"So you can see that everything is going to depend on location.

My great-grand'ther used to say, "The three most important things for a successful bridge are location, location, and location." He's been gone these last three centuries, but his words still come back to me.

When I was a young brigand roaming from bridge to bridge, I used to think the old guy wasn't that smart.

Ninety years later, when I gave up the folly of youth, I was amazed to find out how much the old boy had learned.""Firstly, you need a place that needs a bridge.

If you build one in a wheat field, it will be a curiosity but not support your family.

You need a place that calls out to you and has those rare, natural attributes that lend themselves to bridges."Suzette was sitting in front of the troll, who was named Cogswallow, listening to his tail of bridgebuilding.

"Like a deep ravine or a river?"The troll smiled and patted her on the head.

"Exactly right.

My, you are catching onto the theory quickly.

My bridge has both those features, which eliminates many of the ways travelers might shirk their responsibilities to paying a toll.

Up until now, I had only two types of tolls: Gold or a challenge to battle.

I'm delighted to add polite conversation as a third way of paying.

I might even be able to start a trend.

So exciting."But I'm losing the theme; thank you for reminding me.

The second part of the location is to be on a well-traveled route.

Hard to feed the family if no one stops by now and then.

Ideally, the travelers are well off or prone to violence.

The third part of finding a good location is scouting for a source of suitable raw materials.

As you can see, I don't lack for large boulders in this area.

And that completes the list of things needed for a good bridge.""As darkness had fallen, the Cogswallow had cupped his hands and blew into them, producing a sound like a deep horn.

Within a minute, his family had joined them.

The two younger trolls, barely into their 30s and only ten feet tall, carried over a deadfall and broke the wood down to build a fire.

His wife, Nithopathia, climbed the cliff with a cauldron of water and put it on the fire.

Carrots, onions, and other vegetables of unknown type went into the cauldron, along with three large round stones.

The stone soup was served in carved wooden bowels that could hold over a gallon and large spoons of similar size.

The conversation continued into the night."…and then there is the economics of tossing knights off the bridge.

You have to, when attacked by several, to whittle them down, but that depletes your income.

Sure, I get a small fee for each knight from the kelpies in the water, but that's nothing compared to a ransom paid for a living knight and the value of the metal when sold to the dwarven foundry in the mountains..."… why, I'd have to think on that.

A sign stating my payment options and rates? It seems effective, but it takes away the thrill of discovering a customer's needs and how best to serve them..."… the horses? Why, I leave them be if I possibly can.

It's difficult if the knights strap themselves in.

I was so happy when our disinformation campaign bore fruit, and saddles went out of style.

We paid bards for a decade to disseminate the idea that riding bareback was a proper challenge for the best of nights.

Lances are next to useless without stirrups, and it made it so much easier to separate the knight from the mount and let the horses graze in the meadow while we dealt with the rider.

Some brownies come by each spring to take them into the mountains and let them roam the far meadows.

A few go back to their knights, of course, a sort of Stockholm syndrome, but that's up to them, not to me..."Sloth? Really? I've never heard of eating megatherium that way.

They are generally considered a stewing animal." The conversation had turned to cooking when Cogswallow took his children and did a quick patrol, ensuring they wouldn't be disturbed by nighttime predators or ambitious rogues.

Suzette had mentioned the recipe for Bear-Braised, Nine-Spice, Barbecued Megatherium, and Hot-Sloth Bacon.

The trollwife had been immediately interested and took notes, scratching with a claw tip on a thin board the size of a barn door."Ozzy doesn't cook much if it doesn't involve grilling or smoking the meat.

But he spends a lot of time making sauces and experimenting with different spices.

And then he smokes or slow cooks the meat for days on end."Nithopathia looked at the large forests surrounding them, full of huge trees.

"That has me thinking.

I have far too many large critters roaming around in these parts and no lack of wood.

And many hungry travelers.

Plus, the accursed gamers in their 'clubhouse.' Most of them are too busy taking their next turn to cook and end up eating sticks and uncooked stones.""You'd also increase traffic to your husband's business." Ben was rapidly changing his worldview on trolls and thinking of returning someday and writing a book.

Alwyn was uncharacteristically silent, pondering how many times he had jeopardized his own mounts without a thought.

The sound of heavy footsteps heralded the return of the patrol, along with the repeating chorus of Diggy Diggy Hole, a popular song sung by a group of dwarven bards named, of all things, Wind Rose.

I am a dwarf and I'm digging a holeDiggy diggy hole, diggy diggy holeI am a dwarf and I'm digging a holeDiggy diggy hole, digging a hole!

https://com/watch?v=34CZjsEI1yU