“Welcome to Arcadia, Stranger. Can I offer you a cool glass of juice?”
The source pf this greeting was a rather gnomish old man who was perched on the seat of a tricycle vending cart. He seemed to take my appearance, both my physical makeup and my presence at this time and place, so casually I almost replied before remembering that I had a front to maintain. It’s a bit of a bother, but I’ve found no one will hire a well-mannered troll.
“Good! Good! Crunch thirsty!”
With my best guttural growl, I grabbed two of the offered glasses and popped them in my mouth, rolling my eyes as I chewed happily. It’s a good bit … one that seldom fails to take folks aback. The gnome, however, never batted an eye.
“Don’t think I’ve seen you before. Stranger. What brings you to Arcadia?”
I decided to abandon any further efforts at intimidating him and instead got right to the point.
“Crunch looking for friend. Seen little woman . . . so high . . . with green hair?”
“As a matter of fact, she was just by a little bit ago. She a friend of yours?”
I nodded my head vigorously and showed my fangs.
“Crunch likes little woman. Pulled thorn from Crunch’s foot once. Where little woman go?”
“Well, she asked me where the police station was, then took off in that direction . . . that way.”
An awfully nice chap, really. I decided I could afford to unbend a little.
“Crunch thanks nice man. If nice man needs strong friend, call Crunch, okay?”
“Sure thing. And if I can help you any more, just give a holler.”
I left then before we got too chummy. I mean, there are precious few people who will be civil, much less nice, to a troll, and I was afraid of getting more interested in continuing my conversation with him than with finding Tananda. For the good of Arcadia, that would never do.