Troll Bridge Read Online Free Page A

careful not to touch him again. “It must be hard to play music with … with paws.”
    The fox sighed and gazed wistfully down at his paws, as if recalling a particular lost skill. “Tradition,” he answered.
    Which, Moira thought, is no answer at all. “What do you play?” Really, getting answers out of him was like pulling teeth. She gave a short snort. And he had rather too many teeth.
    This time he ignored her thoughts. “I play the fiddle.”
    Hey-diddle-diddle, the fox and the fiddle. Right! She hated fiddles and country music, that scraping, often off-key sound. Now violins—played with vibrato and passion—that was real music. “Where is your … fiddle, fox?” She wasn’t sure she believed any of this anyway.
    â€œYou must open your mind to the world of the impossible,” the fox said, “and then it becomes the world of the possible.” He shook himself all over. “My fiddle hangs on a wall in Trollholm.”
    â€œOkay, Foss,” Moira said, a little sharper than she planned. “So you’re a master musician who plays a missing fiddle. This will get me to the other girls how?”
    â€œIt will get you into Aenmarr’s houses. Trolls love music. Well, rather they are transfixed by music. Their taste, however, is execrable and they are never on key.”
    â€œScrabble?”
    â€œExecrable. Bad. Extraordinarily bad.”
    â€œOh.” Moira smiled for the first time since arriving at Trollholm. Execrable was a good word. It described country music exactly. But as quickly she turned the smile into a frown. “I don’t want to get into Aenmarr’s house. Not if the troll monster wants me as another of his brides.”
    The fox sighed in aggravation. “The princesses,” he said, speaking slowly in her head as if she—and not he—were the stupid child, “are not to be brides for Aenmarr. He is already married, human child. Do you not know anything? I expect that is why we are in this predicament. The old ones knew about troll brides and sacrifices and…”
    â€œHey!” she interrupted. “You’re the one without a fiddle.”
    He opened his mouth, then snapped it shut again. Taking a deep breath, he said, “The princesses are for his sons.”
    â€œHe has eleven sons?” That was an awful lot of trolls.
    â€œOh no, only three.”
    She thought: Three I can handle. As long as it’s not eleven.
    Foss shook himself all over. “No, child of man, that is three sons too many. One son with each of his wives. Each of whom lives in her own house. Selvi, Trigvi, and Botvi. Aenmarr wants four brides for each son. Troll women only have one child. Not…” he said, almost slyly, “like foxes.” His eyes suddenly glittered as if he were plotting something.
    Moira divided quickly and realized that she was meant to be the fourth bride for one of the troll boys. Had Foss been making more than a simple threat when he said he would deliver her to the troll himself? She let her mind go blank, so as not to broadcast that she guessed this. Foss already knew way too much. Instead, acting innocent, she looked deep into his eyes. “Why me? Why did you save me?”
    Foss shifted uneasily on his haunches. “You are a musician. Like calls to like. It is why we can talk, mind to mind. I cannot speak to the other princesses. They do not have music in their souls. But together you and I will get my fiddle and rescue your friends. And once I have my fiddle…” He looked away.
    Moira waited to hear the rest. But Foss was suddenly and strangely silent on what would happen after.

4
    Moira
    â€œAre you ready, human child?” The fox stood.
    â€œWait,” Moira cried, “is it safe?”
    Foss stopped, turned his head and said over his shoulder, “Trollholm is never safe. But daylight is less … unsafe.”
    â€œOh,