Under the Bridge

Hello friends!

Many years ago on an unremarkable spring day, I found myself traversing the Caldiwaller Woods, diligently reviewing my notes as I prepared for the interview awaiting at the end of my journey.

The trees were tall and gangly, with long draping vines and broad leaves from climbing plants obscuring their trunks, as well as any views deeper into the woods. The foliage was lush, every shade of green filling the world around me, and birdsong hung in the air without pause.

The trip from Hamitsdown to Caldiwaller isn’t particularly long, nor does it require the traveler to pass through the section of forest I was wandering in, but I have long been a nature enthusiast. I’m never one to pass up the chance to explore. In between minor edits to my list I would cast my eye up into the high branches of the trees, hoping to spot whatever little creatures may be lurking nearby.

It was in this fashion, nose alternately in my notebook or looking up at the gorgeous canopy above me, that I came to meet my first bridge troll.

Frankly, it was a little embarrassing. One moment I was admiring a particularly orange beetle clinging to a branch just off the path, not at all watching my feet, and the next I was tumbling down a sudden embankment and landing, wetly, at the bottom of a sluggish creek.

As I lay there on my back in the shallow water, embarrassed and starting to bruise, a raucous peal of laughter rang out. I looked up.

The path I’d stumbled off of came to an arching stone bridge grown over with moss and worn from the weather, allowing the more perceptive traveler to safely pass some twelve feet or so above the water I found myself swimming in. The river bed was broad and the embankment steep, indicating that back in its day it must have ran significantly higher than the paltry hands depth that was soaking my trousers.

Beneath far side of the bridge, lounging comfortably on a short ledge overhanging the water, was Canddicc the bridge troll.

She was tall (massive, really, as most trolls tend to be), made up of bulging muscles and plenty of good humor. Her hair was short, sparse, and ginger. She cradled in her massive hands a short wooden cudgel that I would have bet every penny in my possession had been divested from a nearby tree.

After she fished me out of the water, setting me on my feet safely on the other side of the bridge with only a little laughter under her breath, she brushed me off, prepared to send me on my way. I asked her quickly if I owed her a toll. She laughed again (jovial does not begin to describe her) and said that since I hadn’t used her bridge at all, demanding a toll on top of my little ordeal felt cruel.

I was fascinated. I had never spoken to a bridge troll before, uncommon as they are, and I had a thousand questions.

We passed a pleasant hour, she and I, waiting for my clothes to dry and posing questions to each other in turn. I asked about her history, bridge trolls in general, how she came to be bound to her bridge and by what condition might she be free of it. She asked about the turnings of the world at large, where I was headed, and for what.

Canddicc doesn’t get many visitors these days, her bridge being so deep in the forest and off the broad path. Decades ago there were plenty, as the forest path was one of the few linking Caldiwaller to the main road, but since the construction of the nearby route from Hamitsdown to Gedira some forty years ago, traffic has dropped off severely. I was the first traveling creature she’d spoken to in months.

The magic by which a troll is bound to a bridge is deeply mysterious, usually involving a great need for protection, a powerful mage, and a willing troll, although circumstances can vary. In Canddicc’s case, she was bound to her bridge when a friend and magician living in Caldiwaller grew concerned about nearby wildlife that was starting to decline in the face of belligerent travelers making a ruckus as they camped in the woods. It has become one of Canddicc’s favorite duties to kindly instruct travelers on the consequences of reckless behavior and failing to respect the local flora and fauna.

Canddicc’s magician lives in a little cottage quite near the bridge these days, keeping Canddicc company while they work on their own efforts to preserve these endangered species. It’s a thankless job, but to hear Canddicc tell it the pair are quite content.

If you ever find yourself in the Caldiwaller Woods, know that Canddicc is always pleased to meet travelers looking to cross her bridge. She is an excellent conversationalist, and that she will answer almost any question put to her, especially if she can ask one in return. Her favorite toll offerings are butterscotch candies.

These days there are few bridges are still lucky enough to have their own trolls. In celebration of these lovely creatures, we have compiled a list of a notable few:

Midge the Bridge Troll

Known for it’s surrounding rivers and nearby fjords, Wintsnd is a small hamlet in the northwestern region, not far from the foothills of the Ellisax Mountains. Boasting a modest population of one hundred and thirty eight, Wintsnd is a quiet, peaceful place to settle. Provided, of course, that you’re alright with paying a small toll when crossing the hamlets many bridges.

