The Nisse, the Cat, and the Apple Tree Part 4

Turns out a Troll is worse than a cat.

Christian knew there were two paths to the top of the hill. The first and quicker way was straight up the hill, but the problem was it came close to the Troll home along with the Red Face Goblins. He could defeat the goblins and have for years, but the Troll was something beyond his power. The second and slower way around the back way of the hill, but it was in the heart of the mice war. The tow mice Kingdoms had been bringing wolves and owls into the battle, which was why he wanted Persephone to meet them, but he couldn’t defeat the wolves or the owls. He could ask the mice for safe passage through their lands, but there was no guaranteed either one of them would give it to him. He has chosen the quicker path, the one straight up the hillside, and hoped he wouldn’t run into the Troll.

                The tall grass hides him for a while, but it also hides the Apple Tree from his sight. He had studied this land long enough to always know where he was going, until he found himself staring at a stone he had ever seen before. It was not a good thing there was a new stone on the hill, a big stone which he should be able to see from his home, and yet, he had never seen it before in his life.

                Stone usually didn’t come out of anywhere, but it did happen from time to time, like a new tree coming up from the ground. Christian glanced around, trying to finger out where he was and then looked up to the sky to see the sun sitting a little past middle day. He was already running out of time; the day was almost gone. He couldn’t get lost, not now; he had to find the tree fast.

                He dashed to the top of the rock, hoping to find where he was at, and the angels had blessed him. He could see the Apple Tree from where he was standing, another half day of travel; he would be able to make to the tree. He wasn’t sure how he was going to gather the magic, but it was a problem he would deal with when he got there.

                He went to jump down from the stone, but as he moves to do so, he heard the feet of the Red Face Goblins pouring out of the stone. He spun around to see the magic door open on both sides sending out the green monsters, with feathers and roots in their head, and their faces painted red surrounding him. He stepped back hissing at the monsters pulling the sword free from his side. The blade was still bright like the day it was made. He shouted in a fury, jumping into the horde of the green monsters carrying spears and clubs.

                The goblins only stood half as tall as Christian himself, where the Nisse stood somewhere around three feet tall with the hat on, the goblins were smaller, but where the goblins lacked in height, they made up in numbers. The more Christian cut down the goblins, which he was cursing himself for not knowing the stone was a goblin nest, the more goblins seem to come racing out of the stone. There seem to be an endless flood of the green monsters.

                Soon, the black blood of these beasts was making the earth muddy and hard to keep one’s footing, which Christian always believe was a part of their strategy. If they couldn’t overrun their enemy, then they would make the ground under their feet wet with their blood causing them to fall. Christian soon found himself fighting on his back, trying to beat back the goblins, killing countless among them, but there was no end of them. Before he knew it, he was bounded and being carried off to somewhere. He fought against the ropes, cried for them to let him go, but the dumb beasts would not heed his words.

                  Christian was dropped in front of a tree near the creek too far away from the stone to his liking, and even farther away from the Apple Tree. He was tossed in front of a knotted tree, not an oak, not a dogwood, and no other tree which has a name, for the tree wasn’t a planet at all but the hidden body of a Troll slowly turning to face Christian with a growled. All the goblins dropped to their knees, burying their faces to the King, but Christian wouldn’t dear look away from the monster.

                The Troll’s face was long with a pointed chin but nowhere near as pointed as his nose. The big yellowed eyes stared down at the Nisse with bark of his face red like the paint on the goblins. He ran his long boney hands thought his hair made from sticks and roots. The monster smiled with the crooked teeth being shown from pointed ear to pointed ear.

                “You must be a foolishly brave Nisse,” the Troll growled at him leading down to study Christian,” but you are not foolish, I have known of you for a long time, and you are no fool, so why I ask myself are you here?”

“I’m on a quest,” Christian hissed, “to save a human child.”

                The Troll laughed deeply from his belly, tossing his head back in the laughter. “I care nothing of a human child. Those magicless blind halfwits have killed my kind since the beginning of time. One dead child is just one less human who can kill my kind, I careless about your quest.”

                “I beg you,” Christian said,” I don’t wish you no harm; I just want to reach the Apple Tree.”

                “For the magic?” The Troll shrieked. “No, I will never allow a human to have the magic there, never.”

                “You monster,” Christian cursed him, “I’ll see you, headless.”

                “Maybe, you are a fool,” The Troll said. Christian fought to break free, but the ropes were far too sturdy for him to get free. The Troll started to reach for him with his long claws to eat him, but in a flash, the Troll shot back its claw crying in pain while the ropes around Christian dropped from him.

Author's Note

If you had made it this far, then I appreciate it, and before you start to tear my work apart (which doesn’t bother me too much), let me explain something. The most common critique I see is about my spelling and grammar. It is an understandable critique, and I do not blame you for pointing it out. After all, spelling and grammar are the tools in which we use to craft our work, like a paintbrush or a chisel. The artist must know how to use these tools well, but like an artist who has a tremble in their hand's somethings will never be perfect.
My tremble in my hand is caused by my dyslexia. It is something, no matter how much I learn, study, or works on, it will never go away. It is the reason you will find a good bit of spelling and grammar mistakes in my work. I ask you to keep this fact when you are about to write your critique.
Also, I feel the need to point this out, this website is like a journal for me. A messy journal I used to work out problems in my stories or to simply warm up before digging into my novels. I do not hire an editor for the work here. I do not spend hours and days pouring over these stories to make them perfect, that energy is saved for the project I plan on taking to market. Everything on this website is my world-building exercise or sketches for other projects.
I do hope you enjoy my work, but this website is not a publishing house for me, and it shouldn’t be for you either. Something to keep in mind as you write your critique.