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Fantasy Fiction Sad

    Deep inside the bright, sunlit woods stood a cabin made of black and twisted branches. The stone chimney pumped out blackened smoke most of the day. No one dared bother the inhabitant of the cabin as he toiled away under the heat of his fire. And that’s the way he liked it, for he did not need interactions or paltry problems of the creatures that stirred outside these walls. 

    Stellan The Mighty, the last of the trolls, now hid away with his forge and metal as his only companions. He had long since stopped mourning the loss of his clan, or at least that's what he told himself, repeatedly. Stellan brought his hammer down on the glowing steel as it began to form the sword. The only time he left his self-induced prison was to sell his wares at the open market in town. And he loathed even having to do that.

 Having finished his design, he dipped the hot metal into the oil and enjoyed the burst of flames. Once quenched and cooled, he slid the custom handle into place before sharpening the blade to a killing point. He walked out of the cabin, the cool air chilling his sweat-drenched body as he walked to the creek. The chatter around him was happily ignored as he washed clean from his hard day's work. Before he shut the lights out for the evening, Stellan braided his long red hair and gathered his weapons for tomorrow's trip to town. 

The hustle and bustle of the market always grated Stellan's nerves. The witches were always too happy with their billowing skirts and bangle-filled arms. They chatted insistently about crystals, spells, and the way the moon phases affected his mood. The giants sold their magic beans and fresh golden eggs. It was chaos when the Vampires showed up at dusk and dance-battled the werewolves for attention. 

Stellan quietly sold his weapons and tried to ignore the white-haired woman who spent most of the day walking past his table. Ten minutes before he picked up the table, the woman stopped. 

“Hello.”

Stellan grunted but continued to pack up his remaining weapons. 

Frowning, the woman stepped away from the table, and he watched her hustle away until she was lost in the crowd. 

Stellan was almost home when he heard the scream. He paused in mid-step as another scream sounded through the darkened wood. Muttering to himself, he set his parcels down and pulled a sword from the package. 

“A woman is being chased by the wolves.” The soft voice hooted next to him. 

“Fabulous.” He growled as he took off towards the panicked sounds of the woman. 

He got the hint of snow-white hair as it flashed by him, followed by six dark balls of fur. Stellan stepped into the path of the chaos and brandished his sword. 

“Enough!” He bellowed, and the wolves screeched to a halt. 

The alpha tilted her head as she eyed the troll. “You speakin’ to us now, Mighty Stellan?” 

“No. But you know you need not chase a human. There is plenty of prey for you in these woods.” 

The wolf sat on her haunches. “Fine. We will leave the girl alone.” 

The other wolves circled and sniffed at Stellan. “Don’t play games, Lorna.” 

Lorna howled, and the other wolves came back to hover around her. “You used to be fun, Stellan.” She howled again and was gone with her pack hot on her heels. 

Stellan watched her disappear before turning to the woman. “Why are you out in the woods alone?” 

She shook as she stood in the sliver of moonlight. Her white hair seemed to shimmer, and her pale eyes shined with unshed tears. The gown she wore billowed in the slight breeze, and her delicate feet were caked in mud.  

“Following you.” Her soft voice added to the mystic illusion.

“Well, that was stupid. I don’t like visitors, nor do I appreciate being followed by creatures. There are things more dangerous in these woods than the wolves.”

The woman hugged herself tighter as she quickly looked around. “Like what?” She whispered. 

“Me.” Stellan hissed. He rested his sword on his shoulder and left towards his home. He groaned when he distinctly heard the woman stumbling behind him. “Go away.” 

“Uh...No.” 

He paused and turned towards her. “No?” 

“Yeah. No. I’m a lone woman in the dark. You can’t possibly mean to leave me alone overnight.”

“Bollocks. I didn’t ask you to travel out here. I am not responsible for you.” 

“Stellan. You can’t leave the woman alone.” The stern voice echoed through the air, and Stellan grumbled. 

“Fine. Fine. Come on. One night and then you leave this place.” 

She smiled and jogged up behind him. “My name is Willa.”

“Don’t care.”

    “Your name is Stellan?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“That’s what the wolves called you.”

Stellan stopped so suddenly that Willa crashed into him. And her startled giggle only managed to scrap harder on his nerves. “You can hear the wolves?”

Willa grinned, flashing the gap between her front teeth and causing a single dimple to wink at him. “Yes. As you can.” 

