The Curious Troll

by Paul J. Ward

  Curl would be in so much trouble with his mama and papa if they ever found out he’d made friends with an elf. But then he was in so much trouble already; it hardly seemed to matter now.

  “My name is Curl,” the troll said, spitting in his hand and offering it to the elf.

  Eve’rern studied the troll’s open hand that was covered in Curl’s spit. Well, a horrible mixture of spit, snail slime and berry juice. Yuk!

  “Curl, it is an honour and a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Eve’rern said, and quickly thrust his half eaten bag of nuts and berries into Curl’s extended hand.

  Curl took it gratefully, accepting it as a gesture of friendship.

  Eve’rern looked relieved. “Now that you have gifted me with your friendship, I will tell you my tale of Slayer, the terrifying dragon that has brought fear to Landfall for generations.”

  “Tell me! Tell me!” Curl cried eagerly, resisting the urge to chomp through the nuts and berries in the half eaten food bag.

  “Now, this story that I will share with you, will forever change you view of Landfall,” Eve’rern said. “Are you quite sure that you are ready for that, friend Curl?”

  “Yes, yes!” Curl declared impatiently. The more he knew about Landfall and the dragons, the more he could gloat to Strim.

  “Ok,” Eve’rern the elf said with a mischievous grin. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  CHAPTER 4

  “Well, I suppose I’d better start at the beginning,” Eve’rern declared thoughtfully, looking at his new friend.

  “The beginning of what?” Curl asked, somewhat dumbly. Trolls were not renowned for being the brightest creatures in Landfall.

  Eve’rern narrowed his dark, blue eyes at the young troll. “The beginning of the story about the dragons,” he said slowly, crossing his spindly arms across his blue jacket.

  “Oh yes!” Curl replied, shifting his body until he felt more confortable. He yawned, suddenly feeling sleepy. After all, he should be asleep in the Black Swamp, not out here, lost in the woods.

  “There are two dragon broods,” Eve’rern began, watching Curl’s sleepy eyes. “The Placidus Dragons and Great Dragons. I suppose you would call them clans.”

  Curl nodded, his tongue slipping lazily out of the side of his mouth. Some black ooze dribbled off it. Eve’rern tried to ignore it.

  “Now there was a great war between the dragons,” Eve’rern continued, “and the Placidus Dragons were winning. They were smaller, but more agile. The Great Dragons were bigger and stronger but they lacked the speed of their smaller cousins.”

  Curls eyelids’ felt like they had weights on them, pushing them closed.

  “Curl!” Eve’rern shouted suddenly. “Are you listening?”

  Curl’s eyes opened, wide like saucers, to stare at the elf.

  Eve’rern cleared his throat, deciding that he would just get to the exciting and terrifying part of the story.

  “The skies were filled with flames and fighting,” Eve’rern continued. “Dragons ripped at each other with their mighty talons, tearing each other out of the skies. The great beasts would crash to the ground, spouting flames and in plumes of black smoke.”

  Eve’rern paused, watching Curl’s face closely to see that the troll was paying attention.

  He was.

  “Animals scattered in fear and terror as the dragons feuded,” Eve’rern said, wriggling his fingers and stretching out his arms for dramatic impact. “At night, the skies were lit up by their flames as they fought. On and on it went, sun after sun (day after day), until the Great Dragons were on the verge of defeat.

  “It was said that as the Great Dragons fell from the skies, it sounded like thunder as their huge bodies hit the ground. Even then they refused to die but the Placidus Dragons burned them where they fell, leaving great swathes of land scorched and burning.

  “Foul creatures known as glinphs, with their terrifying red eyes and claw-like hands, fed from the burnt and shattered remains of the Great Dragons. Glinphs were one of the few creatures that held no fear of the dragons, or the terrible violence that surrounded them. Glinphs thrive from destruction and fear, and even now lurk below the ground of Landfall, waiting for desolation and terror to emerge again.”

  Curl looked nervously at the ground, as if the glinphs might burst through the grass and soil at any moment. The thought would certainly help to keep him awake!

  “Are you ok?” Eve’rern asked Curl, seeing the distress on the young troll’s face. The elf adjusted his jacket collar, feeling a sudden chill down his neck. It must be all this talk of dragons and glinphs. It was enough to send the blood cold of the hardiest of warriors.

  “These creatures you mentioned,” Curl said, still eyeing the ground with apprehension.

  “Glinphs,” Eve’rern said slowly, still pulling on his collar.

  “Gliffs,” Curl repeated uncertainly.

  Eve’rern rolled his sparkling blue eyes but remained quiet.

  “Are they under the ground now? Here?” Curl asked, jabbing a large, middle finger into the ground.

  Eve’rern quickly shook his head no. “They prefer caverns and caves and the cold, damp passageways of ruins. They would not live in the woods, as they are cautious of cleavers and the black weed. So are the elven race, that is why we live among the trees.”

  Curl’s cold, black eyes locked onto the elf. Cleavers? Black weed? He was beginning to think the Black Swamp wasn’t so bad after all.

