“Oscar the Emasculated Troll”

A friendly, big and warm-hearted fuzzy creature lived amongst the woods. He had very bold features with one big watery eye, a big nose, and a big friendly smile. He was very large in size, with a stumpy block-like body and stumpy wide hairy feet. Sometimes you may find his pants on his short arms and his shirt on his feet. He was oftentimes clumsy to say the least. He was nothing from a typical troll, and his name was Oscar.

In a far away forest laid a town name Leonid, and northern to that was a little stream where the townsmen were forbidden to go. Beside that little stream was where Oscar called home. His home was a little cave Oscar had built himself. He made it by how his grandpa had taught him; it was a very sturdy home. Oscar even made a mat on his doorsteps that said “Welcome, Please Knock”, hoping one day he would have company. For lunch and dinner he would run to the little stream and try to catch fishes, and then he’d set up a fire and cook it.

In the little town of Leonid, lived a little girl named Anna. She was very curious, and often times too curious for her own good. One night, the children were gathered around the fireplace where Grandma Alemo spookingly spoke “when dawn drops, Oscar comes out to town while you are all sleeping, and looks for the children who isn’t sleeping and…” All the children were spooked and frightened, except for Anna. “and eats them!” This intrigued Anna. Anna put her little cape on, got in her little red shoes, grabbed the basket in disguise, and off she went.

Oscar heard a little girl’s voice one sunny afternoon. Oscar slowly got out of his wooden chair where he was initially sun bathing, and jumped up right away to grab his wooden stick and ran towards his home. Oscar laid flat on his back, very still and silent as he hid behind in the corner in the dark. As Oscar was running away, Anna from afar saw the trolls escape. Anna followed and found a little cave with a “Welcome, Please Knock” mat. Unfortunately, there was no door to the cave but being polite she knocked then walked in. As she entered, she walked into the troll head on without knowing because he was so big in size. Oscar having never had company was a little frightened, shocked, but felt a little warmth inside of him. Because of the big fall, Anna felt a little light headed and decided to take a nap. She found a big fuzzy surface and jumped on top. Little did she know, Anna took a nap right on the troll’s belly. Oscar knowingly, stayed very still to not disrupt the little girl.

As dawn started to fall, the townsmen were sent out to look for Anna. They walked past the talking trees and followed her small footsteps and tracked her tracks. As the townsmen were tracking the tracks it lead them to the Oscar’s home. When they approached it, they noticed it was the home of the folktale troll’s home they heard growing up. Frightened, one man led the others and entered the home. As they entered, they saw the a little girl sleeping on the troll. One townsman grabbed little Anna, and together ran all they way back to Leonid.

This was the only glimpse of warmth Oscar got in his lifetime. For the rest of time, Oscar lived a lonely life by himself next to the stream. He was never bothered nor made any trouble. That was the last time Oscar seen little Anna. Anna knew from then on, the tales of Oscar the One-Eyed Scary Troll, were false but she was forbidden to go back and was kept an watchful eye. Anna hoped one day she would be able to go back near the stream, to meet Oscar again.

—MT

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Once upon a time in a magical kingdom lived an ugly, lazy and bad tempered troll named Meekawl. Meekawl didn’t care much for anything and especially hated taking baths. His body odour could burn one’s nose off from miles away. It was why many of the animals in the forest had run away, lest they end up like the others who had strayed too close to him and dropped dead.

One day, when Meekawl was out hunting for his favourite food, speckled red cap mushrooms, Meekawl noticed something odd. Someone or something, had been digging up the little patches of fungi and devouring them whole. This made Meekawl very angry as eating his favourite mushrooms was one of the only joys he had in life. Mind made up, Meekawl set off to find the one who had dared to take what was his.

