The Troll of Glasonbury Bridge

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On the edge of Glasonbury, an estate far too big for one family remained the property of the Psrion’s who had become almost overlords to Glasonbury despite the fact that they had no authority except bullying behavior and outright defiance of the Elders and their laws.

As the property lay on the border of Sskisen Proper and Glasonbury, they felt that they could abide by whatever rules they chose, suiting their needs. At the town-end of the Psrion estate is where Dilbert’s bridge crossed the pond. Although the family thought of him as a vagrant, polluting the area, they had little concern in doing anything about him until Ghorst, a Psrion bowman had stumbled upon the young witch talking with Dilbert under the bridge.

Ghorst had been returning from hunting the sage bear without any luck. As he passed the bridge on his way back to the estate he was halted by the voice of the lovely Candice. Enchanted, as much as Dilbert was, he knelt down behind a small bush to listen and when he had heard enough to heighten his enthusiasms he stole away not alerting either of them of his presence.

It was a short time later that he entered the grounds of the estate through a small wooden door to the east of the main gate. The door led through a concealed tunnel, sloping underground and opening up into a cavern that stood under the main house. The cavern had been cut from rock, initially as a place to bury the bodies of the many dead that the wars had laid waste to, but after striking gold, a bold soldier – Kelter Psrion made claim to the land.

Upon this gigantic gold pit, Kelter built the estate to hide what he had discovered, killing all whom dared to tell others. As the years passed, the Psrion family became powerful, but nobody could ever work out where they had come from or how they had earned their immense wealth.

Ghorst made his way to the main door at the far end of the cavern where he rapped on the solid bulk. It was one of many doors in the estate that had been fortified to keep any prowlers or over-enthusiastic collectors away from discovering his secret.

After a short time the bolts were removed and the door broke its seal. A servant dressed in fine clothes delivered a condescending look to the bowman, scoffing at his dress.

“I’m here to see Kelter.” Ghorst said reluctant to talk to the servant.

“Mr. Psrion is busy at this time. Can you come back at another!” he replied looking him up and down, hoping that the ragged champion would surely forget.

“No, this is urgent. Tell him that I have news of Dilbert and the bridge.”

Without an answer, the servant closed the door and slid one bolt. Ghorst had taken that as the affirmative since he hadn’t bothered to tell him to go away again, so he sat down on a chest and pulled out an apple and his knife. He peeled the apple as easily as he might knock down a deer at a thousand yards with his cross-bow.

Several minutes later as he sat in the darkness, a candle’s wispy flame shedding just enough light, the bolt slid open again and Kelter stepped through pushing the door aside. Light filled the cavern. Ghorst stopped chewing and stood up ready to address his master sliding his ivory handled knife into the sheath attached to his ankle.

Kelter, a man of large stature, his frame barely fitting through the doorway stood in front of the bowman and squinted.

“What news have you? I am told that you know something of Dilbert that I must know.” he spoke loud and without patience.

“Sir, I have been hunting the elusive sage bear – unsuccessful, when I was making my way back to the estate and I overheard a beautiful voice. Thinking it a maiden I hid behind a bush and quickly realised that she had been talking to Dilbert, under his bridge.”

“And, what of this wench? Why should I care? I have enough beauties to stretch from here to Corranderrick.” his patience was growing thin.

“Yes, that is true. It is not the maiden that is of importance; moreover it is the mysterious behavior and the conversation that they were having that will be of interest.”

“Go on.”

“The wench, as sweet as her voice was, was a witch – the daughter of another witch. She was telling Dilbert how he was the ‘chosen one’ that they had to save Glasonbury and Sskissen from...” he stuttered.

“From what?”

“I don’t know, just something evil she was saying. Oh, and she said something about the Hub and its dangers.” the bowman’s shoulders dropped from the relief of getting the news to Kelter. He was hoping to get some sort of reward for the chance that he took listening to a witch. He’d never been fond of magic.

“So, Dilbert, the annoying little troll is the chosen one, is he? And those witches, they have been a nuisance for a long time. Perhaps it is time that I did something about this...” Kelter said, stroking his chin, his mind wandering.

“Thank you for the timely news Ghorst. You shall be rewarded.”

That was the news Ghorst wanted to hear. He thanked Kelter and left the way he had come in. Kelter closed the door, bolting it shut, then retreated back to the estates library. It’s not that he was a great reader by any stretch of the imagination. He collected what he thought was valuable, whether it be people or things. It was also a matter of show, he was a vulgar man of poor taste, but surrounding himself of many things made it appear otherwise.

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