By Martin Calderwood
The moon was full as it hung majestically over the craggy rock dome known simply as 'The Troll Face on the Mountain'. Slowly and reverently Old Mart trudged up the mountain path leading toward the back of the bare gray rock 'head' which loomed sedately above a small village nestled in the valley below. His journey and climb had been long and tiring, and he was feeling every moment of his 440 years as his goal came into view. Looking up at the sky, he paused at the end of this much needed pilgrimage and expressed his deep gratitude for the calm, cool night that blessed the land. Instinctively he knew that when the harvest moon ushered in the season this kind of weather was a very good sign for the land's many inhabitants.
Up ahead and far below he knew that, with few exceptions, even the most restless human had gone to bed. Life started early in these high mountain villages and there was little time for late night activities so Mart had no fear of being discovered as he came around the trail approaching the 'right ear' of 'The Troll Face'. With a sigh, he walked a few score feet to where he could gaze down onto the houses and farms below. The last time he was here only a handful of structures and farms spotted the landscape. Now there were more small slant-roofed chalets than he had fingers and toes. This great number both impressed and worried him as he memorized the details he saw. At this rate the humans would soon be too numerous to avoid and the world of the trolls would be forever upset.
The single clang from the church bell startled him, proclaiming the time to be midnight. If any other humans were up other than the old Sexton they soon would not be. As expected, moments later the flickering light in the stone church went out. Mart's head bobbed briefly as he turned and walked a few dozen yards more to where he was able to turn and gaze up into the gray irregular stone eyes of the face that was already famous throughout the land. Mart had heard several tales of how the poor unfortunate troll had come to his stony state, and many a moral had been spun by the elders of the land to encourage wayward children to fall in line. None of these tall tales bothered him as he studied the familiar features.
"Hello old friend." he said softly.
Sadly, but not unexpectedly, there was no reply save that of the rustling in the breeze that began to stir the slowly chilling air.
"We live in changing times." he muttered toward the silent sentinel before him. "We cannot all do what you have done, and as the humans grow in number they will hunt us and seek to take for themselves that which should be shared by all. We will have to go deeper into hiding, and this will not be good for anyone."
Turning around, Old Mart squatted and gazed down at the village, content to watch the soft wisps of smoke curl from the nearest buildings below. Occasionally the dancing wind would carry a whiff of pine laden smoke to his vantage point, adding to the soothing ambiance of his perch. He listened intently to the nearby water fall and marveled that it was still untouched. Above him the stars sparkled and the moon slowly arched across the sky.
"I imagine you are even more aware of it than I am. You do have quite a view here, my friend," muttered the old Troll over his shoulder. After a while Mart paused and looked back at the silent stone face. "Are the humans as uncaring and unthinking as they seem?"
Like a teasing hand a soft gust of cool air ruffled the unkempt salt and pepper toned hair of the aging troll. Mart turned back to take a final look at the village then standing he swished his short graying 'powder puff' capped tail and stretched to his full meter and a half height. For a moment the air around him resounded with a wondrous cracking and snapping of so many dried sticks as his ancient body registered its protests at the action. Several yards away a startled owl swivelled his horned head and glared at the old troll disdainfully. Mart chuckled and turned toward the great head-shaped prominence.
"Perhaps someday we will be able to work together with these strange humans, but as long as they remain selfish and wasteful we will need to limit our contact." Mart paused as he listened to the quiet echoes of water and wind around him. "Yes, I know they are not all evil, and many may be good, but I fear for the future. Already they waste almost as much as they use." Mart paused again, taking a step forward as he glanced over at the old owl. "But if they learn to listen to you, my friend, maybe they will absorb some 'troll wisdom' before it is to late. I will return the next time the dark moon rises. Rest well old friend."
Shambling quietly, the old one moved back down the path he had earlier traversed, soon disappearing into the scruffy brush and thickets that hid his movements from those who might be starting to stir in the village. Soon he could only see the gray stone summit or crown of the great head as he moved in search of shelter from the rising sun. He chided himself for not watching the moon closer, but now that he was deeper into the mountains he had longer to seek adequate shelter because of the shadows that still filled the area. The fact was that he could probably travel all day and not worry about encountering even a stray sun beam, but he was old and he felt he should not take any chances. He finally decided to take shelter in a recently abandoned fox den about 5 kilometers from 'The Troll Face on the Mountain'. Mart's keen senses told him that the hole had not been occupied for several days and inwardly he feared lest the occupant had come to harm from one of the many traps set by the humans. He crawled in, careful not to disturb anything, and even though it was a bit cramped he soon found himself asleep, dreaming of a great giant who once roamed the land. A giant troll who once carried a small boy on shoulders as broad as the world itself. A giant troll who now overlooked a growing village snuggled peacefully within the arms of a breathtaking valley.
"Wake up Troll. You are in my hole!" The voice whined, barked, and yipped as it slowly penetrated the sleeping ears on the figure several yards into the cool damp earth. "You are not welcome here and I would appreciate it if you would leave now that the moon is coming up."
Old Mart stirred and blinked several times finally focusing on two shining eyes that stared at him in the darkness as if they had a light of their own.
"Good evening, good fox." said the old troll softly. "Your scent was weak so I thought it proper to sleep here. I have been respectful. I am called Old Mart."
"I am known as Slick Ears!" replied the fox proudly.
"Thank you, Slick Ears, for your hospitality. I have far to go this night so I will be on my way if you will be so kind as to let me pass."
Slick Ears turned and scampered out, followed by Old Mart who backed carefully yet quickly on his hands and knees until he reached the exit. The lingering scents of the day filled the nostrils of his long 'noble' troll nose with the bouquet of life as he stood outside the hole, stretching and crackling loudly. His efforts were rewarded by a symphony of noise as nocturnal creatures began to stir to his clarion alarm.
From his pouch Mart took a piece of dried meat and casually tossed it up in the air. The keen nosed, sharp eyed fox leaped and snatched the morsel from the air with a sharp snap. In a gulp it was gone. With an appreciative grunt the fox vanished again into the underbrush.
