#the trolls were harvested from trees

[onstar9]

I just realized that the lines “my talent, it doesn’t grow on trees” is very much a joke in the song Watch Me Work from Trolls 3

[ksiondzkanexkiii]

I'll never leave you again

Prologue

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Next chapter (1)

The crackle of branches interrupted the peaceful silence of the forest, quiet footsteps and quiet humming accompanied the figure that moved in the shadows of the forest. She couldn't go out into the sun unless life was unkind to her and she wanted to turn to stone, the quiet humming of a song came out of her dark blue lips and her green eyes looked down intently to find what she was looking for.

Healing plants, flowers with which she could heal the sick. Plants that would speed up the healing of wounds as well as disinfect them.

The forest around her consisted only of massive oak trees with thick bark partially dried and ready to be stripped off to be used for making houses or other tools. She made a mental note to tell the local blacksmith about the readiness of the trees to gather the needed wood from them for harvesting, her fingertips sliding over the rough texture of the wood.

A gentle smile adorned her face as she felt the power flowing through the tree.

The power of life

The power of life that everyone has, plant, troll, shape-shifter or even humans or... Gumm Gumm, the latter she dreamt in her worst nightmares. No matter what she was doing or if she was having a successful and nice day always, when she closed her eyes all she saw was Gunmar who would attack her village destroying everything she and the other trolls had created.

Her smile dropped and worry almost immediately flooded her thoughts. A heavy sigh left her lips she would give up her birthstone to protect her village even better... she would give up her soul for everyone living in the village hidden at the edge of the lush forest.

She wanted to protect every young troll hide her from the war that was beginning to take its toll and come dangerously close to them, but her husband believed that Gunmar or the humans would not dare attack them. They probably don't even know of their existence, the Troll market would never betray their location

And in a time of crisis, they would surely come here to ask for help and they would give it.

Crops are more lush than they have been in recent years, crops are surplus to the point where they can rot in sacks. Trade between the village and the stone-hearted Troll market is thriving very well, when she thought about it now her smile returned

The birds were chirping over her head as if they were happy to see her, the pleasant song you birds chirped was like honey to her ears. She loved it when birds sang a happy tune, she loved birds she always dreamed of being able to fly among them and feel that freedom that birds only knew. She gently tilted her head as she watched the birds fly over her head.

Then

She felt calm, her thoughts were simple and carefree. Everything around her was so peaceful at the same time it was dark, her bare feet touched the soft grass that tickled her she let out a quiet giggle as she felt the tickle of the grass on her stony skin, the basket, made of sticks she had on her back was loaded to the brim with flowers and other herbs

Even the best stacked ones were gently sticking out of the basket's construction. Her steps were heading towards the village already she could see a mountain on the horizon that had a large mine entrance in it, one of the many entrances to the village of Rot. She couldn't wait to set the heavy basket down on the desk, come the basket filled with herbs and other flowers might seem light however it weighed its own.

Especially after walking for several hours

She was also looking forward to seeing her husband, although she would not have to look for him, as she was probably worried again about the war, which instead of going north was coming dangerously close to them, Gunmar's army could find them any moment, but Anoana did not yet feel the danger it could entail

She was calm, but Angor however was not calm, he had increased the number of patrols around the village to know where the armies of Camelot and the armies of Gunmar were, two camps that were fighting a battle towards the victory of the humans, but it was for now a matter of time when Gunmar would win and bring eternal night.

Angor feared this, but a small spark of hope burned within him that no one would find their village. They were really far set from the war yet he still felt this uncertainty, war was never predictable and this irritated Angor

He liked to plan. He liked to know everything. 

He wanted to take care of his people like the good chief that he is, his father had always taught him that , ‘Planning is important, but even more important are the trolls in the village for them you must first ensure their safety before you go into battle’.

His father was wise, Angor had always admired him when he was still young. He had even made a vow to himself that he would be the same leader his father had been and maybe even better, time was to verify if his vow spoken at night in the moonlight would fully come true.

He had an even more important task on his shoulders, not only the defence of his people was paramount, but also that of his beloved.

He had and even had to defend her from the war lest even she hear of Camelot's or Gunmar's advances, he treated her like a little troll who didn't necessarily need to hear of bloody battles somewhere beyond the village's borders, he would have been happiest to lock her within the four walls and not let her out.

Of course he knew she could handle a weapon like a bow or a dagger, but he had always worried if she would return safely from her expedition or if Gunmar would catch her or if people would catch her and lock her up somewhere in the cells of Camelot, that fear bubbling through his veins since he had not seen the end of the war.

Even if he told her not to stray too far from the village she would not listen to him

She was too stubborn

At the same time, he loved her more at the same time he hated her.

Even if she had elongated ears like an elf's, he feared whether she would hear the enemy approaching in time or whether fear would cause her to panic and fear would cause her to freeze in place. Therefore he liked to test her

Just like now

When she was returning to the village there was no way around Angor's prank as he leapt from tree to tree branch to branch of another tree doing it as imperceptibly as he could, at the same time not taking his eyes off his victim who was walking smiling and unaware of the impending attack.

Before he attacked he liked to watch her, he even loved to see how she admired nature approaching each tree to check the protection spells while admiring the magic coming out of the tree bark. How gently she handled the flowers, which she later used for decoctions to cure sick trolls or to create clever traps for dwarves.

Maybe the dwarves were useful for the hairier trolls, as they effectively ate parasites out of their fur at the same time they were very annoying, constantly tangling under their feet or making some kind of prank. To the displeasure of everyone but his own.

He always loved how carefree his wife was and yet smart. But in her own way. She wanted to protect the people from war, but thought war would never come to them, they were too hidden. Only from the top of the tree did he watch her hips sway as she walked and her blue skin contrast with the green of the grass. Her skin colour would match the sky perfectly and the pale horns on the top of her head resembled a deer, if she ventured too close to a human village some hunter might kill her by accident. Her horns resembled those of a deer, it's easy to get confused especially when her antlers are sticking up behind a bush and her body is hiding behind a bush.

He leapt onto another branch, which creaked under his weight alerting the troll beneath him, her eyes widened and her muscles tensed as she turned on her heel to check what was hiding behind her back. She saw nothing suspicious, yet she sensed a presence. Someone was nearby, but her eyes couldn't find anything suspicious

Maybe because the scarf she had tied on top of her head and whose tassels fell over her cheeks and eyes gently obscured her vision while hiding her beautiful green eyes, but the tattoo came out from under the tassels of the headband she always wore tied on the back of her head and going behind her ears, the tattoos were straight lines coming out from under her lower eyelid crossing her blue cheek ending in a sharp line, also a black line was on her lower lip following evenly on her chin.

She muttered something under her breath - Maybe it's just an animal - she muttered to herself, she might not have noticed the deer which are famous for their skittishness. She shrugged her shoulders as she was about to move towards the village again Rot noticed a strange shadow appear on one of the trees, as if something was watching her from a branch. As she looked more closely though a slow smile appeared on her face

- It's definitely an animal - she spoke louder, she spoke loudly and it was special she knew who was sitting in the tree watching her by the way trying to scare her. In her own way to tell her not to stray too far from the village even if she knows she won't listen to him - There is nothing to be afraid of - she spoke into the deaf forest as if the trees were going to answer her

And that was not the case, the silence was eerie nevertheless a shiver ran down the Troll's back as she looked deep into the dark forest, the sun was slowly setting and growing darker. She may have been a troll who would be turned to stone as soon as she stepped out into the sun, but she liked to watch the sun set, when she looked up into the sky which shimmered with familiar oranges and yellows and some of the clouds were pink she let out a breath of air - I'm late - she whispered, every evening she went out to the mountain where the entrance to the cave where the village is located

She had never missed a sunset before, her eyes dropped to the ground and her stone feet were tickled by the moss. She shook her head and moved on towards the cave entrance - Are you going Angor or not? - she spoke up suddenly not paying attention to what was happening behind her back

And this could have had disastrous consequences.

- Behind your back - spoke a deep voice behind her back, he always knew how to make shivers run down her spine. She hated him for it and fell even more in love with him, one of the reasons why she wears the amethyst carving ring on her ring finger on her left hand and still carries the dagger he forged for her at her breast.

- ‘You know how to scare me,’ she muttered, glancing over her shoulder to look at the tall troll, who could be said to be three metres tall-come on, he was a little shorter, she barely reached his shoulders and yet they fit together like lost two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. A rough giggle left Angor's lips as he looked down at her and she had to lift her head to look at him in all his glory

- I guess that's my speciality - He murmured smiling at her while tilting his head, his ram's horns making his face resemble the shape of a skull. He loved to blend into the shadows to suddenly jump out and frighten her when she least expected it, they loved this kind of fun it made them laugh maybe they were brave leaders every day but when the door closed they loved to mess with each other. This is what their marriage was about he leads and protects the village she is his right hand and helps out

Large black eyes that had gold glittering pupils watched her as she pulled a glowing stone from her pocket and began to draw an arc on the wall leaving a blue outline, just as she was about to touch the centre of the drawn arc she felt her husband's rough hands encircle her waist to draw her close hiding his face in the hollow of her neck

He humped considerably at this, his nose gently inhaling her scent of lilac and gooseberry. He could inhale it all the way to his death, his fangs gently brushing against his beloved's stony skin and the distinctive vines emerging from his arms and legs stood out against Angora's grey skin. A soft giggle issued from Anoana as she gently lifted her hand to place it on his jaw, which gently brushed the skin of her neck

- Do you know that we will have time for this in the evening? - she asked quietly, but the smile did not disappear from her face, he did not answer only winked something under his breath snuggling tighter into her neck to which she replied still with a soft giggle

- The evening will come soon Angor - she reminded him finally pulling out of his embrace - You will survive until then - she sent him a flirtatious smile, when she put the piece of stone heart back in her pocket, he sent her a gentle smile and nodded his head - she was right, later there will be time for tenderness now they had to finish their work

However, they both did not know what fate would befall

What the Norns had planned for both Trolls

Their love was strong, but would it survive even the darkest times?

