A Drink by the River

A traveler pays the toll.

A Drink by the River

It was already noon when he arrived at the bridge. Shaking the burrs from his boots and pants, the traveler emerged from the edge of the forest and proceeded towards the river’s edge"the sun’s midday rays reflecting off of the water’s surface. As his walking stick clacked onto the mossy cobblestone, he paused. The crossing was silent save for the trickle of water and the faint song of a bird some yards away. Where were the frogs? The ducks? Furrowing his bushy, ashen brow, the man adjusted his hide backpack and continued, his stick touching stone softer than before. He was halfway across the bridge when he caught the scent: Rotten fish, mold, and the unmistakable scent of passed wind. The scratching of nails on the right side of the bridge gave it all away--turning, the traveler came face to face with two eyes, wide as platters, and a mottled green nose as long as a fishing rod.

“Greetings, troll.”

The beast grunted as it lifted one gaunt leg, then the other, over the side of the bridge. Rolling its shoulders with a grotesque crack, it hobbled over to the traveler and hunched over the man’s head.

“Toll or Troll?” The troll grinned, revealing its rot-stained teeth.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Toll or Troll? Toll or Troll, human?” said the troll, pointing a gnarled finger at his palm, then himself. Perplexed, the traveler raised an eyebrow as the troll frantically repeated the gesture.

“You want me to pay the toll, then?”

With a satisfied grin, the troll nodded. “Toll! Yes! Or...” The troll gestured to his face, “Troll.”

“And I suppose you’ll eat me if I don’t, right?”

Shaking its head, the troll growled in frustration. “No, no. Nice troll. I be NICE troll! No eat.”

Intrigued, the traveler cocked his head.

“No eat?”

“Nngh! No toll, you swim!”

Grabbing a loose bit of cobblestone, the troll tossed it downstream. The man heard a faint splash a few moments later.

“Ah. Swim.”

With a giggle, the troll nodded.

“Well, I’m afraid I don’t have any toll, troll.”

Shrugging, the troll lumbered towards him.

“But""

The man reached into his backpack, removing a liquid-filled skin the size of an infant.

“I do have this.”

Stopping, the troll regarded the skin and grunted.

“What this?”

“This, my friend, is the finest vodka in the land.” He said with a conspiratorial wink. The troll, still fixated on the word vodka, blinked.

“You give?”

Shocked, the man shook his head and brought the skin close to his chest.

“Now now, this is no ordinary stuff! If I’m going to swim, I’d like a drink first.”

The man popped the stopper off of the top of the skin.

“Besides, I don’t think you’d like it.”

Raising the skin to his mouth, the man’s face scrunched at the scent of the liquor. Taking a swig, the man reflexively coughed until his face was red. The troll watched eagerly as the traveler wiped the dampness from his eyes.

“Yes,” the man wheezed, “I think this is much too strong for me.”

The man closed the skin and breathed.

“Perhaps even too strong for you, too.”

The traveler shook the rest of the aftertaste off, then stared at the skin. Grinning smugly, the troll reached for the skin.

“We see. Me try now.”

With an unsure smirk, the man glanced at the troll’s warty hand.

“Are you certain? This kind of drink doesn’t come around oft-"

The skin was uncorked before he could finish the sentence. With the skill of a seasoned alcoholic, the troll lifted the skin above its head and guzzled it all. Washing past its tongue, down its throat, and into its belly, the troll was surprised to feel nothing. No burn, no taste, nothing. Annoyed, the troll threw the skin at the man’s feet.

“EASY!”

Blinking, the man bent over and scooped up the skin. Sniffing the remaining vapors from the top, his face scrunched up once again.

“Really? That’s... Quite a feat, Mr. Troll.”

Clearing his throat, the man leaned against his walking stick, his face still red from the drink. Grumbling, the troll stomped its foot.

“Bad drink! You swim now!”

The troll ambled forward, but the man feebly raised an arm in protest.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to regain my footing...” Leaning against the side of the bridge, the man sighed.

“It’s a shame. To think it was going to be a wedding present...”

Huffing, the troll crossed its arms impatiently. Shaking his head, the traveler massaged his temples.

“The finest and strongest vodka in the land... Could knock out a dragon, he said.”

“Who say?” The troll squatted to the traveler’s level.