Mart listened for several seconds until he could no longer hear or sense the fox before he turned to follow the trail. Casually he took a handful of pungent meat from his pouch and plopped it into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully as he walked. High above him the moon shown down into the deep, dark greens of the wooded slopes around him as he easily followed the game trails that criss-crossed the land. Mart easily recognized the maker of each trail, and he was careful so that few if any traces of his passing remained to worry the regular users. It was, after all, a trolls duty to avoid disturbing the natural order of the places he or she traveled unless it was to improve the harmony of the area.
Walking slowly and carefully he only paused to take out another handful of meat. The leathery, salty taste of the dried elk was made sweeter when Mart paused and took a long drink from a cool, crystal brook that crossed his way. Standing, he noticed several scavenger insects crawling amidst the moist decay near the stream. With a smile he took out a small chunk of the partially chewed meat and spread it on the ground near where they were crawling.
"Take a treat home for your queen." he whispered softly. As if they understood, the insects paused in their scurry of activity and moved to the grayish brown paste and began to nibble out smaller parts to take home. Mart nodded gently, stood and continued down the path he planned to follow down until it reached the fjords. From there he would turn and head toward the icy Speilsalen caves in the Trollheimen Mountains where he planned to visit an old friend named Larg.
Mart walked slowly crossing rock and rill, occasionally leaping over a deep crevice or meandering streamlet. Centuries had taught him to drink in the beauties of nature, including hundreds if not thousands of jagged rocks and irregular boulders that the great ice had left behind Even in the darkness he could pick out details few could ever see. Occasionally he would pass an odd shaped outcropping that he knew had once been a living, breathing troll, but fortunately he did not see anybody he recognized.
Over the past 200 years Mart had made this pilgrimage several times, and like all the times before he now planned a slightly different route back home so he could see new sites and meet new friends. The great stone head would always be there overlooking the village. Its prominence provided a fixed point for his wanderings to which he could always return but nature changed often, perhaps every decade, and much of his joy came from the journey.
A soft yip broke his thought as the fox came trotting out of the brush. "May I go with you for a while?" he asked softly.
"I will value your company. You know my trail is not a direct one, and I will change paths from time to time." explained Mart starting to walk again.
"So it is with all trolls." laughed Slick Ears. "It will be interesting."
The two traveled in silence for a couple of hours moving generally eastward. Mart's pace was steady and even while Slick Ears trotted gently just ahead as he found it easy to keep up with the ancient troll. Finally toward midnight Old Mart paused and sniffed the air.
"I smell death." said Slick Ears licking his chops. "
As do I. Nearby, a hare. He will make a good meal for us. He has not been dead long so we do not need to cook him." explained Mart turning aside.
The fox barked happily and loped on ahead.
"Let your scent scare off any who may be nearby mourning. I will make a little extra noise to help you." directed Mart just as the fox slipped from view. "It will make the farewell easier."
Mart did not wait for a reply, but instead reached out and grabbed a brush and shook it, then stretched and cracked like dried twigs. His keen hearing picked up a flurry of activity as he approached the place where the fox had stopped to sniff the air.
"Humans were here not many days ago." said Slick Ears returning moments later.
The old troll did not say a word as he found the evidence to confirm Slick Ear's keen sense of smell. Across one of the narrow paths leading into a small clearing hung a wire snare tangled around a large gray hare. The critter must have fought hard for his life. The brief and violent struggle was evidenced by the torn leaves and scratched, torn ground. On closer exam Mart saw the evidence of a few soft paw prints, telling him that the family had departed quickly just before the unlikely pair of travelers had arrived. Mart imagined that somewhere concealed in the shadows one member of the family, likely the eldest son, was watching. A gentle sniff confirmed this. Mart turned back to the body and shook his head in disgust.
"Only the human animal kills unnecessarily and so unmercifully. Even the wolves go for the swift kill but this.." he paused as he ripped the trap from the ground, "is cruel."
The fox nodded but still licked his lips. "They create food for us and that is a good purpose."
Mart shook his head. "It is a purpose but it is not good. We benefit from their foolishness. When they return the meat will have been spoiled and the hide useless. No good can come if they keep on their wasteful path."
Slick Ears smiled a toothy grin. "But we will eat today and the hare will fulfill his part of the circle. These humans have their place, as do other wasters."
Mart forced a smile and pulled out his sharp knife, slid it under the snare wrapped tightly around the hares neck, and cut through it. "We will eat." he said as he tossed the trap into the brush. "Sniff around for more. They are not content to take only what they need. I will give you a fine meal when you return."
The fox looked disappointed, but dutifully slid off into the surrounding brush seeking other traps while Mart deftly skinned and cleaned the hare. He then sliced off several choice strips and put them with the internal parts he did not want, knowing the fox would enjoy them. Occasionally he would put a piece in his mouth as he worked.
The fox returned shortly. "There are three more traps on the nearby paths approaching the stream. I have scented them, but they should be removed." Slick Ears paused and looked at the meat and innards and rumbled a soft 'thanks'. "One does not go hungry when one travels with a troll." he muttered sniffing the delicacies.
In three quick chomps the first bits were down.
Mart pulled a thigh bone out of his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. "Slow down friend fox, you have no fear hear. You are not a wolf. Savor your food."
The fox picked up an organ and chewed it briefly then swallowed. Shaking his head he picked up another tidbit and gulped it down.
Mart shook his head and bit the end of the bone and chewed it crunchily until the fine pieces slid easily down his throat. He watched Slick Ears for a moment, then turned and sniffed the air. The first trap was only a few yards away and in a few minutes he had torn the snares from their supports and broke them into several pieces before tossing them into the brush. Satisfied, he walked to the nearby stream and bent down to take a drink. A glint of silver in the moonlight caught his eye. Deftly he reached in and grabbed up a steel trap set to catch the unwary and hold the head under until the victim drowned or bled to death. In anger he swung the trap hard into a nearby rock, then continued to smash it until it was useless. With a chuckle he lifted up a rock and set the trap down before burying it under the large stone. He then drank his fill and went back to where Slick Ears had curled up on a warm rock.
