Spiderlight

by Adrian Tchaikovsky

The one time he had tried to lead the fellowship across country, long before the Wood of the Spiders, he had managed to guide them into the same nest of troll-men three times, to the exasperation of all concerned, not least the troll-men, who had grown increasingly jaded about being set on fire and having their limbs hacked off.

“Love, you’re not my type.” The thief shrugged. “Personally I like them domestic, pleasant natured, and not bugnuts crazy, none of which locks you have the key for.”