Word of Trolls book 1 - Trollbound ch. 1-3

Trollbound ch. 1-3

01 - Erke

True beauty came from the words themselves. The mountaintops of the "M," or the valley of the "V." The capital letter protecting its children, while the punctuation always getting the final say. He traced his letters on the last page, comparing each to the original text, aided by the flickering light from his lamp. Almost at the end, a "T" was smudge at the transition to the next letter. Instead of a tiny circle at the base, it looked like a punctuation mark. Dæven! How could he have messed that up? Would the Trollmann notice? It was not like the original text was flawless, with its sloppy calligraphy. At places, the ink had even faded from the paper. One smudge would have to do, he decided, and made his last dot in the book, before putting the feather back into the ink. The pages sighed as he closed both the new edition and the old original. A final utterance before the books would be stacked back into solitude. His back cracked like the stem of an old tree as he stretched. It felt good to finally breathe again after months of intense Mirroring, word by word, sentence by sentence, till he had finished all hundred and fifty-three pages. His first Mirroring finally done. One more stone for his plait.

His lamp was burning low. The blessing before Trolltid would begin soon. Erke rubbed his eyes and allowed himself a yawn. He picked up the lamp from his table, and carried the two books down the aisle, passing shelves upon shelves with familiar titles. In turn, they had all received his attention. Some just a fling, others with a deeper devotion, yet none of them had been able to give him a lasting relationship. After seven years, he doubted his lamp would ever bring light to the answer he sought. That day had marked him different, but different how?

The echoes his sandals made down the empty halls were soothing. No one visited this part of Cornerstone anymore if they ever had. Even Ingolf only made it to the counter at the entrance before sleep overcame him. Erke did not mind, though. He felt more at ease with the written word than the spoken interactions with others. He turned the corner, and stopped at a wooden shelf, containing four rows of books bound by leather covers. The bookshelf lacked the ornaments found on others, but it served to give an honest portrayal of the dull texts it held. He made one last inspection on the cover of the book he had Mirrored. Beyond the wall - a look into the Trolls' realm, the title read, by Rob Stenson. He kissed the Mirrored book he had made and pushed it into the shelf. The book thumped against the rock behind. Sand rattled down the wall and puffed out over his sandals. Strange. The rock should not be as porous. He wriggled his toes, shaking off some of the dirt. Probably nothing more than the shelf needed cleaning. He would tell Ingolf that stacking so many boring texts together was asking for the dust to settle. As soon as he pulled the book out again, he saw that the lack of cleaning was not the problem. He was left gaping. The impact from the book had caused a dent into the rock, with small cracks spreading out in every direction. How could a book leave a crater like that? Was he ever anything but gentle returning one of his lovers to their places? He pulled out another book, but the rift did not end there. Warmth crept up his neck. This was bad. He dared not think about how Ingolf would react if he saw it. He had to fix the crack, but how? He traced the fracture downwards, tossing out lovers as he went. It was worse. Would he be allowed to read another text after this? How could he explain that the wall had dented by the shove of a single book? The crack ended just above the ground, but so did the wall. That was odd. Trolltunga and the rest of Cornerstone had been made from carving out the Trollrock, not by raising walls, so why had this been put here? The gap between the wall and the floor was big enough for the palm of his hand to slip underneath. A draught brushed against his fingers. He pressed his head against the cold stone floor, trying to squint under the wall. Where there should have been blackness, he saw a green-tinted gloom passing underneath the wall. Was there something behind?