The slightly sleepy creature opened one eye and watched the troll. "You make enough noise to wake the old bearded humans." he muttered as he re-closed his eye.
Mart grinned and ate a little more, then gently distributed some of the remains for smaller creatures. He placed one breast in his pouch and looked around for a stout stick. There were none to be found.
"I must go, friend fox. Do you wish to continue?"
Slick Ears stood and stretched. "I will come."
Mart nodded and together they left the area with Slick Ears loping ahead playfully.
Suddenly a loud yelp followed by a metallic snap split the silence of the night. Mart rushed forward and saw Slick Ears trying to get up. His left front paw was bleeding badly, but the trap nearby was sprung and askew on the path.
"I am getting old." moaned the fox licking his leg. "Last time I saw a trap I was able to bounce in and out easily."
"Next time use a stick." said Mart kneeling. "Hold still and I will fix it. You are lucky that it is not broken."
The fox lay on his side breathing heavily as Mart took a few leaves from his pouch and crushed them until they were a fine powder, which he put on a leaf and poured a little water on to make a fine paste. Into the paste he sprinkled a little powder from a small pouch. This concoction he rubbed gently into the wound. As he watched the bleeding stopped, and slowly the wound seemed to heal over. Within a few short hours there was only a bare patch where the wound had been.
"Your hair will grow back, friend fox. I do not think it would be wise of you to do that again."
The fox stood and tentatively tested the foot, then bounced around as a pup for a few seconds.
"Troll magic." said the astonished Slick Ears looking at Old Mart gratefully "I have heard of such things, but I never believed them. Thank you."
In reply Mart picked up the trap and smashed it hard against a nearby rock. The clang of shattering metal produced a satisfying echo as the Troll picked up a nearby stone and buried the atrocity underneath.
After sniffing the air Old Mart started up the path. "Stay behind me a while; the humans are in this area, maybe hunting for winter food. Traps will not hurt me, and I don't want you to loose your bushy tail!"
Slick Ears barked his agreement and fell into a pace a few yards behind the old troll.
The pair traveled slowly. Mart did not know why, but each step he took felt wrong. Finally he stopped as if listening to the late night air. Slick Ears came up and sat down quietly as if he too sensed the necessity to change. For several long minutes only the night sounds filled the air, accompanied by the soft breathing of the curious fox.
Finally Mart nodded and turned around and began to walk quickly back toward 'The Troll Face'. This time he did not meander along animal trails; this time he simply cut a straight path through the woods, aware that the sunrise was only a short time away.
Slick Ears followed as much out of curiosity as any other reason. The fox realized that talking was not a good thing now, so he simply bided his time moving behind the Troll, amazed that the creature could move so quickly and quietly through the brush and rocky terrain. As the first streaks of light began to filter through the growing clouds Slick Ears began to wonder if his friend was being foolhardy in whatever quest he had suddenly caught his fancy. He knew that the village was only a short journey from where they were, and the sent of humans was growing stronger with each passing kilometer.
The pair flitted in and out of the shadows but with each passing minute the task became more and more difficult. Finally the Old Troll turned off to his left toward a brush covered rocky outcropping that rose sedately beside a jaunty brook that bubbled down the country side. Slick Ears could see nothing that might provide a full days shelter for his new friend, so he resolved that he would need to watch the sun as it traveled across the sky in order to warn the Troll if its rays got too close.
Suddenly the clouds parted and the entire area was filled with the golden beams of morning. Slick Ears yelped in concerned surprise, but when he looked for the Troll he was no where to be seen. Above him a pair of startled birds took wing, then all was quiet as he searched back and forth for his companion. With careful eyes he checked each of the rocks and searched the shadows for the Old Troll.
Finally he began to yelp out a call. "Mart, Mart!" he called in growing despair .
"Friend Fox." came a voice out of the deepest shadows of the brush-covered promontory. "I am here."
To Slick Ear's surprise a large bush rustled and parted like a curtain, revealing a deep indentation in the stone. Inside the troll paused then stepped back, closing the opening, but not before the quick animal slipped into the cool shelter.
"This is a good place to wait." said Mart settling back against the inner wall.
"Wait?" asked the fox. "What for?"
"I do not know. Something is going to happen."
The fox looked at him curiously, but remained silent, curling up near the entrance. Soon both he and his friend were sleeping peacefully.
Along toward dusk the fox awoke as the sounds and smells of approaching humans penetrated his hideout. He whined softly and peeked out of the door.
"What do you see?" asked Mart from the darkness behind him. "Hunting party. Four men. They are carrying an Elk." He listened for several seconds until the sounds faded into the distance. "They killed the elk for food, but they were searching for something else. I think it was a lost child, or maybe two."
"Did they blame Trolls?."
Slick Ears barked a soft laugh. "Yes. As always they blamed the Trolls for all misfortune. They fear that they were taken and eaten by one."
"It is possible. Like humans, not all my kind are good. I hope it was not a Troll because it will not help us. All we can do is wait."
"The sun is almost down. We could leave now. There are enough shadows for us to travel safely."
"I feel I must wait. We are not far from the village. I know you are hungry, so go out now but be careful. I do not want those humans to have a new pelt for their belts."
"They could never catch me." grinned the fox broadly. "I will be back soon."
Mart waited quietly, listening as the sounds of the night rose above the murmur of quieting day; the owl, the scrambling of the mouse, the chatter of life as creatures of the night entered the world. He inhaled deeply, drawing in the gentle, lingering smell of thousands of wild flowers as they nodded off in the growing calmness. Finally he stepped out of his hiding place and stretched luxuriously, allowing his bones and muscle to pop and stretch, startling all those around him. A few moments later he had caught three fine fish from the nearby stream and hungrily he sat down to eat.
