Chapter 6, Nightfall by an Ant Hill

The ants had been very busy all day, moving little pine needles around and scurrying about building their hill. Their ambitious work intrigued Hrafnir, who had been sitting in the same spot for several hours, thinking and occationally huffing to himself. Suddenly he started noticing that that it was evening and Mirra hadn't returned yet. He stood up, tilted his head and said "well, that is odd", meaning to address noone but the absence of his friend.

"What's odd? Oh. This is a new place, where am I?"

The mountain troll twitched and jumped, a type of movement not very adjusted to his physique, and as he stumbled he accidentally stomped on the ant hill he'd spent most of the day observing. "Ow! No! Poor little things, I didn't mean to!"

He clumsily backed away from the disrupted ant hill.

"I can't see very clearly", the disembodied voice continued, "is that you, troll?"

"What? Yes, I am me. Who else would I be?" he questioned, slightly edgy.

"This is very strange. I seem to have followed you along. Yes, this is the water lily I gave you", the voice continued as a shimmering blue light started to pulse around the flower he had gotten from the little ghost the previous night.

"Leliana? What are you doing in my flower?" Hrafnir turned his head to his shoulder and looked awefully puzzled. Quick changes in the environment, demolished homes and disembodied voices isn't really something that mountain trolls who aren't that prone to quick thinking can adjust to with any ease.

"I don't know. But it's definitely more exciting than the lake. Are those ants?" The blue light floated near the ant hill and slowly started to take the form of the little girl he'd met the night before. She reached out an ethereal hand and gently nudged the hill. The ants didn't seem to notice her, more of them had started to pour out and they were very agitated. "I had no ants near the lake. There were some frogs, and sometimes hares and deer would come to drink at the waters. I always thought mankind had a lot to learn from ants. They live their entire lives working hard and give up their entire existance for the communal good. Men are not like that."

"Neither are mountain trolls. They mostly just eat and smash things." Hrafnir looked down at the ants with some measure of sadness.

"But you don't. You travel, and you listen to stories. You shouldn't compare yourself to your kin" said the little girl, looking up at her companion again. "I'm sure you could create something lasting and beautiful if you wanted to."

Hrafnir shifted his weight uneasily and pondered this. Then he remembered! "Mirra! She's gone! We need to go and see if she's in trouble."

"Who is that?" answered the ghost, rising up and looking at the night sky. "And what an odd name she has. Is she an adventurous mountain troll, like you?"

"No. She is a forest troll. She is small and furry and likes squirrels. She rode away on her squirrel many hours ago and should have been back by now. That makes me.. Worried." He paused, uncertain of this emotion he hadn't really experienced before.

"A squirrel. I like squirrels too, there were a few by my lake." Leliana started to glow brighter and a smile spread across her face. "I can approach the creatures nearby and hear if they've seen this Mirra and her squirrel if you want me to?"

"Squirrels speak? I thought all they could do was squeak!" Hrafnir responded.

"No, they don't speak.. Not with words. But most forest animals are solitary and shy, they notice intruders and chatter endlessly about it afterwards in their own little ways." She smiled and faded again, condensing into the will'o'wisp he had seen when they first met. "Just wait here" she whispered and moved away with remarkable speed.

Alone again and quite confused, Hrafnir moved a few more steps away from the ant hill which was mounting an attack on his left foot and sat down on a fallen birch tree. "I am really sorry for the damage I caused little ones but revenge is not good. And you wouldn't want my help with rebuilding. I'm clumsy!" he told them.

In his solitude he remembered stories of the vengeful actions of his tribe against another, the southern tribe of Mount Glimmering. The almost electric cracking and deep rumbling of Grandfather Hron as the giant chanted tales of boulders thrown far and wide, smashing against rock and mountain and flesh during stormy nights long before he was born. He shuddered. His tribe would go into a slow, rocking frenzy when the tales were sung and madness would shine in the charcoal pits of their eyes.

Chapter 5, The Bad Thing About Squirrels

"You never told me how you got to that water lily. How did you reach it?" Mirras furry little face peeked out from between a few bluebells on Hrafnir's right shoulder. She was in the process of painting camouflage on herself and had green and brown streaks in zig-zag patterns all over, covering her naturally warm reddish brown features.

"It was given to me." He responded after a period of time, choosing his words carefully. Ghosts were not something one would just casually chat about meeting, he decided and firmly furrowed his brow.

"Given? In the middle of the night, by who? How? You know you shouldn't just accepts gifts from people, especially at strange ponds in the middle of the night. It all sounds a bit dodgy if you ask me."

