JunkMonkey
Lord High Vizier of Nowt
I woke up this afternoon morning with this story in my head. It doesn't happen often. I've no idea what the title is:
Thorgar waited till the light of life had gone from the elf's eyes before he gave his broadsword a final twist in its guts then pulled the blade free. The silence, after the brief battle was almost tangible, no birdsong came from the trees, no wind rustled their leaves. It was as if Nature, shocked by the brief, sudden violence, was holding her breath. The only thing to be heard was the bright sound of running water from the stream close by. As if in afterthought, Thorgar stepped to one side of the body, raised his sword, and brought the blade down on the elf's neck, severing head from body with one brutal blow. He stooped, picked the head up by its long hair, and threw it across the stream. The other side of running water. You could never be too careful with elves; tricky bastards elves.
As he washed his sword free of the elf's blood he looked up then down the stream in the hope there was a bridge in sight. There wasn't. It was a very small stream and it was a long way from any road but old habits die hard.
When he returned to the body Jem, his squire, was riffling the elf's pack. The contents of the elf's leather belt pouch were already laid out for Thorgar's inspection. Two silver pieces, some sort of ceramic talisman - if it was to ward against danger it had been monumentally useless - and some small scraps of parchment covered in indecipherable squiggles. The usual rubbish. Thorgar pocketed the coins.
"What's in the pack?"
"Clothes, some dried fruit. Nothing much." Jem tipped the pack out on the grass and turned the contents over with his foot.
"Give me food."
Jem took up his own pack and pulled out an oiled cloth package. Inside was meat, cheese, and bread. He handed it over. He reached in again and produced a flask of wine. It was cheap wine, red and vinegary.
Thorgar took a deep drink, then a bite of meat. He had no idea what kind of animal it came from and he didn't care. It was meat. He glanced at the stream again. The elf's head stared at him.
"Why aren't there any trolls left?" Thorgar asked it. "A man could get a name as a troll killer. But elves? Pfaa! Like snuffing out candles. Elf Snuffer. 'Thorgar the Elf Snuffer'. What kind of a name is that? My grandfather fought trolls; killed trolls. 'Elthred Troll Slayer'! That's a name. My father was at the last battle in the Dwarf War when they finally broke out of their entombment at DeepHelm Gate and were massacred. My father slew a hundred dwarfs that day. He was not proud. Emaciated and filthy they were, easy prey after a fifty years of siege - reduced to living on their own dead for meat." Thorgar stopped, glanced at the food in his hand, then, not caring about its origins, continued to eat. Jem, who had heard all this a hundred times before, was stowing the few items worth selling from the elf's pack into his own.
"But elves! Anaemic, simpering, holier than thou bastards. Still, the girl ones are good for a tumble before you do them. Wouldn't fancy trying to have my way with a girl troll before you killed it? Eh, Jem?"
"Are there any girl trolls?" asked Jem. "Or rather were there any?I always though trolls were 'its'."
Thorgar chewed for a few moments deep in thought. Then said; "Then where did baby trolls come from? Idiot!"
“I've always assumed trolls were asexual” said Jem, “and they just spontaneously generated under bridges. Did anyone ever see a baby troll? Ever?"
Thorgar eyed Jem suspiciously; 'spontaneously generated', what kind of language was that?
"Well if that was true, and they 'spontaneously generated' like you say, then there would be trolls under every new bridge in the empire. And there aren't. There are no more trolls; they're extinct. Like dwarfs are extinct, and goblins are extinct, and giants, and gnomes, and ogres. Only the Elfen left. And when we've got rid of them skinny, pasty, whey-faced bastards..."
Thorgar paused, pulled the Talisman of Humankind from his shirt and kissed it.
"When men have exterminated all but men from the earth; then comes the Golden Age." He intoned.
Jem sighed.
"Imagine it, Jem; no more war, no more hatred, no more bowing to their supposed 'magical''ancient wisdoms'. Just a real world. A human world of peace and freedom. It will be glorious, Jem. Glorious! The Golden Age. It's so near."
"Yes." said Jem, shouldering his pack. "The Golden Age. So close."
Thorgar sheathed his sword. "Come, Jem. If we step lively we will make the inn at Carefour Brae before nightfall. And the wine there has to be better than this piss!" He tossed the empty flask to his servant. "Come!"
And the tall, blond, broad-shouldered warrior, and his smaller, dark-skinned servant went.
