Tokyohoon
09-15-2006, 11:41 AM
Skalector was cold and for a Troll who lived most of his life wondering up and down the borders between Sweden and Norway this was saying quite a lot. He was also hungry, which is about the same as saying water is wet. Very few Trolls are ever too full to eat another meal or two or three. They might occasionally fill up on a cow or a couple of small sheep, but most of the time they are hungry and Skalector was powerful hungry.
“Perhaps,” he thought, a horse or cow would be nice but if I stop I will never make it home in time for Yule.” He was still over a day away from his family and the fine cozy cave they lived in and even though he was hungry and cold he did not dare stop. “My wife will have my hide on the wall if I am late again this year.”
The powerful but smallish Troll, standing just under a meter and a half, was especially pleased with himself because after days of searching he had finally found the perfect Yule Log. A log fit for a king, perfectly round and full of the fragrant smells of nature nestled in every chink and furrow of its dark, rich bark.
He had found the log where it had fallen, blown from a tree by some force that had charred one end. He had no way of telling how long the branch had waited for him but it was dry to the touch and free of any signs of decay. With powerful hands he had snapped the burned part off about an arms length from the bottom. Humming he stuck the end into the snow and measured it to just above his waistline and easily snapped off the top part of the branch. With rough hands and years of practice Skalector made easy work of the jagged, broken edges and soon he had the ‘perfect log’ 60 cm long with a 30 cm diameter. It would burn the entire Yule eve as the family sat on their bear skin rugs and sang Trollish songs of food and harmony. Other pieces he gathered too until he had a sling full of the valuable wood. These pieces he would burn on the Yule because even though the day meant different things to Troll folk they, like their human neighbors, still yearned for peace and plenty in their world and a fire always signified hope for Skalector and his kind.
As he trudged steadily along in the dry, crisp snow he listened intently to Nature’s symphony that rose and blossomed even in these deep winter hours. A steady breeze rustled the foliage around him bringing harmonious rhythms to support the whistle of the wind through the empty branches. The occasional call of a distant fowl or the lone howl of a nearby wolf added to the chorus for which his boots provided the steady clump of a bass that reverberated into the distance.
The music rose and fell note by note, measure by measure as only nature herself can weave a tapestry of sound. Even the discordant sounds tended to blend in as part of the production to all but the most sophisticated of ears. Skalector knew nature and lived in full harmony with her but even he was slow to notice the distant discord that was about to enter his life.
Crying? Skalector sniffed the air suspiciously. Hesitantly he drew a deeper breath savoring the aromas of life around him. No humans, not even a child, could be detected in the solitude of these great woods. Yet he heard crying, the pitiful sound of a baby who had not gotten its way. He sniffed again. Was that blood he smelled? Distant, something was hurt. Realization dawned quickly, for a Troll, as he set his bundle down. Not too far away a hare was injured, the keening cry he heard told him that the situation was very bad. Probably a wolf had found a meal and was letting the wounded hare die rather than waste energy chasing down a kill. Skalector picked up his bundle and moved slowly forward content to know that nature was as unchangeable and predictable as ever.
The sobbing rasp of the Hare intensified. Skalector again put his bundle down and moved toward the sound, ten steps then a twenty and then a hundred. Then he was running. Since he was a boy he had never liked wolves so the thought of robbing one of an easy meal and perhaps sating his own powerful hunger for a few moments spurred him forward.
With a loud bluster of noise he burst into a clearing where the smell of the blood and fear was the strongest. The cry stopped immediately and for a moment all the world hung silently as Skalector’s eyes searched for his foe. All he saw was a white and black hare snagged hopelessly in a snare set by some human and left carelessly behind. The thin black wire had cut deep into the back of the hares neck and Skalector knew that the hares moments in life would end if he was not freed from the cruel trap.
He walked carefully over to the terrified animal.
Whereupon he was set about by several large men with short hair and shiny boots and kicked to death.
The end.
(and if you weren't a troll, then consider it a mercy killing)
“Perhaps,” he thought, a horse or cow would be nice but if I stop I will never make it home in time for Yule.” He was still over a day away from his family and the fine cozy cave they lived in and even though he was hungry and cold he did not dare stop. “My wife will have my hide on the wall if I am late again this year.”
The powerful but smallish Troll, standing just under a meter and a half, was especially pleased with himself because after days of searching he had finally found the perfect Yule Log. A log fit for a king, perfectly round and full of the fragrant smells of nature nestled in every chink and furrow of its dark, rich bark.
He had found the log where it had fallen, blown from a tree by some force that had charred one end. He had no way of telling how long the branch had waited for him but it was dry to the touch and free of any signs of decay. With powerful hands he had snapped the burned part off about an arms length from the bottom. Humming he stuck the end into the snow and measured it to just above his waistline and easily snapped off the top part of the branch. With rough hands and years of practice Skalector made easy work of the jagged, broken edges and soon he had the ‘perfect log’ 60 cm long with a 30 cm diameter. It would burn the entire Yule eve as the family sat on their bear skin rugs and sang Trollish songs of food and harmony. Other pieces he gathered too until he had a sling full of the valuable wood. These pieces he would burn on the Yule because even though the day meant different things to Troll folk they, like their human neighbors, still yearned for peace and plenty in their world and a fire always signified hope for Skalector and his kind.
As he trudged steadily along in the dry, crisp snow he listened intently to Nature’s symphony that rose and blossomed even in these deep winter hours. A steady breeze rustled the foliage around him bringing harmonious rhythms to support the whistle of the wind through the empty branches. The occasional call of a distant fowl or the lone howl of a nearby wolf added to the chorus for which his boots provided the steady clump of a bass that reverberated into the distance.
The music rose and fell note by note, measure by measure as only nature herself can weave a tapestry of sound. Even the discordant sounds tended to blend in as part of the production to all but the most sophisticated of ears. Skalector knew nature and lived in full harmony with her but even he was slow to notice the distant discord that was about to enter his life.
Crying? Skalector sniffed the air suspiciously. Hesitantly he drew a deeper breath savoring the aromas of life around him. No humans, not even a child, could be detected in the solitude of these great woods. Yet he heard crying, the pitiful sound of a baby who had not gotten its way. He sniffed again. Was that blood he smelled? Distant, something was hurt. Realization dawned quickly, for a Troll, as he set his bundle down. Not too far away a hare was injured, the keening cry he heard told him that the situation was very bad. Probably a wolf had found a meal and was letting the wounded hare die rather than waste energy chasing down a kill. Skalector picked up his bundle and moved slowly forward content to know that nature was as unchangeable and predictable as ever.
The sobbing rasp of the Hare intensified. Skalector again put his bundle down and moved toward the sound, ten steps then a twenty and then a hundred. Then he was running. Since he was a boy he had never liked wolves so the thought of robbing one of an easy meal and perhaps sating his own powerful hunger for a few moments spurred him forward.
With a loud bluster of noise he burst into a clearing where the smell of the blood and fear was the strongest. The cry stopped immediately and for a moment all the world hung silently as Skalector’s eyes searched for his foe. All he saw was a white and black hare snagged hopelessly in a snare set by some human and left carelessly behind. The thin black wire had cut deep into the back of the hares neck and Skalector knew that the hares moments in life would end if he was not freed from the cruel trap.
He walked carefully over to the terrified animal.
Whereupon he was set about by several large men with short hair and shiny boots and kicked to death.
The end.
(and if you weren't a troll, then consider it a mercy killing)