A distance away, a princess named Bianca, who was completely doused in a thick cloud of perfume and thus immune to Meekawl’s hideous troll stink, was on her way back to her castle after a day of horseback riding. Feeling uneasy at the complete silence and isolation of the area she had wandered through, she noticed a huge black shadow overtake the light of the sun. Turning slowly to look over her shoulder, she glimpsed a green hideous face, mouth full of what looked like red mushrooms. Before Bianca could open her mouth to scream, a large ugly fist slammed so hard into the face, propelling the monster far away and rendering it dead.

“TAKE THAT YOU DUMB MUSHROOM THIEF!” Roared the owner of the fist.

Gasping, Bianca being a well brought up princess quickly tried to express her gratitude.

“Oh! Thank you so much for saving me! Since you have done such a good deed, I will grant you entry inside my palace despite my no ugliness allowed rule. Aren’t you lucky?”

Turning to glare at her, Meekawl snarled, “NO THANKS. I DON’T LIKE PEOPLE.” Looking down his large bulbous nose at her he sneered before walking back to his forest. “YOU SHOULD THINK ABOUT TAKING A BATH. YOU STINK.”

—Michelle Shieh

“Trowling”

Every few years, the trolls living in the gorge next to the valley Eyren put on a competition among the adolescent trolls. The competition was an important one, as it decided which of the young trolls would be chosen to partake in the troll games. What are the trolls games you might ask? Only the most prestigious event for all the trolls of all time! Rock throwers of all size and skill wished to be a part of the troll games, for they all wished to throw rocks at the human town of Eyren over the hill. They all strove for the honour and glory of bashing down as much of the town as possible, yet the honour was only bestowed upon the mighty.

Why stop anyone from the rock-tossing joy, one might wonder? For the pesky humans had a tendency to try and ruin their fun, shooting fiery arrows and cutting them with swords and even, horror of all horrors, trying to coax them out into the sunlight. Such as it were, the games were too dangerous for the youngest trolls, and Troki was not allowed to compete. His older brother Trokar was the most impressive of the teen aged trolls, he was the tallest and strongest of them all, with giant hands that could toss a boulder as far as another troll’s rock! Yet Troki wanted nothing more than to compete with his older brother, why should any self-respecting troll be deprived of destroying human homes?

Thus as night settled in, the games began and the trolls tossed rocks one by one at the human village. It was no surprise that Trokar’s boulder was the first to hand a crushing blow to the human settlement. As the cries went up, of humans in terror and trolls in celebration, Troki snuck in and took his place. With a great cry he sprinted forward, carrying a boulder that was much too large for him to handle. Just as little Troki was about to toss, he looked to his brother Trokar, who shook his head in dismay knowing his little brother would never be able to throw such a stone. Yet with his head turned, Troki did not see the ledge in front of him and slipped, tumbling and bouncing wildly down the hill towards the human village. Trokar shouted yet Troki could not be stopped, smashing and crashing down the hill with a fury, arms still wrapped around the boulder as he gained speed with every bump and blunder. The trolls looked on in shock as the blur that was Troki smashed into the first building of the town, and, to their shock and wonder, destroyed it along with the next! Troki did such wonderful damage to the town that is was then that the games were changed. And thus, my friends, is how Trowling was invented.

—Christine Sherrington

“Trolls”

(For the full effect this should be read in a bad Brooklyn accent.)

As he stood outside the restaurant on the corner of 200 and 5th Joe Smart finished his fifth cigarette and made his way across the street to the back door of the shoddy Brooklyn restaurant. He could feel the sweat from his palms make the handle of the briefcase slide through his hand as he was crossing the street, as he walked through the door he was met by the largest Italian man he had ever seen.

“I- I’m here to see Marty.”

Joe stammered. As the Italian stared back at him with dead eyes he said “The fuck are you?”
As Joe didn’t have an adequate response due to his completely unassociated identity with these people he felt compelled to add a,

“…please?”

The man turned from him and called into the din behind him.

“Marty!”

Suddenly Joe heard a

“Yeah, I got some time.”

And was sent through.

