Storm's Eye
Part 10/20
In the Southern Mountains. . .
They left the sheltered alcove at first light.
After a moment's wry contemplation of his bloodied tunic, Loki had conjured a new one for himself, flexing the magic tentatively after the previous day's avalanche of pain, and meeting Sigunn's questioning gaze with a half-smile that denied existence to the whisper of pain hissing down his spine. They had shared a very meager breakfast from Sigunn's small store of provisions. Then, as he resaddled Hrafn, Loki had glanced at her, as she stood beside Bruni attempting to wrestle her hair into neatly-plaited submission, and said, "One more night in the mountains, and then you will have your day of reckoning with your father."
He paused, and added, "Has he been expecting it, I wonder? And dreading such a coming day?"
Sigunn looked up, her eyes cold. "I doubt it. I am the least among my father's daughters."
From their hidden camp, the path climbed steadily upward, through glades of moss-hung evergreens and gardens of jumbled, rounded boulders. Gradually, as morning surrendered to warm afternoon, the trees around them grew smaller, stunted and twisted by the cruel winds of untold winters, until at last they failed altogether, and the path widened and wound around a wind-softened shoulder of gray rock into a broad green valley, surrounded on three sides by the serrated ridges of the Southern peaks. On its final side, the valley gave way suddenly to a great vault of light and air, a giant rift in the mountains. The path skirted the edge, as if challenging the traveler to look out into the void.
Loki heard Sigunn give a soft exclamation of delight; when he twisted in the saddle to look back at her, he saw her rein Bruni to a halt and slip off his back. Dismounting himself, he found her bending over a tuft of small shrubs clinging to the outermost edge of the towering cliff, their branching stems leaning out over the vast space. When he crouched beside her, she opened one hand to reveal a cluster of knobby orange berries; many more nestled among the glossy green leaves.
"Cloudberries."
He quirked a skeptical brow at her. She smiled. "Well I don't know about your rugged jotun constitution, my lord, but my fragile Idisi body is beginning to pine for food in a particularly insistent manner."
When she'd eaten several handfuls, they stood for a moment, looking across the enormous expanse, to where another soaring ridge reared up like a rising wave written large in stone, a line of peaks behind it marching east into the hazy blue distance. A cool breeze stirred Sigunn's cloak. Far below, the thin ribbon of the South Road wound its way along the canyon floor.
Loki's eyes traced its length, and his face hardened. Sigunn followed his gaze, and asked, "Will they keep to the Road? Prince Thor and. . .the rest of them?"
"I think so."
"You're not certain?"
"He might yet come after me, in truth rather than show. We didn't part on the best of terms, yestereve."
"Yes." She glanced up at his still, set face. "I noticed. There was a great deal of anger between you."
He expelled a silent breath, and looked away.
Sigunn's eyes traced his profile, its lines sharp and clear against the sky. A memory struck her, then, like a fist to the chest: the princes, both of them, walking along the city's chief promenade, the citizens lining either side, silent and cold. The air had been diamond clear that day, too, achingly beautiful, and she remembered, oh how she remembered, the awful juxtaposition of the sunlit blue and the younger prince's proud face, strangely unmarked while the rest of his body bore the brutal evidence of his sojourn upon the Tree. And the crown prince, holding his brother's shackled arm, and the open, brittle hatred in Loki's eyes. She remembered it: the sight had been terrible then, and now, her knowledge of him grown so much more deep, the memory was unbearable. She squeezed her eyes shut to drive the vision away, and her hands contracted into rigid fists.
"Sigunn?"
Loki was looking at her curiously.
"What are you thinking of?'
The strong desire to evade his question clutched at her throat, but the vow she'd made prevented that, and so she said, unhappily, "Prince Thor . . .he brought you back, after. . .
"From Midgard."
"And from the Tree."
Loki's jaw tightened. But his eyes remained on hers. "Yes."
Sigunn shook her head. "How could he?" The words burst out with a sudden heat. "I know he must do as the Allfather commands, but how could he? How could it have come to that between you?"
He was silent, his eyes sliding away from her, to the proud sweep of the peaks beyond, silent for so long that she thought he wouldn't answer. But then he said slowly, "It was like a hoarfrost."
A crease appeared between her brows, as her eyes studied his face. In the silence, in the glassy light, he felt his chest tighten, as he sifted through the images in his mind, searching for another way to make his meaning clear to her. But, before he could speak again, she said, musingly, "Once, when I was just a child, there was a frost, in late spring."