He could only ask the gods that the love he had bestowed on Anoan would never fade away

When they both passed through the portal previously drawn by Anoan they knew they were finally home

But even at home it can be dangerous 

[partywithoutsmiling]

On the topic of Brozone

When it comes to their parents, family and family situation, Part 1:

Expanding bit of my personal headcanon on this- well, mostly personal in the way that I use it as a basis for all my AUs/Stories without fault; basically, I consider this 'Universal Headcanon' when it comes to any of my Stories, while the Stories by themselves can have Headcanon/Lore that is unique just to them XD

(Like, for an example, the luminescent markings in Moonlit AU are unique just for that particular AU, and you won't see it in Rock Beast or Wanderer!Branch)

Anyway, as I hinted in this post, I headcanon the Brozone Bros as being of mixed herritage: half-Pop and half-Rock

Biologically, it makes them slightly less hardy when it comes to Winter, and little bit more feral looking compared to other Pop Trolls, something that got more prominent the older they grew

Age - Using Branch's hatching as a base line (at 0), I headcanon the ages thus: - JD at 16, Spruce/Bruce at 14/13, Clay at 12 and Floyd at 11

Pop Troll Capitol - John Dory had hatched at a time where Pop Troll territory (expanded upon in this answered ask) had already started shrinking, but still boasted several strong settlements. However with those Settlements slowly disappearing (And unknown to the Pop Trolls, harvested by Bergens), Pop Trolls started naturally migrate towards the Troll Tree, at this point considered the Capitol 'City' of sorts; - However, everyone desired to live there, considered to be not only the pinacle of the high life but also place of endless oppoturnities, home for especially talented Trolls- not something little half-rock troll JD could ever hope to achieve, but could at least dream about; - A dream that started to be more of an ambitious goal, when more of his brothers hatched, and JD, being the oldest and feeling responsible for the happiness of his siblings, wanted to get them out of the backwater settlement they are growing up in- an oppoturnity that presented, when their Grandmother, Rosiepuff, offered to house them while they tried to prove themselves

Boy Band 'Aristocracy' - Being part of a succesful band- especially part of a boy band- was a prestigious status, as close as to aristocracy as the hierarchy in the Pop Troll Tribe could get. The most succesful band gained the priviledge of living in the Troll Tree, along with all the other 'gifted' Pop Trolls, and were free to interact with the Royal Family on more personal level - Brozone was considered especially progidious; not only they were able to harmonize better than anyone else, but they were also the youngest to really 'make it' and stand out from all the hopefuls

Nepotism? - The early Brozone- the one without Branch in it- was not starved for talent, but it was largely thanks to their grandmother that they were even allowed the chance - While mixed herritage was not a rare thing to happen in the Tribe- despite ancient conflicts, Trolls tended to trickle back and forth between Kingdoms- none of them ever lived in the Troll Tree, and were it not for Rosiepuff and her known family history, the Brozone would never even get the chance

Barebones Family Tree - Their Pop Half is maternal, with their mother named Mulberry; born at the Troll Tree, to Rosiepuff and to a troll named Brazen (who I headcanon gathered bit of a fame himself, imagine essentially Troll Frank Sinatra XD), she decided the glamour and glitter life is not something that was for her - Always bit quieter and more of an intelectual, she decided to move out of the Troll Tree and settle in a Village closer to the North - There she managed to meet a Rock Troll named Thorn (Or 'Thornberry', as she came to call him) - Thorn, being a young Troll, had been indulging in the Rock Troll tradition of a Solo Tour (as mentioned in my Wanderer!Branch Lore Dump), which usually happened in the Rock Troll Kingdom but could bleed into other Kingdoms- a habit that brought him literaly crashing on Mulberry's doorstep - In the true opposite attracts fashion and through shenanigans, they eventually fell in love and started family together - Rosiepuff thought it romantic; Brazen was not so accepting - Unknown to most, however, Thorn was not just your average Rock Troll, but the heir to the Rock Throne and an older brother to Thrash (if only by few months) - Thorn kept his sudden family a secret at first, knowing the fact they are Pop wouldn't be accepted, and while his age allowed it, he flitted back and forth between them and Volcano City, making him a rather spotty presence in his sons' lives - Eventually, however, his flightly behaviour started to be frowned upon by the Rock Trolls, as age wise he was long past when it was acceptable to travel around solo- and so he planned a longer trip to Volcano City, if only to tell his father (the King at the time) to fuck off and pass the rule down to Thrash (This didn't really work out, as he had not been allowed to leave after that, leaving Mulberry to struggle to support four children) - JD at 14yo, Spruce/Bruce at 12/11, Clay at 10, Floyd at 9 - It was his disappearence that had Mulberry cave to JD's wheedling to give the Boy Band a shot, and after talking it through with Rosiepuff, the boys moved with their Grandmother while Mulberry stayed behind in hopes that Thorn will come back

(Part two here)

[empressgeekt]

Supernatural/Trolls Crossover - Branch Winchester AU (Part 2 - Custody Battle)

Okay, for anyone new here, please go read part one. It's tagged "Branch Winchester AU". But the long and short of it is that Branch gets sent to the Supernatural world, as a kid and is raised with the Winchester family.

Let's jump back to the otherside of the portal real quick, John Dory would get the letter for Floyd as normal, and he would look for Branch first. Figures it will be easy with the pop trolls out of hiding, but once he meets with Queen Poppy, she claims their isn't a troll by the name of Bitty B or Branch in the village. And she knows everyone. With limited time, John Dory has to look for the other brothers. Poppy goes with him wanting to help. Bruce is easy to find, and Poppy comes up with using the funderdrawers to find Clay after the subject of "Why didn't they stay in touch with Bloodhound beetles, they could track you with smell?" comes up in conversation. The Puttputt course gives John Dory new hope, maybe Branch had been here with Clay. He wasn't, sadly, and by that point their out of time to look for the youngest brother, otherwise Floyd wouldn't make it.

It takes a lot of fighting and tears, but somehow the three brothers come together to save Floyd. The First words out of the second eldest's mouth being, "Where's Branch?"

Pop village is their first stop. Floyd needs to see a doctor, and Poppy really needs to talk to her Dad about Viva. In the end Floyd would recover with some discoloration issues and mental scars. The topic of Branch once more comes up and to the bros horror, none of them have heard from Branch for twenty years. Clay mentions that not everyone made it out of the tunnels, but John Dory shuts that down, no one is even mad at him for it, and then vows to find their baby brother if it kills him. Floyd wants to come with him, once he's okay enough to travel. Bruce can't do much with kids of his own, but he'd liked to have updates on the search, and they could use Vacay Island as a home base anytime. Clay doesn't know what he wants to do...Poppy, Viva and surprisingly Peppy join them. Then everything changes.

Peppy would step in and begin to explain, that while they lived in the tree, only a month before they escaped, That their grandmother was harvested by the Chef, but Branch...went missing. This sparks outrage and grief amongst the family. Bruce starts asking questions, Like did they even search for Branch or just assumed he was taken too? Peppy claims they did search, but all they found was a single letter in the old Pod...and that no one could open it. Peppy gives the letter to John Dory before leaving.

They wait a few hours before opening it. Grief over their grandmother needed to be felt, and the letter was terrifying in a way. At first it looked unassuming, just a plain manilla envelope, until you turned it over and written on the front in red was, "Only for the eyes of Shared Blood" Floyd eventually just tells, John Dory to stop putting it off and open it.

When opened the letter reads like this....

" To the blood of the fetched,

You have been judged unworthy of the gift you were given. As such you are marked with the loss that you inflicted on the blood you rejected. If you wish for redemption, repair the cracks on a new foundation, reconnect the severed ties...."

John Dory: then there's just a bunch of gibberish.

Clay: Give me that...This is not fancy talk, is basically, we cuts in our family, and there fore whoever wrote this, judged us unworthy of Branch. So...they took him.

Floyd: Who would take our Baby Brother?!

Clay: I-I don't know...but they say they we can get him back at least. We just have Wish for Redemption, repair the cracks in some foundation, and what ever third thing is...

John Dory: Wish for redemption, I guess that means we need to want him back.

Bruce: What about the cracks

Floyd: It's us...we left. We broke our family part and now we need to put it back together if we ever want Branch back.

Que a bunch of apologizes explanations and settling differences.

Viva chiming in from braiding Clay's hair: And the third part?

Clay: I-...I don't even know what language this is...or if it's some sort of code.

Poppy: Maybe just read it?

Clay: OKay...Suscipe nos in terram animae Fratris tui

The letter flashes and they are not in Pop village anymore. The bros, plus Poppy and Viva, are flashed into woods of small trees on the outskirts of a small town. Their panicking having suddenly swapped species from trolls to something else. Eventually the group gets their barrings, deciding to look for Branch in the nearby town. If there was one upside to having a species swap at least they blend in with the rest of the town. John Dory and Poppy would eventually approach a shop owner asking if they knew anyone by Branch.

"Yeah, I know a boy by that name, poor kid's dad must have been drunk when he was born to end up with a name like that, don't know if he's in town at the moment."

"Any idea where he could be?"

"Anywhere in the country, those boys are always on the move, but their uncle's in town, you should try him, at least you'll get a phone number."

"Uncle?"

"Bobby Singer, lives just outside of town, up on cherry road, his whole property is a junk yard, you can't miss it. I'd be careful though, the man's eccentric and has a lot of guns."

The walk to this "Uncle Bobby's" Place is tense. No one really knows how to react to the news that Branch had a family in this weird land of pale giants. Bruce and Floyd are relieved that Branch had someone to take care of him, but the other's are a little more upset with this fact.

Bobby Singer is surprised when a group of strangers shows up on his doorstep claiming to be related to his Nephew in all but Blood. Sadly he has no choice but to call the boys, after he'd run the strangers through the gauntlet of paranormal tests. Iron, salt, Holy water, silver, you name it. So, reluctantly he calls Dean up and speaks to Branch, who confirms he had bio-brother with their names. He has no idea who the girls are though. He gets the boys to come visit and a shirt for the red-head brother before he deals with the many questions the group has.

And boy do they have them, any doubt that these guys weren't trapped in the same cult that Branch was born into is whipped away once the youngest girl askes what a human is. Bobby explains to the best of his ability. The brothers mostly ask about Branch, how Bobby knew him, if the kid was alright, and where he was. Bobby answers best he could, but keeps a lot of things private for Branch's sake. It isn't until the brother with frizz hair asks about his book collection, that Bobby gets a little defensive. He's not sure how much of hunting he should involve these new comers with. So he locked down for the night, and put the kids to bed in the spare room.

Clay managed to sneak one of the books into there room, and studied it through out the night. Viva asked jokingly, if this place had good sad books, since Clay couldn't put it down. The mood shifts when Clay said it isn't a sad book its a log on something called "demons". He goes on to explain that their some kind of monsters that are dangerous to humans. The question of why Bobby had that book, isn't spoken but is loud in the room.

Branch, Dean and Sam would drive back to the junk yard. Through out the drive, Dean and Sam were peppering Branch with questions as to what exactly happened. Who exactly were his brothers? why would they be here? Could they take him back? Branch desn't have na answer to alot of the questions. but he'd say, "We used to sing together, looking back I think it was to keep the others happy for when trollistice came around. The bergens wanted us happy. Made us taste better."