“Well...” replied the man, staring at nothing in particular, “The brewer did. Said that--" The man breathed, “That he got the recipe from a traveling wizard...”

“Wizard?”

“That’s right. And only the finest ingredients would do,” The man continued, “Spring water from a fairy glade, roots from a dryad’s grove, and, of course... The special ingredient.”

The troll’s eyes widened.

“Special?”

“Oh yes, the special ingredient!” The man replied with a grin. The troll waited, but the traveler just leaned against the bridge, an intoxicated grin growing on his face.

“What ingredient!?” The troll growled.

“The special one, of course.” The man replied. Stomping, the troll bared its teeth and hissed, “No! What special ingredient? What is?”

Nodding his head, the traveler smiled at the troll. “Ah, right. The special ingredient! Well... It was very special, he said...”

The man trailed off. Frustrated, the troll gnashed its teeth and huffed--Its face becoming red with anger and... The troll stopped. The man, now sitting, winked knowingly.

“Ahh, you’re feeling it too, aren’t you? I knew it. That secret ingredient’s no joke. The brewer promised it could take down anything--dragons, ogres, trolls.”

The troll opened its mouth in protest, but stopped as its vision began to sway. Plopping onto the cobblestone, the troll shook its head a bit and grumbled. With a laugh, the man leaned his back and smiled.

“Had to be strong, you know. My granddaughter isn’t marrying just anybody.”

“Marry who?” The troll shakily replied.

“My granddaughter, you oaf! I already told you once!” snapped the man, waving his stick in annoyance. “She’s getting married!”

“Me KNOW!” the troll shrieked, trying to ignore the growing numbness in its face. “Who-who marry her? Who she marry?”

“Ohhhh I see...” nodded the traveler, “I’m sorry I shouted.”

“It... It okay.” The troll mumbled. Tapping the walking stick on the cobblestone, the man sighed.

“She’ll be married to Jan the Mountain, of course.”

The troll blinked. “Who?”

Glancing in disbelief, the traveler laughed. “Jan the Mountain! Surely you’ve heard of the strongest man in the land?”

The troll shook its head. Sighing in exasperation, the traveler hobbled to his feet and held his walking stick horizontally.

“A chest as wide as this stick is long! Arms like tree trunks! Slayer of 1000 beasts! Jan the Mountain, a man large enough to block out the sun, that’s who!”

Slumping back to his seat, the traveler tossed his stick to the side and grinned.

“Only the finest, strongest vodka would do. Any normal drink would be an insult.”

The man glanced at the troll, its platter-sized eyes now dipping with sleep.

“I see I made a good choice.”

The troll, now pleasantly drunk, nodded.

“Sorrrry... I drink...”

Shrugging, the traveler stretched out on the bridge and rested his head on his hands.

“That’s okay. It was a fine test.”

“Fine toll, too.”

“Yes,” he laughed, “A fine toll too.”

With a contented breath, the traveler closed his eyes. The troll, not wanting to disturb him, stumbled to its feet using the bridge to steady itself. As the blood rushed to its head, however, the troll’s vision swam once more. Dizzied and dazed, the troll stumbled backwards over the side of the bridge and plunged into the river below with a triumphant splash. For a while, the bridge was silent save for the trickle of water and the song of a nearby bird. Peeking through a half-opened eye, the traveler scanned the bridge for any sign of his drunken friend. Abandoned, the man sighed and retrieved his walking stick and the empty skin from the ground.

Rising to his feet, the traveler brushed the dirt from his pants and trotted across the bridge to the far side, the midday sun still lighting the dirt path leading off into the hills. Stepping off of the cobblestone bridge and onto the trail, he instead doubled back to the bank of the river. Laying his stick on the gravelly shore, he cupped his hands and dipped them into the water, the chill jolting him awake. A few sips later, the man wiped the droplets from his beard and smiled in satisfaction. He left shortly after, but not before refilling the skin before he went.

Reviews

[Christopher Zayn]

crazy story. I imagined the scene like the beginning of a movie. need more

[dugle]

Glad you enjoyed it! Still working on style and whatnot, but thanks for reading!

[Christopher Zayn]

I've been having writers block lately and these stories are the inspiration I need to switch up my style and direction of stories.. check out my stories and tell me what you think though