Now Joe had heard stories of Marty Troll, what seemed like myths or legends even, he had always assumed they had been the construct of exaggerated gossip, as Italian housewives are prone to create. But what Joe saw before him now slackened his jaw and made all the stories seem that much more horrifying. Standing before Joe in the smoky back room was the ugliest man he had ever seen. Marty Troll seemed to be coated in grease, it started at the top of his head, combing over the few strands of dyed black hair into a cow lick all across his shinning round head, dripping down into the sweat drops that crawled over his face which one could hardly see due to the giant bulb of a nose that was jutting out of it, Joe thought he could smell the sweat seeping into Marty’s XXXL black t-shirt, it seemed like the fabric was stuck to his skin, forming into the deep folds in Marty’s belly. Joe could feel those beady black eyes staring at him but for the life of him he couldn’t shut his mouth, it felt like all the courage he had was seeping out of his gaping mouth leaving him with nothing but the accelerated beating of his heart pounding in his ears.

“There somethin’ in particular you lookin at?”

“N- n- no sir. I- I’m sorry.”

Joe stammered.

The room shook as Marty let out a deep-bellied howl of laughter. This both frightened and eased poor Joe who began to hesitantly laugh along with Marty, although Joe knew now what he hadn’t before, he was unsure of whether he could really go through with this, if this was really what he even wanted. But now he knew, after seeing Marty fuckin Troll he knew he was in way over his head and didn’t want anything to do with this kind of company. As he was trying to think of some excuse to leave the place Marty interrupted his thoughts with–
“So what is it you’re lookin’ for? I see you’ve got quite a nice briefcase in your hands there.”
Marty continued to chuckle through his words, Joe didn’t know what to say so he just nodded vigourosly.

“So tell me, I’m a reasonable man, you’ve obviously come here lookin’ for something, let’s do some business.”

Marty seemed truly genuine with these words, it eased Joe up and loosened his tongue,
“Well- well thank you, really, because you see the thing is, I- I thought I wanted
something, and so I came here, thinking I was looking for something”

“uh-hu”

“But you see that thing, that’s just not me.”

“I see”

Marty responded with a smile, which relaxed Joe even more

“yeah, yeah. It’s just, not. Who I am”

“I understand”

“You do? Really? That’s, that’s really fantastic, because I’m just not- y’know I’m not like this, I’m just-“

“Yeah, you’re a good kid, right? I can see that”

“y- um yeah.”

“I can see that, you. You’re good. I can see you. You think you’re good. You think you’re better-“

“wha- NO!”

“Do NOT interrupt me.”

Marty was glaring at Joe with those beady eyes, Joe unconsciously started backing away until he bumped into the wall. Cornered.

“You come in here, with your weasel fucking face and your god damned briefcase lookin like some punk out of a movie and you’re trying to come to ME. You? You insignificant little fuck come to me in my place of business and try to tell me that you’re better than me? Is that fucking it? What, because you got a damn desk job? Does that make you’re money better than mine? You think I don’t work as hard as you? What, you feel like “this isn’t you” like you got somethin’ fuckin’ better to do? What’s the difference between you and me, huh? I was born into my life and you were born into yours, I grew up this way, this if my family, while you were at college what exactly the fuck do you think I was doing? Even if I fuckin—“
And for a moment, Joe thought he saw something flicker past Marty’s eyes, just for a moment.

“Yeah… Yeah, well you know what. Not today kid. Today is not the day I forgive or forget, you came here for business, so let’s do some business.”

—P. Sehat

“Paspir Forest”

In the Paspir Forest, there once lived a community of trolls. They were peaceful beings and lived happily in nature and the forest thrived. But then the humans arrived, and they did not like the trolls. They hunted them, mounting their heads atop their fireplaces. Finally, the humans chased the trolls deep into the forest and they continued to hunt them for sport. The trolls feared the humans, but not young Snorky. Instead, Snorky would often wonder why the two communities could not live amongst each other in harmony. He longed for the day when this dream would become a reality.

