Ah, clever you! Discression is the better part of valour, and running like a sissy litle chicken is the better part of not having your brains splattered all over the walls by a gigantic troll with a club!

You quickly shut the door, leaving you on one side, Mr. troll on the other. Of course it's rude to shut doors in people's faces, --- but it's also rude to brutally bash people's brains out with massive wooden clubs, so it probably balances out.

Obviously that door isn't a good choise and will only lead to a very gorey and smelly death.

You decide to:

go through the left door.

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