Ida Holst sat atop her chestnut colored warhorse and stared down her troops with disdain. Her bright blue eyes seemed unnatural with the hues of the waning sun shining on them, and the scar running across her brow accented her displeasure. They had ridden hard throughout the day, her and her five hundred warriors, and the last few hours of the day gave them one choice for camping. The mountain.
On the other side was a small town that had been sent word to prepare for her coming. They could send her tribute in food and she would come peacefully, or, if tribute was not given, she would raise the town. It was very cut and dry. Very simple, and that’s how she liked it. She saw to it those that abide by her will were taken care of. Sadly for them, they had not returned her message with tribute, and that meant they would be paying anyway, with the additional fee of blood.
That would be taken care of tomorrow, now was the time to climb the mountain partial and make camp. They could burn wet wood and stay warm, keeping the light from fires from shining through the tree’s with the thick dark smoke, it being camouflaged by the night. In the early hours before the sun rose they would break camp and prepare to ride down the mountain and into town to take as they pleased before they moved on to new territory.
However her men were beginning to share some concern, some showed outright fear. The mountain, according to them, was supposed to be the resting place of trolls who would come at night and try and eat them. Ida scoffed at them but they were insistent. Now, on the base of the mountain, they froze. Ida was furious with the cowardice her warriors were showing. Not even during a harrowing battle with the king's knights sent to take them down did they show this level of fear.
Thankfully, instead of tanning their hides one by one, her generals who also showed fear but were still willing to follow her suggested she might talk with the men, raise their spirits, and they would follow her. So that was what she aimed to do, though in her own charming way.
“I sit here and see warriors I would be happy to die beside in battle cowering in fear of a mountain. We have battled hard and traveled far across this land and I have never seen the looks on your faces that you show to this mountain. It’s merely rocks and trees!”
Responses shot back about trolls who lived in the mountain, and that no man is strong enough to kill a troll. Ida scoffed, she did not believe in such fairy tales.
“Your truth is not my truth!” she shouted, silencing her men. “I for one do not believe in these creatures. Trolls, bah!” she spits at the ground. “Creatures so large that when they fall asleep they do so for ages? The creatures who turn to stone and die in the sun? These are just stories a mother spins to delight and frighten children! Not grown men! Tell me then! Have any of you seen a troll with your own two eyes?”
The warriors murmured amongst one another, but none spoke up.
“I didn’t think so. Listen to me well my warriors! The only truths in this world are what you see before you. There is no magic, no fairies or trolls, but!” she drew her sword, polished and sharp, high above her head. “There is glory! There is battle! There is the thrill of testing your skills against that of your enemies! I look around and I cannot find one single person here who I would gladly fight back to back with! Trolls? Bah and bah again! Even if these creatures did exist they could not overtake us! We are the best in this land! Aye!?!”
All of her men drew their swords and raised them into the air and joined in their agreement. She grinned and turned her horse “Then let us venture forth, and in the morning take our spoils!” Again her men roared and they followed her into the mountain. Ida smiled a wide grin as they entered the treeline.
The warriors' bravado didn’t last long, but they were inside the woods of the mountain now, the camp had been set, and food was being cooked. Night was falling, and they wood that had been collected was wet, the dark smoke hung in the air lazily, slowly sifting through the branches and into the open night sky. They made the best of it though, telling stories of their past battles. Ida even joined in with the tale of her first battle and how she had killed the man who had given her the scar that ran from one side of her brow to the other.
Eventually, the moon became full in the sky, revealing it to be late at night, the warriors would divvy up watch duty with several awake at one time. Ida always took part of the first watch and patrolled the edge of the camp to speak with the warriors who also stayed, sharpening their resolve as she did so. By the time the first lap had been completed she could tell her warriors, while on high alert, were beginning to regain control of their nerves.
Of course, that is when the thumping noises began from deeper in the woods. The warriors who were awake stood frozen, slowly turning to where the sound came from and trying to calm the whining horses. As the thumping became louder and louder, so too did the sound of wood cracking and breaking. Something large was coming their way. The fires, still burning low, made it hard to see deep into the forest, but sight wasn’t necessary for what was coming.
The thumping noise was beginning to make the ground shake, and many sleeping warriors began to wake. Then, the trees nearest to Ida shook as four of the tallest men Ida had ever seen shoved the tree’s aside, up turning them from the earth as they did so, and letting the light of the small fires illuminate them.
The creatures stood twice as tall as any of her warriors, and almost three times as big around. They had long protruding noses covered in warts, their eyes were small though, beady even, and their large mouths were filled with uneven cracked teeth. Thin, black, messy hair adorned their heads and covered their ears. They wore clothes made of animal furs and at their belts were stone tools.
“Well, well.” one boomed. “Lookee Here Sten, you were right! Humans!” He was the smaller of the four but was a step ahead of the three bigger monsters.
The one addressed stepped forward, pulling from his back a large blood stained wicker basket the size of two people standing beside one another, it scanned the humans who all held their weapons but were stun frozen, including Ida.
“Loads of ‘em,” said Sten. “Too many for our baskets.”
“That’s okay, we’ll just get what we can and eat the rest tonight.” the smaller creature replied
That’s when another spoke up, a frown on his face. “I don't like raw human though Amund”
The smaller troll turned to look at the biggest of them all. “Picky eater Garth? You can cook whatever you catch. After you fill your basket.”
Garth grinned maliciously but his face scrunched up in confusion as he heard a scream. It was one of the humans with a bright longsword. Ida yelled to stop him but her voice was lost to him as he screamed to his Gods and ran forward, to plunge his sword into the smaller trolls leg. The sword, however, bounced off, as if it had been thrust into a wall of rock.
