The trolls who had been sent with the captive dragon returned. Two bore a stout pole between them. From the pole hung a leathern sack, the weight of which made the pole sag. Evening found Chief Wok and Thorolf squatting by a fire and painstakingly counting out ten-mark gold pieces. The Chief had drafted Thorolf to keep a tally with little sticks, each representing ten coins.
When the count was over and a hundred sticks reposed in little piles, Wok said: "I am still not certain. This time ye shall count coins whilst I pile the sticks."
Thorolf counted. Although he had taken pains to count accurately, he only tallied 998 coins.
"Try again." growled Wok, taking over the coins. This time there was one coin left over when a hundred sticks had been piled.
Wok gave an angry roar. "These cursed things must be bewitched!"
"Wilt try once more?" Thorolf asked.
"Oh, to the spirit world with the futtering things! It is close enough. Thorolf. since ye have fulfilled your agreement, it is but fair that we should enlarge you. Whither go ye next?"
"For the time being," said Thorolf, "I should be happy to remain with the tribe, provided I may move about at will."
"Good!" roared Wok, smiting Thorolf on the back with numbing force. "Meanst to stay for ay and perchance take a mate from amongst us?"
The thought of a troll wife appalled Thorolf. He had gotten used to trolls but still found the females monstrously ugly. Still, in his present strait he dared not say so. Tactfully he replied:
"That were a great honor, Chief Wok. But I should have to think about it, since I already have mine eye upon a lowland female."
"Fetch her hither and mate with both!" said Wok. "Or better yet, keep one wife here and another in Zurshnitt. In such a case, it were better not to tell either of the other." He winked. "We'll talk of this anon. Meanwhile, hast ever hunted?"
"Aye, with my father."
Wok shot a sharp glance. "Who is your father?"
"I told you, Zigram Thorolfson, who as senator introduced that bill to make trolls human beings. As you know, he is now Consul of the Rhaetian Republic."
Wok's jaw dropped. "I disbelieved you when ye said so before; but now we know you for a true man. Now that we truly know ye have this kinship, ye must assuredly mate with one of our tribes women, to bind you to us and give us influence with your government. I will find a nice girl. Meanwhile, ye should sharpen your skill at the hunt." Wok raised his voice to a bellow: "Oh, Gak!"
Wok's eldest son strolled near. "Aye. Father?"
Wok said: "Thorolf true man; lowlander outside, troll inside. Take hunt tomorrow." The Chief turned back to Thorolf. "This is worth getting drunk over. Gak, two beer!"
Soon Gak returned with two mugs of crude trollish pottery, filled with barley beer. Thorolf disliked the trollish beverage. The brew was not only weak but also so full of barley grains that it was best drunk through a straw. But there was no decent way to avoid it now.
Wok, less fastidious, drank his beer in great gulps, straining the grains out with his teeth and spitting them on the ground. Thorolf looked across the amphitheater to where several trolls were firing up the smelter. Other trolls ignited simple torches, made by dipping cattails in goat grease, before they disappeared into a nearby cave mouth. Thorolf felt the stirring of an idea. He asked:
"Oh Chief, whither goes the tunnel from yonder cave?"
"To bed of iron ore." said Wok with a hiccup. '4 Would st like to see how we mine it?"
Thorolf suppressed a shudder, saying vaguely: "Some day, mayhap." He did not wish to admit that he had an irrational fear of dark, narrow places, ever since as a boy he had been accidentally locked in a clothes chest. He went on:
"Is that all? Does a branch extend to Zurshnitt?"
"Nay, nay. What made you think of such a thing?" Wok's gaze shifted furtively. Thorolf had been with trolls long enough to read their expressions.
"We have legends," said Thorolf, "of trollish tunnels extending all over Rhaetia, even beneath the streets of our cities. Betimes politicians warn us that the trolls might burst out of their tunnels and massacre folk in their beds."
Wok finished his mug. "What stupid idea!" His Rhaetian deteriorated as the beer took effect. "Certes, we have tunnels, but not hence to Zurshnitt. Would be several days' walk, and who could bear enough food, water, and torches to last the distance? Besides, air bad."
"But you do have a tunnel under Zurshnitt?"
"Oh, yea; but ye enter it not here. Entrance less than hour from city—" Wok clapped a hand over his mouth. "Oh. sacred ancestors! 1 told you one of our deepest secrets. Too much beer. How knew ye of it?"
"You told me you had heard a session of the Senate, and I remembered the trollish tunnels."
"Lowlanders too damned clever. Is terrible sad."
"What is sad? I'll never tell—"
Wok began to weep. "Dare not let you go. Must eat you now." He dropped into Trollish. "You friend. Eat friend bad. No eat friend bad. No take chance."
"Be not a ninny!" cried Thorolf, disguising the fear he felt. "I'm practically a member of the tribe, so why-should I harm you?"
Wok caught Thorolf's hand, a pleading expression on his brutish face. "You be real troll? Mate with troll girl? Good! Me get you nice girl. Oh. Gak!" he shouted.
"Aye, Father?" The young troll came on the run.
"You know Bza, Fid daughter?"
"Yea."
"Fetch. Her Thorolf mate."
The horrified Thorolf dared not protest for fear of the stewpot. The youth returned with a young female, even shorter and more barrel-shaped than most trollish women. Wok roared: "Bza, you good girl, fit Thorolf mate. Him lowlander outside but troll inside. Him good man. You be good mate. Me say you, him mate. For night, me give own tent. Take. Thorolf. Have fun all night and many cubs!"
Wok rose to his feet, slapped Thorolf's back, lost his balance, and stretched his length on the turf. Gak bent over him, saying:
"You well, Father?"
The only response was a thunderous snore. Gak looked at Thorolf. whose gaze shifted from Wok to Gak to Bza. At last Gak said:
"Father lend tent. Come!"
Following Gak among the tents, Thorolf was startled when Bza caught his hand in her hairy one. He found the touch repellant, though Bza was only doing what was expected of her. At the big tent in the middle, Gak pulled aside the flap, thrust in his head, and cried:
"Out, Mother, aunts! Wedding!"
Several of Wok's wives emerged. One said to Thorolf: "You lowland weakling, take Bza mate? You be good mate, or all women of tribe beat shit out of you!"
"Have strong yard!" cried Gak. closing the tent flap behind Thorolf and Bza.
A little pottery lamp dimly lit the tent. A small iron pot in the center flickered and smoked: this took the edge off the autumnal chill but did not heat the tent enough to comfort a "lowland weakling." To one side lay a heap of bear and wolfskins.
Bza fingered Thorolf's jacket. "How can futter in false skin?" she asked.
"'Come off," replied Thorolf, feeling more and more appalled. The sight and strong odor of Bza's squatty body aroused no lust whatever. What if he could not get it up? He had heard jokes about shepherds and ewes but had no such tendencies himself.
"Take off," said Bza. "False skin scratch." She lay down on the pile of skins and spread her stout, yellow-furred form.
In for a penny, in for a mark, thought Thorolf. One by one he shed his garments. At last he approached the supine troll girl with lagging steps, as if on his way to the headsman's block. This was certainly not the initiation into the pleasures of love about which he had fantasized. He began to shiver.
Bza raised herself on one elbow. "What matter? No stiff?" she said, pointing.