“Only trolls can speak to the animals. But you are not a troll.”

She shrugged. “Since birth, I’ve been able to speak to all creatures. The rabbits are unpleasant.”

Stellan snorted a laugh in spite of himself. “Yeah. The cuteness hides the truth. The rabbits have terrible mouths.”

    They continued towards Stellan’s cabin, only stopping to gather the blades he had left behind. He placed the bag and his coat on the hooks near his door before heading into the tiny kitchen nook. He grabbed the ancient tea-pot and filled it with water from the creaky tap before he hung it over his fire. 

    “I don’t have much in the way of food. But if you're hungry, I might be able to make you something.”

    Willa smiled as she enjoyed what seemed to be an awkward embarrassment. His rosy cheeks were flushed causing his abundance of freckles to glow like stars in the sky; his thick hair was frayed in its braid-like fire licks and his deep blue eyes never really left her---suspicious. She knew she should tell him why she was here but instead; she said, “I have some bread and fruit from the market. I’ll share that if you’ll share your tea.”

    He grunted. “That’s good then.” 

    She watched him move about the room and admired his stocky frame with sturdy muscles that flashed under the sleeves of his shirt as he put his handmade weapons away. Most wouldn’t look at a troll, but Willa wasn’t blind to the beauty of his rugged appearance. He brought her a dainty cup of tea and sat far from her at the fire’s edge; she sipped and glanced around the cabin.

It was mostly an indoor forge with metal scraps, tools and blades discarded haphazardly all over the floor. But there were decaying touches of a female--- an ancient flowery pillow, a cracked “I heart mom” mug, and a delicately knitted blanket. Willa ran the blanket through her fingers. “Are you married?” 

Stellan finished chewing a hunk of bread and frowned. “No.”

“Were you married?” 

“No.”

Willa huffed; it was like pulling teeth talking to him. “So, then, you must be a mother?”

“What?”

She pointed to the mug, and Stellan followed her finger. Inwardly he cringed; it had been so long that sometimes he had moments of forgetfulness. “My mother.”

“Where is your mother?”

“Gone.”

“Where is the rest of your family? You’re the only troll I’ve ever seen.” 

“Gone.”

Willa’s heart raced. Gone. “Dead?” She whispered as sadness swamped her. 

Stellan wasn’t immune to her reaction, but he wasn’t concerned, he told himself, simply...interested. “Not technically.” 

Her head wiped up, and she grabbed his hand. “What do you mean?”

Stellan didn’t shove her hand away, and for a reason he couldn’t understand, he needed to tell her the story of his people. Standing, he pulled her along with him. “Let’s go.” 

Willa enjoyed the rough warmth of his hand in hers and allowed him to drag her towards a treeless crop of land in the middle of the forest. When the moonlight glimmered on stone, she gasped. “What is this place?”

“This is where the trolls now reside.”

The stone trolls were aging and weathered but spotlessly clean and free from forest growth. Someone lovingly tended this macabre art exhibit. “How?” Willa took a step towards the stone trolls. 

Stellan tucked his hands into his cotton pants. “Once upon a time, a foolish troll fell in love with a wicked fairy, and she cursed him.” 

Willa turned slowly towards Stellan. He was cast in the darkness of the woods, but she could feel the palpable sadness. “You?”

“The fairy woman was in love with me. And I was callous, as silly young men tend to be, and I caused her inconsolable pain. She said the problem was I could never love a woman enough to be a good man. So, her punishment for heartbreak was to turn everyone I’ve ever known to stone.” 

“That’s cruel and petty.” 

Stellan shrugged as he stared at the face of his own mother. “It’s been almost a hundred years, and when the curse took hold, I tried to fall in love. To save them. But as the years went by… I gave up.” 

Willa bit her lower lip as the truth warred inside of her. He had told her, a complete stranger, the hardest of his truths. She could only return the favor. “I have to tell you something, Stellan.” 

He slowly emerged from his own turbulent memories to focus on Willa. “What?”

She paced through the stones that held the trolls as she spoke. “It’s not a mistake that I found you. I’ve been searching for you for years.”

Stellan narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

Willa twisted her hands together. “I am the daughter of a fairy and a troll.”

“Excuse me?”

The confused anger she felt ripple from him caused her to shrink away. “My mother was a fairy. My father is a troll. You...to be precise.”

