The Prophecy

The Undergrounds of Kahr-O-Tirr: Discovery

Once again, the centaur coughed making Half Moon jump up and look at him. They had arrived in a vast low room. Most of the walls were stretched with sumptuous drapes of deep red velvet illuminated by delicate gold thread embroidery. All the creatures of the creation were represented, from the smallest to the largest, in every imaginable posture. On either side of the room, limestone columns had been carved into magnificent supporting pillars. They joined the ceiling in an infinite number of lacework stone vaults.

On the ceiling, an impressive reclining woman imprisoned the Milky Way and its stars. Her arms and legs reached the floor, where they anchored like four solid columns. Her hair, sparkling gold, was scattered in the darkness surrounding her, it made the stars shimmer. The ground of the low room was bristling with thousands of sharp points. Some of them were larger in diameter and ended in wet statues. Everything in this room was superb, unreal, of a delicacy difficult to conceive because it was the fruit of trolls' work.

The centaur had led the troop in the middle of the room, then had continued his way towards a door made of airain, it was of the dimensions of this strange place. He grabbed the large knocker, and struck three times, followed by a long silence, another blow and an immense silence. Finally, a wheel creaked on the other side of the door, pulling a heavy mechanism, which, slowly acted on the door, and made it turn on its hinges.

On the other side, the room was dark, though not entirely dark. Here and there, small spikes of light occasionally brightened it. The sound of footsteps came closer and closer, slow and heavy. A small, stocky figure emerged from the darkness and stopped at the threshold of the airain door. The centaur knelt down to reach him and whispered a few words in his ear. The figure seemed to nod. The centaur greeted the silhouette, straightened up, and with a light step moved towards Half Moon's group. He stopped at their level:

_ You have just been given the great honor of speaking with the Greatest of the Wise People. Be worthy of them, for here, all your questions will be answered. May the peace of Innàa be upon you!

He bowed respectfully, walked by the room to the stairs and went up upstairs.

Half Moon looked at her two friends. They looked as indecisive as she did. After a few moments, a hoarse voice that wanted to be warm, rose:

_Come here, come here, don't be afraid. We mean you no harm, young elf. Here there is no question of community misunderstandings. We are far away from this kind of restrictive considerations for the soul. Come here, don't be afraid.

The one who spoke, expressed himself with difficulty, Flinslaït, the language of the elves, being very far from those of the Trolls, whose pronunciation was harder and chopped. But Half Moon was satisfied with the troll's effort to communicate. So, she motioned to her friends to come closer. She strengthened her heart and mind so that she would not show the troll the disgust she already felt. For any creature, the presence of a troll could be seen as an ordeal... But Half Moon did not want to offend him, he who had been so kind.

When she arrived at his level, and not knowing how to express her respects, she performed the Elven salute. The Troll seemed embarrassed for a moment, but quickly recovered, quickly dragging them behind the bronze door, carved by expert hands. Being closer, she could see that the carving on the doors made them look like an open book telling an epic story. There were a number of trolls harnessed from foot to toe, struggling in the middle of what looked like a vast meadow, against imposing and outnumbered opponents. In the air floated a medium sized dragon spitting fire at the moving army.

_The "Bloody War" simply said the Troll.

So that was it!

_ But I thought the troll warriors lost the war, so why represent it?