One day, while Snorky was out looking for some fresh termites to add to the morning oatmeal, he stumbled upon something most alarming. It was a little boy. A human boy! And he was trapped in one of the human’s troll snares. The poor, pathetic looking creature was so tiny! Hardly four feet tall, with skinny arms, tiny ears and nose, and not a single hair on his flat belly! He did not look at all like Snorky, who already at fourteen stood eight feet tall, with his long, lanky arms and thick forearms, large ears and bulbous nose, and proud, extended belly, covered in a thick, luscious coat of grey hair. Snorky was already very handsome in his young age. But this boy was simply revolting to even look at. Nevertheless, Snorky dropped his handful of termites and walked up to the boy.

“Please help me!” cried the teary-eyed little imp, “Please don’t eat me! I’m just a little boy!”
Confused by this, but feeling sorry for the poor creature, Snorky untied him. The little boy thanked him greatly.

“I won’t forget this, Mr. Troll! You are much kinder than what I have been told!” And with that, he ran back towards the human village.

Snorky too returned to his own village, contemplating what the boy had said to him, but no sooner had he returned when a horde of humans came rushing into the village. The trolls were stunned, never before had the humans ever come directly to their village. This was surely the end for them.

Atop the tallest horse was a tall, brutish-looking man and sitting behind him was the little boy Snorky had saved.

“That’s him, Daddy!” the little boy exclaimed, pointing at Snorky.

“You there!” called the man to Snorky, “Speak your name, creature.”

“My name is Snorky,” he answered without the faintest quiver in his voice.

“I am the leader of the human village,” the man announced importantly, “and this boy is my son. He says you saved his life and I intend to repay you. You may ask for one wish and I will see to it that you will be repaid. So what will it be, creature? Gold? New born infants?”

“I am afraid I have no use for either of those things, sir,” Snorky answered, “but there is something that I wish to ask of you.”

“Name it, creature.”

“I wish that the humans would not hunt the trolls anymore,” Snorky said bravely. “We do not deserve to be hunted like animals. I believe that it is possible for us all to live together in peace and harmony.”

The man thought about this for a while before answering. “You have surprised me twice today, troll. First you save my boy, and then you ask for peace. This is not what we have come to expect from trolls.”

“What was it that you expected?” Snorky asked. “We have never harmed humans. We are a peaceful folk.”

“I see,” said the man. “Perhaps our ideas of trolls are not all correct. I will grant you your wish of ceasing the hunts, but I cannot guarantee you peace. Our people have come to fear trolls. Our ancestors depicted you as monsters that must be regularly hunted to deter you from coming too close to our village. If this is not true, then you must show us, but it will take time.” And with that, the man kicked his horse and the horde rode off.

The trolls were still stunned, but Snorky could not have been happier. He had a feeling that today would be forever remembered as the start of something new and amazing. He had the utmost confidence that he was well on his way to making his dream come true.

—E.D. Mayo

“Tommi the Troll”

He didn’t want to go to school. But as usual, he couldn’t tell his mother why. It would hurt her too much. He dreaded the walk into town, the winding pathway that brought him closer and closer to the site of his daily humiliation. The children there could be so unkind. He wondered if all parents forgot memories of their own childhood. Perhaps that was why they sent their offspring off to school, oblivious to their fate. Like cows for the slaughter. But not everyone was like him, and maybe not every parent remembered the cruelties that came hand in hand with primary school. Not everyone was stared at on the walk to school, or instantly disliked. Not everyone was teased and laughed at for how they looked. Not everyone was twice as tall as his or her classmates, and not everyone had lots more hair than a human eight year-old should have. No one was as ugly as Tommi. His mother told him time and time again, that he wasn’t ugly, he was just a little bit different and that was what made him special. But the children at school said otherwise. He was her special boy, and she had waited for him for a long, long time. She told him, that sometimes people were slow to see good qualities in others, especially those who were a little bit different from them.

