> While a chieftain blusters
>and blows, gives gifts, makes treaties, smites Chaos and rushes round
>the heroplane ensuring the sun will rise tomorrow, it falls to his Sun
>Carl to attend to the ploughing, the harvest, food storage, fence
>mending, muck spreading, trollkin crotching... all those necessary,
>tedious and often unsavoury things beneath a Wind Lord's dignity.
Damn you, Hughes, now I have the concept of trollkin
crotching in my head, and I will never get it out.
Actually, the thought of why you need to crotch your
trollkin, and what happens if you don't, is even worse.