Troll Story#1
Trolls are NOT the stupid little colorful-haired, pot bellied, figurines people seem obsessed with buying. Ugh. Far from it, we're actually skulking, sniveling, sneaking, devious, perveyors of mayhem and trickery.
Physically, trolls have been described in various ways, from J.R.R. Tolkein's huge engine of near-mindless destruction, to the fairy tale troll in Three Billy Goats Gruff. While some trolls do live under bridges, they are NOT part of Trondheim and actually belong to a less well know UBU (Under the Bridge Union). They're rather a pathetic lot, too, I might add.
Personally, of all the humans who have attempted to describe us, I think Elizabeth Boyar has come the closest. In her book, The Sword and the Satchel, she even has a small scene involving Trondheim, and some if it's lesser exploits. Interesting to say the least.
Mentally, trolls are as varied as the homo sapien. Maybe a trifle slow, but that's to be expected, now isn't it? I mean, really, all these sniveling humans mucking up everything, it's to be expected some of us aren't exactly clear headed, right? Anyway, as I was saying, varied. Some trolls are the voracious carnivores detailed in all the usual literature, but there are exceptions. There are nearly as many troll craftsmen, wizards, and honorable nobles as there are humans of the same.
Oh fine, I know what everyone really wants to know. I can hear you all asking it. "But what do trolls look like?" Well, we're short, not so short as people like to think, but short nonetheless. And we're hairy, not like a bear is hairy, but like a warthog is hairy. Oh I know what you're all saying, "Ugly lot," right? Well fie on you, you slimy, pink, hairless humans, we think you're pretty nasty too. Trolls tend to be stronger, pound for pound, than humans, but of course, being smaller, we tend to come out...second best, in unarmed combat. But what we lack in stature, we can make up for in sheer tenacity, voraciousness, and of course, numbers. I mean, do you seriously expect me, I mean us, to fight you humans one on one?
My, this is getting to be something of a rambling affair, isn't it? Let's see, how about culture? Well, we haven't got any. Not the way you would call it culture anyway. Trondheim is a vast underground kingdom, ruled by one troll king, usually the cleverest, and biggest troll around. The littlest trolls, the ones about two feet tall, tend to be the messengers and often think themselves quite important. It is vital to eat one or two of them every so often to keep them from getting an inflated ego. The larger trolls, the grunts, if you will, do the work. Tunneling, fighting, scavenging, hunting, and what have you. The hunting parties are quite a lark, I can tell you.
Why I remember one hunting party I was on as a small troll lad. It was quite cold, near mid-winter I believe, up in the mountains near Surt's fortress Grimshalg. Some foolish Light Alfar had decided to scout the road through the mountains for an army or some such foolishness. Needless to say, the presence of such warm meat on a cold day excited us a bit. I remember my part well, I was to bravely throw boulders down the mountain all about them in an effort to squish one or two. There were four or five of them, I don't remember which, but one of them had a wizardish look about him. Not much of a wizard, I'm happy to say, he didn't even look up before I crushed his head with a well hurled stone. The rest of my fellows made short work of them before they could scarcely shoot an arrow. My third cousin Bjolnir did get a minor flesh wound from a far flying arrow, but other than that we escaped unharmed.
But I digress. Trondheim. What a wonderful place. Why we had mines deep into the earth, near enough to Mudspell's Kettle to feel it's heat. I think that's what drew the dwarves, the heat, since they thought they could use it to forge their stupid weapons. But that's another story entirely. There was always a fire going in Trond's great hall. Trond, I might mention, was one of the more foolish kings it's been my misfortune to see. He let in three travelers who nearly spelled the end of him. Some wizardish chap, a stupid looking boy who just happened to have some sort of Alfar sword, and a Wolfganger princess with a passable imitation of Thor's hammer. They finally went away, but not without some damage to the great hall and Trond's stupid head.
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