Amund, the smallest of the trolls, turned and grinned at the warrior, raising a fist the size of the warriors torso and bringing it down like a hammer, flattening the man in a sickly crunch, his body mangled, his head was now a smashed pulp hanging limply from the neck of his armor, and his body was only slightly intact due to the resilient armor which leaked blood wherever there were gaps. Without a word the one named Sten opened his wicker basket, releasing a horrid stench of rotten flesh. He then picked up the fallen warrior and stuffed it into the basket.
Amund grinned. “Good, that’s one. Oy! Birger!” he snapped his finger at the second to biggest one with the blankest of expressions who then looked down at Amund and grunted. “Fill yer basket with the horses, they look tasty.” Amund said
Ida was frozen to her spot, like her warriors. The warrior's sword simply bounced off of them. They didn't even seem concerned about the humans. How could 4 beings, no matter the size, be so calm in the face of five hundred warriors? Were they truly that outclassed, were they simply bugs! She had to think of a way to get her people out of this situation with minimal casualties. They needed their horses.
“Stop!” She cried as the one named Birger moved towards the screaming animals, who twisted and screamed, trying to pull away from the tree’s they were tied to. He gave pause, as did Amund who turned to her shocked and looking a little angry.
“Oh? What’s this then?” Amund said, stepping towards the Ida.
“You don't want to eat the horses! Can't you see they are exhausted?” she said desperately, not knowing where she was going with this.
“Easier to catch.” Amund shrugged, waving at Birger to continue.
“B-but-” Ida began, still at a loss. As Birger got closer her desperation increased. “But deadly too! Horse meat, when the horse is exhausted, is poisonous!”
She was lying, but she needed some way to keep their horses from being slaughtered. They would be a tremendous help in escaping. Not only did this give the giant troll pause, but he took a few steps back, looking to Amund once again.
“What do you mean?” asked the smaller troll, now moving to stand before her.
“You do not know?” she grinned to herself but tried not to let it show. “Horse meat becomes rough when they are exhausted and it is bad to eat. It kills more than it helps.”
Again a bluff, not that she would know anyway, who in their right mind ate horses?
The smaller Amund stared at Ida long and hard before looking over to Birger “Didn’t you get sick after eating horse meat last time?”
The big Birger looked upwards and tapped his chin with one finger thoughtfully. “Yeah, I did, I had to chase them until they were tired, and when I ate them I got sick.”
As the giants conversed with one another Ida began making hand gestures behind her. A silent form of communication she often used to maneuver certain units of warriors this way and that on the battlefield. She trusted her generals, who she saw had received the message, would relay them quick enough.
“Hmm, well, They are tied to the tree’s yeah? We’ll deal with the humans first, and come back for the horses tomorrow nigh-” Amund was interrupted suddenly by the human female beside him.
“Now!” Ida commanded sharply, her warriors all screamed in unison, making the trolls jump back. Not expecting their prey's shaky legged action. The warriors, who the trolls assumed they would have to chase down anyway, moved with such unison that the trolls paused a moment taken aback by the skill it took to move so uniformly.
“Get them!” Amund roared.
Many of the warriors had already hopped onto their horses, using various weapons to cut the lines and free their horses from where they were tied and were turning round when the trolls acted. Ida was relieved that Amund was slow or she would have been caught by the troll who reached for her. She was halfway through the camp, almost to the first set of horses, most of which had been released and were galloping away, and was glad that the first set of warriors would make their escape.
She thought, a little too soon, as the big troll Birger had reached the horses, frightening them so fiercely many reared up, lost their footing and fell to the side. Birger made short work of them and scooped up both warrior and horses in a ferocious bear hug. The sight that followed had Ida stunned to the point that she had stopped in her tracks.
“Got ya!” came a deep, slow voice. That of Garth, the biggest of the trolls. Ida didn’t have time to look, she simply launched herself forward into a somersault and was flung aside as a powerful fist hit the ground with an explosion of force, knocking her to the side. Thankfully one of her generals was there beside her and helped her to her feet. The big troll was lumbering towards them, and the two ran as fast as they could for the next set of horses and Ida’s warhorse. She did not look for the rest of her warriors. All around them she could hear the cries of those being torn apart and crushed to fit inside the bloody wicker baskets and still knew, with the lumbering steps behind her, that she could easily share the same fate.
What seemed like an eternity later, they reached the horses. Ida wasted no time in unsheathing her bootstrap knife and cutting the line as she leaped upon her already frightened horse. The biggest troll, from whom she ran was right behind her then, but she managed to gain control of her horse and ride off, narrowly avoiding capture and death. A cry to her right revealed it that the general who had helped her up had not been so lucky.
She rode on through the night, relying on her horse's own survival instincts to navigate the uneven ground and dodge tree’s in the dark. She soon joined ranks of her warriors and they rallied to her, and together they left the mountain and rode back to the fields where she had given her speech about trolls being a legend. She called for a head count and found that of the five hundred warriors, only two hundred had gotten away. Throughout the rest of the night, they listened to the screams that echoed from the woods of the mountains and breathed sweet relief when more warriors appeared throughout the night, some arriving in the morning without their horses, only barely sneaking away.
That night they existence of trolls was confirmed for Ida and her men, and her five hundred strong had been cut down to three hundred. For the rest of their days they would remember the blood stained wicker baskets, and of the men they had lost to the trolls of the mountain.
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