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Rated: 13+ · Novel · Action/Adventure · #1904833
The beginning of a story about a peculiar troll.
By- Josh Williquette

I am a scribe. My name is Closto Verconium. My peers think my studies odd, for not many people are interested in trolls. But as a lad, I met one troll that captured my attention. A troll that was so unlike any other that I've encountered. He captured my interest, and my curiosity, for years. This led me to try and find out what happened to him, and to chronicle his adventures. This is my story, and the story of that one peculiar troll.
Trolls are generally between six to eight feet tall, weigh over three-hundred pounds at lightest and over six-hundred at most, and have very heavy, almost leathery, skin about two fingers thick. There are many myths have existed about trolls throughout the ages. “They are afraid of fire.”; “They don't like the sunlight.”; “They grow back parts of their body when cut apart.” Some people have even gone so far as to say, “Trolls are evil, and that's all there is to it.” What most people don't realize is that stereotypes aren't always accurate. In fact, behind the scenes of history, there have been some trolls who just don't quite fit in to our neat little box.
Take Ugarth for instance. Ugarth wasn't a large troll, a mean troll, he wasn't even a troll that most people in the land of Lar'gorek have ever heard of. He only shows up as an obscure reference, even in The High Tower's Book of Historical Completion (the magically recorded history of the wizards), in all but one historical document.
What most people don't realize is that without Ugarth, humanity, elves, dwarfs, orcs, indeed every people of every land would no longer be thriving. Instead they'd be, at best, slaves or, at worst, dead.
The only historical document that tells the complete tale of Ugarth's adventures, is his own auto-biography. It wasn't for many years that I found this book, and when I did, it was set upon a dusty old shelf in the back room of a troll-hole. Just a small hole, but a very special one, the home of Ugarth himself.
I shall, in the telling, insert my own part of the story, and that which I observed as a young lad. None of this was included in the original by Ugarth, since he undoubtedly didn't know the ramifications of his actions amongst all the races.
The tale, once translated out of native G'phargian, the troll language, goes like this.
Perhaps, as a young troll, Ugarth was not much different then you or I. He struggled with many things that all teens struggle with, self-image, doubt, fears, and the like. However, because of the society in which he grew up in, a troll society, Ugarth was exceptionally odd.
Where many trolls thought it perfectly fine to take from those weaker then themselves, or to benefit by any other means necessary, Ugarth preferred a quiet life.
Ugarth walked among the trees and the hills when he was a lad, or a guin in G'phargian, and observed more than the other trolls. Where the other trolls saw a deer and thought of food, he found himself thinking of the grace that it moved with. Most “odd” (Odd, of course, being used in a typical troll sense.) children amongst the trolls never survive to come of age if this is the case. The ones that do usually end up drafted into the troll mage-guild, the hoknum (a slightly crude form of mages, not nearly as studious as the humans or elves by nature, they tend to become basic healers or war wizards (for the bloody ones), or if they are exceptionally talented, an artificer. The artificers amongst the trolls were the ones responsible for creating the regeneration amulets, which are most often made of wood, though a few ancient trolls did have iron or stone ones. (Please note that this is the reason for their “fear of fire”. A warrior troll without his amulet is more vulnerable than normal, and flame can burn the wooden regeneration amulets.)
