With the invocation of that name, Kay grew silent. He stuck a rod tentatively in the ground. Rain showered them lightly. In the distance thunder rolled. They took shelter nearby, while the storm unloaded on the surrounding country. Gerda watched the lightning play and hoped the rods brought the electricity down into the den. In the morning, they returned to the cave. Pausing at the entrance, Gerda turned to her friend. “It’ll be ugly.” “I’ll protect you.” Gerda groaned. “Since when?” Inside, the cave was warm and smelled like food had spilled onto the oven floor and burned. They couldn’t find the troll family—they had turned to dust with only the occasional limb, a foot, nose, or finger barely discernable. The lightning had done its work. Kay looked disturbed. “They were wicked and evil,” said Gerda. “Creatures of the devil.” Kay’s voice was tight. “All things God made are beautiful in their purpose to bring him glory.” 3. Deep in the nation’s interior a large troll school was housed in an outdated military outpost overlooking a swamp. Gerda identified it by the carefully covered windows. There was no town nearby or sound of church bells. Kay squeezed Gerda’s hand as they looked on the edifice. Inside, they entered the long dormitory hall. Troll-lings spread their sleeping mats on every surface. Gerda examined the boarded window. “You promised,” said Kay. “We came for the mirror and the troll master. “Look at those gnarled faces,” she waved her hand at the sleepers, “They’re ugly little people eaters. There’s a giant, with a giant nose and giant snot.” Her nose wrinkled. “Gross.”
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