Quest: D’you Want Axe?

[Gildarts]

White flakes crunched underneath the heavy heels of the two warriors. Both from different realms, both were different species, and both had a completely different idea of what their purpose should be.

“Ugh, stupid dragon...” Droggle groaned under the weight of his own feet. Every few seconds the ape-like creature would cast a snide glance at the Prime who followed the guide toward their destination. Gildarts still had no idea if he could slay a dragon, after what happened last time in his own verse and now in this place some of his powers were missing. Particularly his speed.

“Could you be any slower?... Stinking human.” Droggle grumbled again and grabbed his sack of supplies. The troll packed his own because it was not troll-like to rely on others, especially pathetic humans. The weakling could easily die of exposure and then the troll would be left in the icy wilderness to fend for himself, without food. “If you disappoint me by wasting my time. I’ll crush your bones in your sleep one by one before leaving you to die the same fate as those dwarves you brought to town.”

Gildarts was pulled from his dismissive behavior and beckoned by the call of his own pride as he rose to the challenge. “Go ahead and try it.”

“That a threat, puny human?” Droggle growled as the pair continued at it for a while after leaving the camp. It passed the time as they crossed through what seemed to be another endless blizzard. Eventually their banter fell into an unfriendly silence and was lulled only by the wind. Hard lumps of hail clanged against his empty appendages. They fell like rocks but didn’t seem to dissuade the troll who smirked as his superior pace hastened in the storm. It took some focus, but with a little skill and a few mistakes, Gildarts learned to dodge many of the the hailstones that raced for his head.

Their eyes had adapted to the gray night but neither could see beyond the walls of snow. Droggle, the great troll guide, seemed to know where he was going and like a needle on a compass, never wavered. Suddenly the frigid air quelled and the speedy currents of the wind halted mid-air in a stagnant motionless drift.

“We’re almost at Dwarvenholm.” Droggle announced to Gildarts before explaining, “We have gathered information that they are keeping the dragon underground until it can be tamed.”

This was the first Gildarts had heard of the dwarves having a dragon in their possession, this was no small feat. “What do dwarves want with a dragon?”

Droggle remained silent for a moment as though he considered the validity of the man’s question. He recalled what the other trolls at the bar had told Gildarts and decided if the Prime was going to be killed anyway, there would be no use lying. “Aye, that’s the question isn’t it... The dwarves are planning to use it against our people as an act of war. Though, the feud that is carried on by both our tribes is warlike enough.” Draggle left out the part about the many aggression fueled raids and the unending death that troll attacks had brought upon the dwarves. The fault was theirs. But the Prime didn’t need to know that to fulfill his mission.

“Many trolls have tried to kill this dragon and disrupt its rule over our land. Tribes have died and suffered as well as given up everything to defeat it. We aren’t fortunate enough to have achieved success. We trolls are a mighty people and many of our enemies bow at our feet or have died in battle against us. It is rare for our people to meet a challenge that would take so much of our men and blood.” Droggle informed the Prime hesitantly.

“And, what? You don’t think I can defeat it?” Gildarts presumed from the underlying tones of the troll’s grizzly voice.

“What, a mere human?” Droggle grunted, “Do you?”

“We’ll see.” Gildarts spoke and swept his gaze on the caverns they had come to. There was one large gaping hole in the middle of the dusted mountain range, it seemed like an entrance but the hollowed interior only blew crisp air back in their faces.

“Don’t get yer’ hopes up, we ain’t there yet. This is the only entrance our people don’t use and are unable to enter. We had once planned a raid through here to the Silver Mountains but I think you’ll see why no one has returned for fifty years.”

Fifty years...

“Its enchanted. Don’t touch the walls. This place is part of the many caverns of Dwarvenholm.”

Gildarts let his eyes trace the icy rims of the silver caves. Rough walls sprouted with white crystals and silver veins streaked across the sides of the cavern. “This’ll take us there?”

“To the very heart. Most trolls can’t travel here. I’m one of the many few who is able and you are a human. There should be few problems with our passage.” Droggle left the reason, a haunting curse, unsaid.