When he looked down at her, she continued, "My father had caused a new vineyard to be planted, the summer before, and the vines were still young, and tender. They'd already begun to green; the buds were swelling. But a night fell clear, and cold, and the next morning . . . well, I was a heedless girl; I thought it was beautiful. Like tendrils of glass and white velvet. And I ran out into the field, and reached out to touch one of the frozen vines. . ."
"And it shattered."
"Yes. The entire field was lost. Irretrievably. The next day my father's servants plowed it under."
A knot began to unweave itself, in his heart, a knot he had not known existed until that moment. He looked into her eyes, warm with understanding, and knew, because there was no need to explain himself, that he could.
"With Thor and I. . .we were like a green branch growing. But words were spoken and deeds were done- -mine, his, Odin's, others- - and a thin film of ice spread over the branch: so thin, so delicate, you'd not have known it was there, unless you looked for it. But it never melted; it built, instead, word by word, deed by deed, over and over, until the green branch was covered over with sharp, thick crystals, and, though it might have been alive, still, underneath, in truth it was already lost. Irretrievably."
Sigunn said softly, "And when the weight of the frost grew too heavy, too hard to bear. . ."
He nodded. "The branch snapped, and fell."
(Falling. Falling away, from his father, from his brother screaming his name. The ruined Observatory crackling with destruction falls into the void below him, and the blackness of the space between the stars is taking him, but all he feels is the cold. All he hears is the scream. It is only after he has fallen for an infinite time that he realizes the scream is his own.)
Sigunn's voice's, low and warm. The memory shrunk away, the black void fleeing until he was looking instead into her dark eyes. WIth an effort, he focused on her face, on her words. She was saying, "Could not a new branch grow? Perhaps not the same shape and form, but still green? Your brother. . ."
"No!" He heard the harshness in his own voice, and he looked away, swallowing the bitterness. "No," he said again, quietly. "Sigunn, I have no brother. We did not spring from the same tree. Thor is rooted deep in the soil of Asgard. As I am not."
In the breath of silence that followed, she reached out and touched his arm.
"Perhaps . . .that sets you free."
He frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Well, I have roots, stretching back further than anyone could see. I know the names of my mothers for twenty generations past. And their fates. The entire history of the Idisi lies under my feet. And yet, here I am. . ." Her voice trailed away.
"Here you are?"
"Yes. The last remaining leaf on the skeleton of a giant tree, a tree that has borne only sorrow." She smiled, though her eyes were bleak. "So, you see, rootedness is not always the blessing it may seem, at first glance."
His eyes warmed, and then slowly he shook his head. "Only sorrow? I see no truth in that."
She tilted her head toward him. "Only cold and frost? I see no truth in that, either."
"So we are, both of us, speaking nonsense?"
"It would appear so. And yet, I recall someone, naming no names, advising me not so very long ago that nonsense is a potent weapon."
"Surely not. What fool would say such a thing?"
"No fool."
"You do me too much honor, I think."
She cocked her head further over, studying him with a mock severity that drove the last shadow out of his eyes. "No. No, I think I give you the honor you deserve."
He grinned, and leaned closer, so close that she could feel the warmth of his body, and he said, "Do you know what I think?"
She raised a brow. "Does it have anything to do with food?'
I think you need to be rid of Theoric Gyrdson.
He said instead, "I think we should continue on, before nightfall traps us out here on the peaks."
They both turned to look out over the green valley. A braided stream wandered aimlessly through it, and then curved sharply, and entered an opening between two sloping walls of rock. Loki pointed and said, "Our path lies that way; if I remember aright, it will begin to angle downward, into another open valley or two, and then back into the trees, where we can find a place to lodge."
They crossed the valley at an easy canter, into the slender opening. It proved to be a narrow, steep, rock-walled ravine, and the gentle valley stream turned ragged and white, leaping from rock to rock, the rushing thunder of its passage loud in the confined space.
Loki's eyes wandered upward, following the inward-leaning line of the ravine's walls. The thin slice of visible sky was growing gray, and the shadows deepening; a chilly wind scurried along the ground, swirling around the horses' hooves and making them prance uneasily. Loki had never been fond of closed-in places, and he found himself disliking this one more with each of Hrafn's strides.
The wind increased, and in its hissing voice he heard a low, warbling moan.
