There is a legend not often told
A beautiful story ancient and old
An emerald green in a lost forest lies
Beyond the mist of the Northern skies
The emerald is such a beautiful sight
It radiates with the purest green light
A double heart is the shape of this stone
Beating together but separate and alone
But if there is found a real perfect love
The hearts join and pulse in the sky above
We all have seen these beautiful sights
We simply know it as The Northern Lights
Thomas van der Vlies
The Bridge
Heart racing, I fly over the forest ground. He’s seen me! He’s seen me! A minute later I still hear his voice, ringing in my ears like music.
“Wait! Don’t go! At least tell me your name.”
Of course, I know better than to wander off. This day, however, is special. It’s my name day and I have just gone from being a girl to the start of womanhood. It has made me slightly more reckless and now I’ve done it. Father will be so angry! To let yourself be seen by a human is unforgivable, even for the heir to the throne. Maybe even more so because people look to me to set the example.
I slowed my pace, jumped up and let my tail swing out behind me to grab hold of the lowest hanging branch. I gracefully circled myself upwards, softly landing on the tree. You see, while I look perfectly normal at first glance — though perhaps I’m a bit short to the human eye — I’m really not. Human, that is. I’m a troll.
Now let me tell you something. Wait. I’m being terribly rude. Introductions first. My name is Eydis. It means “good fortune.” So what’s your name? …That sounds really nice. And very human. Now where was I? Oh, right — trolls. There are a lot of misconceptions about trolls. That we’re ugly, filthy little creatures. Not to be trusted and dangerous. We’re also dim-witted, turn into stone by sunlight and we mostly hate humans. All rubbish, of course, and started by our ancestors. To keep the humans away, you see. Because we are different. And you humans don’t handle different very well. At least, that’s what our grandfather says and he’s a very wise old troll.
Some things are true, though. We do live in cave dwellings and we’re not very fond of lightning storms. Probably something to do with the god Thor. Our elders don’t like to talk about it and we teach the new children not to ask; the elders just get grumpy. And, yes, I have a tail. I quite like it. It’s long and smooth and has a nice tufty bit on the end. It’s the same colour as my hair. I don’t have pointy ears or a big nose. I’m not trying to be arrogant here, but I think of myself as quite pretty.
Talib seems to think I’m pretty. He’s the human child I just ran from. I’ve been watching him for years now. His name means “one who seeks.” I guess that’s what caught my attention in the first place when I heard his mother calling out his name. He’s different. Not different like me different, but different. Not like the other boys. Talib is looking for something. Something special. He is seeking. I like to think he is seeking me. Which brings me back to the part where my father is going to kill me.
My father is the king, but you probably got that by now. I come from a long line of royalty. My family have been ruling for millennia. That might seem very long, but we age differently, you see. From humans, I mean. I don’t know how old you are, obviously, but I just turned one hundred and twenty. That would be about twelve in your world, so we might be the same age, sort of.
Talib is thirteen, but he looks and acts older than his age implies. I’ve been watching him since he was six. That was the first time I saw him. I think he got lost wandering off on his own in the woods. His parents were having a picnic and drank some of that red stuff grown-up humans seem to enjoy. It made them sleepy and they weren’t as attentive to their son as they usually would be. So Talib was quite far into the woods when he started to panic. He couldn’t find his way back to his parents. The funny thing was that he wasn’t scared of the forest. I could tell. It was the thought of losing his parents that made him panic. I thought it was endearing. So I made the sunlight shine through the forest, guiding him back to the picnic spot.
That was the first time I broke my father’s rules. We’re not supposed to help out. My father says if you know plenty of ways to get yourself into trouble, you might as well figure out just as many ways to get yourself out. I don’t think he really means it, towards children, at least, but he can be so strict. I don’t want you to think my father is evil or nasty or something. I love my father very much. He was heartbroken when we lost Mum. The light in his eyes died. Do you know what I mean? You have these people who laugh but just with their mouths. It doesn’t reach their eyes. Makes me sad. My mother always made my father laugh with his eyes. I miss it. I always try to make him laugh and he smiles and hugs his family very often. It never reaches his eyes, though. Not anymore.