Chapter Text
Angor Rot was never in favour of the constant wars that raged between troll and humankind. It was pointless, as it resulted in constant bloodshed and the loss of life. Humans and trolls were no different to each other in his eyes. Constantly seeking out what was not theirs, risking their lives for the sake of something beautiful or pricey. Greed was common to see in both. Their hearts filled with the need to take and take, rather than give and be peaceful.
But they had their good sides. Humans were developing over time. Finding out new concoctions that can save lives, giving out charity, helping those in need and forming newfound families. Trolls were no different to humans, they were just weaved with stone skin and hearts, but their touches were gentle and their heart could hold as much love as a human could.
The troll was now on a quiet stroll in the morning, avoiding the rays of daylight as he gathered herbs from his silent village. The human realm was oddly quiet that day, no knight scouting the woods or horses trotting against the mud. These were the type of mornings Angor Rot wished his people had more often. Tiny whelps ran across the fields, some mothers picking at the grass and fathers helping their sons climb trees.
Angor Rot let out a satisfied sigh, travelling a little further through the knee-deep fields until he reached near a cliff engulfed in the sun’s rays. He sits silently by a tree, basking in the shade as he sharpened his nails. No matter how much he wished for peace, he had to prepare himself to defend against any violent humans (or even trolls) who wander into his home.
“Zadia!” A woman called out, causing the troll to jump out of his skin. He jumped to his feet, hand on his pouch where a knife was kept, slowly peered from the tree and into the scorching daylight. A woman, a young one, was strolling through the field, calling out for someone. Her brown hair was tied into some sort of braided, green fabric keeping it together.
“Where did he go?” She whispered softly, unaware of someone creeping up behind her. When two hands were placed on her shoulders, she jumped and turned swiftly to the boy who shook with laughter. A staff was resting in her hand, almost ready to strike him down until she noticed who it was.
“Zadia!” She yelled again, this time a little playfully. “Don’t scare me like that, little lamb.”
“Sorry, sorry.” Zadia laughed, unaware of the lurking troll. “Why are we here anyways?”
“Merlin wanted me to collect some herbs,” She sighed, brushing the hair out of her eyes. “I don’t understand why he couldn’t send Hisirdoux to do so.”
Zadia groaned. “Awh, I thought it’d be more fun.”
“Sorry, little lamb.” She ruffles his hair, a small smile on her face. “Maybe when we’re done we can learn some new spells.” The idea seems to please Zadia, and they venture further into the field, unknowing of Angor Rot’s curious stare.
“I’m surprised Merlin let us come this far from Camelot.” Zadia pipes up, picking weeds and plants from the ground. He brushes off the dirt, and shoves them into a pouch. Angor Rot began to contemplate if he should attack the humans who picked at the ground, or sit readily instead. These were often the choices Angor Rot couldn’t decide between, but ultimately concluded to sit and watch from the comfort of the shadows.
“Well,” The lady laughs. “He knows I’m here, but not that you’re with me.”
Zadia’s mouth fell open for a moment, before huffing. “Am I going to get in trouble, Morgana?”
“Of course not!.” She reassured with a sharp laugh. “He won’t know if it stays between us.” She whispers, pressing a finger to her lips playfully as Zadia grinned. Angor Rot let out a low, quiet hum. These were the sweet moments he wished he could see more often. He turned his back, continuing scraping the dagger across his nails.
He occasionally glances back at the two, watching them laugh and pick at the ground, uncaring for the dirt that stains their clothes and skin. Maybe he felt a little jealousy stir in his stone-weaved heart, wishing the troll whelp in his village were this free. But no one could escape from Gunmar’s or King Arthur’s clutches.
“Morgana,” Zadia whispers as he wipes a smudge of dirt from his cheek. Angor Rot had been spotted. There’s an emotion that lingers in his gold, odd eyes.
Fear .
She turns to the teen, confused until she follows his gaze. The grip on her skathe-hrun tightens, her green eyes narrowing down on Angor Rot. However, she’s not afraid. Morgana turns back to Zadia, who looks unsure and suddenly doesn’t feel safe under the sun’s warmth.
“Relax.” Morgana whispers as Angor Rot watches, amused. “We’re in the sun, we’re safe, little lamb.” She rests her pale hand on his shoulder, and he nods. He turns his back on the staring troll, picking at the ground as he keeps his distance. Angor Rot lets out a low rumble, a laugh, and Zadia shivers.
“You’re afraid.” Angor Rot coos, catching both of their attention. Zadia scowled, the fear had been drained out of him as the sun and Morgana put him at ease. “That’s wise.”
Morgana gave her apprentice a pointed look, not meeting the troll’s stare. “I suppose.”
Angor Rot turns his attention back to himself, picking up a smooth stone as he feels the sorcerer’s peer over to him. He began to carve on it, the sound was unnerving and made Zadia shudder. Time began to fly by, no words exchanged apart from obvious glances and Zadia’s soft laughter whenever Morgana would make a joke to cut through the thickening tension.
The sun had begun to set over the translucent clouds, and Morgana dusted off the dirt and grass from her dress. “The sun’s about to set, Zadia. Come, let’s go home before Merlin notices your absence.” Her palm curls around the teen’s shoulder as she glanced back at the silent troll.
Angor Rot looks up from his spot, noting the slight rush in her tone and how the skathe-hrun was now extended. She clearly wanted to leave before Angor Rot could do anything. The apprentice stood on his feet, clutching on to the saddle that bounced on his hip. For a brief moment, their eyes met. Zadia’s eyes travelled down to the carved figurine in Angor’s palm, before walking off with the sorceress.
Angor hummed softly to himself, watching them stroll down the grassy path. Angor knew they were wondering how they managed to escape a troll’s clutches, especially one that looks as cunning and wicked as Angor Rot but looks are often deceiving.