Chapter 10. Brumvack Cogitates
Brumvack sat in a tiny room in the very lower reaches of the cave. None of the trolls had ventured down here for centuries. Without benefit of their sleep-induced diet, in fact, none of them would have fit through its narrow passages.
Above him, the trolls were preparing for their journey topside. “Let ‘em go,” Brumvack said to himself. “They’ll pay.”
Brumvack sat against a stalagmite, still stinging from his embarrassing performance during the challenge. His eyes crossed as he thought of the smug look on Schmoozeglutton’s face after Brumvack’s last belch failed to materialize. What, he wondered, could he do to get back at that sorry excuse for a troll? In fact, against all of the trolls? They had given their allegiance to Schmoozeglutton with nary a look of sorritude toward Brumvack. Treason! It was treason! Had they no appreciation for the centuries of leadership he had provided?
Brumvack sighed, and wrapped his arms around his fickle stomach, and fell into a fitful sleep.
Only a few hours later, he woke to the sounds of perfect quiet above him. So that was it. They were gone. He harrumphed a final grunt. He belched. “Stupid trolls,” he said.
But then a small grin appeared, inch by inch, across Brumvack’s scowling visage. The trolls were gone. The trolls were gone! An idea slowly formed in his mind. As the fragments of the idea came together into a coherent whole, he beamed. Retribution, he knew, was at hand.