“Have a good day my lovely boy.” His mother said giving him a hug. “Do you have your packed lunch?” Tommi nodded, and instinctively patted his little rucksack. Every morning, his mom made him a quail egg sandwich with berry leaves. It was Tommi’s favorite. And everyday Tommi sat alone at lunchtime. He tried to keep out of sight, sitting on a rock under a tall oak tree in the corner of the playground. But his height and broad shoulders made it very difficult to hide. His classmates would stand a short distance away and taunt him. One boy with blond curly hair was their leader and he would hurl remarks that brought howls of laughter from the crowd. To Tommi, they sounded like a pack of loud and hungry wolves. Later that same day, while Tommi sat alone in the shade as usual, the blond boy yelled out, “How’s your baby sandwich, you filthy troll! Did you roast the baby or barbeque it this time!?” The boy’s words and the children’s vicious grins would cut Tommi like knifes. Tommi didn’t eat human babies. He didn’t know why people thought that. He wanted to be human more than anything else in the world. His mother was a kind human lady, with no children of her own, who had found Tommi as a baby, alone and abandoned in the woodlands behind her house. She had raised him as her son and named him after her late husband, who had been well liked and highly respected in town. Not that it mattered to the children in their treatment of Tommi, or their parents who stared at him as he walked to school.

Just then the bell rang, and the crowd of children dispersed as the boys and girls ran back towards the school building. As usual, Tommi waited until the rest of the children were a little bit ahead, before he got up from his rock. The boy with the blond curly hair was running ahead of the pack. He was sprinting, trying to make it to the heavy wooden doors first. Tommi could see what was about to happen. Tommi watched the blond boy gleefully look over his shoulder, to take pleasure in his lead ahead of everybody else. Tommi saw the little bunch of weeds in the grass that the blond boy was running straight towards without watching where he was going, and because of his great speed, their was no time to warn the boy or for him to change direction. The blond boy tripped on the weeds and went sailing through the air, landing with a loud thud. His leg was splayed out at a funny angle and the boy started to wail. Hot tears flooded down his angelic face that was twisted into a look of sheer agony. All the other children stopped, unsure of what to do. No one moved forward to try and help him. At that moment, Tommi bolted across the grassy playground, three times faster than the little blond boy. None of the children had ever seen him run, because he moved slowly to avoid bringing attention to himself. In truth, he was much quicker than any human child, and was at the injured boy’s side in a matter of seconds. The blond boy looked up at Tommi who knelt over the injured child. The boy’s look of agony was replaced with a look of sheer terror and he covered his face with his arms in a pitiful effort to shield himself from the troll child that towered over him. Tommi rested his hands on the boy’s injured leg, and in seconds it shifted back into a more natural position. The blond boy looked up at Tommi in disbelief, who using the rumored magic of the trolls had healed his tormentor’s leg.

From that day forward, Tommi never dreaded walking to school. His walk down the winding path was met with smiles from the townspeople, whose children included him in every schoolyard gathering. And despite his naturally quick speed, Tommi often let the other children win the games they played together.

—Julie O’Connell

“100 Years War”

Thousands of years ago, trolls and humans existed in harmony. Trolls claimed the mountains and forests that humans could not inhabit, and humans built villages and towns. Trolls were large, burly creatures 3 times the height of humans, and were usually strong and hairy. However, they could not withstand direct sunlight, which would turn them to stone. The trolls helped humans fell trees and gather metals to build all the houses of the village; the humans made delicious feasts and clothing for the trolls. For hundreds of years they existed in peace, offering each other their expertise and skills.

In the village of Barham, by the dense Askam forest, lived a young and impetuous man named Erik. He always pointed out other people’s faults without consideration of their feelings, earning dislike from many of the villagers. Now in the minds of the trolls and humans, they thought the other to be very ugly. The trolls thought humans were sickeningly pale, with blindingly white teeth, and that they were all so stick thin and tiny. The humans thought trolls were smelly, overly hairy, with abnormally big bellies, dirty nails and lack of hair on them. One day when Erik was strolling along the forest he encountered one of the ugliest trolls, Gunnar. Unable to hold back, he spoke at great lengths about how ugly and revolting he was. Gunnar was so livid, he grabbed Erik and tossed him into his mouth. At that moment, he realized how delicious human flesh was, and it was unlike anything he had ever tasted. For days and nights Gunnar thought about this unforgettable flavor, until one night he could no longer resist the urge to sneak into town. Slowly peering into the village, he waited until he saw one man walking home. Quietly he rushed toward the man and gobbled him up before the man could even protest, then ran back to the forests feeling sated.