After an hour of peacefully walking below the surface of the earth, Gildarts found himself relaxing. The ice no longer frayed his hair and he had more time to think about the memories that haunted him. He kept about an ounce of his focus on his power so as to not accidentally release it and cause the ceiling to come down on them as the Prime pondered his purpose in the new realm. Fairy Tail, I will find you once more... He thought about his lost guild, it was the only home he knew and it was hard to bear the thought of it being in danger.

The inner-purpose seeking Gildarts had tried to establish was interrupted by the howls of wolves echoing through the caves, “Don’t look back.” Droggle warned as he could feel their presence behind him. A pack, he assumed, about six to ten enemies. Their eyes shined crimson and reflected the color against the silver walls. “Be ready for when the first one lunges, then we will turn to strike.”

With a silent nod Gildarts confirmed the plan. Their savage and hungry growls grew closer as the drool seeped from their snarling lips and trickled in the darkness and onto the cave floor. Swiftly, as one paw grazed the rock nearly a yard away from them, each warrior turned and brandished their weapons to the lunging predator. Energy expanded as a net into the beasts who yipped and whimpered as their skin and fur were sliced back. Droggle kept his half at bay with a single broadsword. It shined against the cave’s dim walls and in the blur of battle, only smears of crimson and flutters of silver could be seen until the ground was spattered with thick coats of the wolves’ blood.

The leader of the pack now approached Droggle, snarling and with a bloodied wound in his side. Gildarts watched at the ready but Droggle held a hand up as though waiting for the creature to speak, “Mortal, allow us to slay this outsider.” a deep voice exited from its bloodstained fangs.

“The Prime is here to slay the dragon. Allow him to pass until he completes this task.” Droggle reasoned with the wolf who would have none of it.

“HOW DARE you speak to your wolf brother in such a way after injuring our kind. I’ll kill all dwarves and man alike!”

“You can try.” Droggle growled and raised his sword to kill the leader. The leader lunged toward the troll’s neck but Gildarts closed in and threw a fist down on the wolf’s head before it could sink its fangs into his ally’s flesh. Droggle planted a killing blow into the wolf and suddenly the troll collapsed as he brushed into the stoney wall. The clattering of his sword could be heard throughout the many walls of the tunnels as the other wolfs whimpered and vanished once more into the night. Gildarts searched the troll for a life-threatening wound as Droggle gasped and held his palm to his stomach.

“It’s no use, go while you still can, I’ve touched the walls will my fall.” Droggle managed through his teeth and the pain of his wound could be seen only in his weakened eyes.

Gildarts was silent as together they had time enough to tend to his abdominal wound and then suture the bloodied gash in his foot. “Will you be able to stand?” the Prime asked with his voice carefully pitiless.

“I thank you for staying with me. But, it won’ matter.” Droggle groaned under the unending pain of his heavy body.

“Why? What happens when-”

Sickening green slime began to drip from the walls, sludge and globs of goo seemed to melt from the ceiling and trickle into the ground near the troll’s extended leg. As though the liquid were laden with heat it made hot contact with the ground and made a TSHHHH! noise as it scalded next to his foot. Gildarts quickly gave the troll an unwanted hand up and they raced against the walls that folded around them.

They made their way through the melting walls and Gildarts managed to dodge the best of the acid sap that seeped from the cracks of silver above. Droggle winced as he applied pressure to his fresh stitches and Gildarts lead the way as the level of fluid flowing from the hollows grew from drips to steaming streams that lined the corners and ran for them along the walls. It seemed that the liquid was following them as it chased them deeper into the caverns.

Black. Their momentum carried them to a lightless room. Only darkness encompassed their sight and yet the rivers of acid did not leap for them as they were forced to stop or smash into the wall before them. “Well?” Gildarts questioned his guide and they both investigated with their hands to determine the density of the wall. “Droggle I think I can break it.”


“What? But it’s about five feet deep! Ye’ don’t even have a pick axe but it is very curious that this area the molten sludge isn’t following us. Hang on, I’ll see if I can strike a torch. There’s still plenty of oxygen in the air.” With a scrape against the walls a match was born into fire and they stared at a stone door. Behind them, waves of acid seemed to stop and crash into an invisible barrier not ten feet from their location. “Hah, ye better be able to, or else we’ll have to go swimmin’ through that.”

