For A Few Olafs More...
Here is a return to my series of Where did Olaf the Troll go? ficlets in answer to a challenge at ‘Twisting The Hellmouth’. A sequel to A Fistful of Trolls. 500 words.
For A Few Olafs More
Colonel Mortimer puffed on his meerschaum pipe and squinted at the two bounty hunters. “El Indio is mine,” he told them. “When two hunters go after the same prey, they usually end up shooting each other in the back. And we don’t want to shoot each other in the back.”
“I wouldn’t advise shooting Olaf in the back,” the Man With No Name warned. “That would just make him mad.”
Mortimer raised an eyebrow. “He’s that tough?”
“I am, eagle-nosed one,” Olaf boomed. “Mightiest of all the trolls.”
“Like I said, we don’t want to shoot each other in the back,” Colonel Mortimer repeated. “Maybe we should work out some kind of compromise.”
The Man With No Name raised an eyebrow in his turn. “Compromise? Share the bounties?”
“Something like that,” Mortimer said. “Indio is mine. That’s not negotiable. But you two could have the bounties on the rest of the gang. Groggy, the Hunchback, Nino, Slim, and the others.”
“Maybe,” the Man With No Name mused. His left hand dipped inside his serape and emerged holding a thin cheroot. He placed it in his mouth, took out a match, and struck it on the railroad workers’ hammer that Olaf was holding. The bounty hunter lit the cheroot and drew on it deeply and then blew out a cloud of blue smoke. “To catch the whole gang, down to the last hombre, we’d need to know exactly where they’re going to be so we can catch them in an ambush,” he said. “What we need is somebody on the inside.” His forehead creased. “Wait a minute. I remember now. Groggy’s already in prison.”
“We could get him out,” Olaf suggested, twirling the enormous hammer between his fingers like a pencil.
“That would be a pretty good way of getting somebody on the inside of Indio’s gang,” Colonel Mortimer agreed. “If he turned up with Indio’s amigo Groggy in tow Indio would greet him with open arms.”
“He?” queried the Man With No Name. “Why shouldn’t it be you?”
“I’ve crossed swords with the Hunchback already,” Mortimer told him. “I’d have to kill him and that would spoil the welcome party more than somewhat.”
“Good point,” the Man With No Name conceded. “So that means it’s either me, or Olaf. Now, which one of us would best suit the part of a bandito?”
- - - - -
“Ho, puny banditos,” Olaf boomed. “I bring your good amigo Groggy, freed from prison by my mighty hammer, and I come to join your band. The gringos will do well to flee from our wrath. We shall pillage their ranches and dwellings, rob their banks, rustle their cattle, and make merry sport with saloon girls and black-eyed senoritas.”
El Indio looked at the huge troll. His eyes widened as he took in the green skin and the horns. He took the marijuana cigarette from his mouth, looked at it, and then looked back at Olaf. “I theenk,” Indio said slowly, “I have to give up the funny cigarettes.”
For A Few Olafs More
Colonel Mortimer puffed on his meerschaum pipe and squinted at the two bounty hunters. “El Indio is mine,” he told them. “When two hunters go after the same prey, they usually end up shooting each other in the back. And we don’t want to shoot each other in the back.”
“I wouldn’t advise shooting Olaf in the back,” the Man With No Name warned. “That would just make him mad.”
Mortimer raised an eyebrow. “He’s that tough?”
“I am, eagle-nosed one,” Olaf boomed. “Mightiest of all the trolls.”
“Like I said, we don’t want to shoot each other in the back,” Colonel Mortimer repeated. “Maybe we should work out some kind of compromise.”
The Man With No Name raised an eyebrow in his turn. “Compromise? Share the bounties?”
“Something like that,” Mortimer said. “Indio is mine. That’s not negotiable. But you two could have the bounties on the rest of the gang. Groggy, the Hunchback, Nino, Slim, and the others.”
“Maybe,” the Man With No Name mused. His left hand dipped inside his serape and emerged holding a thin cheroot. He placed it in his mouth, took out a match, and struck it on the railroad workers’ hammer that Olaf was holding. The bounty hunter lit the cheroot and drew on it deeply and then blew out a cloud of blue smoke. “To catch the whole gang, down to the last hombre, we’d need to know exactly where they’re going to be so we can catch them in an ambush,” he said. “What we need is somebody on the inside.” His forehead creased. “Wait a minute. I remember now. Groggy’s already in prison.”
“We could get him out,” Olaf suggested, twirling the enormous hammer between his fingers like a pencil.
“That would be a pretty good way of getting somebody on the inside of Indio’s gang,” Colonel Mortimer agreed. “If he turned up with Indio’s amigo Groggy in tow Indio would greet him with open arms.”
“He?” queried the Man With No Name. “Why shouldn’t it be you?”
“I’ve crossed swords with the Hunchback already,” Mortimer told him. “I’d have to kill him and that would spoil the welcome party more than somewhat.”
“Good point,” the Man With No Name conceded. “So that means it’s either me, or Olaf. Now, which one of us would best suit the part of a bandito?”
- - - - -
“Ho, puny banditos,” Olaf boomed. “I bring your good amigo Groggy, freed from prison by my mighty hammer, and I come to join your band. The gringos will do well to flee from our wrath. We shall pillage their ranches and dwellings, rob their banks, rustle their cattle, and make merry sport with saloon girls and black-eyed senoritas.”
El Indio looked at the huge troll. His eyes widened as he took in the green skin and the horns. He took the marijuana cigarette from his mouth, looked at it, and then looked back at Olaf. “I theenk,” Indio said slowly, “I have to give up the funny cigarettes.”