ot be the
slaves and brutes in human form, which the evil Trolls would have them;
and they rebel, and escape, and tell of the horrors of that fair foul
place. And then arises a noble indignation, and war between the Trolls
and the forest-children. But still the Trolls can tempt and bribe the
greedier or the more vain; and still the wonders inside haunt their
minds; till it becomes a fixed idea among them all, to conquer the garden
for themselves and bedizen themselves in the fine clothes, and drink
their fill of the wine. Again and again they break in: but the Trolls
drive them out, rebuild their walls, keep off those outside by those whom
they hold enslaved within; till the boys grow to be youths, and the
youths men: and still the Troll-garden is not conquered, and still it
shall be. And the Trolls have grown old and weak, and their walls are
crumbling away. Perhaps they may succeed this time--perhaps next.

And at last they do succeed--the fairy walls are breached, the fairy
palace stormed--and the Trolls are crouching at their feet, and now all
will be theirs, gold, jewels, dresses, arms, all that the Troll
possesses--except his cunning.

For as each struggles into the charmed ground, the spell of the place
falls on him. He drinks the wine, and it maddens him. He fills his arms
with precious trumpery, and another snatches it from his grasp. Each
envies the youth before him, each cries--Why had I not the luck to enter
first? And the Trolls set them against each other, and split them into
parties, each mad with excitement, and jealousy, and wine, till, they
scarce know how, each falls upon his fellow, and all upon those who are
crowding in from the forest, and they fight and fight, up and down the
palace halls, till their triumph has become a very feast of the Lapithae,
and the Trolls look on, and laugh a wicked laugh, as they tar them on to
the unnatural fight, till the gardens are all trampled, the finery torn,
the halls dismantled, and each pavement slippery with brothers' blood.
And then, when the wine is gone out of them, the survivors come to their
senses, and stare shamefully and sadly round. What an ugly, desolate,
tottering ruin the fairy palace has become! Have they spoilt it
themselves? or have the Trolls bewitched it? And all the fairy
treasure--what has become of it? no man knows. Have they thrown it away
in their quarrel? have the cunningest hidden it? have the Trolls flown
away with it, to