A Story Less told (The Legend of Greg) Book 1 of 2

Chapter 9: To Kill a God

The morning air was brisk. A gentle fog rolled as the coals of the fire flickered in the wind that was blowing between the tents surrounding it. Muradin woke and noticed he was the first one up. He waddled through the grass and went to take a leak by an old lone tree. He nearly started his business, as he jumped at the sight of Bacon, standing like his usual creepy self, watching the camp.

"Some day I will place a ring of bells on you." he grumbled. He turned and started urinating, looking back as the armored statue's head was now tilted just slightly in his direction.

"Very disturbing indeed." he muttered to himself. Greg strolled to the nearest smell of breakfast, a small fire where the female troll was roasting meat of some kind. He approached, sitting on a log across from her.

"So..." he started. "Nervous?"

"No." she replied.

"You didn't give me your name." he reminded.

"Xyddith." she said peering up.

"Xyddith, that's Troll for Edith, the Elvin fable name that mean "she who walks among the fallen" there is an old legend about her, long story you probably know already."

"Yes." she nodded. Greg nodded back, running out of smalltalk to filler between awkward pauses.

"I'm just going to say it. I really like the bad-ass look and I don't see many women remotely close to my size or sturdiness, fewer still that don't find me intimidating." he informed.

"If you are attempting to flatter me with romance, before a battle is a poor choice of timing." she replied.

"And when would be a good time exactly...before we met or after we get killed tomorrow?" he asked. She looked up without a good answer.

"A flattering point. If we are to die, best die already tired from needless mating instead of arriving sooner to battle." she said sarcastically.

"I find you interesting and attractive, I never suggested we go back to my tent and become familiar. My intentions are fairly open to possibility and not specific, let alone sinister, let alone rushed. Is it a crime or cultural insult to give a woman a compliment and hope for a bit of social levity before battle?" he asked.

"I suppose not. You are unfamiliar with Troll customs." she sighed.

"Well, you're half Troll, so I only have to be half-acceptable by those standards, and nobody knows what the hell I am, so I make my own customs. In my culture, when you compliment a woman, she follows with "thank you" and then informs him if she is interested or otherwise spoken for." he finished.

"Thank you for the compliment, I am not spoken for. My interest, as of this moment, is the battle tomorrow." she said coldly. He nodded, almost getting up with a rejection bruise on his ego. "But if we survive this, I will let you know how interested I am." she said with a slight smile she was unable to hide.

"Oh good, more reason to not die." he smiled.

The camp rode by the cover of darkness to the far side of the clearing where the Castle of Ash was best viewed. Greg reviewed the plan in his head a few times as they gathered and prepared. Elora carefully followed a carriage that was leaving the gate and heading somewhere leisurely. As the gate swung shut and the guards walked away, she sprinted with her invisibility armor, sliding to the gate and jamming a pick in the lock to prevent the gate from latching. She opened it and slipped in, keeping the gate unlocked as she made her way past the guards and to the alley. She dis-armored and stuffed her things into a bag, hiding it under some hay for later. Greg and the rest waited by the gate patiently. He sighed to himself as they waited.