  “Is that why you were sat up there?” Curl asked, pointing to the branch of the tree that Eve’rern had been hanging off.

  Eve’rern waved a dismissive hand at the troll. “Don’t worry about these woods,” the elf replied. “There are bands of unicorns here. They keep the black weed, cleavers and glinphs at bay.”

  “I have heard of the unicorns,” Curl said. “Papa warned me that they are a dangerous enemy that would destroy the trolls.”

  Eve’rern raised a disapproving eyebrow but decided now wasn’t the time to challenge the young troll’s point of view. After all, it was the trolls that had hunted the unicorns until the guardians of Landfall had driven them into the Black Swamp.

  “Anyway, back to the dragons,” Eve’rern said quickly, deciding it was best to move on. “Now, where was I?”

  “The great dragons were nearly defeated and the gliffs were eating them,” Curl reminded him, rather helpfully. Unfortunately, Curl hadn’t forgotten about the gliffs (glinphs).

  “Oh yes,” Eve’rern said in surprise. “Thank you, Curl.”

  “No problem,” the troll replied. His tongue suddenly snapped from his mouth to snare a passing giant, beautifully coloured, dragonfly. The unsuspecting insect had fatally given pause by the trolls face. It was gone in a gulp and a slurp.

  Eve’rern tried his best to not look too disturbed by this or the dragonfly’s wing that hung from Curl’s mouth. The elf coughed to clear his throat.

  “From among the flames and ashes of defeat,” The elf continued, “rose a new leader. This was Slayer, an ancient Great Dragon, who had been in slumber for millennia.

  “He rose from the lava plains of Skar, the homeland of the Cyclops race. Controlled by the dark wizard, Morzom, Slayer took to the skies once more, to join his surviving brethren.

  “For a time there was an interlude of peace, and it seemed the Placidus Dragons had achieved a glorious victory. But Slayer was busy, joining with many females as mates, until new Great Dragons were born.

  “Now, young curl, understand this. Dragons grow quickly and new born tatsu (dragons) grow into full sized adults in only a few periods (few months).”

  Curl fidgeted awkwardly at this piece of news. It took an infant troll a full twenty-five anni (twenty-five years) to become a full sized adult troll.

  It didn’t seem fair. Curl pulled a sulky face as Eve’rern continued.

  “Soon Slayer had a new army of Great Dragons, young and fresh, ready to take the fight to their enemy. This time though, they had
the element of surprise on their side, catching the slumbering Placidus Dragons in surprise.

  “The Great Dragons slaughtered the Placidus Dragons in their dens, drowsy from what they thought had been a great victory. It was over in a matter of suns (matter of days). Slayer was ruthless, showing no mercy to his kindred.

  “The final battle was fought between Galen, the leader of the Placidus Dragons, and the mighty Slayer. They fought across the skies of landfall for three suns (three days), until Galen finally weakened and Slayer brought the mighty Placidus Dragon down.

  “But Galen struck back before he died, tearing the side of Slayers head with his talons, blinding the Great Dragon in one eye. This only enraged Slayer further, who pinned Galen to the ground, while Slayer’s young ate him while he was yet still alive.

  “With their great leader dead, the remaining Placidus Dragons fled, and, down to this day, only a few of the dragon brood survive.”

  Eve’rern fell into silence, thoughtful of his words, of his own tale.

  CHAPTER 5

  “What happened to Slayer?” Curl finally asked, wondering if the elf had fallen a sleep. Eve’rern had closed his eyes and not spoken for what seemed like an arn (an hour).

  Eve’rern’s eyes shot open and he looked at the troll as if he was surprised he was still there. “Oh, he left Landfall with his dragon brood and settled among the vast plains of the Lost Continent.

  “Landfall flourished again, and the scorched earth became green. Once again the inhabitants of landfall could move around without fear, well, as long as they avoided trolls of course.”

  Eve’rern gave Curl a cheeky grin.

  “So he’s still out there?” Curl said, more as a question than a statement of fact.

  “Who?” Eve’rern questioned, not sure which dragon Curl was referring too.

  “Slayer,” Curl said. “Is he still out there, alive?”

  “Oh yes, my young friend,” Eve’rern answered with a serious tone. “He’s out there alright, still doing the bidding of his master, Morzom the dark wizard.”

  Eve’rern went silent. He didn’t like taking about Morzom, for the dark wizard was an elf, or at least he had been before warping into the evil sorcery he was now.

  It was the terrible secret of the elven race. Perhaps it was their greatest shame and their greatest dishonour. It had split the elven race, even destroyed their empire. It was why so many of the elves had become simple travellers, telling tales, and riddles to those who may listen to them. It was the way of life that Eve’rern had chosen, despite being a prince of the Elven Kingdom of Giverish.

  Curl suddenly got up from the ground, brushed down his belly hair, and, without saying a word, began to walk away into the woods.

  Ever’rern watched the young troll walk away. He wasn’t surprised. Trolls were the most unsociable creatures on the entire Globe (Earth) and certainly the most stupid. Well, perhaps apart from the Cyclops race.