He remained quiet and stomped onwards. She didn't push the matter further.

"You're more silent than usual, lumpy. What's up?"

"I'm thinking" he grunted back, scratching a particularly itchy patch on his belly where some stray roots were moving the rock about.

"The ocean is a pond so big that if you try to walk around it you just end up walking around yourself instead, that's what my mother told me once." A long pause followed. Misha kept silent waiting for her friend to continue.

"With all this walking about I think I'm starting to understand what she wanted to say. There is so much world in this place and if you stand on one spot" at this the big troll stopped, "and turn around" he said, turning, "and imagine that everything behind what you can see is the ocean" he said sitting down after having finished his little excersise, "it is indeed very big. Kind of like the sky, but more down to earth."

"Are you trying to tell me you're tired and want a break? I'm fine with that you know, you don't need to try to make my head explode just to make a point." She splattered a finishing dash of mud-coloured stuff on her face and jumped to Hrafnirs other shoulder where the squirrel sat, cleaning it's tail. It sniffed her and brushed it's head against her.

"Yes. I think I will sit here for a while. I would like to observe something very small for a while. That ant hill there will suit me fine" Hrafnir exhaled, ponderously nodding at a gathering of carefully arranged pine needles a few feet away.

"I'll run off for some supplies then, have fun thinking and stuff." With that she grabbed the squirrel's fur and launched herself onto its back.

After some exploring they came to a little clearing with rather obvious goblin markings around it. She didn't have complete control over the squirrel yet; it would take suggestions on direction but not much more than that and it showed a rather dangerous interest in the left over trash at the site. With a sharp shout and some serious convincing she managed to steer it clear of the camp and they rushed head first into the woods again.

They spend a few hours in the forest. Occasionally she would jump off to collect her various herbs and mushrooms as usual but mostly they spent the time practising jumping from twig to twig or tree to tree without losing balance.

They were on their way back to Hrafnir when the scent of goblins made Mirras nose twitch again. This time the squirrel wouldn't listen at all to her nudgings and instead it charged head first into a trap laying on the ground. Mirra tried to jump off before the little twig gate shut behind them, but only managed to hit her head on it instead. The last thing she heard when the darkness and stars closed in on her was a dim snicker and encroaching foot steps.

Chapter 4, Goblins in the Forest

In another part of the world a fire was burning in a hastily assembled hunter camp. Various traps lay strewn out on the ground, pikes and knives stuck in the dirt. Nets hung from the trees forcibly bent down to give protection with their leafy crowns.

An old shaman stood at the edge of the camp.

Sabi-Gxor, which was his name, looked at the young prince sitting idly by the fire and sighed, pressing his chin down on his long and gnarled staff. "You have a demon on your back, Zox" he grunted. "It feeds on your dreams and your hopes, leaving you listless." "Really? I was thinking I'm just naturally laid back" said the greenskin by the fire.

"No, no. You keep summoning it. It's called a spirit leech" the old man continued; slight amounts of spittle drooling down his cheek. He wiped it off and continued. "The things you say..: 'I can't be bothered!', 'I'm too tired..', that's how you keep summoning it. I can see it right now; it's gnawing on the back of your neck."

"I don't believe in your stories, herb-head. Go bother someone who does" the younger goblin said.

Oblivious to the younger one's dismissal, the old shaman continued talking; half to himself. He rocked back and forth, leaning on the staff. "I shall prepare something for you to drink. Something to poison your mind against the spirit leech, to make it leave you alone. I want my breakfast and you're not getting it for me as long as that thing's stuck to your neck."

He limped off, leaving Zox alone to stare into the flickering flames. Zox shrugged off the annoyance he usually felt when the shaman was in his presence. The old one's white milky eyes seemed to follow him everywhere and his constant constipation, farting and general rudeness all added to the things he disliked about him. It was not the farting, constipation and rudeness itself - all fine parts of general goblin culture - but the way he did it. He also refused to acknowledge Zox' stature as prince and kept talking to him like he was just another spawnling.

He kicked at a log; sending sparks into the early morning air. This whole business with traditions and going out into the woods to become a true goblin hunter would surely change once the throne was his. He could easily see himself sitting in his burrow deep in the earth for the rest of his days, feasting on the delicacies brought to him by his minions and laughing at the critters they would bring to amuse him.