He sat quietly for the next couple of hours listening and waiting. Slick Ears had returned and now lay curled up on a still warm rock. When the toll of the midnight bell echoed gently into his sanctuary Mart rose as if heeding its clarion call. Myths and legends told how many trolls hated the sound of church bells and how if they heard them they would burst into thousands of pieces. This was only true for a few of his kind, yet humans only knew what they saw and trolls were content to let them believe what they wanted because it kept the two groups apart. It was the same thing with the sun turning them to stone with every touch. As he walked he glanced at the horizon and wondered how anyone could believe such tales in a land where the sun sometimes never went to bed. Trolls turned to stone because of the nature of their hearts, and sometimes the sun or a church bell was the final catalyst. In reality, however, most trolls, like himself, avoided the sun because there were fewer people in it and they did not like the bright light in their eyes.
His footsteps felt slow and heavy as he made his way down the path toward the village. He did not want to hurry; he did not need to hurry. Whatever he was waiting for was coming up from the village, and after a few hundred yards he paused and listened. Step by step he moved slowly forward, pausing to listen frequently. He did not need to wonder why; he knew he was here for a purpose.
Behind him Slick Ears followed curiously. His experience with trolls was limited, but he had heard that these very reclusive creatures sometimes knew things they should do in almost magical ways. When Mart decided to go back, the Fox had followed as much out of curiosity then anything else.
After about a kilometer walk Mart stopped and listened. This time he also inhaled deeply, as one would in garden full of roses. When he exhaled he smiled and squatted down on the side of the trail. Now the Fox's ears picked up the slow, plodding steps of an old man, a man who dragged one leg in a slight limp. The scent of the human was musty, old, and moist with the sense of salt and sweat. The man was a least a quarter of a kilometer away, and the fox wondered why the troll had stopped rather than going forward to meet him.
The pair waited in silence. The distant footfalls seemed to hesitate and for a moment they seemed to begin to fade, but after only a few meters the sound reversed and the human proceeded forward. Currently, Mart walked slowly forward, perhaps only a few dozen steps before he paused again. The scent of old human was strong, and they could hear the labored breathing of the approaching man until he was only a few meters away around a sharp curve in the path.
"It is safe, old man, I will not harm you." said Mart softly.
The man shuffled around the bend. "You knew I knew you were there." he said carefully.
Mart recognized the old Sexton. "Yes, as you knew I was here. I am called Mart."
"I am Sexton Stromness. I have come looking for you because of a dream. In it I saw an old white haired troll carrying two children, a boy and a girl, and they were smiling."
Mart remained silent. Behind him Slick Ears barked a soft warning reminding him of what the hunters had said. "They will blame you." whined the fox softly.
"The children were smiling." repeated the Sexton. "And I think you can help find them. They have been lost 3 days and some say that they were taken by Trolls. Now I do not believe, this because I... well, it is said that my great-grandmother lost her tail in a church when she married my great-grandfather, and I have never doubted it, so I think I would know if a Troll were here. You have been here before, up by 'The Face'. Was he a friend?"
"Yes, I used to ride on his shoulders when I was a boy, and when he grew heavy-hearted I tried to make him happy, but he just lay down and turned to stone. It was one of the saddest days of my life."
"I can imagine. Can you still hear him?"
"Sometimes," replied Mart softly, "but he does not have much to say."
The Sexton smiled. "Can you help us? It will help the Troll's reputation. We have lost several sheep and other animals recently, and naturally the Trolls are blamed. Now, many think your kind have taken the children, too. No troll will be safe if you do not help."
"I do not know if I can help, but I will try."
"That is all I can ask. Good bye."
Mart nodded and turned away. "Good bye, old man. I will see you again."
Slick Ears followed the old troll back up the trail as the old man's footsteps faded into the distance. The troll now was moving fast, and Slick Ears had to trot to keep up, but he was well rested and had no problem.
"Do you have any idea where to look? Because if you don't, you aren't going to get there very fast."
"I must go ask my friend."
"You mean the mountain? He cannot be alive."
Mart looked down at the now scampering fox. "All things are alive. I can still feel him through the stone. He will hear me, and I will get the answers I seek."
A few minutes later, he stood beside the irregular stone face gazing up at the huge 'ear'. With a touch of sadness, he reached out and touched the bare stone. Nearly all the old ones were gone now; Troll Face had been one of the last. They were simple, too close to nature and not very cunning. Some had been tricked, some had been foolish and some, like the Troll whose face rose over the village, had decided that they could do more for their kind by becoming part of the world that begat and nurtured them. 'Returning to Mother Stone' as he called it.
"I need your help, old friend." said Mart softly as he caressed the bare spot. "Two human children passed you three days ago and are now lost. I heard they were taken by bad trolls. I do not believe it, but others will. I need you to commune with the Earth and find the children.
Mart stepped back and stood quietly. Around him the air grew still as if nature, in reverent anticipation, held its breath.
Slick Ears moved behind his friend and sat down, his ears sharp and alert. The fox could sense a ripple flowing through the air as clouds began to gather above them. As common as storms were in the area, these clouds seemed to form unusually fast. Soon a fine fog surrounded them, cutting off the village's view of the mountain. An bull elk appeared at the edge of the trail, as did several other animals. From the village a sheep came up the path, followed by an old plow horse. The entire area seemed to be anticipating something dramatic.
The silence grew thicker, then the ground rumbled. Dirt and small stones fell like tears down the great stone face. Nearby a branch snapped. In the distance an old dog howled mournfully. The ground shook again, and one great stone eyelid rose and looked at the old troll and his four legged companion.
Mart smiled broadly and bowed, realizing just how much effort the Mountainous Troll had made to accomplish this simple feat. Mart held himself waiting and listening. Finally he nodded.
"Yes, I have aged since you saw me last." exclaimed Mart, feeling more than hearing the question. "No, things are about the same." he said again after several minutes, followed a thousand breaths later by, "She is about the same. I visited her last year. You can still see most of her head above water and she does make a very good island. I think there are 5 or 6 buildings on her, and she told me that the walking on top of her tickles."