  But that was another story altogether.

  “Hey!” the elf shouted, not yet tired of the troll’s company. “Where are you going? The Black Swamp is that way!”

  Eve’rern pointed in almost the opposite direction that Curl was walking.

  Curl stopped in his tracks and turned around to face the elf. “I don’t have much time!” Curl shouted back, glancing at the rising sun. It was already a quarter-sun (mid-morning) and he had to be back home by nightfall.

  Eve’rern scratched his small head and blonde hair. “Much time for what?” he yelled back, actually quite concerned the young troll was getting himself into a lot of trouble.

  “I’m going to find a dragon! I need to see it with my own eyes!” Curl replied, quite undeterred by the thought of gliffs and those other things that the elf had mentioned. He was a troll. He wasn’t scared. Remember, trolls do the scaring!

  “Now just hold on there, young Curl!” Eve’rern shouted, springing after the troll with two giant leaps. He realised he sounded quite cross. “You can’t just go wandering off into the woods!”

  Even though Curl was an infant troll, he still towered over the elf. He peered down at Eve’rern with a frown. “I’m not wandering into the woods,” Curl replied without malice. “I’m wandering out of the woods.”

  He turned and walked away again.

  The laughter of Eve’rern stopped Curl in his tracks again. He turned to look at the elf, who was doubled over in laughter. The elf was quite beside himself with amusement, and he fell backwards onto the grass, rolling around in his lovely blue jacket.

  Curl gave the elf an angry look and clenched his fists. It was tempting to thump him, but instead he reached down, grabbed the elf by the front of his jacket. Curl hauled Eve’rern into the air. “Perhaps my papa was right about elves,” Curl said gruffly.

  Eve’rern had stopped laughing, and had partly slid down into his jacket, so that only his nose and eyes could be seen. “Now, let’s not be hasty!” Eve’rern said, but it sounded rather muffled. Only his arms in his jacket sleeves were stopping him from slipping out altogether.

  “So what’s so funny?” Curl asked, not amused in the least.

  “If you put me down I will explain!” Eve’rern gasped, finding it hard to draw breath.

  Curl dropped him so he fell hard onto his backside.

  “Now there’s no need to play rough!” Eve’rern complained, rubbing his pained rump with his hands.

  This only prompted Curl to prod Eve’rern in the chest with two large fingers, so much so that the elf took two steps back.

  “Strim laughs at me and I don’t like it,” Curl said, turning slightly green.

  Eve’rern waved his hands at the young troll, not wanting to anger him further. “No, no, no!” the elf quickly said. “I wasn’t laughing at you. Oh no! I was laughing because dragons are almost impossible to find.”

  Curl looked at the elf with narrowed eyes, not sure if to believe him. Papa had said they were liars after all.

  “And they will be a long distance from here!” Eve’rern added. “You’ll never be back before nightfall.”

  Curl’s anger faded but his bottom lip dropped. He decided to sulk instead. “But I need to see a dragon!’ he wailed miserably.

  The young troll began to sob into his rather large hands, uttering a terrible wail. (Trolls can be very dramatic over the silliest of things).

  “Okay, okay!” Eve’rern said gently, knowing only too well how terribly dramatic trolls were. He’d experienced their temper tantrums before, on his many journeys across Landfall. Although Curl did seem different, a curious troll indeed.

  Curl gave a gigantic sob but then stopped. His fingers parted over his watery eyes, so he could see between them. “You can help me find a dragon?” Curl asked, sounding hopeful.

  “Well, not exactly,” Eve’rern replied, pulling a face at his new and reluctant friend.

  Curl released another loud sob of despair, as if the very world was going to end!

  “But!” Eve’rern added quickly. “I can perhaps bring a dragon to us!”

  Curl stopped his sobbing. “You can?” he asked, with renewed hope.

  “Well, maybe,” Eve’rern replied, not wanting to appear too confident. He’d summoned his dragon friend before. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t. It really depended on what mood this particular dragon was in. If he was in a good mood then all would okay, but if he was in a bad mood, well, you might very well end up with a crispy bottom.

  Curl dried his eyes with the back of his hairy hand. “So how do you bring a dragon here?” he asked, looking at the elf with pitiful eyes.

  “I can use this,” Eve’rern said, and a glowing sphere suddenly appeared in the palm of his small hand. It shone and sparkled like the stars.

  “What is that?” Curl asked in amazement. The young troll had never seen such a thing.

  “Well, after the War of the Tatsu (War of the Dragons), the elven race helped the Placidus Dragons to recover from their terrible defeat,” Eve’rern explained. “
We gave them friendship and in return they gave us the power to call them for help, whenever we need it.”

  “Do we need help?” Curl asked, somewhat dumbly.

  “I think you might,” Eve’rern said, with that cheeky grin.

  “So what happens now?” Curl asked, dropping onto the floor and kicking his legs out onto the stony ground. He was feeling very tired again.

  Eve’rern stared into the sparkling sphere. Its bluish glow made his elfin face shine.