Sabi-Gxor poked at the mosses around the camp and spent a good hour finding various vile ingredients; the final one being a large hark and spit right into the goblet. He presented it to Zox with a glare. "Drink it all up, little one." he said. "I promised your father to take care of you, and this is my way".

If Zox hadn't been too busy imagining his future throne room he might not have missed the slight hint of glee in the shaman's voice. Reluctantly he took the goblet and swiped it all in one big guffaw. "IIAAAAAARRGHHHH!" he shouted as the vile drink burned through his throat and into his belly. He jumped up and did a little jig on the spot; clawing at his mouth.

Sabi-Gxor laughed so hard he fell on his back. "Folish spawnling! You think you can make fun of old Gxor behind his back? Give me nasty glares? I know the forest, dirtbag" he said, calming down and sitting up again. "Now go and snare us some breakfast before I conjure up more nasty surprises for you."

Driven out of the camp by the the elderly one's walking stick, Zox only just managed to pick up a couple of traps before he half ran out into the forest, still coughing and with big tears in his eyes.

He wandered for a few hours until he felt less uncomfortable with the world in general. Despite the shock the concoction had given him he did feel invigorated and more energetic. Ever since leaving the comfortably dark burrow he had been feeling suppressed, as if the wide open spaces above him were making him inert and heavy. Now he focused his eyes on the forest floor and ignored the sun beaming down without mercy, sneaking through what shadows he could find.

He found a good hideout in a particularly large spruce with branches blotting out the sun completely. No grass or moss could be found underneath it, there was only a mat of pine needles and the occasional cone. The darkness and earthy colours made him more focused. He brought out his traps, and carefully rigged them all on the ground and in the trees nearby. There were a few bird snares and a rather large and cumbersome squirrel trap. Then he lay waiting under the pine.

Chapter 3, rest and darkfall.

The journey through the forest went slowly onwards. Occasionally Mirra would call out to Hrafnir and then jump off into the undergrowth to gather some herb or berry she had discovered from the vantage point on his shoulder. Many stories were shared; mostly by the girl. The squirrel had woken up but was kept semi sedated and tended to by the little troll, who wanted to make sure it was loyal to her before she headed out on it again. Hrafnir started to feel a bit like a pack mule but didn't complain as the company was very pleasant and different from the slow and grumpy mountain kin he was used to. He didn't quite agree with her treatment of the squirrel either but it seemed happy.

Nightfall approached with a scent of water on the air. Vegetation grew more dense as a small forest lake appeared in front of them; stretching fairly far to each side. The surface lay still and black but for some mosquitoes and other insects spreading sparse circular ripples.

"These branches and brambles are tiresome" Hrafnir concluded and sat down next to a mossy log half covered by the water. "This would be a nice place to stay for a while" he added; prodding at the water with a reed. Mirra agreed. After having fed the squirrel ample supplies of her sedative herbs and nuts she tied it to a branch and jumped up on the log looking out over the lake. Abundant water lilies were closing up their flowers for the night, slowly and barely noticeable. "You should have one of those on your shoulder, Hrafnir. They are beautiful, I wouldn't mind sitting in one" she smiled. He sighed ponderously.

A few hours later the moon had risen and Mirra had gone to sleep on a bed of leaves inside the hollow log. Hrafnir was still sitting next to it. He felt happy for having some time alone to gather his thoughts. Sitting there he noticed a mysterious light that started dancing around the water lilies, occasionally settling down on one; luring it to open up it's petals before fluttering away again. He chuckled softly, dipping his feet in the cold water. The wisp twitched upon hearing him and fled toward the shoreline a bit further away.

Rising up he noticed something gleaming where the will-o'-wisp had fled. Between some branches he could make out the shape of a small human girl, eerie light surrounding her as she sat praying with her head bent towards the water surface. Carefully and with surprisingly little noise he braced himself and approached her.

"What are you praying for, little human?" he asked. She was dressed in delicately embroidered pale blue silks and her ghostly glow was enhanced by a slight translucency to her entire figure. Long locks of golden blond hair shone as the wisp circled her and she turned to face him. "Prayers are not for my kind, troll" she responded, "but still I try."

She paused. Her features were child-like, barely more than twelve or eleven in human years, but there was a different age to her expression. Hrafnir sat down next to her. "I've been told I'm a good listener" he said.

"Many centuries ago these lands were the hunting grounds to a castle. My name was Leliana, and I was the second daughter to the lord. My days were spent sewing, playing the piano and singing but sometimes my sister and I would sneak off to this lake to play. One day my mother took me aside and told me of the man my father had decided should be my husband. He was a prince from a far away kingdom and would come to claim me within the next cycle of the moon.

