Three billy goats saw a meadow of sweet grass across a stream. A bridge led to it, but a grumpy troll lived underneath. The little goat stepped onto the boards. The troll called out, and the little goat asked him to wait for his bigger brother. The middle goat crossed next and asked the troll to wait for the biggest goat. At last the big goat arrived. He stood firm and said the bridge was for everyone. The troll grumbled, then moved to a shady spot beside the stream. All three goats crossed and ate their fill.
A First Stories tale
The Three Billy Goats Gruff
Slide left for a simpler telling and right for more detail. Your choice carries to the next story.
Open this version in the audiobook shelfThree goats wanted the fresh grass across the bridge. The little goat crossed first. A grumpy troll called from below. “My bigger brother is coming,” said the little goat. The middle goat said the same thing. Then the big goat stepped onto the bridge. “We all need to cross,” he told the troll. The troll moved aside. The goats munched the green grass together.
Three billy goats saw a meadow of sweet grass across a stream. A bridge led to it, but a grumpy troll lived underneath. The little goat stepped onto the boards. The troll called out, and the little goat asked him to wait for his bigger brother. The middle goat crossed next and asked the troll to wait for the biggest goat. At last the big goat arrived. He stood firm and said the bridge was for everyone. The troll grumbled, then moved to a shady spot beside the stream. All three goats crossed and ate their fill.
On the far side of a stream, a meadow shone with fresh green grass. Three billy goats were ready for breakfast, but a narrow wooden bridge lay between them and the meadow. Beneath it lived a troll who disliked the sound of hooves overhead.
The smallest goat went first. Tap, tap, tap went his feet. “Who is crossing my bridge?” called the troll. The little goat said he was on his way to breakfast and suggested that the troll might speak to his bigger brother instead. The troll let him pass.
The middle goat crossed with a louder clatter. He gave the same answer and hurried to join his brother. Then the biggest goat stepped onto the boards. His hooves made a deep, steady sound. When the troll complained, the goat stopped. “We can cross without bothering you for long,” he said. “There is room beside the stream for you to rest.”
The troll looked at the three hungry goats and moved into the cool shade. The goats crossed safely, and the troll discovered that the sound of their hooves faded almost as soon as it began.
The three billy goats had nibbled their hillside almost bare. Across the stream grew a meadow of tender grass, but the only way there was a wooden bridge. A troll lived in the shadows beneath it. He thought every footstep above his head was a personal insult.
The youngest goat crossed first. His light hooves made a quick tapping sound. The troll demanded to know who was passing. The little goat admitted he was hungry and said his larger brother would soon come by. The troll, curious about the next visitor, let him go.
The middle goat followed. His hooves made the bridge rattle. The troll complained again. The middle goat pointed out that the biggest brother was right behind him. This news distracted the troll long enough for the second goat to reach the meadow.
The biggest goat crossed at an unhurried pace. When the troll stepped out to block him, the goat did not run. “We want grass, and you want quiet,” he said. “Let us cross, and then the bridge will be still again.” The troll considered this. He did not like giving in, but he liked the thought of a peaceful afternoon. He moved aside.
All three goats enjoyed breakfast. On their way home they crossed one at a time, as quietly as they could. The troll stayed beneath the bridge and discovered that sharing a path was easier than guarding it all day.
Spring had reached the meadow across the stream before it reached the goats' stony hillside. From a distance, the grass looked soft enough to sleep on and fresh enough for a feast. The three billy goats set off toward the bridge that joined the banks.
Their problem was the troll who lived underneath. He had grown so protective of his quiet spot that he treated each crossing as a challenge. When the little goat's hooves tapped over his head, he shouted for the traveler to stop. The little goat was startled, but he explained that he only wanted breakfast. He mentioned his bigger brother behind him, and the troll let him continue, hoping to meet the next goat.
The middle brother crossed with a heavier rattle. Again the troll objected. This goat, too, asked to pass and spoke of the largest brother following him. The troll grumbled but stepped back into the shade.
The oldest goat had watched his brothers reach the meadow safely. He crossed slowly, ready to speak for all three. When the troll came out, the goat said, “We know the bridge makes noise above your home. We need to cross it to eat. Can we make the trip quickly and leave you in peace?”
The troll had expected a quarrel, not a practical question. He looked at the empty hillside on one side and the green meadow on the other. At last he moved aside. The largest goat joined his brothers, and for a while the only sound was the rustle of grass.
When it was time to return, the goats crossed separately and kept their steps light. The troll still liked quiet, but he no longer imagined every passerby was his enemy. The bridge belonged to a shared landscape, and they had found a way to use it together.
Inspired by East O' the Sun and West O' the Moon. This text is a new adaptation.