D: You singing? Like those Weirdo Boybands with their cheap sounding music.

B: Exactly like that.

S: It's not that bad, I kind of like NSYNC

D: What is the matter with you?

B: Good luck getting me back on stage

S: I'm not saying that you should go back to it, I have issues with this whole child labor for amusement in a cult thing, there's multiple laws being broken there. But it's not something to be ashamed about...right?

B: If it's not something to be ashamed about, then why did sound so unsure just now?

Once at the junk yard, Branch would ignore his brothers in favor of marching into Bobby's place, and demanded to talk with his Uncle. Dean and Sam Follow him, leaving the dimension hoppers outside. Bobby confirms they're legit, not shapeshifters, not Demons, not even ghouls and he could tell based on how freaked out they were when he suggested that they should cook up his arm for dinner. Dean wants to know if this means they have more cult escapees to de-brainwash. But Bobby shockingly chimns in that's he's not so sure. Ever since Brozone dropped in He'd been looking a little deeper into Troll and Fairy lore, finding that a lot of what Branch said as a kid and what these adults are saying now is matching up with his findings.

Branch: Okay wait, are you saying that everything I believed as a kid, wasn't just my broken scared out of my ass mind making sense of everything, but instead was actually real. The tiny people living in a tree being eaten once a year was real?

Bobby: It's got a lot more evidence behind it then the cult theory, which son was always just an assumption made by your dad due to a lack of proof. Truth is we didn't know where you came from.

D: This is nuts.

S: And coming from us that's saying something.

Branch: Oh this is nuts to you?! My entire life just turned upside down. Oh god if it was all fucking real...Then they really did abandon me...

D: Well then they don't get to come back.

S: Dean you can't say that.

D: Why the hell not? They left Branch in the dust. Practically threw him to the wolves.

S: Cause I left too..

Branch: Sam stop, the situation is completely different.

D: Yeah, Branch is right, you left for college, and even then you didn't abandon a two year old in a fucking warzone, where folks were getting eaten! Not to mention Branch still had me and Dad, not just an elderly Grandmother who have gone any second!

Branch: And you apologized. I've forgiven you....now while these tow idiots plot their vengeance on my behalf, how do we send them back to what ever realm they came from?

Bobby: That's uh the one thing I haven't figured out yet. I still have a lot of material to go through, I also have a few people I could ask...

D: Dad might know something, he used to research trolls and fairies since you were a kid. Maybe he thought it was more then just a cult thing

S: Of course it all comes back to finding him

Branch: So, what now?

Bobby: You boys stay here for a few days, stock up, help these guys adjust to being human, cause one literally ask me why he needed a shirt, and try not not to kill each other.

Branch: No promises.

Things in the Junkyard are tense after that. Brozone tries to get Branch to talk to them desperately, but he just ignores them. Clay Bruce and John Dory try a more direct approach confronting Branch, talking to him, telling him about their lives back in the troll realm. This leads to more conflict with Sam and Dean, as they keep telling the older three brothers to back off. And it really stings when the Winchesters introduce themselves as Branch's brothers. That sting begins to burn as they watch Branch joke around with his adopted siblings, fixing up the Impala with Dean, and going over omens with Sam and Bobby.

Viva and Poppy are the only ones who can talk to the Winchesters Branch included. The girls are pleasant enough and they aren't connected to the family drama. Viva and Dean actually get along well, when she asks him to teach her to shoot (Much to Clay's disagreements). And Poppy is determined to become friends with Branch, which leads to some playful teasing from Sam and Dean about him finally getting a girlfriend.

Floyd's getting hit the hardest. This was his baby brother, he used to be his best friend and now Branch wouldn't even look at him. Floyd's the one who asks if Branch sings, and tries to encourage Branch to sing with him. Sadly he chooses "Total Eclipse of the Heart" Because it was his lullaby that he sang to Branch. Real bad choice to make when said baby brother was preparing for a round of target practice. Branch Shoots at Floyd, luckily it was only Rock salt not bullets and Branch makes sure that Floyd knows that in the end it wouldn't matter what was in the gun, he'd still shoot.

After this Branch goes to Bobby begging for a case, and Brozone is left to regroup.

John Dory: I don't know what where doing wrong?! I thought he'd happy to see us again, especially after living twenty years in this music-less place.

Floyd: he doesn't want anything to do with music anymore John, he's made that clear.

Clay: What are we missing? He can't hate music, he has to sing some time. All trolls sing.

Poppy: Well, what if he isn't?

Bruce: What?

Poppy: Maybe, I know it's a little crazy, but maybe Branch doesn't see himself as a troll anymore?

Viva: Poppy might be right. Branch was raised human. He probably sees himself like that, the few trollings hatched in the PuttPutt course see themselves as Puttputt, not pop.

John Dory: Look ladies, its a good theory, but Branch is a troll. He's our brother we know him.

Poppy: Do you? You haven't had a full conversation with him in a week. And you won't have another chance, for maybe a few more.

Floyd: What do you mean by that?

Viva: Their going out on another work trip, Branch Sam and Dean.

Clay: How do you know that?

Bobby *standing in the door way, intruding*: Because they talk to him about what's he's doing now. Not trying to bring back past events that Branch doesn't want to dig up.

John Dory: Were you evesdropping on us?

Bobby: The walls are thin here. And you better be dang grateful that my nephews are outside right now, otherwise they'd really let you have it and I'd let them. You're not doing anyone any favor by bring up old wounds, especially pink bangs over there. "Total Eclipse of the Heart"? The hell were you thinking, every time that damn song cam on the radio Branch would have a full blown panic attack as a kid. Look I get you all are stuck here until we send you home, but that does not give you the right to drive my boys up the walls.

Floyd: I didn't know

Bobby: Well yah might have if you just shut your mouths and started listening. Boy's been given yah signals to back off all week. Your lucky, I managed to scramble a fun hunt for them, not everyday you get a crack at the Hookman. *Leaves room*

Clay: Listen? We've been listening...have we?

Floyd: Guys what do we actually know about Branch?

John Dory: well he loves to sing, always the first the hug, loves Fluffleberry cake...

Bruce: But that's Bitty B, not Branch...Oh Madonna, we don't know anything about him...

John Dory: Not for long.

Floyd: JOhn?

John Dory: Viva you've been talk to these guys right?

Viva: Yeah?

John Dory: What do you bring to a Hookman hunt...and what's a hookman?

___-

THere will be a part three.

[rocksibblingsau]

Hey! I wanted to ask if you had any ideas on currency for rock and pop trolls. (I think pop trolls would be the type to exchange services on goods while rock trolls have some form of money)

Also sorry you’re going through writers block :(, hope you get through it soon!

Currency is the bane of my existence because trolls apparently must have some sort of currency because Rosiepuff 'plays for the money'. I do enjoy them having a barter system for some things, though their market seems to have reached a level of industrialization in The Beat Goes On/Trollstopia (Having factories and fast fashion) that would likely be a little difficult to manage. One example is Smidge's stoutberry juice business. It pops up and the crowd moves so fast on it that I imagine having to barter for a single glass of juice for every person would be a bit more difficult than bartering for weekly groceries. We don't see her exchanging it for anything in the episode but she does explicitly refer to it as a 'business' that would be jeopardized by competition, so she is gaining something from it.

I also think 'favors' would make things a bit difficult especially during their time at the troll tree. Imagine making a huge deal only for them to get eaten before you can collect.

A friend of mine has them using jellybeans as currency, which I find on brand and hilarious.

Honestly I could see Pop Trolls having 'money' but it works a bit differently. Money is paper based and anyone can make it at any point they wish. On it, rather than numbers or pictures of troll-ified presidents is nice words. Everyone has different takes on it and the more heartfelt the words written on it increases its value. This would mean you couldn't just mass produce it, because it wouldn't be heartfelt and so it wouldn't be worth much.

Since they're personalized, unlike our money you can't take the money you were just given and use it to pay someone else. As you can imagine you'd be buried in 'money' fast so that's what the bank would be for. Holding on to all your lovely money so you could read it any time.

I also imagine that this would be why canon Branch would want to harvest his own supplies so much! He never made his own 'money' and at the time there likely wouldn't have been anyone who would have accepted it because it wouldn't have seemed sincere. After his colors came back I imagine he made some and was a bit worried if it would be worth anything, but every time he used it everyone could tell it was worth a lot because he put a lot of effort into trying it, so most places gave him extras of whatever he was trying to buy.

These would have definitely been popular during their time under Trollstice. A perfect pick me up to sit and read over all the kind notes!

Rock Trolls I could see having a money system closer to ours, as they're a LOT more industrialized than TBGO Pop Trolls and we know they have some sort of 'pay' concept since Barb tells Riff "I don't pay you to hear."

Since Riff replies that he's not being paid, he's doing it for college credits, it would also imply that they don't have a barter system, as doing it for college credits would be virtually the same as receiving a 'favor' so there would be no reason to clarify that.

The only difference is I imagine their economy isn't in shambles. Riff isn't buried in student loans.

Of all the tribes to most likely exchange favors, I could see it being Country.

The intermingling of tribes would probably create the need for a standard currency or exchange rate, as I can imagine Rock Trolls don't want glittery notes as payment. Honestly I could see the Funk Trolls coming up with some sort of conversion system so that among your own tribe you could keep your standard money or go to a Funk bank and swap in so you can visit Symphonyville and not have to do any extra math.

TY for the well wishes and the fun question! I had a lot of fun turning this over in my head.

[hostilemuppet]

"they're already metaphorically drugs" WHAT even HAPPENS in trolls???? DRUGS????

in trolls 1, pop trolls (then thought to be the only trolls) were kept as livestock for many years (not given an exact amount of time but generally accepted as being AT LEAST several generations) because the perpetually miserable bergens thought eating trolls was the only way to be happy. they built bergentown around the troll tree (where the trolls lived. they are not grown on trees, they are hatched from eggs laid from their hair), and once a year on a holiday called trollstice the royal chef harvested trolls from the tree and cooked them up to serve to the bergens on the one day a year they can be happy. trolls 1 is set on the 20 year anniversary of when king peppy (poppys father) lead his subjects to safety through a secret tunnel, to rebuild their village far away from bergen town. they celebrate the 20 year anniversary, chef finds them again, bergens think theyre going to be happy again. not going to say much more bc YOU SHOULD WATCH TROLLS!!!!!!!! but trolls 1 is less about trolls being drugs and more about the whole deal being an allegory for consumerism as a substitute for personal fulfilment: youre feeling down? the world is miserable and you are powerless to do anything? try our product!

in trolls 3, floyd is captured by two mount rageons, who are completely talentless and unwilling to put the work in to improve their singing. they kidnapped floyd and stuck him in a perfume bottle (trolls are on average 3 inches tall btw) and when they use said perfume bottle, it literally sucks the life out of him and makes them good at singing. it is explicitly referred to as torture. it is less about trolls being drugs and more about the whole deal being an allegory for genuinely talented people getting crushed by the industry and having their hard work stolen by someone who is more marketable, with a prettier face and such.

but "trolls are drugs" is a really funny thing to say

[fairy-verse]

I don't know if my inbox just straight up ate this ask, or if I accidentally deleted it, but luckily I'm smart and save all the questions in a word document when I answer them, so hah! I still got it.