For the next few weeks people continued disappearing mysteriously, and the humans became more and more suspicious of the trolls. Finally, one night there was a witness who saw Gunnar gobbling up their little child, who ran out of the house when his mother was unaware. She quickly told all the townspeople and they gathered to destroy the trolls. The villagers burned the forests and rolled boulders down the mountains, burning and crushing many trolls. The trolls were very angry and began to attack humans, but since sunrise was approaching, the trolls fled to a farther area away from the villagers and vowed to take revenge.

Word spread quickly about this battle and soon humans were gathering to destroy the trolls living around them knowing they craved human flesh, while trolls wanted to eat humans after learning about this new delicious taste. Thus began the 100 year war between trolls and humans. Soon the two races distanced from each other and viewed the other as enemies rather than allies.

—Chocolate Trolls

“Troll Traveler”

Let me introduce you to Giilk, a tiny but stout creature who lives deep in the fjords that stretch across the coast of Kempi. You may have seen his home in popular travel photos of this unique destination. Every morning Giilk has the privilege to awake to the awe-inspiring view from his little nook that is carved high up the cliffs of the fijord. The sharp peaks are dusted with snow today and Giilk thinks to himself, maybe I should take a vacation this winter instead of turning to stone like everyone else of his kind.

Giilk decided to visit Pico a place known for being everything opposite of Kempi. When Giilk arrived it was everything he wanted, nothing like Kempi. The water was a crisp translucent blue unlike the mercy grey blue that is in the fijords. Pico was also much warmer than Kempi because it had a big potato in the sky that kept the air warm and turned Giilks skin a touch scaly texture.

Giilk also found a community not so different from his friends and family in Kempi except they were the ten times the size of Giilks kind and they liked to make fun of his big floppy ears. Nonetheless, they didn’t mind Giilks tiny stature and so he fit in well. Giilk enjoyed riding the smooth wet rock slides in the forest, catching rainbow birds, and swimming in the water that glowed. Giilk lived in a small hut that floated on top of the water and he always went to his neighbors hut in the morning for a nice chat and some fresh milk water.

But one morning after being in Pico what felt like a lifetime he found everyone in Pico had turned to stone. He was confused because his kind only did that for the winter and it looked as though Pico never had winter. Giilk wrote a long farewell note and left it at his neighbors house incase he woke up and then began the long journey back to Kempi.

He arrived home to find that everything was the same as before and everyone made it through the winter as a stone statue. Giilk was greeted ever so warmly but he will never felt whole again because part of him is sill attached to Pico.

—Laura Krause

“The Misplaced Tibetan Trolls”

In the dense forest of Tibet, there lives a group of Trollbalones who have established their home within the forest since the beginning of dawn. Little did they know they would experience a life threatening change..

The appearance of Trollbalones fit the stereotypic image of the typical troll. They are short and stubby, rude, clumsy and very short tempered. However, unlike other trolls, Trollbalones are very hardworking and not lazy at all. Their work ethic is evident in the numerous tree houses that they built for themselves within the forests of Tibet. Trollbalones do not adapt well to change, so when they built their settlement within the forests, they built it with the mindset that they would live there forever.

Unfortunately, their mindset was wrong. Little did they know that the Tibetan government was clear cutting the forest in which they live in. The Reason? So that there would be more grounds available to expand Tibet’s famous monasteries. Had the government known the type of creatures inhabiting the forest, the deforestation would probably not have been considered for the expansion of Tibetan’s infrastructure.

