Ripped Pages of Poetry

The Troll Story

This is not a poem, but it has a deeper meaning to it. I hope you will like it.

. . .

Behind ninenty mountains and ninety rivers there was a beautiful castle with a beautiful garden. It was a special garden. Magical. Flowers growing there were only one of each kind. Outside the garden there was a bridge over the river. A dangerous troll lived under that bridge. The troll was lonely. Looking everyday only at his own ugly face mirrored in the water, he started to seek for something more. Something worth living for.

He left the dark shadows of the bridge, walked miles and miles all around the kingdom, until he ended up where he had begun - then finally he noticed the magical garden. He never saw something more beautiful.

Amazed by the scenery, he started picking up flowers, one by one, into his trolly hands. But without the nutrious soil, the flowers soon lost their charm and turned into dust.
The troll, upset by his actions, sat next to a yellow dandelion and began to cry.

"Don't cry little troll," said dandelion, "if you keep me in the ground, I will keep you company."

Troll couldn't speak properly the language of flowers, but he wasn't stupid. Soon he understood, what was the dandelion trying to say. And that's how the troll met his first friend.

Days and days Troll spent looking at his dandelion. Stories and stories dandelion told to the little Troll about the life in the garden. The other flowers - dangerous Rose, shy Forget-me-not, high Sunflower...even the cheerful Windflower - were still a bit scared of the Troll. Vainly was dandelion trying to change their mind. Their roots were holding strongly in the ground.

When one day a strong breeze woke up the tiny Troll, he noticed something was wrong. Instead of sunny smile, his dandelion was covered in white dust. The Troll panicked. He did everything right this time! He left the dandelion grow! And still the result was the same! He ran around the garden asking other flowers for help, but none of them could speak trollish. Or maybe none of them wanted to listen. In the mean time the breeze took his dandelion dust away forever.

"Don't be mad at the wind, you Troll!" finally spoke out the Windflower, "your trolly breath created the breeze!"

"I didn't mean to." whined the Troll, splashing the Windflower with watery Troll tears. But the Windflower wasn't angry, she was amazed. No one ever told her that Trolls can rain.

"If you keep caring for flowers Troll, I will keep you a company." smiled Wind flower and Troll smiled too. But he wasn't so stupid anymore. No breeze would ever steal his flower again. He picked up the Windflower from the ground and ran out of the cursed garden back to the bridge. Here he protected the little flower in the warmth of his palms. And everytime she began to dry and loose her charm, he cried for her to make her feel loved again. Finally they were safe.

Finally they could have their happily ever after. 

. . .

But was the Troll right to steal the Windflower?