Flash Fiction: March of the Trolls.

    Lady Canellaine wandered the palace corridors in the dark. She passed the great hall where preparations were being made for her twentieth birthday. Floral garlands hung from the ceiling and furniture was being laid for a banquet. She kept walking, unable to face it. With her mother and father fighting a war and unable to attend, it would be no kind of celebration at all.

    She crept out into the garden and gazed up at the moon and stars. Somehow, it helped her feel closer to her parents, knowing that they could all see the same sky. She sat on a stone wall and listened to hooting owls and chirping crickets. Other sounds came from a distance, growing steadily louder: heavy footsteps and clanking metal. Men? Surely not. Then she heard the familiar grunts and her heart lurched.

    She ran inside and slammed the door. Servants came dashing from all directions.

    “Oh, Lady Canellaine,” said one. “It’s only you. What were you doing out there at this time of night?”

    “Trolls are coming. Quick. Get the guards and arm yourselves.”

    It took only minutes for a group of soldiers to charge out from the palace on horseback to warn the village of the trolls’ arrival but, as Canellaine looked out of her chamber window, she could see they were too late. For the second time in nineteen years, the Shadowglenn Valley had been set ablaze. Screams rang out from the village and she felt sick.

    Erloff charged past her open door, fully armed.

    “Where do you think you’re going?” she yelled after him. “You’re not old enough to fight yet. Not by a long way.”

    “Do you think the trolls care about that?” He spun to face her. “I won't be one-hundred for decades, and I'm supposed to train by day then sit back when my people are in danger? Most of our army is down in Dracarne. They can’t help us. Your parents can’t save us this time. This is my task.”

    Canellaine both loved and loathed him. He was brave, dashing, and incredibly kind, but he reminded her of everything she was not. She was jealous of his fearlessness and his skill in combat practice. He was more like her mother than she was. 

    “What should I do?” she asked.

    “Distract the servants so I can get out there and fight.”

    She nodded and squeezed his hand. “Be careful,” she said, not knowing what she meant. How could one be careful when charging into battle with trolls?

    They ran downstairs. Most servants had gone out to aid the defence. Only a handful stayed and watched through the kitchen window, armed and ready in case any of the beasts should make it as far as the palace door. Canellaine nodded at Erloff, ran into the kitchen and closed the door behind her.

    “I’m frightened,” she cried. “What are we going to do?” As the servants turned to comfort her, she looked over their shoulders through the window, watching Erloff charge out into the night.