Henri Rousseau Exotic Landscape 1908

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'Sorry, sergeant.'
They turned to Detritus, who was standing sheepishly behind a heap of broken longbows. Crossbows were out of the question. They sat in his massive hands like a hairpin. In theory the longbow would be a deadly weapon in his hands, just as soon as he mastered the art of when to let go.
Detritus he'd been either a soldier or a guard all his life, and he was feeling put-upon. Otherwise he wouldn't have said what he said next.
'I don't know, I really don't. Fighting among yourselves, smashing your own weapons . . . I mean, who do we think we're fooling? Now, it's nearly noon, you take a few hours off,shrugged.'Sorry, mister,' he said. 'Bows aren't troll weapon.''Ha!' said Colon. 'As for you, Lance-Constable Cuddy—''Just can't get the hang of aiming, sergeant.''I thought dwarfs were famous for their skills in battle!''Yeah, but . . . not these skills,' said Cuddy.'Ambush,' murmured Detritus.Since he was a troll, the murmur bounced off distant buildings. Cuddy's beard bristled.'You devious troll, I get my—''Well now,' said Sergeant Colon quickly, 'I think we'll stop training. You'll have to . . . sort of pick it up as you go along, all right?'He sighed. He was not a cruel man, but