The Three Billy-Goats-Gruff

Once upon a time there were three Billy-Goats-Gruff. They lived a happy life on a pleasant hill eating everything in sight. However, the obliging hill could not keep up with the goats’ appetites. Day by day, munch by munch, the three Billy-Goats-Gruff ate all there was on the happy hill. But over a bridge and far away they could see another hill.

A bigger hill.

A greener hill.

So, one by one, the three Billy-Goats-Gruff crossed the bridge. Like hills are made for goats, bridges are made for trolls and this bridge was no different. The Troll heard the trip, trap, trip, trap of the smallest Billy-Goats-Gruff crossing his bridge.

“Who’s that tripping over my bridge?!” howled the Troll. The Troll was painting, you see, and did not like to be disturbed.

“Oh, my. What an unpleasant fellow!” the youngest and smallest Billy-Goats-Gruff simpered. “ It is I! The youngest Billy-Goats Gruff! I need to cross your bridge to get to that hill-so-green so I can become big and strong like my brothers. “

The Troll was not impressed.

“For your impudence I’m coming to gobble you up!” he cried.

“Oh, no! Please don’t eat me! I am too small to make a proper meal for a troll so grand as you. Wait until my brother comes. He’s much bigger than I.”

“Humpf!” snuffed the Troll. “Fine! Be off with you.” So the smallest Billy-Goats-Gruff trip, trap’d on and made it to the greener hill and began munching away at the sweet grass.

All too soon, the second Billy-Goats Gruff began to cross the Troll’s bridge.

The Troll heard the Tromp, Trip, Tromp, Trip of the second Billy-Goats-Gruff crossing his bridge.

“Who’s that tromping over my bridge?!” sneered the Troll, but he knew only too well.

“It is I! The second Billy-Goats-Gruff!” he exclaimed. He was startled by the Troll, but too big to show it. “I must cross your bridge to get to that hill so-green so I can become even stronger like my brother.”

The Troll was not impressed.

“For your impudence I’m coming to gobble you up!” he cried.

“Oh, you really don’t want me. I’m big and strong but you can do better. If you wait for my brother to come, he is even bigger than I.” The second Billy-Goats-Gruff said persuasively.

“Ugh!” huffed the Troll. “Fine! Be off with you.” So the second Billy-Goats-Gruff Tromp, Trip’d on and made it to the greener hill and began munching away at the sweet grass with the smallest Billy-Goats-Gruff.

By now, the Troll had worked up quite an appetite so when he heard the CLOMP, TROMP, CLOMP, TROMP of the biggest Billy-Goats-Gruff he leaped on to the bridge.

“Who’s that clomping on my bridge?!” bellowed the Troll.

“It is I! THE BIGGEST BILLY-GOATS-GRUFF!” his booming voice rumbled the entire bridge. “And I will cross this bridge to get to that hill so-green so I can stay the biggest and strongest of them all!”

This time, the Troll was pretty impressed.

“Well, for you and your brother’s impudence I’m going to gobble you up!” he cried.

But the Biggest Billy-Goats-Gruff knew just what to do. He charged at the Troll, breaking against him with his mighty horns. The troll fell to his death in the rushing, gushing river below, never finishing his painting.

Meanwhile, the Biggest Billy-Goats-Gruff COMP, TROMP’D on and made it to the greener hill and began munching away at the sweet grass with his two brothers where they stayed fat and happy until they chose not to be. 

The End