Ugrath was walking towards the lake one late night, it was approaching morning so most of the clan was in their beds or preparing to go to sleep for the day. The other guin were brushing their fangs, or bathing in the local sulfur baths before bedtime, or so he imagined. Not because sunlight was harmful in any way to them, as the humans believed, but because as far back as anyone could remember that is just what trolls did. They slept during the day, and woke at night.
Ugarth didn't mind being a little more tired for the next night, but he wanted to watch the sunrise. Even though it did sting his normally nocturnal eyes, he found it to be exceptionally beautiful. Worth every moment of his eyes watering in the rising sunlight, it was an event that he tried to see as much as possible.
I'm sure if he had parents, in the human sense, he would've gotten lectured for his unusual behavior. It is a well known fact that infant trolls are left to fend for themselves from birth, as their mothers don't care to take the time, or seem to possess the maternal instinct, typically present in the other races. This is quite alright with the children and usually becomes even more preferable once they begin to occasionally see their own parents.
Anyway, Ugarth was going to watch the sunrise. He was almost to the lake when he noticed the glow-stone lights on the side of the lake he frequented most often. He wasn't particularly worried about the glow-stones, as they were only used by trolls and could only be viewed by those of troll ancestry, but it was the first time he had seen anyone else at the lake besides himself. Odd events always made him cautious.
Concealing himself as much as possible, he slowly made his way through the bushes towards the lights. Sure enough there was around six trolls sitting in a circle around a small glow-pile (stacked glow-stones), they talked in low voices and Ugarth moved closer till he could just barely hear the words.
“...arrive around sunrise...”
“Yes... peculiar timing... I know that... little strange though...”
“Why now?”
“Well the council... yes, him too... he said...”
It seemed that they were waiting for someone. 'A member of the council, perhaps?' Ugarth thought. He strained to hear more.
Or he would have, but he never was one for stealth. His back heel slid into a rabbit hole in the ground causing him to lose his balance and land squarely on the large bush behind him. That wouldn't have been too bad, though noisy, if there hadn't of been a rather large boulder right behind the rock. He smashed the back of his head against the rock.
Even though a human probably could never have managed to knock out a troll, even a guin, a troll is quite capable of doing it to himself or another troll. Just sheer weight alone would be enough, in some cases, to render a troll unconscious.
So as Ugarth heard the other trolls make their way though the brush towards him, difficult through the ringing in his ears, the world spun and the trees and leaves seemed to sparkle as if the sun had decided to rise early that day.
A dark blur leaned over him, “Well, well, you are very punctual at least. Though I would definitely not make you a scout in the army. You'd just end up as lunch for a dragon likely as not.” A very wide fanged smile grinned towards him. Several more black blobs leaned down around him too. As the world spun and slowly got darker, he heard one of the blobs say, “We'll have to carry him. I suppose. Little rascal has us doing the work already, should just eat him...”
And the world faded to black as he felt hands grab him and carry him away.
Oddly enough, trolls do have a form of poetry, though not as developed as the poem of the humans and definitely not close to the great ballads of the elves, they take the form of marching songs and feasting tales. Purely for variance and to increase my readers knowledge of trolls I decided that I'd include one of these here.

