Chapter 35. The Trolls Check Out an Above-Ground Cave
The trolls quite liked their new leader’s cave. It seemed dark and homey. It was a bit too regular for their taste: cave walls shouldn’t be perpendicular to a flat floor; they shouldn’t meet at ninety degree angles. But for an above-ground cave, it seemed pretty nice.
The smell, though, would take some work. Almost overpoweringly, the air had a fresh clean scent about it. Underneath that, though, the trolls could sense the lurking odors of slightly rotting food and unclean bodies, so they knew that the above-ground cave wasn’t beyond redemption. Give it time, and its natural odors would take over, and the place might almost come to seem as nice as their own caves. They stood in the entryway, trying not to call attention to their uncomfortable sniffing. It wouldn’t do to be disrespectful of the land-trolls’ cave, at least on this first visit. They looked around the large room that opened up from the metal doors they had entered, then peered down the long, dark hallways. Down each hallway, they spotted even larger rooms. Their new leader, had he not immediately locked himself in his personal quarters, would have been able to describe for them the function of these rooms: one was a cafeteria, the other was the library.
Yes, this was a fine troll cave. Lots of long corridors, some big rooms. And, now that their eyes were adjusting from the glare outside, they could see a number of smaller rooms adjoining the long corridors.
Their new leader must be a very powerful land troll, they thought, to protect this above-ground cave. Very powerful, and with a large, large band. But where was this band? They couldn’t see a single land troll.
All evidence pointed to the fact that land trolls weren’t very smart. Here was another piece of data pointing to that hypothesis: they had this nice dank cave, and they spent the day outside, where it was bright and fresh-smelling and altogether too stimulating.
The trolls were getting awfully hungry. Their bodies, after the exertion of trying to budge the rock with which Brumvack had sealed their cave, were shaking with hunger. Surely their new leader recognized this. Why had he left them alone in their hour of need?
Schmoozeglutton sensed their dissatisfaction. This, he thought, could play right into his hands. “Maybe he’s waiting for us to ask for some food.”
This made none of the trolls happy. In earlier days of troll history, troll leaders had controlled the food supply. Brumvack’s quarters, in fact, had once been “The Food Room,” where previous leaders had stored away the Rabid Band’s consumables, and would dole them out—or not—depending upon their pleasure or whim. Trolls, when they got hungry, would have to ask for food, which the leader might or might not provide.
Long before Brumvack happened on the scene, though, the common trolls—ancestors of the Rabid Band—had revolted, killed their leader, and distributed the food equally. Ever since, every troll had his own food stores.
Schmoozeglutton didn’t really suppose that this land troll might be hoarding a room full of food. He was merely sowing dissatisfaction. He was already plotting his return to power. Maybe he’d challenge the land troll as he had Brumvack, or maybe he’d just urge the trolls to stage a revolt. It wouldn’t take much right now, he thought, to push the Rabid Band into a frenzy of dissatisfaction. Everyone was hungry and tired and edging toward cranky. And surely the land troll, despite his obvious political power, was as fragile as he looked. Schmoozeglutton wondered what else he could say to nudge the band toward action.
He didn’t have to wonder for long, though, because Obeast soon spoke up. He was the fattest of the trolls, and the one least immune to pangs of hunger. Where food was involved, he was quick to make compromises. He said, “Well, if he wants us to ask, then let’s ask!”
The other trolls, though, would have nothing of it. There was a collective growl of anger led by the older trolls, wise to the perils of leaders who had too much power.
“I’m not begging anyone for food!” said Schmatzenbladder self-righteously.
“Yeah!” said two or three others.
“If he’s gonna make me beg, I’m gonna pound him!” said Schmatzenbladder.
“Yeah!” said six or seven others.
Schmatzenbladder was enjoying this. It was rare event when anyone listened to him. Now, they were listening and even agreeing. He stuck his fist up in the air and shook it angrily. “This troll, for one, will get on his knees to no puny land troll!”
“Yeah!” said all of the trolls at once. “Yeah!”
The mood of the Rabid Band had changed in an instant. In a non-reflective and anxious moment, they had been manipulated into accepting this new land troll as their leader. Now that they could see what kind of troll he was, however, they were quickly losing interest in being led. Begging for food? They’d have none of that. They had a right to food!
Schmatzenbladder filled his lungs. He had never been the center of such excitement before. “If he’s gonna hoard the food, we’re gonna have to stand up for trolls everywhere and show him what’s right!” There were more assertions of agreement from the trolls. Schmatzenbladder was bringing them to a fever pitch of excitement.
Schmoozeglutton figured he’d better get aboard this train before it left the station. Interrupting Schmatzenbladder, he laid out a plan: “Let’s go in there and take what’s ours!”
With a roar, the whole of the Rabid Band rushed in a mass toward Principal Klieglight’s door.