.
upon the bottom most one and fanned herself. The
Troll was patient at first, but time drags when you’re
The man sits on the edge of the pier and closes his eyes. hungry and eventually he thought of trying to entice
the Lady to climb the steps and go past his hidey-hole
“In a land far away, that the people who live there call and so fall into his trap. “Little Lady, you cannot stay
the Four and One; that it would take you as long a time there,” he boomed, “for there is a great troll that eats
to walk to as it would to swim to the bottom of the
people and it is not safe.” He was quite proud of this
ocean or climb the highest mountain. A land of Green, speech considering he hadn’t had time to practice it.
a land of Hill-Herders, a land of crystal lakes and wild
rivers full of salmon, and a land where fearsome trolls
The Lady looked all around but could not see where
roam and strangely named fey are common.” The man’s such a gruff, loud voice came from but seemed
sing-song voice continues behind him, the Ferryman
alarmed and began to climb the steps – and Oh-ho the
glances at the boy who is rapt, he sighs, maybe he
Troll thought, his vast belly rumbling at the th