I got very excited and ran to tell my sister. She didn't react the way I expected. We had discussed our possible future husbands extensively and had been day dreaming together about our marriages, but instead of rejoicing she got angry with me and wouldn't speak to me for several days. I thought it was because she would miss me.

When she finally would pay me attention again she broke down and explained she had heard horrible things about the prince. She said he had the heads of three previous wives cut off and had beaten yet another one to death. I was shocked and scared to hear her tales. My nights got haunted by nightmares and as the day when I would be wed approached I could not sleep at all for fear of the future."

The ghost sighed and continued. "When my mother came home with my wedding dress I was in a state of panic. After the maids had dressed me I begged to be alone for a while. I had decided that rather than having my life taken by a brute of a husband, I would end it myself. Terrified, I swam to the bottom of this lake until the world faded around me.

Some days later I awoke to the sound of wedding bells. On the shore of the lake my sister was standing with her new husband and prince. She threw her flowers in the water and kissed him.He was no brute. He was a handsome young man, gentle and loving. I tried to reach through the surface of the lake but the sun was shining and imprisoned me in the dark waters.

They would often come to walk in near the lake, happy and in love. With time they moved into the castle together as rulers and had children of their own playing by the shores. It was many centuries ago now and the castle has crumbled to a ruin. Every night I have been sitting here praying for release. I sinned against my family and myself, trusting in a sister who couldn't bear the thought of not being the first to be wed away."

Hrafnir sat silent for a while, digesting the story. Humans were very strange, he concluded. "While I don't understand why you would want to be given away to a stranger, I do understand betrayal" he said slowly. "It is important to care for those who trust you".

The little girl gathered her skirts and walked out to one of the biggest water lilies and urged her wisp to settle down on it. With a sharp tug she picked it once it had blossomed and carried it back to Hrafnir. "Here, I want you to have this to remember me by. Keep me in your thoughts and one day I might be set free" she said as she took a deep breath and gently blew on the flower, surrounding it with her glow. "It will not wither until I do."

Hrafnir gratefully accepted her gift and sat with her until she faded when the first rays of the sun rose over the tree tops in the east.

Chapter 2, where our hero finds a fellow traveller.

The large red squirrel sniffed at the air and stood at it's hind paws scouting, tail twitching. Mirra lay in the bushes waiting for it to calm down. Her furry little hands twined the hemp fibers harder, knotting them into a suitable lasso. With slow movements she checked her upper left pocket for the cookie crumbles; making sure they were safe.

The squirrel sat down again, focusing on cleaning his muzzle and chattering quietly to himself about whatever it is squirrels find interesting. Nuts, she figured. Squirrels like nuts.

Her beady little eyes shone out of the dirt she had rubbed on her face to mask the scent of troll and give her ample camouflage. Rolling over on her stomach she started creeping towards her target, hemp lasso slung over one shoulder. She was close now; only a few inches to go.

The big red creature hissed loudly as she jumped on its back and threw the lasso around its neck in one agile motion and then they were off. The speed alone was enough to make her dizzy but what made it worse was the world occasionally disappearing underneath her as the squirrel jumped from tree to tree in a state of panic.

The hemp rope held firm and she clutched at its neck with her legs, initially rather clumsily but after a couple of seconds she got the spirit of it. "Yeeeee haaaaaa!" she shouted smiling wildly; urging the critter on.

Hrafnir had just woken up. He yawned towards the bright mid-day sun and was making a motion to sit up as the little rider on her red steed slammed into his belly. The mount got knocked out by the impact and fell down on his lap and with it so did the forest troll.

"Hey watch it you big fat lump of rock! This is no place for loitering!" she shouted as she jumped up to check on the squirrel. She examined it carefully and shoved some of her cookie crumbles in its mouth.

"It'll be alright, don't worry tiny" she continued, addressing the squirrel. "I'm going to take care of you and explore the world beyond these dull trees."

Hrafnir stared bewildered at the two of them; slightly confused with the abrupt start of the day. "I'm sorry little girl, I didn't mean to hurt you" he rumbled. "I was just waking up. Didn't mean to sit in the wrong place. I'm new here, you see, I'm an adventurer." The last part was said with a hint of pride. "Is there something I can do to make it better? Do you like flowers?" he stretched one of his thick, stubby arms over his shoulder and picked a bluebell; presenting it to the girl.

Mirra looked at the mountain troll, tilting her head, but accepted the flower and placed it on her head. "I like blue" she smiled back at him.

