Spotted! Fahgrain the Mountain Troll

Hello friends!

You will never guess who I ran into on my way back to Hamitsdown this week.

I was taking the far mountain pass late into the evening (against the recommendation of many a reader, I know, but time is money, and you can’t beat that shortcut for timed saved), when who should I stumble across but Fahgrain the Mountain Troll and her cohort- no relation to the troll that has recently disrupted our office.

If you have yet to hear, Fahgrain the Mountain Troll has maintained control of a large chunk of the range in the western region of the Ellisax mountains for about the past hundred years. A goodly portion of the far mountain pass cuts through a bottom quarter of her territory. Many an adventure, traveler, and merchant alike have found themselves at the mercy of Fahgrain the Grim and her merciless horde.

What you may not know is that Fahgrain and I actually get along quite well. She lost her pet albulet a few years ago, and I, who happened to be traveling through the area and of a consistently helpful disposition, found him for her. This belies the depth of the endeavor; the lengths we traveled to find him, and the price we paid to get him back, but as this is not the subject of today’s tale, I will save it for another time. Suffice to say, Fahgrain and I became quite fond of each other, and Merkle (the albulet) likes me well enough to have never committed to biting off any of my extremities.

I was plucked from the road by the massive hands of Fahgrain herself, which was lucky, as she and I have already had the chat about the perils of someone very large squeezing someone very small. She escorted me back to her camp, Merkle tromping along ahead of us, his massive paws and claw digging deep welts into the rock as we went.

Fahgrain’s camp is quite lovely, although I will, again, be sparse with the identifying details for safety reasons. We settled for the evening near Fahgrain’s canopy, an efficient structure lashed together from hide, branch, and bone, that does an excellent job keeping the late snow off ones head. There was a lovely fire over which spun an unidentifiable roast, a worn burrow larger than two of me sat side-by-side which Merkle clambered into straightway, and around it all were spread a number of other trolls that reside with Fahgrain at the camp, many of whom I am passingly familiar with. We had a lovely time getting reacquainted over dinner.

Now, obviously coming across Fahgrain had been unplanned, and I wasn’t exactly working off of my usually meticulously crafted interview notes, but I wasn’t about to let an interview with one of the most forceful personalities in the western range go without at least a question or two.

Here are some highlights from our chat:

EC: Fahgrain, it has been too long.

 FMT: Surely has.

EC: What have you been up to since I saw you last?

 FMT: Oh, you know. Same old, same old. Keeping the pass, holding the territory, making sure Merkle doesn’t follow some damn Kelpie into a swamp or try to take off the arm of another Harpy. The usual.

EC: I’m thrilled to hear it. It’s good to see you both hale and hearty.

 FMT: And you as well, darlin’.

EC: So, I know my readership will have some questions once they learn I was lucky enough to cross your path. Can we get into it?

 FMT: Shoot.

EC: What drew you to the Ellisax mountains? It’s a rough place to put down roots.

 FMT: You would think so, but this is actually family land for us. My mother’s mother’s mother’s grandmother herself hatched from the third mountain peak in this valley. And aside from a brief unpleasantness with my brothers ex-wife that shuffled some inheritance for a few decades, we’ve been here ever since.

EC: Wow, I had no idea your clan was so established.

 FMT: Yes, well, we surely are one of the younger troll clans, I will say. But we’re digging in deeper and deeper every year, which just goes to show that good things come with time and patience.

EC: And some serious tenacity, from what I understand.

 FMT: Well, of course, darlin’. Ain’t no other way to make your way in the world.

EC: Now, I know that you don’t necessarily encourage strangers in your territory-

 FMT: We surely do not.

EC: -So, what advice would you give to those looking to travel through the western ridge without giving offense?

 FMT: Well, anyone looking to get through the ridge is really just lookin’ to avoid the tolls in the flatlands, which is an instinct that we mountain trolls can understand. I wouldn’t pay Dicktart the Old one single coin that I didn’t have to, neither.

EC: Do you mean Dirkhart the Bold?

FMT: Whose-ever it is that is running the show in that stuffy little town down the hill.

I took this to mean she was referring to Mittflare, a moderately sized town that occupies a nearly unavoidable portion of the Great Road (and one of the few sections on which is still imposed a toll). Mittflare has been led by the family of Dirkhart the Bold and his forebears since the days of his father. Which really isn’t all that long, when you think about it.

EC: Dirkhart passed maybe three winters ago. I believe his son, Evanhart, is in charge these days.

Fahgrain shook her head, more exasperated than anguished.

 FMT: Humans. So short lived.

EC: Surely.

 FMT: Well, regardless, anyone looking to dodge tolls would be better served going out wide- through the flatlands. I’d love to say that we’d treat every stranger with our usual friendly hospitality, but the truth of it is that we trolls just ain’t fond of surprises. Especially when it comes to folks wandering through our living room.

EC: Do you see that ever changing? I know the western ridge isn’t exactly a busy thoroughfare, but you do get a good amount of traffic.

 FMT: Maybe one day we’ll set up something for folks looking to pass through, but it’ll be a while before we can worry about that.

EC: Why’s that?

 FMT: Well, the bit of unpleasantness I mentioned earlier-

EC: With your sister-in-law?

FMT: Ex-sister-in-law, yes. Let’s just say we’re still working a few things out between us. Consequence being, we really don’t have time to worry about any new land management projects just know.

EC: It sounds like you have a lot on your plate.

 FMT: Oh, you know how it is with family squabbles. If you don’t keep a lid on them when they first pop up, they’ll haunt you into the grave.

Thus passed my pleasant night in the wilds with the cohort. First thing the next morning, Fahgrain gallantly arranged for one of her bench-trolls to escort me to where the far mountain pass exits her territory. She said she would have made the trip herself, but the trouble with her ex sister-in-law, Gerdhit the Rock Troll, was bleeding into the running of her territory in a way that needed immediate attention, and she really couldn’t be spared. That was just fine. If I don’t understand a busy work life, who does?

Speaking of, if anyone is planning travel through the Ellisax mountains in the upcoming month or so, I strongly urge you to reconsider! It’s about to get a little messy back there.

I’m sending this article to my editor once again via the High Post, but with any luck I will be back home in Hamitsdown by the time of it’s release- ready and able to catch up on what I expect to be piles and piles of mail-in requests, if the increasingly panicked letters from the intern that babysits my desk for me are anything to go by.

Thank you to everyone who has written in with your thoughts and comments on our recent interviews, and double thank you to everyone who has elected to support the publication! We couldn’t do this without you.

From the Holler,

-Eze Clearwater

Our Hamitsdown office is back up and running! Thank you for all the well-wishes!