Don't Be Such A Troll
by Sapphire
"Don't be such a Troll, Dear!"
That's what my mom used to say. Among many other things, actually. Like: "Don't speak with your mouth full! Stand straight! Be nice to the neighbors - don't rip their heads off."
Yep, my mom was always full of good advice. Might be a 'mom-thing'. I can't be sure, after all I'm not a mom and never will be, me being a guy and all.
Well, the one thing she said, which always kinda stuck in my head, is: "Don't be such a Troll!"
Funny, really, why she should say that. After all, I *am* a Troll. And, for that matter, so was she. I'm not so sure about my dad, considering I've never met him (his encounter with my mom was one of those 'conquer - rape - disappear again' things. You know, the usual story), but if I might hazard a guess, I'd say, he was one too.
As I said, I'm a Troll. Trollarus Cavitarus, to be precise. A common cave Troll. And a very nice specimen of it, if I may say so. Eleven and a half feet tall, with a nice barky looking skin and long arms. The face might not be the prettiest, but then, who are you to judge. My mom liked it well enough.
So, when my mom says something like 'Don't be such a Troll!', this is really a bit weird.
Anyway, I grew up in the Misty Mountains, in a nice, roomy cave. The only people I've ever met were my mom, and then a couple of guys in the next cave, though they moved out - those who where still alive, that is - when I was still fairly young. Don't really know, why they left. I had fun playing with them.
Life was quiet and uneventful, until, one day, a group of Goblins showed up at our cave. I don't really know what they wanted and where they came from, but they put this collar around my neck and this chain, and they took me away from where I've grown up.
Life wasn't so much fun after that. The Goblins gave me too little to eat, and kept me in chains, forced me to dig in the earth and there wasn't much entertainment, except once, when I ripped free and smashed up couple of them. They got more careful after that, blast it.
And then, one day, there was some big excitement, and a couple of Goblins came and pulled me along on my chains. I got really grumpy, because I had been asleep, and been dreaming nicely, and when they woke me up, they were not exactly gentle.
They pulled my into a large hall I haven't been before and then towards a door. A large group of Goblins did their best to break the door down, but whoever was on the other side of that door seemed to object to that idea, shooting arrows through narrow gaps the attackers had managed to make.
The Goblins holding my chain pulled me closer to the door. One handed my a war hammer. It was pretty obvious what they wanted my to do, and, considering the bad mood I was in, I was perfectly willing to do go along with that idea, as long as it meant I could smash *something*.
The passage into the next room was a bit tight, but this didn't stop me. I simply shoved my shoulders through, ignoring the rocks from the broken archway that fell on me.
Behind the archway was a smaller chamber with a strange assortment of creatures. There were the to be expected group of Orcs and Goblin - never sure which ones are which, really, not that it matters - but there was also a couple of people like I've never seen before. Some were ridiculously small, I doubt they would reach to me knees. Some were a little bit larger, though still pretty small compared to me.
For a moment after I entered, everybody stood frozen to the spot, gasping up to my looming form.
Then one of them, a blond-haired, thin person shot an arrow at me, which I thought was a bit unfair, as I hadn't done anything to him - yet. Damnit, I have to tell you, it stung.
Never needing much to rouse my temper, and being already in a bad enough mood to begin with, I didn't hesitate. I clutched the hammer tighter in my hand, and dropped it on one of the small ones, who happened to stand just in front of me, pointing his little knife directly at me.
Or, maybe, I should say, I tried to drop the hammer on him. Cause, before I hit him, he dove *towards* me and, before I could even say 'roar', he had slipped between my legs and out of my sight. Now, having somebody with a knife somewhere between my legs is *not* something I'm very keen on. After all, I still had some hopes that one day I could follow in my dad's footsteps and make a few little Trolls of my own, and a knife *there* could do some real damage to that idea. The loin cloth I wore was not much protection, really.
I twisted around, searching for the little bugger, feeling somewhat relieved when I found him behind me - out of reach of my family jewels. This time, I didn't bother with the war hammer. I just lifted a foot, and prepared to stamp that little thing to dust. I might not be able to get the blood off my foot for weeks, but everything was better than the damage that knife of his could do.