Mart waited for several more minutes as the mountain processed the information. It took time for the ancient troll to think. He had not been terribly bright to start with, and the years of being stone made it difficult to process anything and the finding of two small children would be no easy task. A gentle rumble in the ground told him the little bit of humor was not wasted.
Mart waited a few more moments then asked. "Do you know of the children?"
A clear 'Yes' followed shortly. Mart continued to 'listen', carefully extending his senses deep into the great head.
"Where?"
Again there was a long wait. Mart knew that the great troll was in essence asking the earth around him to find the children. Mart had sensed already that the children had climbed passed his friend, probably in search of wild flowers that were in full blossom this time of year. He knew the mountain would not even notice where they went after they were passed his head.
Mart looked at the clouds and knew that the sun's first fingers would be edging over the top of them in search of a hole through which a beam could slip forth to wake the world. The ground rumbled again and Mart smiled. The children had entered an old troll cave just over two kilometers from where they were. They had become lost after a fall deep inside the cave, and one of them was injured.
Gratefully Mart hugged the mountainous face, thanking him gratefully. "You have done so much. Rest my friend. I will return when I can."
The eye looked down at the small figure that used to ride on his shoulders, then ever so slowly it looked around then up at the cloudy sky, allowing the moisture that was beginning to fall to wash out the loose dirt and grime. With a satisfied sparkle, the eye closed. Mart felt the old body return to its state of rest before he looked down at the fox, who had remained close through the entire incident.
"We must go. The sun will not stay hidden long. I think we can make the cave entry before its rays appear if we hurry."
The fox nodded, sensing nature return to normal around him. "I will follow, Troll. Let's go."
Together they started to run. Above them the clouds started to break up as the morning mist settled into the deeper ravines and crevices. This magic of nature gave the Troll and his companion the extra time needed to race to a place held somehow in Mart's mind. With only a brief search the pair found the entrance and darted inside. It was easy to see why children would want to go in, as it was surrounded by a beckoning, green coolness that spoke of an adventurous closeness to nature.
The two paused, drawing in deep droughts of cool moist air, when suddenly Slick Ears yelped in surprise.
"Ogres!"
Mart sniffed. Ogres are nasty but rarely seen creatures who haunt caves and tunnels throughout the 'old world', creating mayhem and trouble wherever they went. Sometimes called Orcs, these greenish skinned, often ugly beings were often the cause of the trouble Trolls were blamed for, but since Ogres rarely left their caves they were even more legendary than Mart and his kind.
"The Ogres must be hungry to leave this cave entrance so easily found." said Mart softly. "They have not been here for a few days, but there is no guessing when they will return. We must hurry and find the children."
"We must watch for traps too." barked Slick Ears. "Ogres eat anything that walks. They will eat the children. They may already be dead."
"Sexton Stromness said they were alive. We will hurry, but Ogres do not eat Troll and I will not let them get your tail for their belts," exclaimed Mart with a quick grin.
The fox looked around quickly. "I do not like Ogres."
Slick Ears sniffed the air, then put his nose to the ground and began to search for human scent he knew would be the children's. After several seconds he entered the cave and followed the trail back several dozen yards to a fork, a wide one passing between narrow rocky walls. The children's tracks lead a few feet up the wider corridor, then doubled back and passed between the two stones. The remaining light from the entrance vanished into the darkness a few meters down the path. The fox took a moment to let his eyes adjust to the darkness, then proceeded down a gentle slope into the mountain.
Mart had to struggle to move through the narrow confines of the path his near foot-long nose making, it too difficult for him to pass without turning his head forward. At his level it was not the scent of the children that tickled his pronounced nostrils, but the sticky scent of tallow that filled his nostrils. It became clear that the children had come well prepared to explore the cave, and they must have brought several with them, the burning of which scented the confined air masking many other scents that night follow. Mart drew deep the scent and increased his pace behind the excited fox.
As he scooted sideways he became aware that this part of the cave was natural, and he realized that not only had nature had a hand in the creation of the cave but Trolls, and perhaps Ogres, had worked the deep, hidden earth to fashion what now lay around him. Most of which, he realized, had not been seen by the rest of the world until these children had wandered in to explore.
The more natural path meandered slowly downward, chiseled here and there to allow a small troll or normal human to pass. Other groups could traverse even the most unusual confines with ease due to their natural abilities or smaller size. Mart was careful using his gift of Troll Sight to see beyond the darkness into the shadows where that which was hidden was clear and beautiful. Occasionally the path would drop suddenly; someone not paying attention would trip, and Mart found bits of broken candle to indicate that this had happened to the children. A faint salty smell invaded the tallow smell as he stepped carefully down one such drop. One of the children had fallen here and scraped away enough skin to bleed a little. Mart was not concerned, as the scent was faint, so not much blood had been spilt.
He continued another five or six meters to a very sudden drop off. Mart stumbled and had to leap down ward, popping and snapping as he landed roughly on his feet. Around him were many parts of shattered candles and the smell of blood was stronger, as was the smell of sweat and fear. Slick Ears, who had leaped easily down the drop, growled softly as he sniffed the confines of the room. There were several exits, and it was easy to see how someone falling into this chamber could become disoriented in the dark and become lost, especially if they were injured.
Mart noted 4 exits in addition to the one he had come in. One was upward, and the rest were level or downward. One was only high enough for someone to crawl out of. Both sniffed the air suspiciously, expecting the lingering scent of Ogre, and were not disappointed in detecting the obnoxious odor. The smell also contained the sharp smell of flint on steel. The combined scents told a story that the children must have tried to relight their candle parts and been unsuccessful. The tallow smells were mingled with those given by fear and wounds. Slick Ears quickly identified the path the children had taken and sniffed it cautiously. It seemed the widest and easiest to follow and was the most attractive, which meant it would lead to the most dangerous of places.
The two proceeded carefully step by step pausing every few meters to sniff the air.
"The girl is helping the boy. He is hurt and becoming harder to support." said Mart after sniffing. "They are close."