If you want more in-depth descriptions of the different races, then please send individual asks for them.

evethepoptwist asked:

What do season fairies work for like what do they harvesting for, what do they make for their own little inventions and crafts, or how do they take care of animals by their own ways, depending on each seasons other than singing, dancing, laughter, etc. And can you tell us more about trolls, flower people, and mushroom people, and what do they do for the living? Since we barely know these guys other than talking so much about season fairies and the big folks

It is important to remember that the fairies mostly just create and work for the fun of it. Once they’ve made anything they require to survive for the seasons they do not belong to, then they’re free to just craft and create things that they love. They will harvest whatever food they can find within their respective season, and oftentimes trade with each other should they desire anything that belongs to the other seasons.

The animals care for themselves, but some fairies will take extra care in aiding them through life to ensure their survival, though it all depends on how much they love said animal. Most of the time, they will simply flutter around them and bring them as much luck as possible. Fairies possess an extra amount of luck compared to other beings, after all!

The trolls are night-dwelling creatures that hide in caves, holes, and makeshift homes that they create out of fallen trees, moss, sticks, and mud. Sunlight will turn them to stone, which is a painful process that cannot be undone. They prefer deer, moose, and rabbits as food, but have acquired a taste for humans, too. Fairies are mostly seen as tasty sweets to them. They have been known to create clothes and weapons, and they can speak to each other, though this is through grunts and growls. Most of the time, they fight amongst themselves and prefer solitude to companionship.

The flower people were born from the magic of the Luna tree on the Isle of Luna, and from said tree, they are granted immortality. They rarely leave the island, as what often happens to those that do so, is that they fall in love and will inevitably be cursed with heartache for eternity. They are the same size as fairies, and legend has it that they’re all blessed with the ability to communicate and manipulate the nature around them. No one fully knows what they do on the island, as no one has been able to cross the mist surrounding it.

The mushroom people are essentially just mushrooms with stumpy legs and arms that wander the forest floors. They will squeak, though no one yet knows if this is a form of communication or not. Sometimes, they may sit for hours and days without doing anything. They are popular pets among the fairies, especially the spring and autumn fairies.

There are also:

The Stonemen will appear as boulders, rubble, and mountains when asleep. The sleeping sisters are believed to be Stonemen who fell into a deep slumber many hundred years ago, and some think they will cause havoc once they awake again. This theory hasn’t yet been confirmed. Stonemen in general are peaceful and stationary, though when awake, they have been observed to find pleasure in watching fairies play together.

The small people/monsters look just like the big folk, only the size of fairies. They live in holed out trees and tiny houses on the forest floor. There are not that many of them on Fairy Island, as they’re not native there. They’ll live simple lives, preparing for winter, sewing clothes, creating fun projects they can play with, and sometimes even trading with fairies.

Gnomes are odd winter creatures that have their eyes hidden by pointy hats in the colour of either, red, blue, or green. They live in holes in the ground, though said homes look very cozy, often with a fireplace, a place for a kitchen, a big bed for the whole family, and such. They only come out once the snow lays thickly on the ground, and then they’ll collect sticks, frozen berries, and other trinkets they can find on the ground. Very little is known about them, though they’ll sometimes trade with the winter fairies.

Monster fairies can often be found close to Big Folk villages, and sometimes even in them. They like to settle within their attics for warmth, though there are still those who prefer to live in the forest away from them. Most can be found in Willoway Forest, though there are those who live in the Singing and Kval hills. They often steal food and clothes from the Big Folk. These fairies are the ones that look like variants of Papyrus, Toriel, Asgore, Temmie, esc…

Human fairies/Fae are in small numbers and can only be found within Ink’s domain, as he is the father of their race. They have blacked-out eyes and silvery blue wings, and they should never, under any circumstance, be trusted to make a deal with. Luckily, it’s difficult and extremely rare to ever meet with any of them.

[nos4ay2]

No Troll left behind (no exceptions)

Poppy looked at her Trolls. She had tried so hard to get ahead of the Rock Queens plan, but had been on the back foot from the beginning.

Add in betrayals and an uneven playing field, shed ended up here, in an giant cell with the rest of her people. The enormous circular room was decided into 5 sections, allowing all the other tribes to see each other.

"Queen Poppy?"

She quickly dried her eyes and turned to the group of trollings.

"Yes, Keith?"

The little green trolling shifted back and forth in front of her.

"We've been talking and we don't want to be Rock trolls. And we don't want anyone else to be turned in to Rock trolls either."

Poppy hid a grimace. As soon as Barb figured out that she still had the Pop string in her hair, she doubted there would be much of a choice to be had .

"I know guys. I don't either but as long as Queen Barb doesn't have our sting we should be safe."

Keith stared up at her. And quirked an eyebrow. It was times like this that really showed Branch's influence on the kids. He leaned forward and whispered

"Queen Poppy, we know you have it."

She just barely stopped her self from rearing back.

"I don't.."

"We think you should break it"

It felt like she had been dunked in ice water.

Destroy the Pop string. Destroy the core of their music.

In her silence, Keith continued. "If the string gets broken, then the Rock Queen can't finish her guitar and she can't turn everyone into Rock trolls."

Taking a shuddering breath, she quietly replied, looking the all the trollings of her village, her people.

"But Keith, kids, if I do that we won't have Pop anymore. We won't have music. We won't ever be happy again."

That got a scoff from CJ, standing behind Keith. "We can still be happy. My Dad's Grey and he still gets happy. Isn't Branch sometimes happy too and he's Grey?

Taking a second, she looked around at all her Trolls. Grey wasn't uncommon among the blues, pinks, purple and green. Her tribe had survived horrors the others couldn't even dream about.

She had seen how some of the other tribes were. Whole and sturdy within themselves.

But Pop had had to change over the centuries of captivity. The ability to adapt had always been a core part of them, Pop being the most fluid of music.

But under the stress of yearly (and at the whim of the Head Chef's peckishness) harvest, they had learned to bolster each other.

Going Grey wasn't a sign of shame it had once been. To be Grey and still here, still trying was a sign of strength. The Grey of the village had always been supportive of their colourful families.

Making sure that they were protected, and always loving and being loved in their own ways.

She was proud of her tribe.

And now, the youngest generation, the first generation to be fully born outside the Troll tree and have no grey members, were willing to give up their music so no other tribe would lose theirs.

She was so proud and so heartbreakingly devastated.

A small hand touched her face where she knelt.

Priscilla smiled at her.

"Come on, Queen Poppy, No Troll left behind remember?"

Taking a shaky breath, holding her tears back, she gave a smile in return.