Once again it didn't work out as I had planed. Something - someone - pulled rather forcefully on the chain that was still attached to the collar around my neck. As I was balanced on only one foot at the moment, I really had to fight not to fall over. Quickly, I put my other foot down, forgetting about the little guy with the knife. I now had bigger fish to fry. I don't appreciate being choked at the best of days - and this one was turning out to be not one of them.
There were two Men pulling on my chain with all their might. I swung my hammer at them, but they ducked. One of them let go, but the other one held onto it. Big mistake on his part.
I did grab the chain myself, and used it to fling the guy against one of the walls, where he slid down and lay still.
One down, eight more to go. At this rate, it shouldn't be a problem to get rid of them soon enough.
I focused on the other one who had held the chain, as he was busy with throwing a knife at one of the Orcs, but then I felt a nasty sting at my right shoulder.
A small guy with a helmet had thrown one of his axes at me! And it bloody well hurt!
Mom had always said that I had a very short attention span, but I would like to see you keep your concentration at one guy, when another one throws axes at you.
Tightening the grip around my war hammer, I let it crash down on Helmet Guy. He had been standing on a rectangular stone box in the middle of the room, which crumbled to dust under the impact of my weapon.
The problem was, Helmet Guy had jumped down from it just in time.
I think it was that point when I got seriously mad. I've never had the most even of tempers, but what was too much, was too much.
I took a swing at Helmet Guy, but that bastard simply ducked away. I *did* hit one of the Orcs or Goblins or whatever, which gave me at least a small measure of satisfaction. Though I'd rather have flattened the guy with the helmet.
A second swing brought exactly the same result. Helmet Guy ducked and I hit one of Orcs. It really got annoying.
At that moment, two more of those arrows, which had started the whole mess, hit me.
I did mention the problem with my rather short attention span, right?
Anyway, Helmet Guy was forgotten, and I set all my attention on Blondie. I had dropped my hammer, so my only weapon was my chain, which I now used like a whip. But Blondie was bloody fast, I have to give him that. Every time I thought I had him, he simply ducked away, and the chain went past him. Until, suddenly, the chain snagged at one of the pillars holding the roof up.
I never really figured out what happened next. One moment, Blondie was at the gallery, the next he raced *up* the chain and onto my back.
Now, I have to tell you, I'm damn ticklish just around my upper back. It might be strange, considering that my skin is probably thickest there, but it's a fact. Having somebody standing there, is not something I really relish. Having somebody standing there and shooting another arrow into my shoulder, is not only annoying. It hurts!
If I had been mad before, now I got seriously, seriously, *seriously* pissed.
I picked up my war hammer again and smashed at anything that moved. That was, at that moment, three of the really small ones. They split apart - of course, once again, I had not managed to hit any of them - two to the right and one to the left.
There was something funny - a kind of weird smell - about the guy on the left hand side, so I started to go after him. Besides, there was not much for him to go to. He tried to hide behind a pillar, but after a short game of hide and seek, I got him cornered.
This one I wouldn't let go away, I promised that to myself. He was to be mine.
I grabbed his leg, and started to pull him out of the corner he had pressed himself into. He didn't go willingly, first trying to hold to the stone, then he slashed at me with his knife.
What is it with those small ones and their knives anyway?
It stung, and I had to drop him, but it didn't matter, as he still was cornered in a kind of ravine between some pillars and there was no way for him to escape. There was to be squash a la little man tonight.
At this point, I should have remember my earlier attempt - and failure - to flatten one of the little ones. As a matter of fact, I actually did remember - it was one of the reasons I was so focused on him. But once again one of the taller men - 'taller' speaking relatively, of course - jumped to the little one's rescue. There seemed to be some kind of pattern, and the pattern I saw, I didn't like much.
Anyway, the dark guy who had pulled my chain earlier did jump between me and the funny smelling one, and he had a long spear with him, the Valar know where he found it. The problem was, that my momentum carried my forward, and directly in to the path of the tip of that spear. It drove into my chest, but got stopped by one of the ribs before it could cause much damage.