Slick Ears bounced in his eagerness. "Yes, they are close." he agreed.
Mart put his hand to his mouth. "Is anybody here?" he called in his best 'humanish' voice.
He listened for a moment and heard only the distant drips withing the cave and the gentle breathing and heartbeat of his foxy friend.
"Children?" He hollered louder.
Slick Ears barked in an imperfect imitation of a dog.
They followed the scents a half dozen meters more.
"Hullo?" came a faint voice from up ahead.
"We are coming." said Mart starting to walk forward slowly. "Do not be afraid. Are you hurt?"
"We fell into a hole in the darkness. Josef has a hurt foot and head. He is asleep. I cannot wake him up. I am so afraid."
"Talk more little girl! What is your name? How old are you?" encouraged Mart as he increased his pace. A pit trap was a standard Ogre trick, and often held additional dangers other than a hard bottom to hit when someone fell in.
"I am Hilde." came the little voice. "I'm twelve."
Slick Ears yelped and leaped back in excitement. "She is there." he barked.
Mart eased up to the edge of the drop and looked into a deep hole. "Hello Hilde." he said looking over the edge. "I am called Old Mart."
"I can't see you." said the little girl looking around nervously. I fell and my last little candle piece went out."
"I understand. I do not want you to be scared but I am coming down. I will lift you up and then your friend."
The pit was almost two meters deep and at least that far across. Mart knew that a larger creature might hit its head when it fell and be killed. The children's size had saved them.
Hilde squirmed uncomfortably as she felt the Troll gather her up and thrust her upward to the edge. Her hands and senses told her that something was different about this rescuer but she was so relieved to get out that she did not think about it. When she felt Josef's limp body being shoved up toward her she scooted back, bumping into Slick Ears who backed swiftly out of the way.
"Wake up Josef." she pleaded. "We are safe."
"He is hurt in the head." said Mart. "I will carry him. You hold onto my tail and follow me," he said, scooping up the boy who was just taller then he was.
"Tail?" questioned the girl backing toward the hole.
"Yes. I am a Troll. Hold my tail and we will get out of here."
The girl haltingly reached out her hand and felt the tail swish near her. "You are not going to eat me?"
Mart chuckled. "No. You hold my tail and follow quietly."
Deftly he placed the furry part of the tail in her grasping hand.
"Feels like a horse tail." she said timidly.
Mart took a step. "Hold on." he commanded softly.
Step by step the foursome moved back through the twists and turns of the cave. Mart was glad that the fox had properly scented the trail as they proceeded in the darkness, because even with his special Troll sight his nose was his strongest sense and his proudest feature. The girl followed in total silence, either too scared or too surprised to vary even a little from the Trolls instructions. Mart did not want it any other way because if any danger approached he wanted to hear it, smell it, or see it before it was too late. He relaxed slightly as they passed back through the narrow corridor. Hilde. commented that she remembered 'this place'.
The boy moaned as he bounced up and down slightly on the rock hard arms of the Troll. Mart paused and adjusted the boy's position to make it through the narrow pass.
"Will we make it Mr. Troll?" asked Hilde nervously.
"We are getting close to the entrance. A few more meters and even you will be able to see some of the light yourself." said Mart.
"But won't you turn to stone in the light?" she asked, beginning to warm.
"Not if I am careful. If I do not stay too long in the sun I will be safe enough. Trolls only turn to stone if their hearts are not right."
"I don't understand. Everybody says Trolls turn to stone if they are hit by the golden rays of the sun." she insisted.
"Some are, but I will let the Sexton explain it to you. He is the one who sent us."
"Us?"
"Yes. Slick Ears is a friend. He helped me find you."
"Who is Slick Ears?"
"My friend the fox. He told me which tunnel you took after your fall."
Hilde snickered. "Foxes don't talk, silly."
"All animals talk. Humans are just too smart to know that. He would talk to you if you could listen. Say something fox."
Slick ears put his ears back. "What do you want me to say, Troll? The humans should not know we can talk. We had better get her home."
"But if she understands she can stop the hunters." said Mart softly. "But the humans would use the skill to trick us, and we would become easy prey."
"All I hear is barks and whines." said the girl, letting go of Mart's tail. "What did he say?"
"He says we had better hurry and get you home before I teach you to understand him." said Mart with a sigh. "He is right. I should not teach you to understand Fox or any other animal."
Hilde looked perplexed. "You mean you can talk to them? That is exciting."
"We must get you home. Now take my tail and follow me.
As expected, the first filterings of light became visible after only a few more meters and grew brighter with every step. Mart breathed a sigh of relief, but sucked it back fast as a shadow passed the entrance way.
Slick Ears, who had gone ahead sprinted back. "Ogres!" he barked urgently.
Mart put the boy down and took several steps forward after urging the girl to stay still. He watched as a tall, hard skinned greenish creature entered the cave.
"We do not want to fight you, troll. Just give us the food and you can go."
A second Ogre entered the cave. Both carried heavy wood clubs and were at least half again taller than Mart.
"Humans are not food." said Mart softly.
"Anything is food if we catch it. Just give us one and you can eat the other."
"I do not eat humans and you will not either. Go find an elk or other animal."
The lead Ogre laughed. "We will take them."
Mart shook his head. "You do not want to fight."
The Ogre looked at the troll, then at the fox sitting behind him. "Give us the fox then."
Mart looked down at the fox and winked. "If you can catch him he is yours."
Slick Ears eyes grew wide, and with a yelp he sprinted back into the cave, the Ogres in hot pursuit. Hilde watched wide eyed as the creatures pushed past her, knocking her to the ground. She screamed as her head hit the rock as she collapsed beside Josef.
Without waiting Mart scooped up both children and headed out of the cave, knowing that Slick Ears would be fine in the twists and turns of the cave. Looking skyward, the Troll moved into the shadows outside the cave, then expertly moved from shadow to shadow, avoiding the direct sun as much as possible just to be safe. Occasionally he would move through the open and his eyes had to blink rapidly to avoid the glare. One of the disadvantages of Troll Sight was that it took longer for the eyes to adjust to bright light, and this was not a pleasant process when most of the time was spent in dim or no light.
