The Troll and the Witch
by Philip J. Lees
Thom Grimes stripped fine tendrils of tinsel from the last of the roll, curling them over the blade of the scissors before dropping them into a basket. Soon—the next day or the day after—he would have to hike over the pass to Marcham Town and buy some more. The blue was already finished. All he had left was the red and the gold, but they would do. He could catch enough with just the red and the gold. Thom whistled through his teeth as he lifted the basket and shook it, judging the contents that bounced like a princess’ hair as he tried to decide if the quantity was adequate.
“It’ll do,” Thom muttered to himself. He scratched the back of his neck, feeling the dead skin scrunch up under his fingernails. “Enough for today.”
Thom had never seen a princess’ hair, of course, but that was how he always imagined it, light and bouncy and full of life and color. Just looking at those curled tinsel tendrils made him think about what it would be like if one day a princess arrived at the door of his cave, asking for help perhaps, so he could hold the door open and bow as she walked in, then close the door behind her so that the two of them would be there alone.
Enough of that! There was no time. He had to check and reset his traps before sunrise. He tipped the tinsel into the loose front pocket of his knapsack, careful not to crush it. The main section of the knapsack already held the other part of the bait, the bag of sweet barley with raisins, the crushed biscuit, the slivers of candied peel.
Those morsels would be placed at the back of each trap, far enough in that the little boogers would have to get right inside to reach them, tripping the lever that would let the door spring shut behind them. The sight and smell of the sweetmeats only worked at close range, though. It was the bright colors that drew the boogers from afar, the glitter, the shine, the flicker of light from the undergrowth that stopped them being afraid and made them curious for long enough until their appetite could take over. That was Thom’s secret, the secret he had learned from his father, Bill, the Master Trapper who had bequeathed him his title.
Time to get going. Thom slung the knapsack over one shoulder and ran his thumb back and forth under the strap until it was comfortably settled in its regular groove. He wiped his nose with the back of his hand and rubbed it off against his shirt. The bigger sack, the booger sack, he tucked into his belt. Then he snuffed out the candle and trudged out into the pre-dawn gloom.
§
The first trap was empty, so was the second, so all Thom could do was replace the tinsel over the doors, clean out the sweet bait from the back and sprinkle a new handful in its place. Thom was patient and he hummed quietly to himself as he worked. Some days he never caught anything at all, but it was important to keep the traps fresh and clean. It they smelled stale it might put the little boogers off so they wouldn’t go inside.
As he came close to the third trap, which was the one buried deepest in the woods, his nostrils flared of their own accord, even before he caught the scent. He stopped and sniffed deeply, so hard it made his nose vibrate. Boogers! There was no doubt. He hurried onward, chanting under his breath:
“Ho hum, ho hum! Little boogers, here I come!”
He went so quickly that by the time he started pushing his way through the shrubbery that hid the trap he was quite out of breath and panting too much to chant his rhyme any more.
Sure enough, this trap wasn’t empty. Boogers. Two of ’em. When they saw him they started twittering to each other in that high-pitched way they had and running around trying to push their way through the bars. But the cage was made from fire-hardened willow and they hadn’t a chance. Thom decided he could take a minute to get his breath back for getting them out of there. He sat down on the ground and started to pick his nose clean. He had a long nail on each little finger, just for that job.
The boogers had sat down, too, in the middle of the cage, and had put their arms around each other. The dark-haired one—the male—was chirping softly to the female, whose hair was such a bright yellow color it reminded Thom of his princess fantasy.
Never mind about that! he told himself sternly. Just put them in the sack and take them to Witch Candy. She’ll give you a good price.
He mustn’t wait too long. Sometimes the big boogers came looking for the little ones and although Thom wasn’t really afraid of them it was best to be done and on his way before the sun had fully risen. He stood up again and the dark-haired booger jumped up and started waving its arms at him, twittering loudly again.
Thom pulled the big sack from his belt and fastened it around the door of the trap using the hooks around its mouth. He kept one eye on the boogers all the time—if you didn’t watch out they could sometimes give you a nasty nip. Then he picked up the trap and swung it around, at the same time twisting the lever on the top that opened the door. This was the tricky bit, but Thom was an expert. He had learned from the best.
The dark-haired booger dropped straight into the sack, but the yellow-haired female had managed to get to the far side and was hanging by one arm from a bar in what had been the back of the trap, wailing at the top of her voice. Thom shook the trap, but she wouldn’t let go, so he balanced it on one arm for a second while he reached for his back pocket and pulled out the rusty blade he used for scraping clean the bottoms of the traps and for picking lumps from under his fingernails. He whacked the yellow-haired booger’s knuckles with the flat of the blade a couple of times until she, too, fell into the sack. Good. He didn’t want to damage them too much or it might affect the price.