But it still bloody well *hurt*.
I dropped my hammer, and for a moment I began to think that maybe, just maybe this here wasn't such a good idea, and maybe I should just get out of here before I received some serious damage. What was the business of Orcs and Goblins to me anyway? They had captured *me* and I didn't owe them any favors. I should see that I got out of here and maybe get home to my old cave. Visit mom once more, and just live a quiet life somewhere away from Goblins and Orcs and such. Maybe do like my cousin Grurck (twice removed, on my mother's side), who, as I had heard, had even gone to a school in a place called England once, though I doubt it was to learn anything. We Trolls are not exactly the scholarly type.
Before, however, I could inform anybody of my idea of leaving, two of the little ones started to pelt me with stones, and any thoughts of leaving or going to school or doing something useful with my life, were driven from my mind. We Trolls are like that. Throw stones at us, and we forget anything else.
I swatted the dark guy who had tried to skewer me and he slid down the wall I smashed him against, out for the count. Then I ripped out the spear and before the funny smelling little one could say 'Hey, buddy, let's talk this through' - not that I believe he wanted to say something like that, really - I returned the skewering favor and pinned him to the wall. He gave a quiet dramatic death scene, though I had not much time to admire it, as, for some reason, the other - those who were still standing, that is - ganged up on me. Two little ones on my ticklish back, hacking at me with their knives, the Helmet Guy with his axe slashing at my knees, the guy with the long, white beard slicing a little bit higher and then Blondie again shooting at me.
It was not fair. It simply was not fair. Five against one. I had no chance. I might be a little bit bigger than they were, but, really, five against one. Where's the honor in that?
That was the end of it. As I said, I had no chance, and when Blondie shot me through the mouth directly into the brain, it was over. I keeled over, did my imitation of a depressed walrus, and ... died.
Maybe mom had been right. Sometimes, being a Troll isn't such a good idea.
And sometimes it makes you rather dead.
by Sapphire
"Don't be such a Troll, Dear!"
That's what my mom used to say. Among many other things, actually. Like: "Don't speak with your mouth full! Stand straight! Be nice to the neighbors - don't rip their heads off."
Yep, my mom was always full of good advice. Might be a 'mom-thing'. I can't be sure, after all I'm not a mom and never will be, me being a guy and all.
Well, the one thing she said, which always kinda stuck in my head, is: "Don't be such a Troll!"
Funny, really, why she should say that. After all, I *am* a Troll. And, for that matter, so was she. I'm not so sure about my dad, considering I've never met him (his encounter with my mom was one of those 'conquer - rape - disappear again' things. You know, the usual story), but if I might hazard a guess, I'd say, he was one too.
As I said, I'm a Troll. Trollarus Cavitarus, to be precise. A common cave Troll. And a very nice specimen of it, if I may say so. Eleven and a half feet tall, with a nice barky looking skin and long arms. The face might not be the prettiest, but then, who are you to judge. My mom liked it well enough.
So, when my mom says something like 'Don't be such a Troll!', this is really a bit weird.
Anyway, I grew up in the Misty Mountains, in a nice, roomy cave. The only people I've ever met were my mom, and then a couple of guys in the next cave, though they moved out - those who where still alive, that is - when I was still fairly young. Don't really know, why they left. I had fun playing with them.
Life was quiet and uneventful, until, one day, a group of Goblins showed up at our cave. I don't really know what they wanted and where they came from, but they put this collar around my neck and this chain, and they took me away from where I've grown up.
Life wasn't so much fun after that. The Goblins gave me too little to eat, and kept me in chains, forced me to dig in the earth and there wasn't much entertainment, except once, when I ripped free and smashed up couple of them. They got more careful after that, blast it.
And then, one day, there was some big excitement, and a couple of Goblins came and pulled me along on my chains. I got really grumpy, because I had been asleep, and been dreaming nicely, and when they woke me up, they were not exactly gentle.