A hundred steps from the entrance Mart paused and turned around, listening and waiting. Almost ten minutes passed and Mart heard a rustling in the distant bushes. The sound grew louder and soon Slick Ears sprinted across a nearby open area. Mart smiled and reached into the pouch he always wore on his waist. From a smaller pouch within the pouch he poured a small amount of dust and waited until the fox came up beside him. With a quick motion he brought the powder to his mouth and blew it toward the cave. The dust caught the light breeze and scattered specks falling every so often to the ground.
Putting the pouch back he looked down at the fox who was smiling and panting next to him.
"I guessed you would be going back to the village." he said. "That was fun. I lead them right to their own trap. They will take a little time to get out. We must hurry or they will track us. They do not have to worry like you do."
"My eyes are adjusting and they will not be able to follow us for a while." he patted his pouch and bent to check the children.
"Troll magic twists trails." said Slick Ears remembering. "Are they okay."
Hilde was sitting up and watching as Mart placed a small, moist poultice onto Josef's head. She did not seem at all scared and was curious about everything the Troll did. However, she watched the fox cautiously.
Mart held the poultice in place for several minutes. He said nothing and neither did Hilde as she watched wide eyed while he worked. She seemed to understand the troll and was willing to let him work without distracting him with the questions he could sense were ready to burst out. She squeaked delightedly when after several minutes Josef moved, stretching as if he were waking up. With a soft grunt Mart removed the poultice and stepped back. Where once had been an angry gash only a sensitive red spot remained, not even a scab.
Hilde looked at the wound, then at the Troll and smiled broadly. "Thank you!" she whispered in awe. She then turned to Josef and spoke matter-of-factly. "Open your eyes slowly and meet our friend Mart, the Troll."
Josef's eyes flew open wide and as they focused on the long nose and heavy eyebrows of the Troll. With a startled yelp he began to back away on all four limbs until he crashed into his friend.
"Stop!" commanded Hilde firmly placing both hands on his shoulders and shoving back. "He is our friend!"
Josef stopped abruptly, looking very confused. He wanted to cry but did not.
"You missed the monsters. They were green with long fangs. They look just like the evil little cave trolls my Grandma used to tell me about, you know the kind that eat children and trade babies for their own squalling brats. Old Mart saved us from them with the help of his friend the Fox."
Josef stared and shook his head, blinking several times. Neither the troll nor Hilde vanished, nor did the grin disappear from the face of the Fox that he had not noticed sitting in a sunny spot nearby. "I... I thought... Monsters?"
Hilde nodded. "He called them Ogres. They look like trolls but are meaner. They wanted to eat you and let the troll eat me, but they were tricked and we got away. Mart carried you here and used magic to trick them more!"
"I am so confused." said Josef finally. "I want to go home!"
"Then I will take you. Your Sexton is very worried."
"He talks? You take us home? All go? Home now, both?"
Hilde hit the boy on the shoulder. "Shut up. He understands just fine."
"We must go." said Mart softly.
Suddenly Slick Ears barked. "Humans!"
**CRACK**
The report echoed off the bare rock. Mart grabbed his shoulder and bellowed in pain.
"There he is!" came the distant voice.
Hilde jumped out from where she was.
"He has the children."
Another **crack** split the air. Near by the ground split, sending shards of rock into the air. Hilde screamed and dove back behind the rocks.
"Watch it. You'll hit the children."
Mark stepped back and shielded the children. Slick Ears dove into a nearby crevice.
"You must run to them. Fast. I will get them to shoot at me. The noise will attract the Ogres. They will think they can steal the quarry for an easy meal."
The children nodded.
Hilde jumped up and screamed: "Run!"
Taking each other by the hand the two dashed as Mart jumped up and roared in supposed anger. A bullet whizzed passed his ears, striking a rock several meters away. Laughing, the Troll then ducked for cover rubbing his shoulder which was already starting to feel better as his body regenerated.
Slick Ears crawled on his belly beside the Troll. "It is not funny. Now the humans will really think Trolls are bad, evil things."
Mart chuckled. "Listen."
Slick Ears perked up his ears. In the distance he could hear the young woman yelling loudly at the hunters for being so stupid. He listened, his grin growing, as he heard the boy and the girl tell the hunters how the Troll had saved them and how a fox had helped. The men seemed incredulous and they argued for several minutes all the while Mart and the Fox grinned quietly at each other.
Finally, Hilde's clear voice echoed toward them. "Mart, come here! They will not hurt you."
Hesitantly Mart stepped out, every muscle tight to dive for cover if the hunters raised a weapon. He focused on Hilde, barely aware of the 3 figures standing uneasily behind her. He wondered where Josef was until the boy forced his way between two of the hunters and stepped up next to his friend. Keeping to the shadows he gingerly took a step forward then another until he was within a few meters of the children.
"Are you scared?" asked Josef quietly.
"Yes, but not for me. Are you two safe. Do you trust these men?"
Hilde nodded. "This is my uncle. These are his friends. They were worried. My Father is looking on the other side of the village. He will be so happy. We want you to come with us."
Suddenly Slick Ears came running barking loudly. "Ogres. Ogres. Ogres!"
One of the hunters raised his rifle and began to take aim, but before he could focus Mart slapped the rifle high. It discharged with a violent *bang*. Instantly the other two guns were brought to bear.
"Uncle!" screamed Hilde.
Josef reacted leaping in front of the Troll. For a heartbeat all was silent as dams of pent up energy and fear burst. As her Uncle's gun roared Mart grabbed the boy and almost casually tossed him aside like a leaf. The bullet struck him in the chest driving him backward. Mart roared as Hilde dove on to him to cover his body. Slick Ears dove into the brush and hid his fear of the noise and guns overwhelming him. He needed to live. Mart dropped to his knees and clawed angrily at the wound.