“Me?” Stellan stared in startled shock at the woman claiming to be his child. She did talk to animals, and the white hair was reminiscent of her mother. “Why did you come here? To torture me for your mother?”

Willa sucked a breath as the pain lanced her child’s heart. “No. My mother went to the lost world years ago. She told me that you were my father and that you would need me.” 

“I need no one.” He stormed away. 

Willa didn’t follow; instead, she sunk to her heels and bawled like a broken-hearted child. 

Stellan slammed into his home and threw anything within reach against the wall. “My child!” He snatched a sword from the floor and stomped outside, where he took out his rage on an innocent tree. 

“You’re a dolt.” A voice sniffed. 

“Well, we always knew he was as stupid as he is ugly.” The lisp grated his already raw temper. 

Stellan went to kick the adorable white bunny at his feet but missed.

 “Hey! Asshole. I don’t go around kicking you.”

“Leave.”

“I don’t need to go hump Daisy for another twenty-minutes. I’ve got time to kill, and rumor has it that the crying, pretty creature with the stone trolls is your kid. But how could that be since you are such a smelly, hideous bastard.”

Stellan paused and reached down to yolk the brown bunny up by his neck. 

“Hey! Hands off the fur.”

“She is crying?” When the bunny didn't answer, he shook him. “Answer me, or I’ll eat you in stew tonight, you little beast.”

The bunny narrowed his eyes. “Yes. Crying. But I wouldn’t worry about it. The Manananggal is out hunting tonight, and you know how she loves to eat broken-hearted women.”

Stellan cursed as he tossed the bunny away and ran towards the grove. As he approached, he could hear her weeping and cursed himself again. It wasn’t her fault her mother was an unfeeling bitch. When he heard the wailing sound of the Manananggal, he ran faster.  

Stellan stepped out of the forest at the exact moment the Mananaggal did; when she saw him, she laughed, and the sound sent chills down his body. 

“Willa!” He shouted as he ran towards her. 

Her head whipped up, and she met his eyes as the Mananaggal stepped between them. “Ah. Stellan the Mighty. Does the cry-baby belong to you?”

    The Mananaggal’s enormous bat wings made it almost impossible to see Willa---impossible but for the space between the Mananaggals severed body. “It’s been a long time Manna.” 

    Her lizard tongue whipped out to lick Stellan’s throat. “It’s been a long time since I’ve tasted troll blood. I’ll spare the girl if you come home with me.” 

    Stellan readied his sword. “No deal, Manna. I guess we will have to fight for her.” 

    Stellan swung out with his sword, and it sliced through the open-air between Manna’s body. It had been a long time since he’d wielded a sword against anyone, and Manna was a dangerous creature. She moved expeditiously to avoid his every swing, and he was tiring quickly. He would lose. 

    “Manna. Stop.” Stellan stared at Willa, who stood twisting her hands like his own mother used to, and smiled. “Leave the girl alone, and I’m yours.” 

    “NO!” Willa shouted and began to run towards them. 

    Stellan watched the smile creep across Manna’s face. “That's a deal.” 

    Manna snatched Stellan by the top and went to sink her fangs into his neck as she punched a fist into his chest to grab his heart, but he was gone, and in his place was a woman. 

    Stellan made an unholy noise as he shook off the magic blast Willa had shoved him with and watched as Manna killed his daughter. 

    Blood dripped from Willa’s lips, but she smiled through the pain and whispered, “I loved you, Dad.” And her soul went to the lost world. 

    Laughing, Manna dropped the lifeless body of Willa to the ground and dabbed the corner of her mouth delicately with her sleeve. “That was delicious---fairy and troll. Funny how often the innocent child pays for the parents sins.” Then she floated off into the woods. 

    Stellan ran to the body of Willa and cradled her against him. As the sun began to rise, a rain of shimmery light floated from the sky, and the stone slowly cracked away from trolls. Stellan gently laid Willa down and stood in shock as his family shook off the curse. 

    “Love can destroy even the hardest curses.” A soft-voice sounded behind him. Stellan glanced back at the beautiful white doe, warm tears streamed down his face. “Don’t let her sacrifice be in vein. Learn to love, Stellan the Mighty

March 23, 2021 22:41

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1 comment

T.H. Sherlock
19:26 Mar 30, 2021

My favourite part was the line where Stellan says ‘the cuteness hides the truth, rabbits have terrible mouths’. I love the idea of foul-mouthed bunny rabbits! I wish I’d thought of that.

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