We all know the story of the Billy Goats Gruff, don’t we? Maybe some of you have forgotten how the goats looking for fresh pasture couldn’t cross the bridge because of the evil troll?
Or how the youngest Billy Goat Gruff crossed first and simply said, ‘Wait for Mummy Gruff. She’s bigger.’
And the troll replied, ‘OK, then. You can pass.’
Hang on a minute! Hold your horses! Or rather, hold your goats! He just let the kid go like that? Really?
OK, perhaps he was too small to bother with. But then that doesn’t explain why the troll then lets Mummy Gruff pass as well, does it? No troll who is starving – and, boy, was he starving – would have let two tasty goats pass. I’m not buying any of it.
And anyway, what was the troll doing under the bridge in the first place? Not a very pleasant life, is it? Stuck at the edge of some dangerous rapids, cold and not to mention rather wet, waiting and waiting for a goat, or another creature, to gobble up.
Well, I’ve done my research and let me tell you this: it turns out there was way more to the story than you could ever imagine. And that “way more” is a very interesting character called Old Goat Grimhorn.
You see, I discovered Grimhorn had one over on Daddy Gruff – something about a loan and repayments he couldn’t afford. But that’s not the only reason, no. He wanted to feast on the lush pasture all by himself. So, he paid the old troll a penny a week to stop the other goats coming across to bother him and eating the sweet grass.
Now, you may be asking why the troll needed the money? Well, back in troll mansion (more like a damp and mossy hovel with a cracked roof – one of many poor quality caves owned and rented out by Grimhorn Estates) was Mrs Troll and their five starving children. Mr Troll just needed to feed his family, like we all do. He took the occasional small mouse or vole that was stupid enough to stray into his path, and every morning, Mrs Troll would pop down and take whatever was left back to her hungry children. But most days there was nothing because the small creatures got wise to Mr Troll’s lumbering slow movements and easily dashed past him.
On Fridays, Mrs Troll would collect the penny from Grimhorn, give him back half a penny for the rent of the horrible cave, and travel to the miller to get a bag of flour and then on to the farmer for a pat of butter and some milk in a stone flagon. So, as you can imagine, they were all very hungry, and longed for a goat sandwich with a dot of butter, using the small loaf Mrs Troll baked each day.
So, when Daddy Gruff reached the bridge, the troll had no option but to stop him. Not only was he being paid to stop the goats eating the lush grass but it was also an opportunity to satisfy his hunger.
Every single bone in Billy Goat Gruff’s body shook as the troll swooped him up in one of his giant hands. He was about to be swallowed whole by a troll! Not the most glorious of deaths a nd it had started to rain.
‘I’m so sorry,’ said the troll.
‘Please don’t, please…’ Billy Goat Gruff said. And then he realised it wasn’t actually raining. The drops falling on him were salty troll tears.
‘Why are you crying?’ asked Billy Goat Gruff. ‘I should be the one crying. Your breath stinks and you’re about to eat me!’
‘Sorry, I can’t afford toothpaste,’ said the troll sadly.
‘Put me down and I’ll go and buy you some,’ said Billy Goat Gruff, hoping the stupid troll would fall for the ruse.
‘Can’t do that, I’m afraid. Too hungry and Grimhorn says I gotta stop you getting across to the pasture. That’s what he pays me for,’ he said, opening his huge jaws.
‘Oh, is it now? Nothing about Grimhorn surprises me,’ said Billy Goat Gruff, taking a handkerchief out of his top pocket to offer to the troll.
But instead, he jammed the cloth right up the troll’s left nostril before headbutting him in the forehead. The troll dropped Daddy Gruff in surprise, who scrambled over the bridge to safety. He glanced back to see the troll collapse sobbing to the floor. He almost began to feel sorry for him until he glimpsed the wonderful green meadows of The Lower Leas and the shelter of the trees and the cliff. He decided there and then, this was where he and his family would stay forever.
But the move would have to wait. First he must seek revenge! He raced across the meadow looking out for his wife and son. And as he neared the far edge of the field he spotted Old Goat Grimhorn himself standing waiting for him in the shadow of the cliff. Daddy Gruff appraised him warily. Grimhorn was a big, stout goat with huge horns and had been much feared in the Dover Road boxing ring during his youth.
Daddy Gruff swallowed and bleated a challenge to Grimhorn, but in answer, his wife and son cried out: ‘Help! Daddy Gruff!’
He peered closer and saw how they were trapped, Grimhorn on one side and the cliff wall, with dense shrubs and trees, on the other.
‘Leave now or Mummy and Baby Gruff get it!’ shouted Grimhorn.
‘I’ll pay back your loan,’ begged Daddy Gruff, ‘But please leave them alone.’
Grimhorn laughed: ‘Don’t you get it? I’m taking them both as a final payment. Now go!’
‘I’m not leaving this pasture without them,’ snorted Daddy Gruff.
‘Then you will die,’ snarled Grimhorn.