Gildarts extended his hand and quickly crushed the thick wall before them as it formed into a clean mound of square bricks. “Let’s go.”

“How’d ye manage that?” Droggle looked around as he held the torch up to the strange pattern and now laid his eyes on the Prime in a new light. His question went unanswered as they took a look at the new room they entered.

Gildarts’ mouth hung open and Droggle looked up at the domed ceiling in wonder. “Any idea what this room is?”

“Haven’t the slightest... It almost looks like a dwarven tomb.” Droggle responded as his eyes fell on the pale sphere was cut to resemble a stone igloo and they were inside of it. An ominous blue light melted in the same flicker as the torch, the room was empty and yet empty tones of death filled it.

“I’m not familiar with dwarven lore... But I think this place is...” Suddenly a transparent phantom approached Droggle and the Prime. The corners of its figure were darkened and it formed into what appeared to be a muscly dwarf with a thick beard.

“The place where the dead lie.” The dwarven voice intercepted his sentence, “Is there a reason you have come disrupt my people’s slumber?”

“Are you the gatekeeper?” Droggle asked as Gildarts was completely left in the dust, the Prime had no idea what was happening and could only see a dwarf that had appeared out of thin air speaking to them.

“Aye. I am. Which tunnel do you seek?” The dwarf spoke to the troll who responded with a gulp.

“We seek the crystal room. Take us there.”

“As you wish.” The ghost of a dwarf obeyed and the ground was opened up around them. Suddenly both Gildarts and Droggle fell through chutes of carved in the rock as they slid through the strangely smooth canals of rock. Winding curves of the darkness finally turned to light as their pace slowed and they reached a non-flooded tunnel.

“Alas we are saved!” Droggle shouted to the sliding Prime and smiled through his thick white beard as though a miracle had just happened.

Gildarts glanced around and tried to register the meaning of the events, but to no avail. So instead he determined as his ears popped they had somehow actually climbed upward in altitude. “Yes, but where are we?” He asked to himself as he was the first of the two to arrive in the next tunnel.

Another voice answered him, “At yer’ death.”

“Huh?” Gildarts turned his head casually to meet the voice in the dim light of a lantern.

“Oh sorry, thought ye’ were a troll.” the battle ready dwarf with a flowing brown beard said and didn’t sound very sorry.

“... Hey!” Gildarts was insulted for a moment, “Who are you calling a troll?”

Suddenly Droggle appeared from the same rocky tunnel as Gildarts and his eyes recoiled as they met the dwarf with seething menace.

“Who are you?” the dwarf asked with his huge broadsword in his hand, ready to strike the two down. “What business do you have here?”

“We’ve reached it Prime, this is the outside of the room of the dragon.” Droggle read the inscription on stone.

“So this must be the guard?” Gildarts guessed and politely asked, “I’ll be going in there.”

“Aye, I’m the guard. Which means there’ll be no way yer’ kind’ll get through.” The comment was directed at Droggle, the troll, who had lead the Prime to this very location. Droggle now limped with the remains of his stitched pride. Gildarts realized his guide was injured from the wolf attack and motioned a hand to him.

Gildarts allowed his eyes to fall on the dwarven warrior, “I’ll take you on.”

“You got guts human. I wish it didn’t have to be this way. But I, Larken, am a dwarf of honor and will rise to your challenge to fulfill my duty.” Larken the guard dwarf introduced himself and raised his weapon in the glinting light.

“Gildarts.” the Prime told his name so Larken knew who he was fighting and raised his silver her hand as well as molded a fist. Gildarts appeared to be an elite hand to hand fighter and this could be distinguished by how relaxed he looked in the comfortable stance, as though he had fell many men with a single punch.

The dwarf charged and flung his broadsword high in the air, it swung with a crashing blow down on Gildarts’ left arm that raised to block the attack. This left the Prime’s abdomen open, which Larken used to his advantage as he swung his left foot into a swirling motion and readied a kick with great speed.

Gildarts allowed a grimace to crease his brow as he intercepted the dwarf’s boot with his fist and lightly punched him away as his sword clunked into the ground with the dwarf’s spirit. The fallen dwarf wobbled and stood once again. His balance was regained and his motivation anew. “You’re strong.” Larken’s eyes shined with admiration of his enemy.