The Tale of Bluknan

There once was a fellow,
A mighty troll,
Hi ho, hi ho, left, right.
A vicious old troll,
With fangs made of gold,
Hee ho, hee ho, left, right.
Blaknan the Bloodshed,
Ate on spoons made of bone,
Ha ho, ha ho, left, right.
He married and widowed
Many a crone,
Hi ho, hi ho, left, right.
The bastered did die
A few hundred times,
Hee ho, hee ho, left, right,
Despite the poor soul's
Craving for gnomes,
Ha ho, ha ho, left, right.
The problem you see
Was his left wooden knee,
Hi ho, hi ho, left, right.
It kept getting blown up
By gnomish floom-flomes
Hee ho, hee ho, left, right.
Even while he
Ate one, two, or three,
Ha ho, ha ho, left, right.
The gnomes would chop free,
His only good knee,
Hi ho, hi ho, left, right.
But Bluknan you see,
Was happy as could be,
Hee ho, hee ho, left, right.
For gnomes were, you see,
Silly as trees,
Ha ho, ha ho, left, right.

This is a very condensed version, and the tales of Blaknan the Bloodshed ranged much longer then I have space to tell here. This is mostly because the trolls march a lot throughout their life, and thus spend most of their time inventing new verses when there isn't anything else to do.
As you can see, it isn't close to artistic, but it does help them pass the time. (Casual Life of A Troll, Closto Verconium, Scribe and Researcher)

During my young years, I sought out an old man in my neighborhood who was reported to have books and know how to read. He was a priest, not to any important god or of any particular renown, but the only man within a conceivable distance from my home. Granted, at the age of twelve any distance is conceivable. Every town and city is just over the next hill and as a lad I longed to visit them all.
I think, in hindsight, that it was this desire that set me on my quest for knowledge. A desire to go to all the place that I knew I couldn't reach. Even more, a desire to learn so that I might indeed reach them someday.
With that desire in my heart, and a spring in my step I set out to meet this man. Bartim if you wish to know his name. After a lengthy discussion with him (most of which, I admit, amounted to me begging repeatedly for him to teach me), I “convinced” him that I was indeed on a true quest for knowledge and really did hunger for that which he could provide. Thus, I was apprenticed to him. My parents at first were disappointed, for they wished to have a second son like my older brother. A good farmer was he, strong and wide at the shoulders. My brother was designed for farm work.
I, wiry and spindly, was not the athletic sort. Indeed, when I would plow fields with my brother while young, I usually finished less than a quarter of his work load. That never really bothered him though, as he was more than happy to take on part of my share for the company. The only part of farm work I ever enjoyed was figuring out how the plows, cultivators, planters, and various farm tools worked.
However I digress, what I meant to tell you about was the day I met Ugarth. We were working in the fields coming upon sunset. Monsters and various other unpleasantries haunted the woods as the night grew long, but they were rare and far between. Far more dangerous it was to work too hard and find yourself missing a finger or worse.
The sun was just about to set when I glanced to the east over the field. Lo and behold, a monster stood there! I was terrified, for every lad has heard the stories humans tell of trolls. Screaming and running for my brother I glanced over my shoulder. I never saw the tree in front of me, but I felt it. As I lay there dazed for a few moments I recalled what I had seen behind me within that quick glance. Instead of chasing me, intent on drinking my blood and eating my flesh, the troll appeared to calmly move to the plow I had been pulling and examine it.
Quietly, I stood and turned around to watch what the monster (so I believed) was doing. It appeared he was toying with the harness. As I watched from the brush next to the field, Ugarth (who's name I figured out much later) gave a slight tug on the leather straps. The attached plow moved forward six or seven inches and cut a small furrow in the ground. A plow that I, pulling with my whole body, could barely drag through the earth!
Indeed, this troll did not seem too keen on bloodshed or me as food. Instead, he just seemed... well, curious.
I think back now, having met a few trolls that were of Ugarth's clan, and realize how foolish I was. I don't know why I decided to do it; maybe I was sick of other people telling me how to live my life and finally decided to step out and trod my own path. But I step out to meet this troll, this terrifyingly strong creature, I walked up to him, stuck out my hand and said, “Hi there, my name is Closto. Do you speak my language? If so, how do you do?”
If it had been any other troll I have no doubt he would have bit off my hand, arm, and then worked his way through the rest of my body just for fun. Ugarth, though, looked at my hand and appeared consider it closely. Then he reached out and shook it. His grip left my hand numb for hours afterwards, but I knew from that moment on that I had made a friend.

Many were the days after that when Ugarth would appear on the edge of the field just prior to sunset and many were the days we talked about the night that was to come and the day I had just spent. At first our understanding of each other and each other’s language was non-existent, but I believe that our personalities reached out to each other enough that we caught each other’s minds and hearts and recognized our kindred spirits.
It felts odd to me that any kindred spirit of mine should weigh over two hundred pounds and have thick blue-greenish skin, but that was indeed the case. We shared a love of machines and sciences. It was learning that drove us and a desire to increase our knowledge that set our feet to the paths we walked.
Sadly, I do not have many fond memories of my parents and family during this time, which I later found was also something Ugarth and I shared, for I found myself staying out later at night in the fields, but also accomplished less work than ever before.

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