Daddy Gruff lowered his horns and charged. Grimhorn was ready and sprung off his hind legs and they met halfway, a mighty crack echoing off the cliff face. Daddy Gruff was stunned for a moment and Grimhorn crashed into him again and again pushing him further and further back towards the sea. Daddy Gruff heard the desperate bleating cries from his family, drew himself up to his full height and rammed Grimhorn and they battled back and forth for several minutes. Slowly, Daddy Gruff began to tire from his wounds and he staggered, panting heavily. Grimhorn, also heavily wounded, but still strong from his boxing days, puffed out his chest and lowered his head ready to make the fatal charge. As he did so, Daddy Gruff glanced up at his wife and son for the last time, held his position and waited for the final blow.
But, then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of brown and Grimhorn crashed to the ground. Daddy Gruff looked up to see none other than Mrs Troll. Daddy Gruff watched in awe as she held Grimhorn’s head in a stranglehold and exposed his flank. Summoning all his strength, Daddy Gruff charged with his head bent low to bring forward the tips of his horns and thudded into Grimhorn’s side. Grimhorn wrenched himself sideways to get out of the neck hold, staggered a few steps, and then sank to his knees.
‘Enough, Mrs Troll. I doubt we will be seeing anymore of Grimhorn again,’ said Daddy Gruff. ‘Will we?’ he asked, stepping towards him menacingly.
Grimhorn wearily got back on his feet, bedraggled and defeated. He eyed them all for a moment before scuttling away along the path and back over the bridge, disappearing into thick undergrowth at the base of the cliff. Mummy Gruff and Baby Gruff ran over to Daddy Gruff and nuzzled each other.
‘How can we ever thank you enough?’ they asked, turning to Mrs Troll.
‘There’s no need to thank me,’ said Mrs Troll. ‘I did it for Mr Troll, who’s lying down with a massive headache in our cave.’
‘Er, no, I’m not,’ said a familiar voice.
They all turned to see Mr Troll, walking towards them, carrying a clutch of rabbits, followed by his five troll children.
‘Mr Troll! You should be in bed!’ thundered Mrs Troll.
‘I suppose I should be,’ he replied. ‘But the children were hungry and kept asking for snacks. And while I was out looking for food, I’ve found us a brand new cave which is free to a good tenant. Follow me!’
He led them along a steep path that zig-zagged up the cliff until they came to a dark opening hidden in one of the bends. They ducked through and found themselves standing in a light, clean and airy cave. In fact, it was the finest, most spacious cave ever seen by a troll.
Well, they had their feast in the cavern, and Mr and Mrs Troll and their five children ate rabbit sandwiches, and the goats ate barley and oats.
And Grimhorn’s loan? Well, I pulled some strings, and the loan was buried and all the paperwork shredded. You see, I was the lawyer taken on by Mrs Troll and Daddy Gruff. All I’m going to say in the case of Mrs Troll and Mr Billy Goat Gruff versus Grimhorn is that it was a unanimous verdict – Grimhorn had been injured in self-defence, and moreover, he was charged with abduction and extortion and sent to the slammer.
There is of course, one final question that still needs to be answered. Why did Mr Troll let the child and mother goat Gruff cross over the bridge in the first place?
We sat around a campfire in the cave, toasting marshmallows, lulled by the gentle waves on the shore below. Mr Troll thought for a good long while, then looked at me through large soulful eyes.
‘Even though my family were starving, how could I take another creature’s wife and child?’ He shook his head slowly. ‘I couldn’t, and nor could I take their husband and father.’
‘So you had no intention of eating him?’ I said.
Mr Troll winked at me. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘that’s just how I always imagined it.’
I smiled back at him. ‘Then I’m sure that’s exactly how it was.’
‘What case are you working on next?’ asked Mr Troll after a moment.
‘Interestingly enough, I’ve been approached by three pigs. They’re having quite a time of it. Apparently, there’s this wolf who won’t leave them alone. So, I’m going to have a nose around and see what I can find. In my experience, the wolf won’t be the mastermind. I’ll need to find out who the “Grimhorn” is, so to speak.’
‘Probably some greedy property developer after the pigs’ land,’ said Mrs Troll.
‘No doubt,’ I said.
‘I hope you return and tell us how you get on,’ said Mr Troll.
I looked out of the cave, past the outline of the trees, to the sand and the sea painted silver by the light of the rising moon and felt sad that I’d soon be leaving this magical place.
‘Oh, don’t you worry about that. You try keeping me away,’ I said.
THE END
Meet the author: Peter Jonathan
Peter Jonathan is an up-and-coming writer who loves the quirky and the surreal. His writing often involves pitting characters in the real world against mysterious forces and beings from other realms. When he heard about the competition, he began to think of all the villains in well-known fairy stories and wondered if they were getting a bad press. He’s hoping Grimhorn and the Billy Goats Gruff redresses the balance and offers a more nuanced view of who is good and who is bad. Peter lives outside the district but often visits the town as a tourist.
Peter’s story is read by Sony Award winning BBC Radio Kent presenter Dominic King. Dominic grew up in Folkestone and still lives in the area. The popular presenter champions up-and-coming musicians, artists, performers, and writers on his show.