Ahead, he saw Sigunn's back stiffen. Her head was tilted back as well, eyes searching the ravine's rim far above.
"Loki?"
"I heard it."
Ahead the ravine's wall curved, and as they rounded it, Loki eyes widened with relief to see the brighter light and opened-out walls of the ravine's end. The stream beside them tumbled down a ragged staircase of rocky shelves; it gathered itself into a swirling pool, and then plunged abruptly over a lip of stone, where the roar of its falling echoed hollowly. The path hugged the ravine's near wall, swerving sharply away from the stream, and the light beyond was white and airy, an impression of height and open space.
Sigunn had urged Bruni into a trot, her eagerness to be free from the ravine's shadow evident in the tight line of her back.
The muted, wavering moan sounded again, much nearer. Loki's heart suddenly clenched, a sick, tight lurch.
He heard Sigunn gasp, saw her yank frantically back on Bruni's reins. The stallion lifted his forelegs into a half-rear, whinnying in sudden fear, as a dark, blocky shape shambled around the curve of the wall, and stood in the ravine's mouth, black eyes glittering with malice.
A rock troll.
Its towering body was armored with a carapace of thickened plates of rocky hide, a glistening black ichor oozing at the joints. It was clothed in a brief loincloth fashioned from the untanned hide of a mountain sheep, and the sheep's skull still dangled swinging from the creature's hip. Its arms hung long and loose from shoulders bulky with muscle, hinting at a terrifying, brutal strength, and its fingers curled and uncurled themselves as its eyes shifted from Sigunn to Loki and back again. A low rumble emerged from somewhere deep in its chest, and then its mouth opened and a gravelly voice grunted, "You. . ." Its lips stretched into a hideous parody of a smile. "Well met, O prince."
'Prince'? It knows me? It can't have been waiting for us?
"You'll forgive me if I don't echo that sentiment," Loki said, his eyes sweeping the barren walls and floor around them. Battling such a perilous foe in this enclosed ravine was unthinkable, and yet the troll obstructed the pathway forward, and he and Sigunn could not suddenly take flight, or swim down the waterfall. Within the circle of the chain's venomous grip, the only weapons truly at his hand were the ones created from the lightest magic: illusion, deception, and the conjuring of small objects.
Bruni was backing urgently away, his hooves sliding on the wet rock along the stream's edge, his terrified eyes riveted on the troll, who lifted his head and let out a low, hooting call. An answering moan came wavering through the ravine; another troll, perhaps several more, were blocking any escape back the way they'd come.
"Sigunn," Loki said, his voice low and matter-of-fact. "When there's an opening, run."
She nodded, face white with fear.
The troll grinned, a sharp cruel grin that took pleasure in her fear.
Loki lifted a hand, an empty hand. And when the troll's eyes were inevitably drawn to it, he filled it with wet, icy snow, and flung it with all his strength into the troll's eyes.
The creature roared, lifting its long arms to claw at its face. Instantly Loki was off Hrafn's back and now his hands were filled with a long wooden staff, gleaming dully in the gray light. Before the creature could clear its vision, he ran forward, spinning the staff, and struck the troll along the side of its skull with a deafening crack.
It howled, stumbling back a step. Loki reversed the staff, bringing it back around, thrumming with ominous intent. Blearily the troll saw it coming this time, and raised a forearm to block it. It slammed into its arm above the wrist, and, as the creature reeled away from the sudden pain, the pathway out of the ravine was, for an instant, clear.
"Go," Loki shouted.
The stallion leaped forward, past the troll in one giant stride, as Loki spun the staff and then thrust it into the troll's throat. The creature's hand shot up to grasp at it, and Loki jerked it down, out of reach, and then rammed it forward, against the troll's armored belly, knocking it back another step. Sigunn disappeared around the ravine wall; he heard Bruni's hooves clattering down the rocky path beyond.
The troll was wary now; its eyes locked on the staff. Loki allowed himself the briefest glimpse, over the troll's shoulder, measuring the distance to the stony lip of the waterfall.
Come, troll. Let's see how well you fly.
He circled around, staff held ready, and the troll shifted its feet to follow him, its eyes narrowing as Loki stepped into the stream. The rocks were slick beneath his feet, the onrushing water clutching at his boots, avid to sweep him forward and send him over the edge. The troll's head leaned forward, so clearly puzzled that Loki smiled grimly.
