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The camp fire crackles in the dark and children run playing around but Fornosh can’t see the fun in it. He pokes with a stick in the glow and try to overhear his ranting wife.
“What shall he do?” The whole day he’s been out in the forest but all he found did not fill the stomachs of all his children. He can’t remember a year, which has been so poor. A least the last and the year before there has been enough to eat.

But what he had seen today was the last straw. When he came back from the forest she came out of his neighbor’s cabin, waving back into the dark. He might be a bit simple but not as dump as he had not recognized that the color of his youngest daughter’s fur is much closer to his neighbor then to himself. An idea rises based on an old troll tale.

In the early morning fog he left the settlement like every day. But this evening anybody else should feed the crying pack. He’ll follow his vision.

Examining the little pedestrian overpass he scratches his head. It is strong, it is nice …it would be the right place.
What a life! He can sleep nearly all the day, listen to the bird songs and there are no crying children around. Most he likes the absence of his wife. But after a month without meeting anybody passing the bridge he realizes that he can not earn honor at this place.

The wall of a town arises straight behind the stone bridge. It is not as nice as the last one, the waters are dirty. He can’t even see the ground of the river and a handle of an old bucket looks out of the water. But maybe he can become famous here.

It takes him a long day to clear the river around the bridge. The pile of rubbish at the wall becomes larger and larger. There is a new Bridge Troll on Gobaith the next morning.

There was an old story first heard by elves she believed. Now no one repeats it though it roams through her mind every time she passes a bridge.

Feed the troll for a safe passage across the bridge.

Some trolls can guard a bridge, some guardians can be helpful if happy. This old woman cackles as she takes one small bite of a cake saving the rest as she finally stands in the middle of the bridge. Most may think she has just had too much wine today or maybe her mind has finally gone for good. Shaky hands, wrinkled face and thin grey hair placed in a knot in the middle of her head with rheumy eyes barely seeing what is in front of her may cause most to laugh as she throws the remainder of the uneaten cakes off the bridge yelling.

Keep us safe another day!

„Nobody can pass without toll!“
Fornosh scratches his belly and looks into the river where the slowly flowing water creates some swirls. He nibbles the cookie, the old women placed right to a vase. Next time she comes out of the forest with her bundle of brushwood maybe he should help her.
His sight goes over the bridge, where some broken vases he found in the mud of the river, decorates the balustrade.
In the most cases he let the people pass, just watching from a hidden place. And sometimes he collects the toll. The people basically are friendly. Except this lizard with the strange name ‘Caption’. Maybe he could avoid any further discussion or violence being busy with cleaning the waste filled river once he’s coming.
His mind touches his ancestors:
Would father and father of father be proud about me? I don’t know riddles and the bridge looks better with all the flower decoration. Am I famous now?

After a prayer to Ushara he rises and follows the river upstream.
After a few steps a fisher comes into sight. Crying as dangerous as possible he rush to the fisher but stops short before with a deep growling.