Norman didn't sleep well at all that night. She kept seeing Gertrude being devoured by her mother. Once she even thought that maybe this whole meeting was planned by Gertrude so the trolls could kidnap both of them. ‘How absurd!’ she thought. Gertrude was not the one who requested the meeting. Soon morning came, announcing a beautiful day. Norman stumbled out of bed, dressed and wandered the castle. She was very anxious about the impending meeting.
Norman was not the only one who had slumbered badly. Gertrude’s sleep fled as he had terrible nightmares of the queen swallowing him whole. In the morning, his mother found Gertrude sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a hot mug of blog. He jumped when she waddled into the room. Her small figure was draped in a calico-like dress, with a shawl pulled tight around her slouched shoulders. She was a small figure, a good head shorter than Norman. Her bulging blue eyes seemed to hold so much wisdom. “Mother, you startled me!” Looking at her, his face contorted in a pretend scowl.
“What are you doing out of bed, my son? Are you up early to help this old troll build a fire in her oven?” She smiled at her son, thinking of how much he looked like his father. Her eyes started to water. “Oh! When you start the fire, do you think you could bring up a couple of bags of cattail flour for me? My back is telling me that it doesn't feel very well today.”
Gertrude smiled at his mother. He would do anything she asked. He had a lot of respect and love for her. He jumped up from the small stool, went over to the woodpile and then threw a couple pieces of wood into the old clay oven, also gathering some dried grasses from a large basket, stuffing it under the wood, setting it alight. Soon the warmth of the oven was driving the dampness out of the room. He fetched both bags of cattail flour and placed them next to his mother's workspace.
“Please join me for breakfast, my son. I have some hazelnut-raspberry slug tarts that I saved from my work yesterday. You look like you need some nourishment, and I know how much you enjoy them.” She looked at him and smiled one of those irresistible ‘mother’ smiles.
Gertrude poured himself and his mother a mug of blog and sat down at the opposite end of the table. They both sat quietly, eating the tarts and sipping the hot, milky-green blog. Gertrude's mother was the first to break the silence.
“My son, are you still planning on going through with this meeting you have scheduled for this late afternoon?” She looked up from her meal and glanced over towards Gertrude. “You know how I feel about humans. I believe that none of them can be trusted – not even your friend. I am sure no good will come from this.”
Gertrude looked at his mother thoughtfully. There was a lot of truth in what she said. It had been a human who had killed his father, twenty-eight years ago. He was an infant when it had happened. His mother was left to provide for him. He didn't hate the humans and he didn't think his mother did either, but there was a lot of doubt whether they could be trusted or not. One thing Gertrude was sure of was that his friend Norman could be trusted. “Mother, I have my doubts about humans, but not Norman. She seems very different from all the other humans that I have had the misfortune to meet. She is kind. After all, she gave me such fine gifts.”
His mother looked at him with pride swelling in her heart. She could not argue the fact that it was very unusual, in fact, unheard of for a human to give a troll the gift of friendship. She had always taught her son to trust in himself. “You have a good heart, my son. If you must follow your heart today, follow it with caution.” She got up from the table and busied herself with her work.