They pulled my into a large hall I haven't been before and then towards a door. A large group of Goblins did their best to break the door down, but whoever was on the other side of that door seemed to object to that idea, shooting arrows through narrow gaps the attackers had managed to make.
The Goblins holding my chain pulled me closer to the door. One handed my a war hammer. It was pretty obvious what they wanted my to do, and, considering the bad mood I was in, I was perfectly willing to do go along with that idea, as long as it meant I could smash *something*.
The passage into the next room was a bit tight, but this didn't stop me. I simply shoved my shoulders through, ignoring the rocks from the broken archway that fell on me.
Behind the archway was a smaller chamber with a strange assortment of creatures. There were the to be expected group of Orcs and Goblin - never sure which ones are which, really, not that it matters - but there was also a couple of people like I've never seen before. Some were ridiculously small, I doubt they would reach to me knees. Some were a little bit larger, though still pretty small compared to me.
For a moment after I entered, everybody stood frozen to the spot, gasping up to my looming form.
Then one of them, a blond-haired, thin person shot an arrow at me, which I thought was a bit unfair, as I hadn't done anything to him - yet. Damnit, I have to tell you, it stung.
Never needing much to rouse my temper, and being already in a bad enough mood to begin with, I didn't hesitate. I clutched the hammer tighter in my hand, and dropped it on one of the small ones, who happened to stand just in front of me, pointing his little knife directly at me.
Or, maybe, I should say, I tried to drop the hammer on him. Cause, before I hit him, he dove *towards* me and, before I could even say 'roar', he had slipped between my legs and out of my sight. Now, having somebody with a knife somewhere between my legs is *not* something I'm very keen on. After all, I still had some hopes that one day I could follow in my dad's footsteps and make a few little Trolls of my own, and a knife *there* could do some real damage to that idea. The loin cloth I wore was not much protection, really.
I twisted around, searching for the little bugger, feeling somewhat relieved when I found him behind me - out of reach of my family jewels. This time, I didn't bother with the war hammer. I just lifted a foot, and prepared to stamp that little thing to dust. I might not be able to get the blood off my foot for weeks, but everything was better than the damage that knife of his could do.
Once again it didn't work out as I had planed. Something - someone - pulled rather forcefully on the chain that was still attached to the collar around my neck. As I was balanced on only one foot at the moment, I really had to fight not to fall over. Quickly, I put my other foot down, forgetting about the little guy with the knife. I now had bigger fish to fry. I don't appreciate being choked at the best of days - and this one was turning out to be not one of them.
There were two Men pulling on my chain with all their might. I swung my hammer at them, but they ducked. One of them let go, but the other one held onto it. Big mistake on his part.
I did grab the chain myself, and used it to fling the guy against one of the walls, where he slid down and lay still.
One down, eight more to go. At this rate, it shouldn't be a problem to get rid of them soon enough.
I focused on the other one who had held the chain, as he was busy with throwing a knife at one of the Orcs, but then I felt a nasty sting at my right shoulder.
A small guy with a helmet had thrown one of his axes at me! And it bloody well hurt!
Mom had always said that I had a very short attention span, but I would like to see you keep your concentration at one guy, when another one throws axes at you.
Tightening the grip around my war hammer, I let it crash down on Helmet Guy. He had been standing on a rectangular stone box in the middle of the room, which crumbled to dust under the impact of my weapon.
The problem was, Helmet Guy had jumped down from it just in time.
I think it was that point when I got seriously mad. I've never had the most even of tempers, but what was too much, was too much.
I took a swing at Helmet Guy, but that bastard simply ducked away. I *did* hit one of the Orcs or Goblins or whatever, which gave me at least a small measure of satisfaction. Though I'd rather have flattened the guy with the helmet.
A second swing brought exactly the same result. Helmet Guy ducked and I hit one of Orcs. It really got annoying.
At that moment, two more of those arrows, which had started the whole mess, hit me.
I did mention the problem with my rather short attention span, right?
