Abe rubbed the knot on his skull, wondering if he was hallucinating. There were three beautiful maidens wading in a still part of the waters. Their skirts were hitched up, revealing their calves. The women wore fine dresses with their top coats and cloaks stretched on a blanket beside the river. He saw a handcart with the rest of their belonging next to a campsite.

Abe’s eyes couldn’t help but wander to their full bosoms, pushed up like costume players would at a Renaissance faire. For a moment he expected them to be scandalized but their eyes lit up with hope instead of anxiety or rancor. They waved, so he approached, puzzled. He would assume three women in the frontier to be much warier of strangers.

They all appeared somewhat related with the same shade of lightly russet braided hair tucked under finely laced hoods. His head throbbed suddenly, making him go to one knee. Abe realized that he was still exhausted. The first maiden reached him, clucking like a mother in some foreign language, realizing his distress. He must look like a mess, with bedraggled clothes and hair matted with blood, yet as his eyes fluttered Abe let himself relax.

Abe didn’t notice the gap in time but he found himself on the stretched blanket, head nestled on the lap of a maiden as another brought him something to drink in a small jug. It was fermented and strong, with spices. They cleaned his wound, applying some kind of poultice to the cut and wiping his brow with a wet cloth. Abe stared happily up at the chest swelling above him. His head spun from the drink, so he closed his eyes to stop it for a moment.

“My lord,” a voice spoke. His eyes snapped open. Abe had fallen asleep again without realizing it. They’d put a blanket over him, and his head rested on a different maiden’s lap this time. Their eyes peered at him with the same hopeful expectation.

“Yes?” he croaked.

With a heavy accent, one of them asked, “Are you to be our betrothed?”

Abe’s mouth hung open.

He managed to cough out, "This must be a case of mistaken identity. My name is Abraham, but everyone calls me Abe.”

They cocked their heads, confused. The one who appeared to the default leader asked, “You are not the King of the Mountain? We were told this region was of the Great Mountain Clan, ruled by the Troll King, Omgar. We have waited the allotted time in the promised place. We worried some trouble may have come to you, or him, as it may be.”

“Honestly, I’ve never heard of Omgar. Of the Mountain Clan, I saw a few not long ago, but let’s say they were not on the best of terms.”

One of the maidens wailed, “See, I knew it. The Troll King would not be such a man. He must be a beast, as the stories say.”

If this Omgar looked anything like the other trolls, Abe wasn’t about to give them the bad news just yet.

The lead maiden tried to calm them down, “If this man says he has seen the Clan, we are close. We have made our peace, do not falter now. Let us rest and eat, and tomorrow we will plan how to find our future husband as it appears he will not come to us.”

The women adeptly prepared a shelter for the night near the shore of the river. A pot was hung over the fire and Abe made to rest on makeshift bedding that appeared to be intended to be shared by all of them under a wide lean-to they erected. If this prospect troubled him, he did not say as the smell of food made his stomach grumble. Introductions were finally made once things had settled down. The eldest, and the de facto leader, was Mariken who was tall with a slender neck and, as Abe had guessed, was the first cousin of the two younger maidens, sisters, Aril and Karil. Their appearance and names were similar to European and Scandinavian ones, but with odd differences such as tan skin, compared to the generally pale ones of the locals. Abe guessed they had traveled far, perhaps from a sunnier clime, but they were vague about their origins.

This was all right by Abe, as he didn’t want too many questions about his either. He felt a pang, but avoided thoughts about Piro’s fate. There was nothing he could do until he found where the Clan had taken her. Abe guessed that the quest of the three maidens would coincide with his own, but he was not sure how as of yet.

Karil stirred the pot, adding ingredients until she deemed it ready. The traveler’s stew was hearty and spicy, and Abe thought it was the best thing ever. “Sorry, Piro,” he muttered to himself as he blew on his portion, ladled onto a porcelain plate. He admired it.

Mariken noticed his appraisal, “A wedding gift from my parents.”

“They must be quite wealthy.”

“Of course, he is a baron, while my cousins are sixth in line to the throne of our land. They wouldn’t sacrifice the true heirs, of course,” she said bitterly.

“Blue bloods seem to be coming out of the woodwork around here. More chiefs than Indians,” he joked. By this time, the three maidens had become accustomed to Abe’s typical outbursts so they didn’t question his bizarre soliloquys. Abe did wonder how often normal people would encounter nobility on the road. “At least Piro is just a regular gal,” he said without irony.

Abe finished his plate, slaking his thirst with more of the heady spiced mead or whatever it was. His ears were red from the alcohol as he asked, “So, why are you off in the wilderness to marry some fellow you’ve never met, if I may ask?”

After the main course, Karil had set up a blanket with various cut fruits, meats, and sweets from their stores and more of the alcoholic beverage was brought out. Aril cleaned the dishes at the river as Mariken hosted their guest, refusing when he offered to help. “Try this,” she said as she put spread onto some kind of hard cracker.

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“It’s delicious,” he said. “Fit for a king, I’d say. Shouldn’t you be saving this for your real lord?”

“I think we will be prizes enough,” she replied, haughtily. She summarized their reasons for searching for the Troll King: “Our land has suffered under a long drought and the men are poor or already married. We have come to offer ourselves to the Troll King, for good winds, and favor, as our people have for generations. Or so the soothsayers promised us. No one ever returns, so we do not know our fate, but then again, who does?”

A bit drunk, Abe said, “That’s shitty. This troll clan is a rough bunch. They snatched my friends in the dark of night and are the ones who gave me this knock on the noggin’.”

Karil wrapped her arms around him, her chest pushing against him, “They must be beasts! Cousin, must we go through with this mad adventure?”

“We made a vow. Shall we betray our ancestors? We know of the trolls and their harshness but we must endure it,” her voice wavered, betraying her own doubts.