"If you want me, you'll have to come in and get me."
Still the troll hesitated.
"Oh, come now. Surely you don't fear a little water."
"I fear nothing, little man." The troll's voice rumbled angrily.
"Good for you. Come and fight me then."
Despite its words, the troll's movements were cautious. It planted one foot in the stream's pool, and then another. Loki backed away, lifting the staff, two of his fingers tracing a curious circular pattern against the wood.
And then, there was a sudden movement, at the mouth of the ravine. Loki's eyes swept past the troll, face suddenly tight, as Sigunn's small form appeared, white cloak thrown back, horsehead dagger held low.
The troll saw his expression change, and the thick neck turned, the eyes widening slightly as it saw her there.
And in that moment, as the massive head swiveled away, Loki took a running leap, planted the staff between two large mossy rocks in the center of the stream, and vaulted forward. Both of his feet struck the troll's torso with all the weight of his flying body behind them. The troll teetered and stumbled backward, eyes dilated with sudden terror, arms windmilling wildly, and then the eager rushing stream seized its feet, and it fell, howling, over the waterfall's brink.
Loki fell, too, with a bone-jarring, splashing thud. He flung out a hand to grasp the staff, and prevent himself from following the troll over the verge, using it to lever himself out of the water. Then he waded out of the stream and eased his way carefully along the stones at the lip of the waterfall, and looked over. Far below, in the fall's deep green pool, the troll's body lay sprawled half in, half out of the water, spine bent at a deadly, backwards angle. A cloud of dark blood was slowly spreading around it.
The sound of running feet. Sigunn burst around the edge of the ravine wall and then slid to a stop, staring in astonishment at the sight of herself, poised with a dagger beside the stream.
Loki smiled. "Forgive me, Lady. I've been rather free with your person."
He lifted a hand, twisting it closed, and the maiden shimmered and disappeared.
"Thank you," he said, "for providing such an excellent distraction at just the right moment."
"I'm . . .happy to contribute in some small way." She gazed at him, a corner of her mouth lifting. "Truly, my lord, did you just battle a troll with a handful of snow and the illusion of a queen's handmaiden?"
Loki leaned on the staff and pursed his lips, nodding. "I did. Those aren't the customary weapons?"
"I have no idea, but I would venture to guess, no."
"Well, I am nothing if not unconventional. Feel free to admire."
"I hope you'll consider yourself thoroughly admired."
A low, rolling moan wavered down through the ravine. Sigunn's smile vanished, and Loki's face darkened.
"They're at the far end of the ravine, no doubt expecting us to flee that way in panic. They'll surmise, soon enough, that some ill fate has befallen their comrade. I think we should be on our way."
"I couldn't agree more!" Sigunn spun on her heel, and ran.
Hrafn had pressed himself against the ravine wall, his haunches trembling with fear. Loki ran a hand along his neck, speaking low, and then swung into the saddle and followed after Sigunn at a rapid trot.
The pathway inclined sharply downward from the ravine's mouth, angling along the side of a steeply slanted shoulder of rock. Behind him the waterfall poured endlessly out of the ravine, its glittering spray scattering the lingering rays of daylight. The valley below was already sunk deep in shadow.
Bruni stood, pawing the ground uneasily, at the bottom of the slope, where Sigunn was climbing into the saddle using a large, moss-covered rock as a mounting block. She whirled him around as Hrafn galloped by, and fell in behind at a full run.
The trail weaved through the bowl of a boulder-choked glen. When Loki glanced back up, over his shoulder, he glimpsed three dark, stocky shapes, gathered above in the mouth of the ravine. They were staring down into the waterfall's pool; after a moment, the faint sound of their enraged wails washed over him.
At the end of the glen, the ground sloped gently, in a rocky, gravel-strewn ridge between two higher spines of rock. The pathway meandered upward, in serpentine curves. The two horses, black and red, thundered along it, their hooves throwing up huge divots of earth and moss, cresting the top of the ridge and plunging down the other side.
Into a valley filled with trolls.
Dozens of black, lidless eyes glittered in the setting sun's rosy light. Hrafn skidded to a stop on his haunches, his eye rolling back in primal, instinctive terror. Loki felt Sigunn's leg crushed against his own as Bruni's sweat-streaked body lurched heavily into Hrafn's.