"No troll left behind".

~~~

I mainlined TBGO in like 3 days. Love that show so much. The Trollings are adorable kids. I also wanted to show that its the Pop Trolls as a whole that have changed. Going Grey to the kids isnt a end of the world thing.

They know that the Greys dont sing and do lots of other stuff the colourful members of their tribe do, but they're still part of their tribe. They still love them, still there if the kids need them just like anyone else in the tribe is.

(The Pop trolls have a very 'it takes a village' mentality partly because before 20 years ago it was not uncommon to loose a parent or parents to trollstice, so support system ftw.)

And the kids grew up with that. So loosing their music is sad and they don't want to do it. But they don't want to be Rock Trolls more and this way, the other tribes wont be forced to loose their music to Rock as well.

[ilikelookingatthings]

some thoughts about trolls 2 that came to me after watching trolls 3.

like...I get it had a big metaphore about how pop kindof takes over everything and forgets the origins of where those songs came from....and the contrast with how the pop trolls books said everyone started to not get along/became less tolerant of other's musics...while the space alien funk trolls said that everything was fine butthen the pop trolls wanted to take overand everyone seperated to protect their strings from the pop trolls...but I kindof lowkey wonder if it was a bit of both? like there werecracks were they were becoming less tolerant and in a poor attempt to bring everyone together the pop trolls thought pop was the best way like barb and poppy kind of did?

but I kind of feel like they gloss over that the pop trolls were isolated and separated from the forest or ways to meet the other trolls? them not knowing there were other trolls and forgetting about the origins of their music makes WAY more sense because they were isolated and being abused and eaten by the Bergens for ages.

So on one hand...I understand its a metaphor for how pop has worked in real life because its so popular and becomes a ear worm...but it also feels a bit unfair because pop always feels like because its so popular it gets isolated out on purpose....

like Poppy feels bd not knowing the true history....and that apparently the pop trolls history lied about a bad thing they did which cause the split......but I also cant help but wonder..wouldn't it make sense for the pop trolls to not have a complete history anyway if they were forced to all live in one tree/garden? if so many of them were being eaten/killed? did any of them escape and try to ask for help? wouldn't it make sense if they had lost a good section of their history because they were literally being harvested? and isn't that a bit unfair then to judge them losing/not knowing the origin of their music/where it came from under those circumstances? I mean were hear them calling themselves just trolls with not being aware there were other types....I mean sure they might not have expected how popular the first movie would be so he different genre idea was added later..and they found a place they could hide from the bergans and still stayed isolated til the second movie.

I keep wondering....did the others trolls know the pop trolls were being eaten by the Bergens? If they did... why didn't they ever try to get the Pop trolls out? and if they didn't why did they all seem to know what pop was and dislike it? if other pop trolls had escaped the tree/the Bergens on an individual case basis...did none of them rely to the other trolls about all the trolls in a desperate situation in the middle of Bergen town?

Were the pop trolls being punished for having attempted to take the strings before? we know that the Happier the troll the sweeter they taste aparently...and in the third movie just absorbing the talent of a pop troll seemed to be kindof addicting.....did the other genre's of trolls let the pop trolls stay captured because it had the Bergens stay around certain areas and not go out to try to find/eat the other genre's of troll...like some type of sacrifice?

like...I lowkey kindof wish we saw some of the trolls ask if there were other trolls why they never came to help them? let the pop trolls be the most consumed because they were the most popular.

also does anyone ever thing the pop trolls and their over positivity at times is a bit of a trauma response o trying to move on from what happened by not adressing it properly?

also does anyone else think maybe pop trolls are addictive? and that the Bergens were so sad and grey after the loss of trollstice because they were also dropping from with withdrawals since they had be cautious not to eat too many because it would dwindle the supply? and why it was only after so long without eating a troll that it seemed possibly to really address that happyness wasn't just something you get from eating a troll?

and why the chef was so insistent to get the king to eat one so she could make him addicted to it?

but also if the other trolls let the Bergens be distracted by the tasty easy to consume pop trolls then the Bergens wouldn't come after them and their genre of trolls? make a comentary about how we judge Creek for not wanting to eaten personally even if it meant sacrificing everyone else to the Bergens...but if all the other troll Genres sacrificed/jusfied leaving the pop trolls to the Bergens in a similar way only with the idea it was saving more trolls after all...I'm kindof curious how they would adress the morality of it.

I also have questions of the pop trolls had escaped the Bergens in maybe two groups(the one at the golf course who were also really isolated) and the ones in the forest...I wonder how certain pop songs made it to the other genres...like the rock trolls.

if some individual pop trolls escaped and would pop in every once in a while with pop music....it just goes back to the question did they ever ask for help?

I mean we know John Dory thought everyone had died/didn't know about the escape plan. Clay ended up with the trolls that got seperated/cut off in the other tunnels...but its unclear if he was the group that got separated or he came across them later while he had escaped the tree at a early point and had heard about the escape from viva....so seemed to think branch had gotten away with Granny.

Did the brothers just wander around andcome across the other genre's on their own? or did the info spread while Barb's tour was happening?

like...sure they couldn't find the pop trolls who has escaped for ages(even more due to the foliage and deadly nature of the forest...but Bergens are also huge..and they never mentioned the other genre's of trolls either...were the Bergen's unaware of the other troll genre's?

[thebeeshaveknees]

I know it's probably weird trolls timeline but if the trolls were being harvested by bergens for generations (I mean Gristle's dad did talk abt it like it was a tradition passed down from at least his father) then Branch is probably outcast because in the cage gray trolls were "pruned" like dead leaves so toxic positivity was naturally selected and Branch was the only gray troll to exist after they escaped. This also implies any other gray trolls might have been left behind in the tree while the coloured ones escaped, or that they lost the knowledge on gray trolls to know they Could turn back to their colours

[rosemaidenvixen]

Terror in the Corn

For @draal-ask-blog who gave me the prompt of going through a corn maze with Gunmar and Bular

tw: violence, blood, death

Ao3

Gunmar sneered as he spotted more of the light spires the humans set up along the road through the trees. It was the middle of the night but humans still managed to taint it with their lanterns. 

“Bah! The humans befoul the water, destroy the land, and now they obscure the stars themselves. Their entire race deserves to burn and choke on the ashes of their own making,”

Ahead of him Bular chuffed “Indeed, your return was long overdue. I look forward to making their streets run red with blood, and reminding the fleshbags why they should fear the dark,”

Normally such a declaration from his son would soothe Gunmar’s nerves, but tonight nothing seemed to lift the scowl from his face. He’d managed to escape the Darklands with his advisers and an elite group of soldiers, but they lacked the numbers needed to topple the humans’ forces. Kodanth had tasked his impures with seeking out allies among the troll tribes, but for now they were forced to wait.

Gunmar was free from the Darklands, but instead of raining down rightful slaughter he was sitting on his haunches grinding his teeth to nubs.

“Why have you brought me out here?”

Bular paused, surveying the edge of the forest before turning back towards him with a wide grin “Your forces are still being gathered, but the two of us can still remind the humans to fear the dark as they once did,”

Intrigued, Gunmar followed Bular further to the edge of the forest, spotting a mass of tall, straight plants in the clearing beyond, lit by cold lanterns with the sounds of human voices coming from within.

“Every autumn the humans construct these labyrinths from the remains of their harvest, decorate them with effigies of their demons and wander inside for amusement,”

Bular turned back, mouth stretched into a blood-thirsty smirk “Why don’t we give them some real monsters,”

Gunmar felt his own mouth stretching into a grin, black mood finally lifted.

“Indeed, the fleshbags have set up a fine festival indeed, it would be rude not to participate,”

Gunmar in the lead now, the two of them crept towards the least illuminated side of the plants, vaulting over the side and landing soundlessly on the dirt path inside.

Rather than standing, Gunmar sank into a low crouch and sniffed, single eye flicking from side to side. The scent of fleshbags drifted between the plant stalks along with the sound of murmurs and giggles. Dangling from the plants were dolls and effigies of various designs, occasionally spattered with a sweet smelling red substance. Some were clearly done to imitate human skeletons, but others were done up in bright colors, flamboyant garments, and garish warpaints that had no meaning Gunmar could perceive. 

No matter, he didn’t have to understand the meaning of these effigies to use them to his advantage. 

Not lifting from his crouch, he raised a single hand “Come,” 

Bular dutifully followed along as Gunmar crept along the path until they came to a crossroads, raising a hand to halt.

“We separate here, you go down that corridor,” he gestured towards a wide path ahead of them “I will herd any fleshbags that come towards you,”

Bular huffed in acknowledgement before creeping ahead on all fours, vanishing down the corridor of plants.

Gunmar sat back on his haunches, slowing his breathing to a whisper and stilling his tail with centuries of practice, and settled in to wait.

He didn’t have to wait long.

He heard them approach before he smelled them, chattering and laughing in their high pitched fleshbag voices.

Gunmar didn’t allow himself to as much as twitch, he was far too experienced a hunter for that, but the thought of these fleshbags’ laughter turning into screams, feeling their hot blood running down his throat, did bring a smile to his face.

Around the bend of a corridor on his side the group appeared, five of them, they were gathered in a tight formation but with no awareness of their surroundings, laughing and jostling each other. The faint scent of alcohol hanging over them.

“Dude this corn maze is lame,”

“Yeah I think they got all their decorations from the clearance section at Walmart,”

“Hey they were scary enough to nearly make you wet yourself,”

“That wasn’t because I was scared, that’s because I’m smashed!”

Uproarous laughter shook the group as they got closer. As they got closer and Gunmar came into their view their laughter rose even higher, the group staggering to a stop to gather around him.

“Oh wow, now that’s an animatronic,”

“For real, how do you think they managed to afford that?”

“Oh come on guys this is fake as hell, I can totally see the wires,”

Gunmar stayed still, waiting until the fleshbags were positioned by the proper corridor, then he slowly started to prowl forward.

The motion from him sent the humans shrieking and scurrying away, directly down the path where Bular was waiting.

Gunmar kept pace, slow but never losing their trail. Even centuries out of practice he was far too practiced a hunter to allow eagerness to quicken his limbs, but inside he felt the old thrill of anticipation rising. 

The fleshbags rounded a bend and vanished from view, a few seconds later there was another chorus of shrieks that told him that the humans had run into Bular.

A pleased rumble echoed out from his chest as Gunmar came to the end of the corridor, sealing off any potential escape.

In the tunnel of plants the fleshbags stood between him and Bular, laughing and looking back and forth between the two, completely oblivious to the danger surrounding them.

He met Bular’s eyes and nodded, Bular returned the gesture and the two of them slowly started to crawl forward, closing the gap between them.

“Oh man these animatronics are the shit!”

“For real dude, but how are we supposed to get out?”

“Maybe just, go around…”

One of the humans broke away from the others and started to edge around Gunmar.

In a single swipe Gunmar took off their head. There was barely any sound, just a whiff of air, a spray of red, and the human’s body crumpling to the ground.

The other humans stared at their companion’s corpse wide eyes, pale faces spattered with red.