Abe tried not to alarm them further, “They seem human enough. A little toothy, I guess. I’m sure their mother’s love them. They could have finished me off, but they didn’t though that may have been practicality rather than mercy.”

Aril had come back by this point, “Can’t be worse than the Kude boy, Haben. I was promised to him for a while. He never bathed.”

Abe’s tongue had loosened up a bit from the alcohol, prompting him to brag, “Well, I’m technically a king of sorts. You can join me, if you want. I already have a first wife lined up though.”

Karil seemed to be delighted by this, “Cousin! Perhaps this is the good fortune we were waiting for. He could buy out the Troll King, I’m sure he’d accept the dowry fee! How many serve in your fief, lord? Are your granaries full, and the animals fat where you hold land? I just ask for a small plot of my own, perhaps a vineyard and some ponies plus the usual stipend for expenses.”

“Well, about that, I don’t have any holdings yet. Been planning on that though,” he said, slightly abashed.

Karil seemed crestfallen but allowed him to keep his head on her bosom. Mariken said, collegially, “Not all fortune is in land. I am sure our friend has many prospects. However, we’d have to decline as we have already been pledged.”

Aril shook her head with a wry expression. She said, “I suggest we find the Troll King and help Abe get back his friends.”

“You’re not afraid?” Abe asked as Karil squeezed him harder.

Aril continued, “Of course we are, but we know our duty. Our people are strong. Do not worry, we will speak to the King.”

She took a long swig from the liquor jug before pulling out what appeared to be a lyre. A bit drunk, she began singing a pleasing tune in her home tongue.

Karil grew flushed and threw a berry at her sister, “That’s disgusting. Stop that.”

Mariken chuckled as Aril began singing even louder. Abe sat puzzled until the first cousin told him, “It’s an old brothel song. Much you know...” She winked at Abe and made a lewd gesture with her hands. He was bemused by her candor. In some places, he assumed a woman expressing such things was scandalous, but not where he was from, and, apparently, not in their world either. Even Karil settled down and hummed along despite her short-lived objections.

Aril stood up to do a jig as she played the lyre. Mariken was totally into her cups by this point, dancing saucily to the tune as Karil snuggled with Abe. Taking another swig, he said, “Maybe I did die and go to heaven.” Mariken was apparently doing a brothel number, as she squatted luridly, simulating a particular sex act. Her cheeks were blazing red as Karil and Abe clapped along.

Abe was about to ask how such noble girls had learned such entertainments, but he held his tongue. He wasn’t an idiot. Mariken twirled until she collapsed, laughing onto Karil and Abe. Her face was pushed up, pink and alluring, into Abe’s as she nuzzled him. Karil giggled underneath both of them. There was a brief moment when Mariken’s heavy lidded eyes seemed to signal total abandonment yet Abe held back. Aril spun around them, jamming on her lyre as if daring them to go over the brink.

The precarious moment lapsed, culminating with Abe falling face first into Karil’s chest, already snoring. Mariken rolled over to lose consciousness herself. It was left to Aril to bank the fire and arrange the blankets over them. She hummed the ribald tune as she found a spot to share the limited space.

Abe had a tough time hiding his case of blue balls the next morning, but somehow he managed. His dreams did not help. Not surprisingly they involved naked nymphs playing in a vast underground grotto. Abe found himself swimming in a blood warm pool that seemed to go on forever. A gentle thrum of a heartbeat enveloped him. The rational part of his mind told him this was some kind of metaphor for the womb but he was distracted by the flash of skin ahead of him. Hungrily, he found what he was looking for, a mysterious female that he grasped but she kept slipping away like an eel. Her dark hair floated in the water, and her eyes were deep like voids. He shivered but kept pursuing her as he burned with desire. A great thirst made him search for the female’s womanhood, but the erotic dream eluded a satisfying conclusion.

He awoke with only a mild headache but a sense of missed opportunity. The maidens had already been up for quite a while, completing their morning ablutions and breaking down much of the camp. They had bundled much of their supplies into packs, as the journey up the mountain was unsuitable for the handcart. When he argued to help carry, they stoically shook their heads and would brook no further discussion on the matter.

Mariken handed him a skin of fresh water after he had washed himself, “You will need this. Show us where you saw the Mountain Clan, perhaps we can find their trail from there.”

“Are you sure you really want to do this?”

“Yes, even without you, we would continue our quest. We are pledged to marry the Troll King and it is our only goal.” It was apparent that nothing he said or did could dissuade them of this.

A thought came to him as he took a sip of the cold water to clear his throat. He asked, “So, how exactly were you supposed to meet this Troll King whom you’ve never seen nor never met?”

“Why, as the stories say, when the spring equinox has passed and the days grow longer, the valley where the rivers meet is where the Troll King shall find his betrothed who burns the incense for three days,” Mariken repeated, as if by rote. “We burned incense for seven days in two different valleys like this one before you showed up.”

Abe just stared for a moment, befuddled, “And that’s supposed to work?” He wondered but didn't speak aloud his thought that the other sacrifices must have just run away or been lost to bandits or the elements.

Aril said, “Well it didn’t, so we need you to lead the way now, minor Lord.” She’d given him that knick-name after he had admitted he held no land. He didn’t want to also admit that he had gotten lost, so he picked the most likely direction. “Okay, that ridge over there. I think I crossed that the other day.”

They set off with Abe in the lead, hoping he wasn’t sending them all into a hopeless situation. Perhaps it was the bump in the head, but it seemed rational to accept that three beautiful maidens would give themselves to some monstrous troll and not run screaming the other way. If somehow he could see Piro again, he hoped there would be a way to recover his weapons and rescue her, as well as the three maidens from their fate.

This was sheer madness of course.