A head gets to the bottom
Tug looked at the world sidewise. This was not a philosophical point of view, it was a physiological one. Being only a head, getting upright was a challenge.
But he was determined to so do, using his tongue, the only part of his body that could move other than his eyes. He already figured out, after repeated attempts of staring ever so ferociously at the ground, that it would not push him upright. Apparently, the earth was not to be intimidated in this fashion.
So, he stuck out his tongue as far as it would go, which is pretty far as his ex could tell you, and rolled himself so he was facing the other way.
To you or I, that might seem frustrating, but Tug was nothing if not patient. And he also discovered that the dirt on his tongue reminded him of his mother’s cooking, which comforted him.
He spent the rest of the day rolling back and forth, savoring the dirt and the occasional bug, which for his money really added a bit of zest to the whole affair.
He was so excited by this he gave an especially hearty tongue-shove and started to tumble down the hill that he now realized that he had landed on.
Tug tried to slow himself with his tongue; this only rubbed more dirt on it (good) and cut it up (not so good). Then he was flying through the air, he dimly remembered that previously, as not ending terribly well.
He landed solidly, and when he stopped being dizzy, he opened his eyes and found that he was upright. Tug thusly reasoned that whenever flying though the air, it worked out better the second time.
The Troll concentrated and accelerated his regeneration, this is something Trolls can do in extreme circumstances, as this seemed to be. He assumed that he had landed on a large stone, and as Trolls eat stones when sheep, cows, and people are scarce, he reasoned that this would help him get his body back quicker.
Once he was solidly attached to the stone, it slowly got up and walked away though the forest.
Tug was happy to have found a walking rock that was so good-natured.