“R– Ronnie?”

They turned toward Gunmar. He grinned, letting their companion’s head tumble to the ground.

“G– guys I don’t think these are fake,”

“Wh– what no way, he’s probably just in on it, come on Ronnie get up this isn’t funny anym–”

Bular grabbed one of the humans while they were still focused on Gunmar, lifting them up and tearing open their shoulder with his teeth. The fleshbags spasmed before going limp with a wet gurgle..

Gunmar could pinpoint the exact second the full realization of the danger sank in.

The humans screamed, panic erupting in their small group, rushing and darting around in a futile attempt to escape. One of them even tried to flee through the plants but they were packed too tight.

He and Bular moved without urgency, there was nowhere for the fleshbags to go, and their screams would go unnoticed among all the others in the labyrinth. Calmly but efficiently dispatching the fleshbags one by one, clawed hands snapping their spines and fangs tearing open their throats until the last of the screams was silenced.

Then they enjoyed the spoils of their hunt.

Once they were finished Gunmar wiped the blood from his maw using the back of his arm. All that remained of the humans were the traces of blood on the dirt and plants, completely blending in with the sweet red substance only distinguishable by scent, and the pleasant heaviness in Gunmar’s gut.

But Gunmar’s hunger was over nine centuries in the making. 

And there were many humans still wandering the labyrinth.

He stood to his full height, rolling his neck back and forth before facing Bular “The night is young, my appetite is not yet sated, and the humans’ festival has not yet concluded,” he extended a hand down towards Bular “Shall the hunt continue?”

Bular grinned and accepted it, allowing his father to pull him to his feet “Indeed father, there is nowhere I’d rather be,”

[lovepeacestar]

My Trolls AU

Introduction of the Troll Tribes (My Version)

Pop Nation/Pop Garden

Pop City (Nation/Empire): These Pop trolls live in a place that's kind of like 'Pop Village' but bigger/more populated and is called 'Pop City', King Peppy still rules. Pop City still lives in the Dark Forest, it's a little further from Bergen City, I would say in the Center of the Forest. The Pop trolls grew another Troll Tree, which is referred to as Pop City or Pop Central. And also have advanced technology combined with nature. It's a little metropolitan wonder, where the most famous and powerful trolls live. Due to the powerful and ancient magic of the Pop String.

Pop Garden: The Pop Garden was glowing thanks to a pink light shining over it, and everywhere you looked, there were dark, light, and even average pink colors everywhere. The place was full of plants and bugs, like butterflies, caterpillars, bees, dragonflies, ladybugs, and grasshoppers. The garden has different kinds of flowers, a lot of them, like sunflowers, roses, santans, gumamelas, daisies, daffodils, etc. Not just flowers, there are also different kinds of plants, like vines, shrubs, succulents, ferns, mushrooms, and others. There was a pathway for Trolls to move around while gazing at the plants. There was also a big fountain where they could sit around it, and Pop Trolls could play their Pop music.

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Techno Reef/Techno Water Amusement Park

Techno Reef: Techno Reef is an underwater location with LEDs and bright lights, based on macramé and optical fibers. Techno Reef is of high technology, with many LEDs providing lights that surround the dark oceanic floor. This is considered to be well-suitable for the Techno Trolls' parties. Most of Techno Reef is also made of crochet. This is due to the powerful and ancient magic of the Techno String.

Techno Water Amusement Park: Techno Water Amusement Park was literally a water amusement park. It has many water slides with different styles, showers, fountains, water game booths, floatie slides, dunk tanks, and several swimming pools. A few of the pools are kiddie pools with small water slides, some have medium pools, and some have pools that look like rivers, but in the middle of the park was the biggest pool of all, connecting to the other big pools. The Water Amusement Park has many shades of blue, like the slides. It also has stores, like water gun stores, where it can rent water guns for kids, bottled water stores, water balloon stores, pool shops where MMTs can buy swimming equipment and toys, and clothes storage where Trolls can keep their clothes to wear their swimming clothes.

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Lonesome Flats/Country Farm

Lonesome Flats: Lonesome Flats is located in a desert, and is loosely based on a Wild West theme. Lonesome Flats is a sandy and harsh place in the Troll Kingdom. The Country Trolls settled in a deserted area after the isolation from the Pop Trolls. Lonesome Flats appear to be of low technology, as there aren't much of advanced devices in it. It resembles a quilt, with different stitches patterned on the ground and buildings. It's mostly comprised of hot colors (e.g. orange, yellow, red, etc.), which matches both the desertic nature of its location and its Wild West theme. This is accomplished by the Ancient Magic of Country String.

Country Farm: The Country Farm has orange land with lots of crops in rows. The place was almost similar to Lonesome Flats and Country Corral, but instead of a building and house, the whole place is a farm. There are barns, fields of crops, and farm animals roaming around. Though Trolls came here to work to provide food, most of them are Country Trolls. They were harvesting fruits and vegetables, raising the animals, and selling their harvest at their stalls.

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Symphonyville/Classical Heaven

Symphonyville: The area of Symphonyville goes across hills and mountains. Out of all the locations of Troll Kingdom, it has the highest elevation overall. For the Classical Trolls, Symphonyville is the most unique and beautiful place. Symphonyville appears to mostly use traditional technology and has instrument and floral patterns on hills and mountain surfaces. It's a calm place, suitable for the Classical Trolls to play their soft music. Most of Symphonyville has golden and yellow tones, as well as some other colors with a tint of gold on them. The Classical Trolls reside in groups at cave-like structures, each of which matches the respective instrument each group plays with the exits shaped like it. This is accomplished by the Ancient Magic of Classical String.

Classical Heaven: Classical Heaven was like a heavenly place where many Classical Trolls flew around instead of walking. The floor looked like clouds, but it was as solid as the ground below. The floor was actually cotton fabric with artificial clouds all over the place so the Classical Trolls or other trolls from other tribes could step on. The place has plenty of gazebos with orchestras of Classical Trolls in each of them with their respectful conductors leading them. The place also has shops and cafes for the MMTs to take a break, relax, and have fun. Classical music was played in the air as the MMTs just stopped and listened calmly.

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Vibe City/Funk Bar

Vibe City: Vibe City has a surreal, science fiction-esque landscape with bright neon signs. It is the only moving location in the Troll Kingdom, making the Funk Trolls the only nomadic Tribe. The entire city is found within a giant UFO-like vehicle that's clamshell-like with some outside balconies. The outside shell is made from platinum records, arranged like overlapping sequins. Thus, Vibe City is also the most advanced location of Troll Kingdom in terms of technology. Their contact with the other troll kingdoms means there is a much higher level of technology throughout Troll Nation, leading to troll mass media, troll cell phones, and troll internet. This is accomplished by the Ancient Magic of Funk String.

Funk Bar: The Funk Bar was glowing thanks to a purple light shining over it, and everywhere. There were dark, light, and even average purple colors everywhere. There were also glowing words and letters made of neon lights. The bar has a slight resemblance to Vibe City, but smaller, and has many Funk Trolls around. Funk Bar also has beverage stores, souvenir stands, and album shops. The song "Superstition" was heard in the background.

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Volcano Rock City/Rock Field

Volcano Rock City: Volcano Rock City is an ash-covered wasteland with lava and flowing volcanoes. The skies are dark here due to ash clouds. Volcano Rock City is a hot area, with lava flowing everywhere. It appears to be of high technology and is made from leather and denim. Most of Volcano Rock City is of black, orange, and red colors, presumably to match the Rock Trolls' designs. This is accomplished by the Ancient Magic of Rock String.

Rock Field: Rock Field was like an ash-covered wasteland with small lava pools, and thin trails of flowing lava. Some rocks around are sharp, most of them are igneous rocks since they are from magma that cools down. All around, Rock Trolls played their guitars, drums, keyboards, cymbals, and other Rock instruments hard and loudly before smashing them down as the other Rock Trolls cheered with them. Some MMTs can roast their food above the lava pools like hotdogs and marshmallows.

[maria-chwan]

"A bunch of bananas acquired! Life is sweet when you are as talented as I am", said Borbura, the troll of the small island. She sat on a beach chair that was placed in front of a beautiful view of the sea. Almost immediately the sharks started swimming near the beach, flashing their teeth at her like a pack of stray dogs.

"Too bad you are getting none of my bananas, you dumb sharks!" Borbura taunted. She cackled wickedly to herself and took a bite of a banana.

The sharks became annoyed, opening and closing their mouths to show Borbura just how sharp their teeth were.

"You might want to get in a brawl with me, but you are stupid if you think I am coming into the water where you can get me- Hold on, wait wait wait. Is that a beautiful seashell I see?"

Borbura left the bananas on the bench and entered the water, going straight to the seashell she has spotted. She grabbed the seashell, just narrowly avoiding a shark. The predator brushed past her and when it looked for Borbura again, the troll was already back on the beach.

"Ha-ha! Take that, you big stupid fish! Wow, what a pretty clam! Look at that, it opens up!"

When Borbura opened the shell, suddenly a ghost emerged from inside. The ghost was a troll woman, with broad shoulders and a fat body, who was dressed in a simple loose dress and apron and had scarf in her hair.

"Hello there! Would you believe that I heard you talking earlier and I liked what you had to say about those no-good monsterous sharks that swim in these waters?" the ghost spoke.

"Wowza! It's a ghost! What did you say, something about sharks?" Borbura asked.

"I was living on this island before you. I was growing plants here. One day I left the island to buy things from the continent, when my boat broke and sank in the middle of the ocean. I was attacked and eaten by the sharks. I hate those terrifying ugly monsters", the ghost said.

"What a terrible thing to happen, to get eaten by sharks", Borbura said thoughtfully.

"I heard how you insulted those savage beasts. You have cheered me up, so I have decided to leave my treasure to you", the ghost said.

"Holy hell, this is great!" Borbura exclaimed.

The ghost guided Borbura to an old tree. Inside the tree there was a hollow place and there was a chest.

Borbura dragged the chest out and opened it. It was full of dirt.

"The treasure is dirt?"

"Yup, magic dirt, absolutely anything planted in it will grow and bear fruit", the ghost promised.

"Absolutely anything? That is a big promise", Borbura said. She put the dirt to the test immediately, taking a parrot egg from her pocket and planting it into the dirt.

"You have to wait for tomorrow. Then you will get the things that grow from the dirt", the ghost told her.

Borbura agreed to wait overnight. The ghost said goodbye to her and vanished.

Next morning Borbura went to the chest to see what had happened. She found that the chest was full of plants that had long, yellow leaves, but there were no eggs.

Borbura was disappointed until she digged deeper into the dirt and found that the eggs were growing underground like potatoes. The dirt had really given her a magical crop of eggs!

Borbura started harvesting the eggs and piled them next to the chest. When she was done, she turned to look at her pile and found a parrot sitting on top of it.

"Hey! Go away! Those are my eggs!" Borbura berated the bird.

The parrot squawked at her, sounding irritated. Borbura continued shooing it away, but the parrot stayed stubbornly on top of the egg pile.

Borbura crossed her arms and became thoughtful. As she was thinking he noticed how pretty the parrots' feathers were. If the bird wasn't leaving, Borbura could benefit from the situation in another way.

She circled behind the parrot and crouched down, taking a good look at the tail feathers of the bird. She could pull out any feather she wanted. She picked out a big, green, shiny feather and plucked it out of the parrots' tail.

The parrot squawked and turned to look at her, looking offended. However, it didn't fly away. Borbura managed to grab two other feathers, even though the parrot was trying to peck at her hand.