04/08/24 - 834 words.
Thorgar waited till the light of life had gone from the elf's eyes before he gave his broadsword a final twist in its guts then pulled the blade free. The silence, after the brief battle was almost tangible, no birdsong came from the trees, no wind rustled their leaves. It was as if Nature, shocked by the brief, sudden violence, was holding her breath. The only thing to be heard was the bright sound of running water from the stream close by. As if in afterthought, Thorgar stepped to one side of the body, raised his sword, and brought the blade down on the elf's neck, severing head from body with one brutal blow. He stooped, picked the head up by its long hair, and threw it across the stream. The other side of running water. You could never be too careful with elves; tricky bastards elves.
As he washed his sword free of the elf's blood he looked up then down the stream in the hope there was a bridge in sight. There wasn't. It was a very small stream and it was a long way from any road but old habits die hard.
When he returned to the body Jem, his squire, was riffling the elf's pack. The contents of the elf's leather belt pouch were already laid out for Thorgar's inspection. Two silver pieces, some sort of ceramic talisman - if it was to ward against danger it had been monumentally useless - and some small scraps of parchment covered in indecipherable squiggles. The usual rubbish. Thorgar pocketed the coins.
"What's in the pack?"
"Clothes, some dried fruit. Nothing much." Jem tipped the pack out on the grass and turned the contents over with his foot.
"Give me food."
Jem took up his own pack and pulled out an oiled cloth package. Inside was meat, cheese, and bread. He handed it over. He reached in again and produced a flask of wine. It was cheap wine, red and vinegary.
Thorgar took a deep drink, then a bite of meat. He had no idea what kind of animal it came from and he didn't care. It was meat. He glanced at the stream again. The elf's head stared at him.
"Why aren't there any trolls left?" Thorgar asked it. "A man could get a name as a troll killer. But elves? Pfaa! Like snuffing out candles. Elf Snuffer. 'Thorgar the Elf Snuffer'. What kind of a name is that? My grandfather fought trolls; killed trolls. 'Elthred Troll Slayer'! That's a name. My father was at the last battle in the Dwarf War when they finally broke out of their entombment at DeepHelm Gate and were massacred. My father slew a hundred dwarfs that day. He was not proud. Emaciated and filthy they were, easy prey after a fifty years of siege - reduced to living on their own dead for meat." Thorgar stopped, glanced at the food in his hand, then, not caring about its origins, continued to eat. Jem, who had heard all this a hundred times before, was stowing the few items worth selling from the elf's pack into his own.
"But elves! Anaemic, simpering, holier than thou bastards. Still, the girl ones are good for a tumble before you do them. Wouldn't fancy trying to have my way with a girl troll before you killed it? Eh, Jem?"
"Are there any girl trolls?" asked Jem. "Or rather were there any?I always though trolls were 'its'."
Thorgar chewed for a few moments deep in thought. Then said; "Then where did baby trolls come from? Idiot!"
“I've always assumed trolls were asexual” said Jem, “and they just spontaneously generated under bridges. Did anyone ever see a baby troll? Ever?"
Thorgar eyed Jem suspiciously; 'spontaneously generated', what kind of language was that?
"Well if that was true, and they 'spontaneously generated' like you say, then there would be trolls under every new bridge in the empire. And there aren't. There are no more trolls; they're extinct. Like dwarfs are extinct, and goblins are extinct, and giants, and gnomes, and ogres. Only the Elfen left. And when we've got rid of them skinny, pasty, whey-faced bastards..."
Thorgar paused, pulled the Talisman of Humankind from his shirt and kissed it.
"When men have exterminated all but men from the earth; then comes the Golden Age." He intoned.
Jem sighed.
"Imagine it, Jem; no more war, no more hatred, no more bowing to their supposed 'magical''ancient wisdoms'. Just a real world. A human world of peace and freedom. It will be glorious, Jem. Glorious! The Golden Age. It's so near."
"Yes." said Jem, shouldering his pack. "The Golden Age. So close."
Thorgar sheathed his sword. "Come, Jem. If we step lively we will make the inn at Carefour Brae before nightfall. And the wine there has to be better than this piss!" He tossed the empty flask to his servant. "Come!"
And the tall, blond, broad-shouldered warrior, and his smaller, dark-skinned servant went.
End
04/08/24 - 834 words.