Thom pulled the sack tight shut with the drawstring and tied it in a knot before tucking it back under his belt. Then he carefully reset the trap and continued on his way.
§
The other traps were empty, but Thom was satisfied—two little boogers was a good catch. He hummed to himself as he walked along the secret path that led to Witch Candy’s cottage.
“Ho hum, ho hum! Witch Candy, here I come!”
As he came into the clearing where Witch Candy lived the path changed from dirt to flat, white and gray stones, which were swept clean every morning. Her cottage was small and brightly painted, with blue door and window frames and pink wooden shutters. She was standing at the door waiting for him, as if she knew he was coming. Of course she knew! She was a witch.
“Good morning, Master Troll,” Witch Candy said.
“Good morning, Witch Candy.”
“And what have you got for me this fine spring morning?”
“Little boogers,” Thom grunted. “Two of ’em.”
Witch Candy rubbed her hands together with glee.
“Bring them inside,” she said. “There’s a new recipe I’ve been wanting to try.”
Thom knew that Witch Candy must be at least a hundred years old, and her hair was a silver cloud around her head, but her face was all smooth skin with no lines and that made her look as young and pretty as a princess. Then Thom looked into Witch Candy’s sharp, black eyes and stopped that thought before it started.
Thom had to stoop to go through the door, but once inside he could stand straight up again. On the far side of the room by the door to the kitchen was a large cage and Thom went straight over to it and pulled the booger bag from his belt. He never felt really comfortable inside this house.
As he raised the bag he could feel the boogers squirming inside. He opened the hinged door on the top of cage and tipped the mouth of the booger bag into it so that the boogers fell out and slid down the chute to the bottom. When Thom closed the door again the chute swiveled up out of their reach. The boogers were twittering again as they picked themselves up and stood embracing each other.
As Thom folded the bag he noticed a small hole in one corner. The boogers must have made it, even though the material of the sack was much too tough for them to break through. He would have to repair it this afternoon.
Witch Candy came over and bent down to peer at the boogers, screwing up her eyes to squint through the bars.
“Let’s see how much flesh there is on them,” she said. Then she started chirping in booger language. The male booger looked around, then went and picked up a bone that was lying in one corner of the cage. He came forward and poked the bone through the bars, holding it while witch Candy felt it with her scrawny fingers.
“Hah!” she said. “That old trick. Let me get my glasses.”
She fetched a pair of spectacles from a cupboard. The frames were made of mother of pearl and twinkled with pink and purple and green as she perched them on her nose. Witch Candy inspected the boogers closely.
“They’re a bit on the scrawny side,” she said. “but they’ll do for soup. Want some?”
Thom shook his head. He had been here long enough.
“Then I suppose you’ll want your payment,” Witch Candy said. Thom nodded.
She pulled a casket from under a chair and opened the lid. She took out two gold pieces and gave one to Thom, but kept the other in her hand.
“What about something special instead,” she said. She reached into the casket again and pulled out a fine silver chain with an intricate filigree pendant dangling from it.
“This is a magic talisman, this,” Witch Candy said. “Guaranteed to charm any young lady. Even a princess.” She smirked.
Thom knew he shouldn’t, knew he should just insist on the second gold piece and go, but his mouth was suddenly dry. He nodded, not daring to speak.
Witch Candy laughed, a dry chuckle that said she knew just what was in his mind. Thom put the gold piece in his pocket. The chain he hung around his neck, slipping the pendant down inside his shirt where it couldn’t be seen.
“Goodbye,” he croaked. Then he turned and left, so quickly he bumped his head on the lintel.
Outside, he walked along the path, trying not to hurry. He felt much better out in the open air.
Once he was back on the dirt track that led into the wood something caught his eye and he stopped and bent down. Biscuit crumbs! He looked ahead along the path and his sharp eyes picked out more a couple of paces further along, then more after that.
“Clever boogers,” Thom muttered. They had laid a trial.
“We’ll soon see about that,” Thom said, and as he walked along the path he crushed the crumbs under his boots and kicked them off to either side so they disappeared in the leaves and twigs of the forest floor. Soon it became a kind of dance. Step, kick, shuffle step, KICK!
A good day, Thom thought. Boogers, gold, and ? you never knew. He fingered the talisman under his shirt. Maybe he’d find a princess waiting for him back home.
“Ho hum, ho hum!” he sang. Step, kick! Shuffle step, KICK! “Look out, princess, here comes Thom!”
- End -
© Copyright Philip J. Lees 2005