Slowly but surely, Trollbalones witnessed the demolishing of their tree houses as trees were being chopped down. Within months, the entire forest in which they built their lives in was completely gone. With their homes demolished, Trollbalones migrated to Shanghai to rebuild their lives. Unfortunately, Trollbalones had no idea that Shanghai had little, to no dense forest areas until they arrived.

Upon arrival, they realized that they had chosen the wrong place to move to. With no forests, or even trees, where would they settle down? It did not take long until they started regretting their move. Their short temperament did not help with the situation either, as they were extremely rude and unapproachable, even to the locals who wanted to help them.

Along with the challenges of finding a place to settle in, they also faced ridicule due to their appearance. Everyone else in the city was tall and slender, whereas Trollbalones were stubby and short. Their clumsiness did not help either as they would constantly walk into people, or knock down street vendors. With little success, Trollbalones realized that they needed to adjust to their new environment, fast!

As they say, beggars can’t be choosers – and that is exactly what Trollbalones did. Instead of putting their guards high up, and being rude and short tempered to the locals, they tried to be as nice as they could, and to thank the locals for even the smallest help. With the help of locals, Trollbalones were able to settle into a calm, small forest on the outskirts of Shanghai. It was then that they realized the importance of having a good attitude, and being kind to strangers.

Despite their experience of losing their home in Tibet, they were able to reestablish themselves in a completely new country, and make new friends while learning the importance of being kind and gentle.

—Jolie Ko

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It was a long, long time ago when trolls moved in great numbers across vast Norwegian plains that Nora was only a small child, and was warned about their dangers. The youngest in a family of boys, Nora was a curious child, and enjoyed exploring the forests around her village.

One particularly shadowy night, Nora’s curiosity led her into the forest just behind the soft lights of her village. She didn’t dare tell any of the elders, as there were recent whispers of evil mountain trolls moving closer to the human villages, and she was forbidden from exploring at that hour. She innocently clutched a simple doll, made of straw, and braved into the mysterious dark woods. Mesmerized by giant canopy trees and the faint murmur of woodland creatures, Nora became easily disoriented. She was suddenly aware of her surroundings and how unfamiliar they looked as the light began to grow dimmer. Panic struck, and she grasped on to a thorny branch, scraping her palm, then stepped onto a slippery stone. Thud. She fell, onto the moist forest floor. Her head hit a larger stone, and she could feel the wind being sucked out of her. She looked to the forest ceiling just as her eyelids closed, one last glimpse the dark night sky before everything was black.

Hours later, Nora’s eyelids were heavy and it seemed that everything around her was spinning. Struggling, her eyes half opened to see watch a blurry, dark, forest rushing past her. Confusion swept over as she noticed that a large, bark-skinned creature appeared to be carrying her. With thoughts of trolls flashing through her head, Nora again slipped into a blackened consciousness.

Startled again, Nora awoke to two creatures that seemed to be arguing over her. One was large, stout, with blackened bark-skin and menacing yellow eyes, carried a sharply angled stone. Arguing with the creature was another, shorter companion, with dim purple eyes and a soft brown colored bark coat. She turned to Nora, cradled her in her arms, and with gentle eyes, whispered a spell in strange tongue that caused Nora to, again, slip into her dreamy state of darkness.

This time, when Nora opened her eyes, things were clearer. She felt better, her senses coming back to her, forming the familiar sight of a house hole in the dark night. As she slowly came back to consciousness, Nora realized she had been lost, deep in the unknown forest. But how had she gotten here, safely, back home? Confused, Nora turned just in time to catch the glint of two purple eyes watching over her at the edge of the woods. Quickly, the creature that they belonged to turned and disappeared back into the dark.

Nora, now one of the elders of her village, to this day believes that it was a mountain troll that saved her life that day, through her faint memories. Once a month, she leaves out an offering to them – three ripe figs and a dandelion – a troll’s favorite meal, along with her little straw doll. And every so often, just for a second, there will be the glimpse of those familiar purple eyes.

—Chloe Jung