The Troll

Elian leapt off Mera and tied her reins to a nearby tree. He began setting up camp, pitching his tent and scouting out the area. He moved off into the trees to find some firewood. He liked the trees, he felt at home among them.

As he bent down to pick up a large log, he heard a snapping sound ahead of him. Glancing up, he saw a tree doubled over on itself, cracked across its middle. Standing behind the tree, large, spiked club in hand was a troll.

The troll was nearly ten foot tall, and its skin was a pasty grey. It wore only a single, dirty loincloth around its waist, and the expression on its face was dumbstruck. It snarled at Elian, and pushed through the undergrowth, swinging its club at Elian’s head.

Elian ducked and rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding the club as it smashed into the ground where he had been. The troll yanked it free, and as Elian drew his rapier, the beast swung its club across its body. It connected with Elian’s arm, shattering the bone there and one of the spikes pierced his flesh. Elian yelped in pain, then gritted his teeth and readied the blade in his right hand. The troll swung again, attempting to bring the club down on Elian’s head.

The spikes became stuck in the forest floor, and as the troll bent to pull it free, Elian leapt onto it back and settled on its shoulders. The beast abandoned his club and began trying to throw Elian off. Holding on with his knees, Elian stabbed the blade through the troll’s shoulder blades. It roared in pain and became even more frantic in its attempts to throw him off. Elian used the momentum of the troll to swing himself forward, and slash his blade along its neck. Black blood gushed from the wound, and the troll slumped forward and collapsed on the ground.

Elian rose after the battle, and staggered back to his camp. He threw his rapier down and sat next to the fire. He laid his injured arm out on a flat rock, and began reciting words from the elven tongue. He was healing the injuries; it was one of the few abilities his people retained. Elian grimaced as his bones began to knit together beneath flesh which was steadily sewing itself closed.

In a matter of minutes, all that was left was a scar where the spike had pierced his flesh. Elian sat back, tired and weakened from the blood-loss. Everyday was a struggle.

The End

84 comments about this exercise Feed