In the center of the path before them, a blocky form unfolded itself, its rocky carapace mottled gray and lichen-green. The sigils carved into its shoulders marked it as a battle-chief, and Loki focused all his will and mind on the creature's glassy eyes.
"Let us pass," he said, mildly. Underneath his knees, he felt Hrafn's body shaking.
A dark slit opened in the creature's jaw, and a grinding rattle emerged, which Loki identified, after an instant, as a humorless chuckle.
"I think not," the troll said, and then, turning its head, its eyes slid across Sigunn's face and body, slowly, and it laughed again. It said, more loudly, so that the others crowding about could hear, although its eyes returned to Loki, "He said that you would not come by the high paths. Our main force lies in wait down on the Road."
He?
"Unfortunate for them."
"Yes. Now we will gain glory in the sport of ending you, little prince."
Beside him, he heard Sigunn's indrawn breath. He lifted his chin, and said, eyes hooded. "You have fifty. . .warriors." The disdain dripping off the last word sent an angry murmur rumbling through the trolls. "I have myself, and the lady. . . and two horses. Can this truly be deemed sporting, do you think?"
The troll chief shook its head, a slow, grinding movement. "You seek to provoke me into single combat? It won't work. He warned us of your clever tongue."
"This "he", who has given you such valuable counsel?"
"Someone who craves the pleasure of the lady's company."
"But not mine? How rude."
"He has a different end in view, for you, princeling."
"Should I be flattered?"
"No. And as for your horses, they will provide us a fine feast, this night. After you are dead, and the lady is ours."
The grating sound of rocks rasping against rocks, to the sides and behind. The trolls were moving, surrounding them. The horses huddled closer together, their terror kept in check only through trust in their riders. Sigunn's breathing was fast and shuddering with fear, and, in the corner of his vision, he could see the white knuckles of her hand, the taut muscles of her forearms, as she fisted the reins with all her strength, fighting Bruni's animal instinct to break and flee.
The troll chief stepped back, raising one of its hands in a negligent gesture.
"Take them," it said, "Bring them before me."
Two hulking trolls lumbered past it, striding forward with a loping, ground-eating gait. At once, Loki let Hrafn's reins fall, conjuring a curved, razor-edged blade into either hand, and as the stallion skittered sideways, he flung them simultaneously, a twisting, liquid flicker of his hands. The blades spun through the air with a deadly hum, and impaled themselves in the throats of the advancing trolls, in the small, unprotected crevices where the trolls' rocky carapaces were jointed at the jaw.
They both fell to their knees, grunting and pawing wildly at their necks.
For an instant, stunned silence gripped the valley. And then, with moaning cries of rage, trolls advanced from every direction.
Hrafn leaped sideways, as Loki bent forward, grasping for the swinging reins. He caught the barest glimpse of Sigunn as Bruni reared back, his ears flat against his skull. He saw her foot slide out of the stirrup, and, before she could regain it, she was flung out of the saddle by the stallion's twisting, terror-stricken movement.
She curled her body into a tight ball, her arms crossed over her head in an instinctive gesture to protect herself. Bruni's feet landed on either side of her, and instantly the red stallion reared up again, as three trolls reached for him. He struck out with his forelegs, his hooves cracking loudly against troll hide, and then, with a scream, he bounded out of reach, and galloped away.
Sigunn sprang to her feet, and stumbled sideways, ducking a troll's grasping hand. Loki had regained Hrafn's reins. He spun the stallion again, out of reach of another troll, and then spurred him forward. He leaned to the side, and as Sigunn whirled, her eyes seeking him desperately, he threaded the horse between her and the trolls, and pulled her up into the saddle in front of him.
"Take the reins," he shouted, and, as soon as she did, he filled his hands with another conjured staff, this time of gleaming dark metal, its end tipped with a cruelly barbed spearhead.
"Keep him moving. Don't stop." Sigunn nodded, and she reined the stallion sharply to the side, exposing the troll who was lunging for the stallion's head to the deadly thrust of Loki's spear. He plunged it into the jointed space between the shoulder and the chest, and twisted it viciously as he pulled it out, dripping with dark blood. The troll howled, and fell, and Sigunn wheeled the stallion away from it.
"Three down," Loki said, and despite their grave peril, there was grim humor in his voice. "Forty-seven more."
Sigunn shot a glance at him, over her shoulder, her mouth twisting, for a moment, into a shaky smile.
