The Troll Stone

A witty lad named Andrew Laine lived by a deep dark wood,
and he had gathered all his gear, as any quester would;
he used his crafting tools to set a complicated trap
for bait he used a half-moon charm he borrowed from his Pap.

The legends said that through the woods and on the other side
a Kingdom waited for a lad who made it out alive;
but he must make it past a bridge kept by an evil troll,
and free the Kingdom’s Princess from a stone that held her soul.

A leprechaun found Andrew’s trap and stole the charm with mirth,

but lo! it cast its magic spell and threw him to the earth;
thus caught in Andrew’s focused gaze he looked him in the eye,
and bound by truthful honor, now, he couldn’t run or lie.

“A clever lad you are,” he said, “a clever lad indeed,
but passage through the forest here, requires more of thee.
Now give me something that you have, of value and of gain
and I will give you something back, but first you must explain.”

So Andrew said, “a leprechaun should find this thing a must,”
as he presented sandpaper with sparkling diamond dust.
“To polish your shillelagh smooth, like nothing has before,
to make your lucky charms to shine with magic evermore.”

“The deal is done,” said leprechaun, “choose wisely just the same.”
Without a pause, Andrew declared, “Just give me your real name.”
Held by the truth of faerie law the leprechaun declared,
“Oh clever lad, you’ve captured me, the name is Cleeth O’Beard.”

“Three wishes then, the first will be to take you to your goal.”
“Just stop your mischief,” Andrew said, “and take me to the troll.”
Now folks all know that trolls live off the gold of passers by,
or kill the ones who cannot pay, and eat them in their pie.

The nasty troll all gray and gruff with sabered teeth like pikes,
stood twelve feet tall with mighty club and pointed sharpened spikes.
“You have no gold that I can see, prepare to be my meal.”
“Back off,” he said, “I have more gold than you could ever steal.”

“You see this leprechaun, he’s mine, and so’s his pot of gold.
It’s mine to give, but first I want, the soul-stone that you hold.”
The troll envisioned all that gold, more than he’d ever got,
and mesmerized he tossed the stone to Andrew on the spot.

“I wish the Princess free,” he yelled, (her fleeing essence shone)
“and put that nasty troll right here,” he pointed to the stone.
And that is how King Andrew got his riches and his bride
and in his pot of gold there sits the stone with troll inside.