Anyway, Helmet Guy was forgotten, and I set all my attention on Blondie. I had dropped my hammer, so my only weapon was my chain, which I now used like a whip. But Blondie was bloody fast, I have to give him that. Every time I thought I had him, he simply ducked away, and the chain went past him. Until, suddenly, the chain snagged at one of the pillars holding the roof up.
I never really figured out what happened next. One moment, Blondie was at the gallery, the next he raced *up* the chain and onto my back.
Now, I have to tell you, I'm damn ticklish just around my upper back. It might be strange, considering that my skin is probably thickest there, but it's a fact. Having somebody standing there, is not something I really relish. Having somebody standing there and shooting another arrow into my shoulder, is not only annoying. It hurts!
If I had been mad before, now I got seriously, seriously, *seriously* pissed.
I picked up my war hammer again and smashed at anything that moved. That was, at that moment, three of the really small ones. They split apart - of course, once again, I had not managed to hit any of them - two to the right and one to the left.
There was something funny - a kind of weird smell - about the guy on the left hand side, so I started to go after him. Besides, there was not much for him to go to. He tried to hide behind a pillar, but after a short game of hide and seek, I got him cornered.
This one I wouldn't let go away, I promised that to myself. He was to be mine.
I grabbed his leg, and started to pull him out of the corner he had pressed himself into. He didn't go willingly, first trying to hold to the stone, then he slashed at me with his knife.
What is it with those small ones and their knives anyway?
It stung, and I had to drop him, but it didn't matter, as he still was cornered in a kind of ravine between some pillars and there was no way for him to escape. There was to be squash a la little man tonight.
At this point, I should have remember my earlier attempt - and failure - to flatten one of the little ones. As a matter of fact, I actually did remember - it was one of the reasons I was so focused on him. But once again one of the taller men - 'taller' speaking relatively, of course - jumped to the little one's rescue. There seemed to be some kind of pattern, and the pattern I saw, I didn't like much.
Anyway, the dark guy who had pulled my chain earlier did jump between me and the funny smelling one, and he had a long spear with him, the Valar know where he found it. The problem was, that my momentum carried my forward, and directly in to the path of the tip of that spear. It drove into my chest, but got stopped by one of the ribs before it could cause much damage.
But it still bloody well *hurt*.
I dropped my hammer, and for a moment I began to think that maybe, just maybe this here wasn't such a good idea, and maybe I should just get out of here before I received some serious damage. What was the business of Orcs and Goblins to me anyway? They had captured *me* and I didn't owe them any favors. I should see that I got out of here and maybe get home to my old cave. Visit mom once more, and just live a quiet life somewhere away from Goblins and Orcs and such. Maybe do like my cousin Grurck (twice removed, on my mother's side), who, as I had heard, had even gone to a school in a place called England once, though I doubt it was to learn anything. We Trolls are not exactly the scholarly type.
Before, however, I could inform anybody of my idea of leaving, two of the little ones started to pelt me with stones, and any thoughts of leaving or going to school or doing something useful with my life, were driven from my mind. We Trolls are like that. Throw stones at us, and we forget anything else.
I swatted the dark guy who had tried to skewer me and he slid down the wall I smashed him against, out for the count. Then I ripped out the spear and before the funny smelling little one could say 'Hey, buddy, let's talk this through' - not that I believe he wanted to say something like that, really - I returned the skewering favor and pinned him to the wall. He gave a quiet dramatic death scene, though I had not much time to admire it, as, for some reason, the other - those who were still standing, that is - ganged up on me. Two little ones on my ticklish back, hacking at me with their knives, the Helmet Guy with his axe slashing at my knees, the guy with the long, white beard slicing a little bit higher and then Blondie again shooting at me.
It was not fair. It simply was not fair. Five against one. I had no chance. I might be a little bit bigger than they were, but, really, five against one. Where's the honor in that?
That was the end of it. As I said, I had no chance, and when Blondie shot me through the mouth directly into the brain, it was over. I keeled over, did my imitation of a depressed walrus, and ... died.
Maybe mom had been right. Sometimes, being a Troll isn't such a good idea.
And sometimes it makes you rather dead.