"Ogres!" he bellowed. "Fox warning of Ogres coming fast!"
"Stupid Uncle. He was trying to help!" cried Hilde.
"The ogres are attracted to the guns. They want an easy meal. Mart told us." explained Josef angrily. "Now we have no one to protect us."
The uncle began to stammer, but before he could finish a sentence Mart stood.
"I will run yelling that you have guns that can kill me. The Ogres will run scared. You will be safe. You make noise and shoot again."
Without another word Mart took off at a fast lope, leaving a trail of troll blood behind him. "No, run. Hunters guns harm. Run."
Behind him the hunters hesitated, then Hilde screamed: "Shoot him again!"
The hunters responded loading then firing their guns on three rapid shots punctuated by Hilde's screams of "Look, Ogres, shoot them too!"
Far ahead Mart roared and stumbled crashing onto the rocky ground. Howling he rolled downward until he struck a large rock and stopped in dead silence. His keen ears heard the rattling brush and heavy footfalls of the retreating Ogres, and he resisted the urge to chase after them. He was certain even the humans could hear the furor as they made their escape, so he held his position.
Mart remained silent and still for several minutes, allowing his natural healing ability to seal the wound. He could hear Hilde crying and calling his name, but he lay still, listening.
After several minutes Slick Ears appeared next to him, sniffing cautiously. "You alive Troll?"
Mart rolled over and sat up. "I will live. I think those Ogres will not come back."
The old Troll stood shakily and walked slowly back toward the cluster of humans several dozen meters away. At first they did not notice him but one by one they fell silent as he approached. He knew that the humans had likely not seen the Ogres, so he was still hesitant to get too close. Bullets fired at so close a range hurt more, and too many could shatter his body. Worse than that, he could turn to stone if his heart was broken by one of the bullets. He was lucky this time that the bullets had missed his heart.
Step by step he moved forward. Instinctively he fought the urge to simply turn around and run. For some unexplained reason he felt compelled by something to stay and complete this untrollike endeavor. He took a small degree of satisfaction when the children broke away from the adults and ran up to him, giving him an embrace that none-the-less made him uncomfortable as his eyes met those of the searchers who were still watching him closely.
With a gentleness reserved for injured animals, Mart picked up Hilde and carried her toward the men. Josef too broke away from the men and ran to the Troll, insisting that he too be carried. Mart shifted the girl to ride on the elbow of his left arm while offering his right to the boy, who jumped on with great enthusiasm. Behind them all Slick Ears shook his head in disbelief, then trotted up the trail to avoid additional contact with the humans he so feared.
Without a word, the Troll walked past the men and down the path. Ahead lay a patch of bare rock which offered little protection, but as if to answer an unspoken request clouds rolled over the hills, creating an easy course for the Troll to watch. Mart walked on with the men in close pursuit, each with their guns still at the ready.. Within just a couple of kilometers Mart could see the back of The Troll Face's head and he quickened his pace, sensing an urgent feeling he could not pinpoint.
The children chattered, questioning everything about the Troll and after a while he began to answer their questions.
"No, not all trolls turn to stone in the sunlight."
"Yes, some trolls are not nice and steal children, but often they are Ogres which people mistake for trolls."
"Most all trolls wear clothing."
"Trolls are not really magical, they just know how to do things others do not."
"No, it would not be a good idea to come to a tea party at your mother's home."
"Yes, I can create bowls and other things from rocks and stones." "Yes, there is such a thing as a Phantom Troll. No, he is not like Saint Nicolas."
Finally Mart just closed his mouth and soon after a hundred or so more questions the children decided it would be fun to sing him songs. The Old Troll listened patiently and was very glad when they approached the back of the Troll Face's head that his keen sense of smell picked up the scent of more humans approaching from the village. Soon his ears could hear the movement and din of the approaching people, eight or nine at least, and he asked the children to be silent so they could hear what he heard.
"One of the things Trolls are good at is listening, and if you both listen very carefully you will hear your friends approaching. We will wait up by the side of the head."
The children closed their mouths, and in a few minutes they too heard the sounds. Josef wanted to jump down and run ahead, but Hilde told him that it would be easier to help the Troll if they were both with him. Reluctantly the boy had agreed, and within minutes the villagers came into view, led by Sexton Stromness who was using a staff to support himself on the climb. Both children waved frantically as they recognized their family and friends. Bursting with excitement, the pair leaped down and ran to greet their elders. Without even thinking, the searchers ran past the Troll to join the celebration. Mart watched in silent satisfaction, then turned and quietly slipped into the shadows. From his vantage point he watched the small group vanish down the hill side until one lone figure remained. With a wave and a gentle nod Sexton Stromness turned and went down the hill. Just before his head vanished from sight he turned and saw a lone troll standing in the middle of the trail. He blinked and saw only the rocks.
Mart waited until dark, then went back to where he could look down at the village, now beginning to go dark. He watched until only two of the houses and the old church remained lit. Mart guessed that they were the homes of the children and smiled, hoping that someday he would see them again.
"Do think it will help?" He asked turning toward the stone face.
For a moment the entire area seemed to hold its breath, then slowly one of the eye lids opened and then closed in a quick wink.
Mart smiled and turned away. "Fox? Are you still here? I have caught your scent several times tonight."
From beneath a large rock Slick Ears crawled out and grinned broadly. "Are you ready to go?"
"Yes."
The fox barked happily. "Where are we going?"
Old Mart looked down at the sleek red animal. "Wherever you want to. Lead on."
Final thoughts: There is a famous song that says "The hills are alive." Could all the old trolls who were turned to stone still be watching out for us? This story makes you think. I hope many more of you take the time to write your stories and send them to me care of: grandpa-carl@trollshop.net There is so little written about trolls, and most of it is about their scarier, uglier side and there are stories about Ogres who are mistaken for Trolls, but we Trollologists know that they are two separate types of beings, just as Old Mart did. So until next time I wish you Troll Luck and leave you with this final thought: There really is a reason for the phrase 'Sly as a fox.'
Grandpa Carl