Hrafn's shoulders were streaked with foamy lather, but he heeded the hands on the reins, and twisted and leaped, and when Loki had speared four more trolls, a careful space began to appear around the horse.
The troll chief was shrieking with an almost incandescent fury. "Stand back, you fools!"
It bent and seized a stone from the valley floor, a round boulder as big as a man's torso, and hurled it at Hrafn's skull. Instantly, the trolls gathered around him followed suit, a deadly volley aimed at bringing the stallion down.
Loki flung out his hand; an iridescent sheet of green light materialized over Hrafn's head. The stones struck it, one after another; there was an explosion of green sparks as they ricocheted sharply away.
But this was no light magic. Loki's body slumped against Sigunn's back, as he absorbed the chain's venom. His gasp of pain vibrated through her chest.
Hrafn had reared back in terror. Loki's arm curved around her waist as they both leaned forward to stay astride him. And then a troll darted forward, daring the reach of the spear, and seized the stallion's reins.
The trolls were hefting more stones to strike again. Sigunn could feel Loki gathering himself; her stomach churned with sick fear. The next burst of magic would cripple him; he would be rendered defenseless.
She twisted; she looked into his eyes and she said, "No."
His eyes widened, his arm tightened around her, but she slid out of his grasp, flung her leg over Hrafn's neck, and leaped to the ground.
The trolls dropped their stones and lunged for her; she eluded them, her small frame a momentary advantage. She sprinted forward, across the rocky ground, straight toward the troll chief, whose flat eyes watched her come, wide mouth lengthening into a smile.
Behind her she heard Loki shout her name. An involuntary glance over her shoulder: he'd recovered enough strength to rip Hrafn's reins away from the troll. He was bringing the spear up and around to strike.
The trolls were watching her now, most of them; their eyes gleaming as she slowed to a walk, and then stood facing their chief. They muttered in satisfaction as she reached out imploring hands.
"Please," she said. "Please. Let us pass. Don't do this."
The trolls rumbled with laughter and guttural-voiced jests. They had heard such words many times: the prey groveling for its life.
"Do you beg, woman? Do you plead?" A thick black tongue emerged from the troll chief's mouth as it licked its lips. "Do it again."
"Please. Please, I am begging you." A tear in the corner of one eye slipped free. The troll reached out with a thick finger and touched it.
"Your wretched pleading will do you no good. We will kill him, regardless."
"I do not plead for him."
The troll frowned.
"I plead for you."
He dropped his hand; he took a step back, uncertainty clouding his eyes.
"Let us pass. Please. Please!" She leaned forward on the last word, choking as it ripped out of her throat.
He chuckled, a forced sound that died away.
"Will you let us pass?"
"I will not."
He bent toward her. She stared into his blank, soulless eyes and whispered, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I would do anything, anything but this."
Tears were sliding along her cheekbones, dripping off her jaw. The trolls around her looked uneasily at one another; pleading and sobbing they understood, but this. . .this was something new.
She turned her head. She looked across the valley to Loki; he was wrenching his spear out of a troll's torso, and the reversing it backward into a another's eye socket with such force that she could hear the neck crack even here. Trolls were converging on him from every side, but his eyes were fixed on her, and across the valley she heard him shout her name once more. She gazed at him for a moment. "I'm so sorry."
Then, slowly, her eyes came back to the troll chief.
She whispered, brokenly, "Forgive me."
Then, as his grasping hands reached out for her, she threw back her head, opening her breast to the sky, and flung wide her arms, and unleashed the battlefire.
And here we are, halfway through-ten chapters out of twenty!
This, right here, with the Chained Trickster and the Victory-Bringer and a valley full of rock trolls, was the first scene I wrote for this story, although of course what I jotted down back then and what you just read are two rather different things. Nonetheless, I'm feeling a bit of a warm nostalgic glow as I post this chapter.
I'm also realizing that I really should have included rock trolls in my apologetic Story Notes, since, as any of you who might be Marvel Comics fans will have noticed, these are not exactly Marvel!trolls. Sorry about that. These are actually Rene!trolls, created at my whim to serve the needs of the story, and also because I really cannot be content with any story that does not contain the word "ichor" in some context.
Oh dear. Long, overly-chatty author note. My apologies.
If you've read this far, you are the soul of patience, and deserve many accolades. As always, thank you for reading-truly, I'm honored! I'd love to hear your feedback-it always makes my day!
Rene