The Troll in the Garden

Kitty’s daddy, Allan, finishes reading chapter twelve of Charlie and The Chocolate Factory to her.

“That’s enough for tonight my little scamp,” he says putting the book down on the bedside table. She’s tucked herself under the covers so only her tiny little face is visible. Allan can’t see her hair because there is a stuffed toy dog resting on there. She’s called the dog Charlie after Charlie Bucket, her new favourite character from her new favourite book and the toy sleeps on the top of her head. Allan doesn’t ask why. She’s six, it’s what six-year-olds do. He kisses her on the forehead and says, “Goodnight, my little darling, and goodnight, Charlie.” As he’s walking out, he hears her little voice:

“Daddy, are Oompa Loompas real?”

“Well, they work in Mr Wonka’s factory.”

“But is it for real life? I haven’t seen Mr Wonka’s factory. Is the factory at Uncle James’ house in Dublin or Aunty Sao’s house in London?”

“Mr Wonka’s factory isn’t real. It’s just a story.”

“Okay, Daddy, Goodnight.”

Allan leaves the room. Just as he is about to walk down the stairs, Kitty calls him back again. She always does this: likes an extra hug before he goes downstairs. “Yes, luv,” Allan says walking back in.

“Daddy, are trolls real?”

“No, darling.”

“Are you sure?”

“I am, sweets. Why?”

“I saw one in the garden.”

“You couldn’t have. There are no bridges in the garden. Trolls live under bridges.”

“I saw one. He was standing under the Christmas tree.”

Kitty’s garden had two Christmas trees as she called them. They’re conifers which are Christmas trees so technically she was right. The garden has one small one and another hundred-footer which totally covers the whole of the bottom of the garden. “Which Christmas tree, the big one or small one?” Allan asks the little round face.

“The big one.”

“What did he look like?”

“He had a big green face with three horns on each side and green eyes with black lines through them going up his head and his body was covered in scary tattoos of children being eaten and he has big long claws and has a watch and when he presses the watch the green eyes come out of the watch onto the child to kill them and he was angry, and he knocked over the big dead tree.”

“Oh gosh, he sounds scary.”

“He is, Daddy. Will he eat me?”

“No, baby. Trolls eat lizard egg sandwiches topped off with worms and slime.”

“Eeeeww, that’s horrible.”

 “Have you ever seen a lizard in the garden?”

“No, Daddy.”

“Correct, which means that there is no food for trolls in the garden. Look, it’s late, get some sleep and don’t worry about trolls,” Allan says tucking her in.

“Okay, Daddy, love you.”

“I love you too, my little angel.” Kitty’s daddy kisses her on the forehead and goes downstairs and into the kitchen.  He goes into the garden and heads down to the big conifer scanning his surroundings as he looks for Gargoth the troll. Kitty was telling the truth. She did see him and described him perfectly even down to his scary tattoo’s. You see, Kitty doesn’t know this, but her mummy and daddy are Troll Hunters, descended from a long line of Troll Hunters who have fought trolls in Britain since the Viking Age which was over one thousand years ago and last year, whilst they were on holiday in Cornwall, they vanquished Gargoth and his family. They had been terrorising the village by eating people’s pets. Dogs, cats, rabbits, budgies, and even Old Miss Warrington-Smythe’s micropig, Horace, were all on the dinner table. The villagers were scared that once they had eaten all the cats and dogs, they would move on to eating the children. Good job they had their troll vanquisher with them.

Allan stops at the big conifer. It’s shadow looms across all the neighbours’ gardens. Lots of branches and shadows for a troll to hide in Allan thought to himself. Allan scans the tree. Gargoth is a Level four troll, almost top level, and is particularly nasty. He can shrink himself down to the size of an acorn or hide in a bird’s nest (once he’s eaten the birds and eggs) and once he’s shrunk down, he can stay that size for however long he wants. Is he there Allan thinks, sitting on a branch or in a bird’s nest watching, waiting. “Are you there, G?”  Allan asks. There is no answer, just a cool breeze moving a wind chime, or is it him Allan thinks? Allan backs away, his eyes never leaving the tree. He goes back into the house, locks the door and stands under the safety of the kitchen lights. Trolls don’t like bright lights so he’s installed the most powerful lightbulbs he can throughout the house. They cost a fortune, more than his best jumper. Anything to get an edge. Allan goes into the living room. Clare, Kitty’s mummy and his wife is sitting on the couch:

“She get down okay?” she asks.

