Free Troll Bridge by Jane Yolen

course you be a prince,” Oddi said. “Only princes be trying to rescue princesses.” Then he grinned and said again, “So run, little prince.”
    Jakob finally ran, making for the oval door. But he stopped before opening it, turned around. “Which way do I go?” he asked.
    â€œYou go…” Oddi began, but then he stopped and cocked one ear forward. “Uh-oh.”
    That’s when Jakob heard a deep, grumbling jet plane kind of voice from the other side of the door.
    â€œFamily! It be I, Aenmarr, come to eat my first meal of the evening.”

9
    Jakob
    Jakob jumped away from the door, in a full panic now. What to do? What to do? There were no other exits to the room and the only place to hide was under the rough wooden table. He glanced around frantically for one second more, then scuttled underneath, crouching in the shadow of one of the back legs, and praying it would conceal him.
    â€œWife? Son? Where be you?”
    â€œOoh, Father be home,” Jakob heard himself say. No, it was Oddi speaking from overhead but in Jakob’s voice now. “I think we be in trouble.”
    I’m not in any more trouble than when I was before, tied and hanging upside down. Jakob grabbed his knees to stop his shaking as he listened to the thumping footsteps approaching. Then the door swung open and two gigantic bare green feet stomped into the room. The toenails were long and yellow and caked with dirt. They looked more like claws.
    â€œHmm,” the father troll rumbled. “Aenmarr be home but all alone. Botvi must be taking Oddi with her to gather vegetables.” Jakob heard a metallic scrape as Aenmarr pulled a tool off the wall. “I be starting the preparations without them.”
    There was a sudden whoosh and a thwock. Then a thud sounded behind Jakob and he turned to see his own head lying on the floor, staring at him with lifeless eyes. Bile rose in Jakob’s throat.
    Puke and you die, he told himself, knowing that the noise of it would make Aenmarr look under the table. He swallowed hard.
    There was another thud above him, as something heavy hit the table. Then there came a disconcerting assortment of chopping, slicing, snapping, grinding, squishing, squelching, and other revolting sounds.
    Jakob bit his lip and covered his mouth with his hand, trying with all his might to keep his food in his stomach where it belonged.
    That could be me, he reminded himself. It still might be. Me — or my brothers . He kept quiet as Aenmarr continued his gruesome work. I have to save them, he thought fiercely. But as the minutes stretched on and his mind created visions to match the sounds above him, he realized something. Whatever happens, I can’t cause the death of anyone else.
    Apparently finished, Aenmarr gave a loud cry of, “To the pot!” and stomped out of the room.
    A door squeaked open. “Husband, I be home. Be you seeing Oddi?”
    â€œI be seeing only the prince in the larder. He be in the pot stewing.” Aenmarr chuckled, a noise like a lion snorting. “We be going to the dining room to have ourselves a feast.”
    *   *   *
    NOT AN HOUR LATER, KNEELING by the big oval door, Jakob listened to the sounds of Aenmarr and Botvi eating their son for dinner.
    â€œBy the rotting bones of Thor,” Aenmarr’s voice was a deep, contented rumble, “this be the best stew I be eating in centuries.”
    Jakob heard a slurp.
    â€œI believe you be right, husband,” Botvi replied. “But where be our son, Oddi, to enjoy this meal with us?”
    â€œI be not knowing this. But I be having the hide off of him if he be not here by daybreak.” Aenmarr gave a roaring chuckle. “Or if he be stupid enough to stay out in the sun, I be putting him in the garden for the birds to perch on!”
    â€œAenmarr! Do not jest. I be worrying about him.”
    â€œI be finding him, Botvi. But only when dinner be