The Barbarian and the Troll

Aha!

Aha.

- You better start talking. - You missed me!

I'm gonna dodge every blow.

Tell me.

- Huh? - Tell me where that demon is,

or I'll slice you in half.

Demons? I don't know any demons.

I know you helped him.

Your foul slime was all over the doorknob to his cave.

I ain't no snitch.

Eh, who puts a door on a cave, anyway?

Tell me where that demon is,

or I'll get to see what you had for breakfast.

I had a sunrise scramble on toast points.

Brendar.

Unhand that serpent at once.

Really? Now?

I was just at my big finish.

I didn't appear in a magical vision to argue with you.

But Queen Shimmerian,

I spent, like, three days

tracking this serpent to his lair.

That was three days

you should have spent maintaining the Royal Order.

Ugh.

You keep going on these pointless quests.

- They aren't pointless. - Yeah, except they are.

Ow, ow. Ow, ow, ah!

What's the princess-warrior's most important job in her life?

To smile while cutting ribbons at solstice festivals.

- Exactly. - Oh, wow, that's essential.

If all we're meant to be is ribbon cutters,

why do you train us to be warriors?

To make you strong so you can be self-sufficient

yet completely dependent at the same time.

But Queen, the demon Alvin killed my mother

and took my brother Kendar.

He's the only family I have left.

Wow. That's a lot of exposition.

We should be your family.

And I've had enough of your shenanigans.

How did you find out about my shenanigans?

I see all!

And someone ratted you out.

It was I.

Hey, gossip girls.

Wanna know what it really feels like to be stabbed

- in the back? - Ow! Ow-ow!

Oh, you're fine.

You've had so many "secret quests"

that the people of Gothmoria have given you a slogan.

Ooh, what it is? Over five billion severed?

You are known to be feared and revered throughout the land.

Oh, it rhymes.

You're a loose cannon, Brendar.

Therefore, I'm taking your sword...

sparkly tunic...

and your sensible soled footwear.

- No! - Yes. I'm demoting you back down to...

- Moat duty? - Worse.

Barbarian.

But then how will I be able to rescue my brother?

May Brendar be an example to every warrior-princess:

disobey your queen, you'll be shunned

and cut from the family. Like a ribbon.

Hey. She forgot to take my sword.

Yoink.

She kicked me out of the Order.

She took my boots and my sword.

I loved that sword.

So how do you think you're gonna

- slice me in half now, barbarian? - I'll show you.

Wha? What's happening?

That's not good.

Uh, okay, hold on, wait, wait, wait...

Ow! Oof! Uh! Yow!

- I'll ask you again. - Ow!

- Where is the demon Alvin? - All right, fine.

Last I saw, he was headed to the jungles of Ganthor.

But you'll never defeat him, he's too strong.

- I'm pretty strong too. - Huh?

No, no, no, no, no, no!

Yee-ouch!

- Eh, I'm okay. - Brendar the Barbarian, huh?

That has a nice ring to it.

"On another personal quest

to amend her complicated and mysterious backstory,

Brendar the Barbarian defeated a large serpent

with her bare hands?"

Hey, can you check the sports page?

I wanna see who won in the Giants versus the Bears.

- The Giants crushed the Bears. - Aw, come on!

That's a sack of coin I'll never see again.

Don't you cross my bridge without paying a toll!

Surrender your silver or surrender your life!

Show yourself, mighty tollbooth operator.

Um, technically, I'm a troll-booth operator.

Uh, either way, I've gotta collect a silver piece.

Aw, come on, mister. My ol' goat has a bum hip,

so we can't wade through the stream like we used to.

Body-shaming your goat's not gonna help.

I gotta collect a toll. Troll king's rules, not mine.

Let me at him! Let me at him!

Get ready to butt heads, butthead!

- Uh-oh. - You made Helen mad,

and you don't wanna deal with a cranky goat.

Okay, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.

No need for violence.

- All right, I'll make you a deal. - Hey, it's okay.

Um. Ooh. I'll play you a song,

and then if you leave a donation, I'll consider the toll paid.

- Well. - Eh.

- Guess so. - Ooh.

Here goes.

Yeah!

That was just awful.

Yeah, I feel like you owe me money now.

That was my best song.

- Well, now we know the problem. - Your songs are super boring.

Yeah, you need to get out there.

- Get you some life experience. - All right.

That review was both hurtful and constructive,

but you know what?

Reviews don't count as payment.

Ah.

By the power vested in me by the Troll King,

- your bridge access is denied. - Ah!

You know what to do, Helen.

Head down, aim for the doughy midsection.

You should get out and see the world.

Might help your songs.

Hit up my goat yoga class and tighten that core.

Honestly, it was like headbutting a bag of pudding.

Oh, yeah, now I hear it.

That little girl and her goat were right.

My lyrics are so limited.

I gotta get out from under this bridge.

I gotta put myself out there.

I heard you got your butt kicked!

Wha?

Ah! Your Majesty.

A troll doesn't let anyone cross without collecting a toll.

No matter what. It's our thing.

But Dad, it was two against one!

- A preteen and a goat named Helen? - Wha?

Whoa, that was fast.

This bridge belonged to your grandfather.

He used to terrify villagers

- throughout Gothmoria. - Here we go.

Mounted knights would poop their armor

just to try to avoid crossing here.

Yeah, how would that help?

And now you've turned it into a lute lounge!

Yeah. Sorry, Dad.

I guess I was too overprotective as a father.

Maybe I should've let your mother eat you

when you were a baby.

Well, she still tries to eat me all the time.

That's a troll mother's prerogative, son.

Yeah, but she keeps giving me

flagons of barbecue sauce marked "body splash"

- for my birthdays. - Yeah.

So Dad, can I ask you a question?

Here we go.

What if my future were more about music

and less... mm... bridge-oriented?

Less bridge-oriented?!

You're a troll prince! This bridge is your blood!

It's your blood, not mine!

I need to put myself out there,

maybe go on a journey or something.

Unbelievable.

You really think you're gonna get somewhere in life

plucking that little lute of yours?

Jesters pluck, Dad.

- I strum! - Ha!

And if you ever listened,

you'd probably give me a very positive review,

but you never listen!

I'm a king! I don't listen to no one!

Look, you were born

a Royal Keeper of the Bridges of Gothmoria.

Oh, for the last time, I am a music guy!

I am not a bridge guy.

But if you can't see that,

well, then maybe I should go.

Don't do this, Evan.

Don't throw it all away for dreams and feelings!

If you leave this bridge now, young man,