Reason for stopping: meh. Berloody blinkin' middle of the book.
We hates it. We hates it forever.
At least I'm done with the troll, and on to the next encounter.
Did I mention how much I hate this book?
The troll sighed, and Kit saw his shadowed outline settle on its haunches. "Harm, hurm. A love song," he said in a dreaming voice. "There's little enough of love under bridges."
"But plenty of frogs." Kit winced as the words left his mouth. Too clever by half, Master Marley. Or Sir Christopher. Whoever you are today.
"Ah, yes," the troll answered. "A surfeit of frogs. Froggy frogs, froggy frogs." He followed it up with a froggy-sounding laugh; Kit glimpsed something like the white swell of a pouched throat. "Sing me a song, toad and prince."
Come live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove
That valleys, groves, hills, and fields,
Woods, or steepy mountain yields.
--Christopher Marlowe, The Passionate Shepherd to His Love