Story the Twentieth:
Seven of Swords
The Three Billy Goats
I, Owen Rivertroll, residing under the Canyon Rapids Bridge, wish to register a complaint.
On the 20th of April around noon, I was taking my customary nap in my lair under the bridge when I was startled from my slumber by a gentle rapping on the planks above.
Irritated upon this sudden disturbance, I leapt up to the surface to realise the culprit was an adolescent billy goat. Knowing that I would be petrified within a quarter of an hour while exposed to the sunlight, I resolved to prey upon him, but the young billy goat pleaded to let him cross the bridge and wait for the middle brother (there were apparently three), in such a mournful tone that I was obliged to compel and let him cross the bridge.
No sooner had I been lulled back into sleep, that I was suddenly startled for the second time, this time by vigorous tramps and strides above. Realising it must be the middle billy goat, I sprang up to confront him upon the bridge, to quite really behold that he was the culprit. When I threatened to prey upon him, the young adult billy goat pleaded to let him cross and wait for the big brother's arrival, in such a mournful tone that I was obliged to compel and let him cross the bridge.
It was a little more than an instant that I napped when I resumed my beauty sleep (believe it or not, we river trolls can be aesthetically conscious), when a sound like loud thunder caused me to leap up to the bridge in a rage. The eldest of the three billy goat brothers was a fully grown one, with horns like a battering ram and four muscular legs, but I was not afraid at all.
However, before I could lunge at such a worthy opponent, I found myself with a splash at the bottom of the rapids. Luckily, the sunlight had turned me into such a heavy rock that I was unable to feel much pain, and that the stream was unable to sweep me away.
Ladies and gentlemen, after having told you nothing but the truth, I leave it to you to decide whether these affronts should be vindicated.