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

“We have a problem though. Gargoth is back,” Allan says with a very worried look on his face.

“What? He can’t be. We turned him into stone last year,” Clare answers aghast!

“We did, but it must have worn off. I’ll need to adjust the vanquisher. We’ll be okay as long as the lights are on. Good job we keep the kitchen light on at night to keep the slugs out.”

“Indeed.”

In the morning Allan goes up into the attic. He rummages through dusty boxes and finds what he’s looking for under a tartan bedsheet: his troll vanquisher: a kind of cross between a wand and a blowpipe. He flicks the switch and hears a familiar low hum. The tip glows ever so slightly and briefly illuminates the dark loft. It still works. He makes some adjustments and hopes that it’s enough to take deal with Gargoth.

Later that night, after assuring Kitty that there isn’t a troll in the garden Allan goes out into the darkness. The troll vanquisher is ready.  He approaches the tree and says in a loud voice, “I’m here, Gargoth. Let’s finish this.” There is no answer. Allan scans the trees. Looking for shapes, movement, anything that confirms Gargoth is there. Nothing. Then, to Allan's great surprise, he sees a beam of light on a bush beside him. He turns around and sees Kitty, wearing her pyjamas and slippers, shining a small children’s torch on the bushes.

“What are you doing here, baby?”  

“Helping you vankoosh the troll. I heard you and Mummy talking about using your light on the troll. I have one too,” she says holding up her torch which she got with a children’s magazine.

“You can’t be here. Go back inside,” Allan says concerned. Just then, a rock whizzes by his head. “Quick, hide,” Allan shouts. Kitty ducks behind a compost bin and Allan rolls behind a small bush. There is a crunch as Gargoth drops from the trees. He’s small, about two foot high. He lets out a roar and expands to eight feet. His terrifying tattoos are visible under the moonlight.

“Hello, Allan,” he says, “Come out, come out wherever you are.”

Allan flicks the troll vanquisher on. Gargoth sees the light, runs over, grabs Allan and pulls him up, ripping the bush up as well at the same time.

“Hey, I love that bush,” Allan says.

“I loved my family,” Gargoth shouts as he tosses Allan through the air, “you turned them into stone,” he screams.

“You ate Horace the micropig,” Allan replies as he flies horizontally through the air.

“I’m going to eat your daughter,” Gargoth replies.

Allan crashes into the compost bin. Kitty looks terrified and covers her head with her hands. “Oh hi, baby. Daddy is taking care of this don’t you worry,” Allan says smiling. Gargoth grabs Allan by the ankle and starts spinning him around. The troll vanquisher flies out of Allan’s hand and into a pile of rotting compost. Allan hits the trunk of the conifer and lands in a heap.” Gargoth locates Kitty. He flicks on his wristwatch. A luminous green eye projects onto the ground. Kitty shrieks and jumps back. If that watch projection touches her, she’ll be frozen, and he’ll eat her. “That’s not happening,” Allan shouts. He sees a broken branch from the conifer on the ground and picks it up. Kitty stands in defiance, her torch pointing at Gargoth, the beam visible on his thigh. The light makes it look like his tattoos are moving and Kitty watches as a tattoo troll devours a tattoo child.

Gargoth grins and licks his lips. The projected green eye makes its way towards her. Her Daddy has seconds to act. Allan swings the branch. It misses the trolls head and clatters against his shoulder. Gargoth bellows and turns around to face his attacker. He clobbers Allan to the ground. Allan sees the eye projected from Gargoth’s watch approach. Just as it is about to touch his feet Gargoth freezes. His face grimaces as his body slowly starts turning into stone. Allan looks over and sees Kitty pointing his vanquisher at Gargoth.  “She can use a vanquisher, she’s done it, brave girl."  Allan says as he does a little celebratory dance. “Well done, Kitty,” Allan says picking her up. Gargoth’s stoney transformation is complete. He’s a scary statue now, ripe for smashing. “I’m very proud of you, darling,” Allan says hugging her, “you just vanquished your first troll.”

“Are there more, Daddy?”

“Oh, yes. Would you like to help me and Mummy vanquish them?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Lovely stuff,” Allan replies. “Tomorrow, we make you your own vanquisher.”

She smiles with glee. Allan does to. He was a little older than her when he stated troll hunting, but Allan is more than confident that Kitty can do it.

“Kitty is a Troll Hunter,” Allan proudly proclaims.