"Now we are even! You can have the eggs for today, but I'm having these three tail feathers of yours!" Borbura declared victoriously and smirked at the furious bird.

Borbura moved the chest full of dirt closer to her home cave. She wondered what else she could grow. She looked at the feathers in her hand and got a nice idea.

"I think I'm gonna make pretty little hats. But I need felt fabric for that. I have to buy it from the continent. But it's okay, because I can sell these feathers and I have magic dirt that will make me more of them! Then I have money and I can buy fabric. This is great!"

Borbura decided to paint the feathers to make them even prettier. She took yellow and red and blue paint and went to the beach to work on the feathers.

When she arrived at the beach, she noticed that there was a pocket watch in the sea. She went to get it, snatching it from under the sharks' noses. Once she was back to the shore she inspected the pocket watch and found out that it was miraculously still working.

"Another treasure for me. I can put it in my cave with my mirror and magnifying glass when I get back", she said and placed the pocket watch on the ground next to her beach chair.

She was painting the feathers while listening to the ocean and the ticking of the clock, when she felt something touch her foot.

"Eek! Who touched me? Oh, it's a small crab! Hello, how can I help you?" Borbura greeted the crab humorously.

The crab didn't seem to fear her. The sound of the ticking clock didn't scare it either. On the contrary, it climbed on top of the pocket watch and stayed there.

"What is with all the animals stealing my things today? Do you like the sound of that pocket watch or did you decide to just randomly sit there?" Borbura wondered.

She let the crab to do what it wanted and turned her attention back to the feathers. She imagined what she would do once she had all her materials and she would be able to make hats. It occured to her that after making the hats she could also sell them. She could buy what she wanted with the money. But what did she want?

Maybe books. Books were kind of a vague thought to her, because she hadn't read much but she wanted to know what story books were like. They sounded wonderful.

What else? She gazed out at the sea. Sharks were swimming close to the beach, their dorsal fins sticking out of the water to remind her that these were not safe waters to swim.

Borbura fell deep in thought, thinking about the parrot and the eggs and the crab and the pocket watch. She thought about sharks and the water. She had figured out how to benefit from feathers and hats pretty easily. Sharks were harder to conquer.

Then she figured out a bold plan that was surprisingly daring. She had become strikingly opportunistic lately.

Borbura stood up and lifted the crab up from the ground. She wanted to bring it with her. She had to hold the animals' pincers together to keep it from clawing or cutting her. Then she grabbed the pocket watch and made her way to her cave.

When she arrived to her cave, she took the dirt out of the chest and spread it to make a garden plot. The plot was thick and the dirt looked nice and dark.

Borbura planted the pocket watch in the dirt, thinking that this must have been the craziest thing she had done in her life. The crab was trickier. Borbura tied it up with rope and planted it in the dirt, leaving its' head on the surface so that it could breathe.

"Sorry, little fellow. But hey, tomorrow you will have a lot of new friends and I promise to give you a bunch of those pocket watches, okay?" Borbura said. Then she left and waited overnight for the miracle to happen.

Next day she returned to the garden plot and the sight in front of her was beyond impressive.

A hundred pocket watches had sprouted from the ground like a field of flowers and in the middle of it there was a tall tree that had living crabs hanging from its branches. The original crab was still alive, wriggling where it was attached to the tree from its' back.

Borbura burst into a laughter, amazed by the sight in front of her. Then she got into work, gathering the watches into a sack and the crabs into a basket. After that she went to the beach.

She had a boat and she used it to spread the pocket watches and crabs into the sea. She made them form a straight line between the open ocean and the beach water. She had tossed a dead fox in the open ocean, luring all of the sharks away. Then she went back to the shore and waited.

After feasting on the dead fox, the sharks started to return to the beach water. However, when they came close, the crabs would pinch and cut their flesh painfully. The water was shallow enough that the large sharks could not get past the crabs without getting painfully cut up. The sharks avoided the pain and didn't cross the line. The crabs were not leaving either, because they loved the sound of the pocket watches that were spread in the bottom of the sea.

Borbura had entered the water and swam closer to see "the crab wall" herself. She had never swam this far. She dived under the water and looked at the sharks that were just ten meters away from her, but couldn't get to her.

The crab wall was beautifully organized and the sound of a hundred pocket watches ticking underwater was a sound to behold. Borbura felt validated and giddy. Her plan had worked and she had won herself an opportunity to swim without a worry. However, the sight of the large predators swimming so close by was enough to make her enjoy her victory quietly and closer to the shore, where she floated on her back in the water and dreamed of feathery hats and books that were growing from the dirt.

"The treasure is dirt?" "Yup, magic dirt, absolutely anything planted in it will grow and bear fruit"

[kyekwei]

The way you modern people understand gods and spirits is quite strange to my eye. I'll tell you how my fellows and I understood them 5,000 years ago.

To us it wasn't this separate thing from life, but part of life itself. Many of modern people see gods and spirits as like a game of some kind, which is only maybe half real. But in the clan I grew up in, if you did not give offerings to the lightning god Pérkwunos and follow the ártos laws set out by the sky father Dyḗws, they were going to punish you very severely for this. In those times, I am scared to disobey Dyḗws or dishonour my heroic ancestors since it will bring my death. Today, it seems that people realised there is no consequence, or maybe gods and spirits are not caring anymore.

Offerings and rituals for holy beings are part of everyday life. You wake up, you eat breakfast, you get to work, you give cattle to Dyḗws, you eat lunch, and so forth.

But I didn't live only on the steppes. I lived in what is now named Germany, and I learnt much about the Balkans ways too. Different peoples are having their priorities for who gets worship. The Sikkanot in Germany had never heard of a sky god. They had a small number of gods who mostly sat in the background. The beings they worshipped every day were called 'monsters' or 'trolls' or something. They believed that in some ponds there were water monsters, in some trees were wood monsters, and rock faces stone monsters, etcetera. When you harvest water, wood, or flint, you have to ask the local monster for permission to take its resources. If something stirs or shakes, this means that it is not allowed today. We give food and tools to the monsters sometimes. We cast flint axes to the water monsters, so that they don't decide to leave and take the valuable water elsewhere.

The monsters were often said to be 'great grandmothers' or 'original mothers'. Ugly, hideous, terrifying troll grandmothers who protect rivers and live inside hills. Something which is related I think, is that many Sikkanot believed their race sprang from ponds, trees, or mud. I think thus they thought human life is created by trolls.

You see, my beliefs didn't change when I went west, but instead I realised I was in a new place with different spirits which need to be satisfied each day. Dyḗws was still real, but he lived far away on the steppes with the nomads I abandoned.

I still believe that the trolls are real. You see, I have seen their wrath when they don't get the proper offerings. So I begin to wonder why no one fears their anger anymore. Perhaps it is that they have been driven away by people building huge towns and threatening them with loud ox-less wagons. It is something I think about frequently why nobody feels shame when they frequently dishonour the local spirits. Is this why no vegetables grow in the woods anymore?

[mantrabay]

Rush Amid The Rapids Published 30

Original Version on Poetry Nook under my pen name

MyNAh_27

Inspired and edited by my wonderful sister Jay Pallen

“Must I always be posting transactions and extracting trial balances?”

I said to myself, Landon Croaker, an accountant, adjusting the padded compartments of my backpack as I rambled up a ragged winding woodland path.

A granite strewn gulag odyssey that’s second nature to me now.

There was the usual green stew of ornate plants with enthralling names that fascinate the tourist.

Ancient Fir Clubmoss which grows into a chalice like shape

as beads of moisture drip sluggishly from its toothless emerald surface.

St Patrick’s cabbage, a dessert

spoon’s mirror image with thick leather leaves and zig zag veins.

Hapless Fraochan and whort shrubs whose symmetrical fruit pendants are just waiting to be plucked.

To say nothing of that most prickly bane,

those nasty nettles that have one scratching endlessly.

Oxalic acid scald that triggers spasms rippling over bare skin.

I brought my notebook with me.

It was spiral bound with a shifting, shimmery, hologram motif emblazoned on the front.

Observations were logged for future reference.

Closet novelist or bard perhaps?

Maybe one day.

The natural word is driven by a multitude of forces.

It seemed as if we are all marionettes in a chain, both manipulator and manipulated, Svengali and slave.

Rainbow trouts extracting energy from water vortices by means of slalom action.

Hornet’s pigments as they harvest solar waves for flight or excavation.

Fern clad Sessile oak trees with hard shelled acorn progeny suggesting motion of a different kind.

Birds pirating said acorns to a vernal grass plot for seamless cycles.

Canopies of lattice branches that springboard every creature under the sun.

Those boughs with the brittle snap at taut intervals that plant a sting in one’s ear.

Shrieks from a stunned squirrel leaping in the arc of a trapeze with blue jay alarm signal in tow.

The non-stop rustle from rabbits under slender stalks, and overarching foliage across burrowed hidey-holes.

Puffball clouds and brown dust spores sprung by microscopic raindrops.

Echo chamber habitat in open foetal sesame hostile to human intruders.

A wastrel I was within the wilds and the elements were miffed by this tactless troll through their terrain.

I was getting close to that place where my friends, a husband and wife team lived and ran a fringe publishing company.

These partners had a similar office in town.

They carried their high octane business drive into this secluded spot.

Urban and rural life was their forte initially.

Their penchant for capturing niche markets and spotting trends was legion.

The couple resided in a cherry wood log cabin with tongue and groove cladding and a pine timbered roof lantern peering pensively into the maze-like river down below.

This dwelling was perched at the side of a mountain.

The mountain itself had a surreal sweep about it as it apexed towards the sky piercing spectra colored cloud balloons.

Like a watchtower it sat silently in sinister observance.

Sunlight gestated in the sky as I trekked forward.

A primeval heave juddered beneath the rumpled insoles in my footwear as they oozed sweaty squelching noises.

Insights like fumaroles coursed through my veins in blood red bursts.

Within this raw canvas a universal pulse, a oneness exists.

A fallow deer suddenly appeared.

It was of the chestnut coat and white mottles type.

The deer looked furtively at me with startled eyes deep in its skull as if it knew something I didn’t.

They have their own badinage and intuition that goes with it.

Within minutes it vanished.

A swarm of flies choose my face as target practice.

A virtual non stop kamikaze buzz.

Flies, the spooky whistleblowers on the solitary hiker with grazed cheeks as collateral damage.

The sweat brought on by my laboured trudge didn’t help.

Despite this onslaught I stopped to tie my braided lace bespoke boots.

Anticipation drove me on irrespective of the sweltering heat.

It was if I had survived some endurance test.

The clothes on my body were wringing wet but still I had broken the back of the journey.

Though I sometimes felt it had nearly broken the back of me.

Heading onwards the

urban spirit still had me somewhat in its spell.

Sleep busting motorway drones going beep beep, cone shaped traffic markers as hard plastic cordon, the rapid rail transit system with it’s clickety-clack cadences, sonorous horn signals from departing cruise ships.

There is the other side of the equation in these surroundings.

Chambered cairns, those passage tunnels from the past that act as stone markers for the venturer.

Platform mounds whose ribboned cracks and gouges play host to strongly rooted Chasmophytes.

The leaves softly hinted at a lurking silhouette as the log cabin became dimly visible.

“Hello, there. Fancy seeing you here.

Welcome back.”

Chelsea, in a quaint croaking baby twang that mocked distance.

“Oh …You frightened me.” Landon said.

