"Elena has often annoyed me in the past," laughed Terli, "so it is only fair I should try and annoy her in the future"—and he sat down cross-legged at the bottom of a water trough to arrange his plans quietly in seclusion.
An old horse came by, dragging a creaking waggon, and the driver stopped to allow the animal to drink.
The Troll raised himself leisurely, and as the horse put in his head, Terli seized it in both hands, and hung on so firmly that it was impossible for the poor creature to get away.
"Let go!" said the horse, angrily—for he understood the Troll language. "Let me go! What are you doing?"
"I shan't let you go till you make me a promise. You get the Wood-Troll to cork up the Church Fountain at daybreak on Friday morning, and I'll let you drink as much as you like now, and go without hindrance afterwards."
"I shan't promise," said the horse, crossly. "I don't see why I should."
"Well, I shall hang on till you do," said the Troll with a disagreeable laugh; and he gripped the old horse more tightly than ever.
"Oh, leave off! I'm being suffocated. I'll promise anything," cried the horse.
"'LET GO!' SAID THE HORSE, ANGRILY. 'LET ME GO! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?'"