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The moon was rising. Outside on the cobblestone-paved streets, the lamplighter lit the candles inside the lampposts.
Rancilda's eyes widened and she smiled, as hard as any troll had ever smiled before, as she scattered from the window to her bed.
At dawn, he would return to put them out—but for now, night had begun, and Rancilda was free.
Or at least one step closer to being free.
Because she couldn't yet indulge in her nightly schemes—she had to be certain. Certain that the body on the other side of the room was truly asleep.
If she didn't want to be caught, Rancilda would have to wait for Putrice to fall asleep, like every night. And once her sister would begin to snore so loudly that the furniture would start to shake, Rancilda could reach under her blanket and pull out the book she couldn't let her family see. Slowly, Rancilda ran her thick, gray fingers over the black leather cover before picking up her pencil and going over her notes.
"I guide you in darkness, I lead you in light. I shape your journey, for only my pride. I give you strength, yet sometimes I bind. Who am I, always at the back of your mind?"
Her quiet mumbles, for only herself to hear, let pride surge inside of her troll heart. A mother, she thinks, and scribbles down the answer underneath her latest riddle.
If she were to go back to page one of her diary, the riddles on it were almost bad enough to embarrass her. But Rancilda took pride in her improvements as a riddle teller and acknowledged her roots—even if she was the only one who did.
I'm big and green, with dirt on the floor, I've got trees and bushes, maybe a boar. You walk in me, and then you get lost. What am I called? Don't think too hard, at any cost! with the answer being a forest quickly became more cohesive, shorter, and now, Rancilda could come up with new riddles in mere minutes!
Pages upon pages of them stayed hidden in her diary, away from prying eyes...and any eyes, really, but her own.
In these moments, dark and alone and safe in the shadows, Rancilda would dream of a better life. A bridge, wide enough for ten carts, that she ruled over. No one would be able to pass until they answered her riddles, and if they tried anyway, well, she'd simply swallow them whole! Or perhaps snap their necks or grab them by the legs and swing them around in the air until they stopped screaming, she hadn't had time to think about it yet.
With her mother constantly breathing down her neck and her sister being awful, Rancilda's only outlet were riddles, her heritage as a troll, a way to express herself and prove her worth...if only her family agreed.
Her mother saw it as something beneath them, said they were too good to riddle. Secretly, Rancilda thought her mother was ashamed of what was essentially in their nature and scared she was going to end up like the rest of their family. It was an unspoken secret that it was a sensitive subject for her, one that neither Rancilda nor Putrice cared to bring up much, even though there was something amusing about the way poor Ella would cower in fear before her stepmother when she was especially angry.
For a few more hours, Rancilda scribbled relentlessly in her diary, coming up with riddles she knew would never see the light of day, but even a troll in her prime such as herself needed her beauty sleep—when she hid her book once more and took a quick peak out of the window, the lamplighter was wandering the streets once more, on his way to extinguish the candles inside the lampposts.
Rancilda sighed and looked at the small, burning lights, disappearing one after one. When only one was left, she returned to her bed. She was a dreamer, always had been, and should get some time to live in another world—even if it wasn't real.
And in the light of the sun reflecting off of the silver blade pointed at her, she sees the last burning candle. The ground underneath her is cold and wet and muddy and the tree against her back was hard—she couldn't escape, Rancilda was trapped. She reaches out a hand towards the frog knight with a cry: "Have mercy, I beg of thee!"
"Mercy? After you attempted murder on the Lady Ashmore?," the frog belted out a laugh before moving to put his sword underneath Rancilda's chin.
He is only stopped by a yelping noise behind him—a small mouse with a tiny sword to match stands behind him, an expression on his face that Rancilda can't quite place.
"Sire? Perhaps...perhaps she should be let go?"
Sir Hop-A-Lot turns around abruptly: "Crumb! I taught you better than this! She's a troll, a murderous creature! If we don't kill her, we will be at fault for the deaths of hundreds! Not to mention-"
"-No! No, I promise," Rancilda interrupts, "I'll never hurt a soul. I never wanted to cause any harm! My mother, she forced me into this life I didn't want...all I really crave is to live under a bridge and ask people to answer my riddles!"
Her riddles.
The frog and mouse look at each other.
"I can prove it! I've loved riddles ever since I was young. Listen, just listen, uh...oh! I-I speak without a mouth, and hear without ears, I'm born from the quiet, and live in your fears. I mimic your voice, though I have none of my own. What am I, heard when you're alone?"
"No ears? Certainly not a mouse!," the mouse answers.
"No! No, I'm an echo! And there's more! See, I have cities, but no houses, I have mountains, but no trees, I have water, but no fish. What am I, with boundaries and ease? A map!"
"But when a forest is on a map, trees do show on it, don't they?," the mouse questions, raising his small, furry claw up to his chin and tilting his head to the side.
"Okay, I'm sorry I'm not some sort of riddle master yet!," Rancilda snaps.
"Quiet! Both of you! I don't care about your riddles! You are a danger to everyone around you and I am a knight! The ending of this is clear!"
Rancilda looks around frantically, but there's no way out. The blade is pointed directly at her, she could never escape fast enough for them not to catch her.
Rancilda takes a deep breath.
"Then let me tell one more riddle, frog knight, and I will accept my fate."
Though not pleased about her request, he is still a frog of honor—who is he to deny someone their last dying wish?
"Go on then, troll. Speak your last riddle."
Rancilda gulps, then nods: "I connect with others without needing a word, I feel joy and sorrow, though I am never heard. I bind us together in ways unseen, I am what makes us all serene. I beat in rhythm with another's pain, what am I, that links us in a chain?"
"A heart," the mouse squeaks.
Rancilda gives the mouse a sad, knowing smile: "Yes. A heart. Something we all share. No matter troll, or mouse, or...frog."
The frog looks back at his loyal squire without lowering his sword. The mouse looks up at him.
The three stay silent and frozen for what feels like an eternity to the troll, teetering the line between life and death.
"What do you think, Crumb?"
"Sire, I...I think you know my answer."
The knight raises his head and looks up at the sky, a frog lost in thought...before he lowers his sword and takes a step back.
"Then so be it. I send you away into freedom...as long as you promise not to do any harm. Live under the nicest bridge, tell riddles all day long, but live peacefully."
"I promise! Oh, I swear on my life, I'll never hurt anyone! Thank you, Sir Frog and Mouse! I won't forget this!"
Rancilda scrambles to get up and doesn't look back when she begins to run, ground trembling underneath her feet, making her way deeper into the forest.
The frog and mouse stay still at the forest clearing for a while, watching after the troll until she's too far into the dark woods for them to see.
"You know, Crumb...you learned a lot from me. But I think there's still a lot that I could learn from you."
Crumb lets out a small, happy gasp and looks up at his mentor: "Thank you, Sire...I only hope I made the right choice."
"Oh...I believe you did."
And they truly needn't worry. Rancilda can do without hurting people, without murder. All she truly needed was a bridge, and a bridge she found.
Soon, she lived under it, far away across fields and rivers and mountains, told riddles and let people pass who answered them correctly, and at night, Rancilda would look up at the stars and smile.
She didn't need to dream of a better life anymore now.
She had everything she ever wanted.