"Where are you going'?"

"I don't know. I'm wandering for a while. The mountains don't fit me any longer" Hrafnir responded, pondering her words. Mirra looked at him appraisingly. "Since you knocked out my squirrel you might as well help me do the same thing then. I won't be going near any mountains, that's for sure. They give me the shivers."

"I like that! You probably know more about this forest than I do; like how to get out of it for example. Is there something beyond it? I heard stories when I was smaller.."

"You're still pretty small, for a mountain troll. And flowery."

"I like flowers, they smell good and never hurt anything" he stated defiantly; provoking an odd glance from his furry companion.

"You sound like my uncle Hazer, he's always talking about peace and love" she said. "I don't like calm! The wind in your hair and new sites to see! Are you sure that you're an adventurer?"

Resolutely, Hrafnir picked up the girl and placed her on a mossy patch on his shoulder. Carefully holding the unconscious squirrel he rose to the sound of grinding rocks.

"I am Hrafnir: orphan of mount Starheim. All that is left to me is adventuring."

"My name is Mirra. I think if you head towards that tree over there and keep heading in that same direction you'll eventually reach something other than the forest" she said, gesturing towards the southern end of the clearing. "But don't ask me what".

Chapter 1, Where our hero departs

"Stop sniveling about like a fleshling and eat your bone stew, boy. How will you ever grow if you can't even stay together? Your left shoulder is a mess of cracks". Mother Marblechunk glared at the little troll in front of her. Hrafnir sighed and poked at the slimy bones and hooves swimming around in the big black cauldron he had in front of him. He was almost a hundred years old already but only about the size of a small barrel.

He secretly liked the cracks. If he let them grow big enough he could plant little flowers in them and their scent would follow him around wherever he went. His mother did not like that at all; she'd yell at him whenever she found out and pull them out by the roots. That always hurt.

Reluctantly he finished his dinner and had several granite-rich rocks on the side for good measure. With big soulful eyes he looked pleadingly at his mother until she gave in.

"Go then boy, on with your adventures."

With a big grin carved on his little gray face Hrafnir ran out of the cave with his mother shouting after him, "all this running about isn't worthy of a proper norse mountain troll you know! It breaks pieces off and keeps you small! Slow down my rockling...". She would see him run off, worry cracklets appearing all over. "He'll be reduced to rubble soon. Woe is me..."

For a mountain troll, Hrafnir was very agile and quite fast paced. The other trolls in the clan of mount Starheim were thick and slow, feeding off the rich mineral veins and digging further and further into the mountain's bowels. Grandfather Hron was the biggest of them all; as wide as the short side of a barn and with a voice which caused minor earth quakes whenever he got upset. Luckily that didn't happen very often.

Hrafnir rushed towards a small glade in the outskirts of the Ever-Stretching Forest where he knew he would be able to see something truly magical. He carefully picked up some bluebells and some lily of the valley on the way; making sure he got plenty of dirt and all of the roots and arranged them on his wide back and shoulders. The sun was close to setting as he arrived and sat down in the centre of the glade. Sitting perfectly still he was almost invisible.

Several hours later the first misty streaks had long since risen from the grass and enhanced the scent of the flowers surrounding the little clearing. A shiver of excitement ran through Hrafnir when he heard the tingling voices of the mist elves coming to dance in the moonlight. Their flowing white robes swirled around him and the beautiful choirs chanting were to him like the little pieces of glass he had found under an old fire place and saved for years before finally succumbing and tasting their crisp sharpness.

It took him a long while before he could focus enough to hear the words they chanted, but as he realised what was being said he started to tremble. The song was about a sister of theirs; lost to the mountains in a cruel game between rock and air. She had gone on a quest to reach the top of mount Starheim because she wanted to get closer to the moon. On her way up the mountain one of Hrafnirs relatives had found her and she never returned to her friends. Sad and upset he listened to further tales of crimes against the elves of the mists in what seemed an endless war between his brutish kin and theirs. Tears welled up in his eyes but he remained sitting down covered with his flowers. The chanting went on for hours and it was not until the first rays of dawn that the elves faded back into the shadows of the forest.

Birds were chirping in the early morning sun. Hrafnir sat defeated in the centre of the glade. He knew his kin could be cruel but never before had he felt so distanced from them. Taking up a big chunk of grass and earth he swore an oath to seek out his destiny away from the mountain. Devouring the earth made him slightly queasy but he sniffled bravely and then lay down to rest.