The Fairy Diary Day 139 #TFDbyRWOz2

Meribabell writes:

Rumble slipped away last night and I caught him returning in the morning. I was upset with him at first, but he won me over with his explanation. 

He had traveled back to where the dead troll lay. The body had not yet turned to stone. So he repositioned it to add to the defenses of the outpost. And as a final touch he covered the whole with daisies. 

Caywyn overheard the explanation and heartily approved. 

The whole matter held us up and got us off to a late start. But instead of an hindrance it proved to be very fortunate. For Dunfallon says it kept us from falling in with a band of trolls that passed the trail before we arrived on that section. 

Their passage was marked by a horrible stench from some refuse they left behind. Noralei and Rumble cleaned it up before we passed on. 

Caywyn was impressed. 

The Fairy Diary Day 138 #TFDbyRWOz2

Meribabell writes:

Our departure did not go unchallenged. Caywyn thought that by restricting any activity on the side from which we exited, we would not draw attention to ourselves. Instead a live troll was waiting for us when we emerged. Only the fact that he was more surprised than we were, saved us. 

The troll was slow to attack and misstepped when he did, falling headlong backwards, splitting his head wide open. 

Caywyn checked the vicinity and finding no further opposition, quickly led us away from the outpost. He kept us out of sight for the rest of the day following a stream in a canyon that he says is far from the main road and the camps of the troll army.

The Fairy Diary Day 69 #TFDbyRWOz2

The Narrator breaks in again:

For two nights in a row I have been on tenterhooks. A sense of impending doom pervaded my actions during the day, and intensified over night. I would look up quickly from what I was doing and see only blackness. The loss of vision was fleeting, but none the less disturbing.

Then last night, the dream started as my clock rolled to midnight. Least ways it did in my dream. And I could see the three beings whose adventures I have been following rush about in a frenzy upon the ramparts of what I judged to be the dwarves outpost that I’ve read about. The blackness was rolling towards them. A solid nothingness.

I looked again at their movements and realized they were not moving haphazardly, but with purpose, and somehow it broke up the blackness into component parts, so that the approaching enemy was visible. I turned and noticed that the Merlin talisman around Meribabell’s neck was doing the illumination. 

In its beam of light a cadaverous troll was stumbling up to the redoubt led by a ravenous wolf on a leash.

I was aware in that instant the stone of the rampart beneath the soles of my bare feet. A golden eagle flashed past my ear and I forgot about my cold feet.

It was the pixie charging the wolf, and having gained its attention, baited it into the entrance of the outpost, where both troll and wolf fell to the onslaught of Rumble and the dwarves.

As their adversaries melted away, I, too, faded from the scene.


Day Thirteen #DiaryoftheEndoftheWorld

Up early this morning. I couldn’t sleep any longer anyway. I had remembered why the name of Lyle the pigeon boy came to me. I had made a promise to someone to find him if I could.

They did not know which bridge he lived under. They just knew the fact that he did.

“Like a troll?” I asked. They thought that was funny, but avoided answering, just exacted the promise, and added that it would be worth my while.

But I was serious after a manner of speaking. I was hoping they would offer some sort of explanation.

Spent the day searching – nothing – which leaves the other bridges to check. A confirmation? That was the third option after all.