For a moment I nearly toppled over but miraculously kept my balance.

Chelsea dashed towards me with a note of concern that soon turned to mirth.

“A bit worried there Landon but never fear.

It’s great to see you.

What a surprise!

But then we like surprising people too as you’ve learned by now.”

I paused and replied.

“How could I ever forget? It's the unexpected that adds spice to this life business and others too!”

Landon sardonically.

While catching up we spied a crestfallen black crow struggling to take flight.

It eventually did.

“Like people at work or in other situations.

They can find it hard going.”

Chelsea observes.

“I always find this a haunting spot.”

Landon briefly.

“Indeed. You sound tired.”

Chelsea replies.

“We’ll change all that. We’ll change everything about your life now you’re here.”

The ramifications of that comment would soon unfold.

Was there a shadowy presence stalking us or am I hallucinating?

“The last time I was here we talked about the possibility of children.

Any decision yet? Indeed we have been having this conversation for some time.

You could always adopt.”

I continued.

“Don’t have to do that.

Got my husband and he’s got me.” She said.

“We’re both kids at heart.”

Her voice trails off with a sad tinge.

“This location seems ideal but there’s school and….. other factors.”

Chelsea hesitantly.

“Nothing that couldn’t be resolved with a bit of thought.” Landon in reply.

At this point Croaker sensed Chelsea’s unease and didn’t press the point.

“Hey, what’s this?” Croaker cried as two apples landed at his feet.

“Yahoo. You two.”

Chesney, Chelsea’s husband shouted before climbing down a tree with infant zeal.

“It’s been so long.

Doesn't time fly?

Going back to our childhood the days have been an endless sprint.”

Chesney again.

“These sudden appearances are very well coordinated.

Is there a hidden hand or something deeper?”

Landon mused as we all continued apace.

While walking it dawned on me how dewy-eyed this couple were.

They also cut thin, bony almost adolescent figures despite their thirty something vintage.

One could say they were reflections of each other in every sense.

Entering the cabin shortly afterwards it seemed like something from a children’s storybook.

Cartoon mosaics hanging precariously from their fool’s gold borders, zip purses with smashed purple bead inserts, and shredded comic strips in tiny bundles.

Plush stuffed toys with sewn outer fabrics as well but for whom?

“Ever since my first visit I’ve sensed a saga shrouded in the deepest mystery.

This cover up.

An untold tale.”

Croaker on reflection.

“Hey Snap. What are you thinking?

What’s accountancy like these days?

A game of noughts and crosses.”

Chesney’s barb evokes laughter.

“Nothing ever really changes.

The usual stuff, low risk profiles, investment hazards.

It’s a world I drifted into but is there a way out I wonder?

How about you?

Still building this publishing company in paradise.”

Croaker once more.

“Publishing is odd at times. It’s almost as if you are becoming the stories submitted.”

Chesney observed.

“Children's stories and fantasies are beginning to do well for us.

Themes linked to birth and regrowth which we’ve always had a thing about are also gaining interest.

All those manuscripts but am I boring you?”

He asked.

“Not at all.

It gets me away from the staid accountancy world.”

Landon tactfully.

A salad of roasted lemon, fennel fronds and pomegranate was served with zesty citric juices to accompany our discourse.

Guacamole dip based on chunky avocados, signature relish blobs and tortilla chips rounded off this fare.

Slants on various topics passed blithely from our lips.

Our enthusiastic voices filled the cabin adding an extra dimension to this haven from that Trojan horse we call the daily plod.

After our meal we placed the Royal Stafford dishware in the washing machine.

Chelsea’s phantom figure scurries outside with Olympic speed for whatever reason.

A flambeau wouldn’t have been out of place.

It was so redolent of the suddenness about.

A cocoon descends around Chesney and Landon as they become rapt in each other’s company.

Unfortunately Chesney had this habit of being swept up by his own conversations.

Against caw and pipe rook vocals in the background I quizzed Chesney about the urban country rift.

It seemed that even tranquil timberlands so-called have their own stressors.

“See those creatures slumped awkwardly on fragile twigs?

They can sense pending discomfort such as weather changes.

But can they really cope?”

Chesney pondered.

“Don’t know if you can really escape the man-made pressures of city life.”

A querulous tone from Chesney this time.

“Maybe these divisions are rubbing off on one another.”

Landon archly.

“Thud…… an incredible sound.

What was that?”

Chesney shook as he commented.

Chelsea walked in the door.

“Oh dear .. let’s say a homing pigeon.

Always up to that kind of nonsense.

They’re a strange breed.”

She said smugly.

“Very strange indeed.”

Chesney out loud.

A strained silence ensues as Chesney and Chelsea exchange glances but one could guess from their scrunched up expressions what they were thinking.

“Was that really a homing pigeon?”

Landon wondered and maybe Chesney too.

A circus of the wilds continued to intensify outside as species vies with species in a fanfare of egos.

Chirpy robin red breasts at the window,

wing scraping crickets in high chorus on a Vulcan steam curtain.

Horseshoe Bats that weave around rainbow shafts with aplomb.

Such delights as Daddy long legs with their cancan dances on sodden green patches.

“Excuse me …..ring a bell.”

Chesney diverting Landon’s attention from the goings on outside with a broken fragment.

Landon bought this autumn crocus crystal vase for them both on a previous sojourn.

It slipped from his hands in a butter fingers incident and predictably shattered.

From memory Croaker uttered the words “my lasting gift” as it fell.

Cackles all around but frustration for Landon.

“It’s an hilarious keepsake after a fashion.”

Chelsea opined.

“Oh, thank you I think.”

Said Landon.

The hours passed with this and other anecdotes.

We both decided to retire.

Landon saw Chesney furtively remove what looks like a letter from a ring pull drawer.

“Just an old bill.

Must shred it.” He said.

“Why would Chesney even explain that?

His face is red.

How curious.”

Croaker thought.

Shuffling to his allocated bedroom Landon did notice kids gadgets dangling over cube modular storage units.

Pink salmon quilted eiderdowns, pillows with children sleeping under moonlit skies, and Milky Way throw blankets completing this idyllic scene.

The night passed uneventfully.

There were some noises in the kitchen as early morning approached but I was too tired to notice.

Having woken sluggishly Croaker walked into the dinning area.

A sense of foreboding, an ominous ghostly silence filled the room.

The strangest happenings seemed imminent.

Landon grappled awkwardly with the claustrophobia around him.

It was rudely disrupted by the shrill chatter of the chestnut-sided warbler - Induna of the morning cacophony.

An oak hook tip moth added charm to the proceedings with its zoom and flutter acrobatics.

“I’ve the creepiest feelings about this morning.

Doubt if I’ll jot these presentiments down.

Not very promising for one who toys with the idea of being a writer.”

Croaker reasoned while casting a suspicious eye on everything.

“Buzzz ……Buzzz ....Boing.

It’s my old phone’s text tone.

My boss.

Wonder what he wants?”

Landon to himself.

“Dear Landon,

When you return I would like to speak to you about your future with this company.

At the moment I can’t go into further details.

As it involves a lot of interested parties a wide ranging discussion would be in order,

Regards,

Tom Wright

Managing Director.”

Landon’s worst fears now confirmed.

“What am I to make of that?

Just how serious is this or is there another …. what is this in front of me?”

A letter from Chesney and Chelsea.

“Hi Landon,

We had to leave quickly.

Just one of those things.

Help yourself to whatever largesse there is.

Don’t know how long we’ll be.

You can hang around of course or leave if you like.

Don’t break anything !!

Ha ha,

Ches and Chels.”

Incredible!

Between the text and the letter who wouldn’t be alarmed?

Landon limped outside to an ear splitting din and a mist laden detritus that merged into pockets of streams steeplechasing each other.

A slimy frog vaults and casts a damp viscous oil spray in Croaker’s direction into the bargain.

Something ….a shadow.

Was there someone following me?

“This has been the most peculiar visit I’ve ever had.

Intrigue seems encoded in it’s every aspect.”

Croaker’s anxiety growing.

A tap on the shoulder followed by a crystal shard landing near his feet.

“The vase remember ?

Don’t take yourself so seriously ……..there’s something we’d like to discuss with you.”

Chesney said pointedly.

“An Agatha Christie mystery novel has nothing on the twists and turns of this trip.”

Landon frets.

“We’ve been mulling over this, Chelsea and I.

Your presence is an extraordinary coincidence.

Do you have this sixth sense about some higher force at work?”

Chesney quizzically.

“We’d like to offer you a job as an accountant as there is a vacancy here.”

Chelsea this time.

Landon now shivering with the incongruity of it all.

“Don’t you know by now we love to jumpstart even our closest friends?

This post is

tailor-made for you and you’d be foolish not to snap it up.”

Chelsea once more.

“I’m sure your current boss will understand as our paths have crossed over the years!”

Chesney stated.

Croaker’s head was now in a spin.

What a bizarre comment but he said nothing.

“You like writing don’t you Landon?

Well, you did the last time we spoke.

There are plenty of stories around here.

Who knows, there might even be a role for you as judge and editor.”

Chelsea opining.

“Maybe those diary entries weren’t a waste after all.”

Landon hoped.

“Didn’t you go to an awful lot of trouble just to offer me a job?”

Croaker queried.

“Neither Chelsea nor I do things the conventional way.

We’ve been building up to this for quite some time.”

Chelsea with Chesney nodding.

A carousel of thoughts flashes through Landon’s mind at this juncture.

He walked in a trance struggling with everything that happened.

“What was in Chelsea’s large sports bag I wonder?”

Croaker thought.

“Let’s go for a swim, Landon.

I’ve got swim trunks for all of us.

Last down to the river is a nerd.”

An unsurprising dare from Chelsea.

We glide over spiked brambles, severed logs, twisted stumps and every jagged tooth rock shape imaginable.

Herculean feats were performed.

Because Landon was in a state of shock he got the wooden spoon.

Chelsea tossed a nylon mesh swim trunks at Landon as everyone duly changed.

Something slipped out of Chesney's pocket without him or any of us knowing.

It was that letter Chesney removed previously and read as follows.

“Dear Chesney and Chelsea,

As your doctor I regret you won’t be able to have children. It’s with a heavy heart I share this with you.

There are many reasons for this...”

The rest of the letter was creased and illegible.

It was subsequently swept to the river’s edge underneath a Crested Iris by a slight breeze.

Meanwhile, we were all breast stroking with abandon with the occasional breather as well.

“You can make up your mind, Landon at the end of this swim whenever that is and wherever it is taking us.”

Chelsea chuckled.

“Things really aren’t all that different around here bar the setting.

Even the speed.”

Once again Chelsea spoke as she circulates in the eddying stream.

“Let yourself go, Landon.

Be that rush amid the rapids.

Maybe it’s a different cage but still.”

Chesney, a toddler’s echo to this mind boggling denouement.

We all started off again as we follow each other downstream.

“Awh, the child within!” Cries Chelsea before heading off.

“An opportunity of sorts, an escape of sorts. I’ll probably accept this bizarre offer.”

Landon to himself as he swam.

At that moment the mountain looked down imperiously upon us all as the stray deer suddenly reappeared from nowhere.

Maybe that deer did know something after all.

Quite a few things perhaps!

Photograph and piece all my own work @mantrabay

I appreciate in advance everyone on Tumbrl who considers and rates this post

[rainy-sel]

i really don’t want to be this person but…

the christmas being yule thing wasn’t done in appreciation from what i’ve researched as someone looking into paganism..

and yes, christmas was yule, even in older christmas songs, “troll the ancient yuletide carol” or sing heartily the old christmas time song or carol. the old christian’s took the name and changed some of the meaning and connotation to it, mostly to damage pagan traditions, similar to the rewriting of some norse mythology.

also yule was an end of harvest and (mostly) a winter solstice celebration

and to flora’s point of the christmas tree thing.. that can be true, but it seems like it may be a new thing, because it was a pagan symbol of fertility and those were particularly disliked by the church.

if i’m wrong about any of this, please please please correct me with sources so i can learn more about it. and be nice please, don’t call me stupid because i got some false information.. just correct me and give me a place to learn more :)

“[insert aspect of Christian holiday] has PAGAN ROOTS 😱”

yeah and St. Paul had killing-Christians-roots lol. we baptized him, we baptized your pagan traditions, we’ll baptize you too