The wind howled against the tent, buffeting the fur sides and threatening to bring the structure down. Thick snow and ice flew by in the wind, threatening to slam into someone. Fell curled deeper into his furs, the previous warmth all but gone. The wind blew so hard it felt like the ground was shaking, the metal tools seemingly rattling to the movement. Fell shivered as snow and ice blew through the small holes in the hide. The howling grew even fiercer, screaming over the flat plains.
The ground shook harder, as if an oversized elnuk was running full tilt. Fell tried to retreat even further into his furs to hide from the biting cold. His head covered, he could no longer see anything as the shards of ice pounded into the sides of the tent. The ground suddenly stopped shaking, yet the wind seemed to be breathing. As fell listened closer, he realised in horror that it was not the wind making that sound. Something was outside his tent. Something big.
Unable to help himself, he stuck his head outside of his furs and stared at the entrance of the tent. The breathing continued, yet the thing did not move. The entrance of the tent had been ripped open by the storm, the flaps violently slapping against the ground. And then the ground shook again. Fell watched in horror as an Immense leg stood in front of the tent. The leg was blue, with nothing covering it. There was only 3 toes, each with a gnarled brown toenail on top. Despite the tent being taller than the 14 year old Fell, he could see no higher than the creatures knee.
Shivering even more violently, Fell watched as a horrendous bulbous blue hand bigger than his head reached inside the tent, grabbing it from the inside and slowly lifting it up. The wooden stakes holding it down did little to counter the creatures immense strength, as the tent was lifted with no resistance. As the tent was lifted, Fell could see even more of the blue skinned abomination. It wore little, no more than rags wrapped around its waist and a sash across its chest. Finally, Fell could see the creatures face. Ragged orange hair covered much of its face and chest, and Fell could clearly see its huge mouth gaping open, huge fangs procuring from the button with its spit drooling out.
Fell closed his eyes, trying to wake up to be free of this nightmare. Yet he was unable to, and could smell as the creature leaned closer, a foul smell of rotten meat and unwashed beast clearly emanating from it as it moved.
“FELL, MOVE” came a cry from a voice he knew well
Out of instinct from the constant training, Fell rolled to the side, just escaping the things’ foot that had came down to crush him. Snapping out of his stupor, Fell turned to the voice. Njal. This wasn’t another nightmare. That thing was real.
Fell rapidly unwrapped himself from his furs, backing away from the creature that was slowly turning towards him, a grin clearly visible through its shard-like teeth. Njal sprinted up to him, holding his well-used single headed long axe. Despite being almost twice Fell’s size, he was still dwarfed by the blue creature that was standing still.
“What is..” murmured Fell, fear robbing him of clear speech
“Frost troll” Responded Njal. “A big one”
The troll’s grin widened even further, the stench seeming to only increase alongside its growing mirth. It reached its arm forwards towards Fell, ignoring Njal’s presence altogether. Njal swung his longaxe downwards towards its outstretched arm, and cut into the arm, however failing to cleanly cut through the tree trunk-thick arm. The blade sounded with both a clang and a crunch, as the axe collided with the bones and deflected away from the arm, the recoil from the impact causing Njal to grimace.
The troll pulled its arm back, staring blankly at its now bleeding arm. Its grin disappeared, and a low roar rumbled from inside its mouth. It stared at Njal, fury evident in its icy blue eyes. With an earth-shaking roar, it leapt forwards, bringing its unwounded arm down directly on top of Njal.
Njal met the challenge, raising his axe horizontally above his head to block the blow. His muscles bulged as he braced against the incoming blow. The impact caused the surrounding snow to fly upwards as Njal was nearly pushed into the ground, yet he had withstood the blow.
The dim-witted troll stared at the grizzled warrior then at its arm, confused as to how the puny human was still alive. Njal took no such pause and swung his axe from below upwards while turning to increase the power of the blow. This time the axe cut deep into the troll’s arm, with little left than tendons and skin attaching the mutilated forearm to the troll’s elbow.
Its rage turning into fear, the troll staggered backwards, holding its near amputated arm close to its body. Njal did not attack further, instead standing still, his chest heaving and breath steaming in the icy air. The troll continued moving away from the warrior, his eyes locked on Njal’s axe head.
Without turning his gaze from the wounded monster, Njal commanded “Fell, go into my tent, and take your shield and a long axe”.
Still numb from the fight he had just seen; Fell wordlessly ran into the tent and retrieved the gear. The Troll continued backing off, more than 200 paces away from Fell now. With both arms either wounded or useless, it was unwilling to continue to fight, with a final low growl it turned around and ran away from the pair, running in a low gallop.
Chest still heaving, Njal growled “Run to the Elder. Alert the tribe. I will stay.”
Still shocked, Fell stumbled towards the tribe, axe and shield still in hand. Unable to mentally catch up, he fell multiple times, only eventually gathering himself and picking up speed.
As he neared the camp, all seemed calm. The communal fire had long burned out, and fresh untouched snow lay visible across the ground as the rising sun attempted to be seen through the thick cloud cover.
As was tradition, the Elder’s tent was pitched in the centre of the tribe, the numerous bones decorating it both a spiritual call and a macabre threat to any invaders. As Fell neared it, a sharp call stopped him in his tracks.
“Halt!” came a feminine yet powerful voice. “Who dares carry weapons towards the Elder!”
The speaker was Lýsa, a powerful warrior with a stocky build that would put many a male warrior to shame. She was responsible for protecting the Elder, a wall of muscle and fur protecting the heart of the village.
As Fell neared her tone softened as she recognised who it was. Her brow furrowed seeing the breathless and disorientated state of Fell.
“What’s the matter Fell? Why are you armed?”
Stuttering and disorientated, Fell struggled to speak but managed to convey the Frost troll that had attacked. Lýsa’s brow furrowed further hearing the threat.
“I see” she muttered. “I will alert the Elder, stay here for now”
Taking the opportunity to rest, Fell collapsed on the ground, his fear from the attack and his exhaustion from his survival hitting him at once.