By all accounts, Midge the Bridge Troll is a soft spoken, unassuming young troll, as far as trolls can be unassuming. She stands at a mere eight feet in height, and wields a long pike decorated with brightly woven ribbons that was gifted to her by one of the townsfolk, as opposed to the more traditional spiked club.

In a stunning feat of magic, Midge is bound to all of the bridges leading in or out of Wintsnd. Avoiding her is quite impossible, but, according to the townsfolk, she is very aware of this and tries to make the crossing as painless as possible.

Midge demands only a tenth of any one thing you have on your person at the time of crossing, be it a single potato from a sack, one copper piece from your purse, or a solitary strand of hair, if you happened to leave the house without your affects. In return for duly paid tolls, Midge acts as a sort of sentry for the hamlet.

As no one can come or go without encountering Midge, any bandits, ruffians, or nere-do-wells looking to cause a fuss often find themselves face to face with a troll on their own territory before ever encountering a resident. The townsfolk also know that, should they find themselves outside of the hamlet and suddenly pursued by a rockfort, bear, or surly man with a hammer, it is a simple matter of crossing a bridge, tossing Midge a handful of whatever they have in their pockets, and letting her step in to handle whatever may be on their tail.

This system has worked fantastically well for the residents of Wintsnd, who speak very highly of their troll friend, and frequently cross their bridges with items specifically acquired for her.

Gertie

A slightly larger village, Ptern is located on the coast of the Mertidian Sea, one of the oldest established settlements on the continent. Ptern is well-trafficked port, ideal for those who want to live amongst culture and excitement. The village is primarily occupied by merchants, fishermen, and privateer’s- those who love the sea could do far worse than Ptern’s idyllic cliffs and tide pools.

Ptern is known for having many bridges, a necessity for a village that sprawls over dozen of waterways ranging from shallow creeks to rapid tributaries. The largest bridge in Ptern is the Tallwater Bridge, aptly named, as the river flowing beneath it has been known to rise significantly at least three times yearly (it has only overflown once in recent memory). Beneath the Tallwater, you will find Gertie the bridge troll.

Gertie is a fully grown bridge troll, standing at a towering fifteen feet toll. Marlta Thistlewack, local witch and town librarian, theorizes that the height of the bridge beneath which Gertie resides, along with the depth of the water at that point of in the river, may have something to do with her prodigious size.

Unfortunately, as Gertie is rather reclusive and has not thus far shown an interest in answering any questions regarding her residence in Ptern, nor her growth cycle, this theory proves difficult to investigate.

Despite her recalcitrant nature, Gertie is generally reported to be a good neighbor, and very pleasant when collecting her tolls. As tribute, Gertie is a traditional collector who is only interested in coin. Travelers in the area should be advised to carry and extra coin or two (denomination seems to matter not at all) or take an alternate route.

Given that the Tallwater bridge occupies the only route wide enough for many large wagons and other sizable means of travel to pass through to the port, we recommend coming prepared.

Kernel

Paderghast lies in the dry desert region in the northern end of the flatlands, and while it doesn’t have any rivers or other bodies of water, it is bordered on one side by a narrow, but deep chasm, over which stretches the Paderghast Bridge. Beneath this bridge lives Kernel.

Kernel is very technically a rock troll, but he’s been under the bridge for so long that he is colloquially referred to as the Paderghast Bridge Troll. He resides on a ledge on the town-side of the Paderghast Bridge.

Much like Gertie, Kernel is reclusive, only emerging from his roost sporadically a few times a month. Little is known about Kernel- the mysteries of how he came to Paderghast, how (and indeed if) he was bound to his bridge, and what compels him to say are completely unknown.

As he is not a bridge troll, he does not demand tolls from those crossing, but the locals have taken to bringing him small gifts of food and household items, just to make sure he is doing well.

Bridge trolls as a species have been found to be generally simple to interact with, most in possession of calm, patient temperaments, and a tremendous capacity for bargaining. The notable exceptions to this are when they are a) denied their toll, or b) under threat for defending their bridge from enemies or toll hoppers alike.

When interacting with bridge trolls, please keep in mind that they are bound to their bridges by means currently beyond common knowledge, and that when they request a toll they are not acting out of greed. The nearest equivalence to a troll collecting a toll that can be made is that of a biological imperative of a nuthatch traveling for warmer climes in the winter months.

It’s been a pleasure hearing from more readers as we launch our Dear Eze issue, which will be returning next week.

If you would like to submit a question or seek advice, please send a message to [email protected] for consideration.

Alive from the Holler

-Eze Clearwater