Never Trust a Troll! Read Online Free Page A

laces had been tied together. No wonder he had tripped!
    Erica untied the knot. “Wiggie!” she cried. “How did your boots get like this?”
    “Ask my Class I buddy,” said Wiglaf.
    “Guh-huh! Guh-huh! Guh-huh!” Grock laughed. “Gotcha, buddy!”
    “It’s not funny, Grock,” said Erica angrily. “Wiglaf could have really hurt himself.”
    “’Tis funny to me,” said Grock. “Did ye see him go down? Thud!”
    “Look, Grock, no more jokes,” said Wiglaf.
    “Aw right,” said the troll. “But ye should have seen the look on yer face! Guh-huh, guh-huh!”
    Wiglaf suffered through the rest of lunch.
    Afterward, Grock said, “So, what’s next?”
    “Stalking class,” Wiglaf said. He was still mad at Grock for making him trip.
    “I don’t know where my buddy went,” said Aggie. “Can I come to class with you?”
    “Sure,” said Wiglaf. And he led the way through the winding hallways of Dragon Slayers’ Academy to the East Tower. He started up the spiraling stone staircase.
    “Last one up is a rotten egg!” cried Grock. He pushed ahead of Wiglaf, taking the steps three at a time.
    Aggie raced up after the troll. Wiglaf followed as fast as he could. When he was almost at the top of the steps, he heard horrible groaning sounds.
    “What’s wrong?” Wiglaf called, running faster. He leaped up the last step, and gasped.
    Grock lay face up on the floor. The troll had a terrible head wound. Bright red blood dripped from his nose and his ears.
    “Gahhhhh,” Grock groaned.
    “Wha-what happened?” cried Wiglaf. “Speak to me, Grock.”
    “He fell,” said Aggie.
    “Gahhhhh,” Grock groaned again.
    All the blood made Wiglaf’s stomach churn. Still, he knelt down by the troll. He quickly untied his lucky rag from the hilt of his sword and tried to bind Grock’s wound.
    Grock’s small yellow eyes popped open.
    “Guh-huh! Guh-huh!” the troll laughed. “Gotcha, buddy!”
    “What!” cried Wiglaf, drawing back.
    The troll leaped to his feet.
    “Red pepper sauce!” cried the troll. “I saved me packets. Guh-huh! Guh-huh!”
    Aggie was laughing as hard as the troll.
    “That’s not funny, Grock!” said Wiglaf. “I thought you were hurt!”
    “Yah,” said Grock. “And, buddy? Troll blood isn’t red. Me blood is black. And boiling hot. It’ll make ye really sick to yer turn. Guh-huh, guh-huh!”
    Wiglaf rose and stomped off to Dragon Stalking class. As far as he was concerned, having Grock for his buddy was no laughing matter.

Chapter 5
    A ll the lads and lasses in Dragon Stalking class were in a line, holding on to a thick rope that hung out the window.
    “One, two, three, heave ho!” Erica cried, and everyone pulled.
    “What’re they doing with the rope, buddy?” asked Grock.
    Wiglaf didn’t answer.
    “Aw, come on, buddy,” said Grock. “Ye aren’t still mad, are ye?”
    Wiglaf sighed. He was still mad. But he needed to get over it. “They’re hoisting up Sir Mort,” he told the troll. “He is very old, and cannot make it up the stairs in his suit of armor.”
    Grock raced over to the rope line. “Gimme that!” he shouted, yanking the rope away from the other students.
    “No!” said Angus. “It takes lots of us to pull Sir Mort up.”
    “Nah,” said Grock. “I can do it meself.”
    “Let Grock do it,” said Bilge. “He’s strong!”
    “Yeah!” said Maggot.
    “Make way for Grock!” shouted Dudwin.
    Grock began to tug on the rope. Everyone else let go. Hand over hand, the troll pulled, and soon Sir Mort’s helmet appeared at the window.
    For once, Sir Mort’s visor was up. When he saw Grock’s green face at the window, he cried, “Rattle my bones! Who are you?”
    “Grock’s me name,” the troll said. He stopped pulling. “What’ll ye give me to pull ye inside?”
    “Grock!” cried Wiglaf. “Pull him in-now!”
    Grock ignored his plea.
    “What’ll ye give me, teacher?” Grock said.
    “Here’s what I’ll give you,” said old Sir Mort as he