The Billy Goat Gruff stood proudly in the centre of the bridge.
“It is safe to pass, my lady. I have defeated the troll.”
The lady goat glared at him. “You brute,” she bleated. She turned on her hooves, flicked up her tail and stalked off.
Billy’s ears drooped. He jumped down from the bridge and sat on his haunches next to the troll who lay on his back under the stone archway.
“It’s no use,” he lamented. “These new age girls don’t appreciate duels like they used to. At the rate I’m going, I’ll be left with a harem of two. While Goat Charming Hooves swoons the ladies with his golden horns and inbred charisma. I’ll be the laughing stock of Goatdom.”
The troll sat up and rubbed at a perfect indent of a hoof print on his forehead.
“Maybe I should have howled louder?”
Billy shook his head sadly then clambered to his feet.
“It’s not your fault I’m a loser. Here, let me rub it better.” He rubbed his curly horn over the blackening bruise. A clip, clop echoed overhead. Two white faces peered over the bridge.
“Oh,” said one female goat. “Will you look at that?”
A second blonde face looked down.
“Well isn’t that the sweetest thing? He’s helping poor old troll who fell off the bridge.” She nudged her friend. “Let’s stay here. It’s hard to find a true gentlegoat in these parts.”