“You’ll have to do better than that to beat me.” His comment sounded more like a warning than a dare. The Prime hadn’t moved his feet from his position and secretly hoped for Larken to surrender despite the kindling fire in both of their eyes.

Larken picked up his sword as it scraped into the rocks below. A flash of light and his speed grew as he aimed the plunging weapon to skewer the Prime’s heart. Gildarts quickly moved his silver hand to intercept the blow, and was almost too late as the strength collided with his arm with great impact. His body shuddered with the force as the solid rock beneath the Prime’s heels began to crumble as his body withstood the attack. Gildarts released a wave of energy into the sword which caused it to shatter and shining pieces clattered to the ground with the same echo of the dwarf’s hope.

Larken pulled out a large wooden club, the same club he had taken from a troll’s body not long before, and with a squint, he aimed a swing at the Prime. The wide movement exposed the dwarf’s belly where Gildarts landed a powerful punch. Larken was launched into the hard stone wall, had hit his head on the solid rock, and did not awaken from his slumber.

“Let’s go.” Gildarts ordered Droggle as he stepped over the defeated dwarf. “Perhaps we’ll meet again.” Gildarts said to his sleeping opponent as they opened the gates to the unknown.

“Behind this door is a dragon, are ye prepared?” Droggle asked as the wooden door began to creak against its hinges.

“I am.” Gildarts wasn’t much for words but fixed his eyes forward on the oncoming danger. He felt caution crease his bones and prickle his hair as he recalled the oh-so-distant memory he thought he had left behind.

...

The lair was pure ice, as though it were a castle in the stars, it glowed with the hues of faded silver moonlight. In the dim light that reflected off of the geode-like interior, the Prime could see the dragon that had slunk into the floor asleep in its cradle of frost. A great beast had nestled itself in the middle of the frosty room and above him there were rays of silver that streaked across the dragon’s white scales.

His feet carried him closer to the dragon’s head and as he stepped into the light, he was able to get a clear view of the full room. Now he was able to distinguish that the dragon’s eyes were not closed, but open and narrowed with a swirl of pain. Gildarts’ eyes caught on it’s disabled body. Thick and heavy chains had strapped into it’s wings and pinned the mighty beast to the ice of the frozen ground. The dragon was “secured” and as the Prime approached, the creature’s wings shuddered with the recollection of pain of the last man that had neared it when it could not defend itself.

The immortal frowned with anger as he gripped his fist. It was not the same. Gildarts knelt before the great dragon, once a mighty beast of the sky and gently placed his hand on its scaly head. This was not like the one he had met, not so full of wrath and hatred. Maybe even in this world he could find the power within him to destroy Acnologia.

Acnologia was a dragon from his home world. Gildarts, the S-Class wizard, had taken on the human-killing beast and he failed. As a result, he had lost his arm and leg as well as an organ to the dragon of death. And he hadn’t been able to defeat it. Gildarts rarely lost and never surrendered. Even in the moment he was grasped from his world, the dragon’s great wings descended on his entire guild and threatened to destroy them all. That is why he felt the need to so desperately return home, to save them from the reign of pain that was soon to follow.

Acnologia had no hope and considered itself God and humans insects to exterminate. Pure evil, hatred, if it even could feel such complex emotions. Acnologia could even speak but never would with a lowly human. His experience with it had emboldened his desire to live after his defeat and convinced him that dragons were a force to be reckoned with. But here, as he faced the atrocity that was the needless torturing of such a majestic creature, he couldn’t help but to feel pity. He held his right arm around the loss of his left steel appendage. Cold, vacant, and he could not feel where his fingertips brushed and skimmed the smooth surface. However, it was not just limbs he had lost in the battle against the dragon from his realm.

Now, the creature before him seemed soothed by the Prime’s compassion and the mighty Gildarts dipped his head and offered pride to the creature once more. “You who have slain so many, stranded here under your own palace as though it were a dungeon.” he paused, “This is the pain that only destruction brings.” After loosing both his arm and his leg, he knew the cost all too well.


“I wouldn’t step too close to that thing, Gildarts.” Droggle warned and the creature’s eyes opened once more, alert with terror and tormented with rage. “He’s killed many of our men. Dwarves too. He has brought havoc on all of the fields so that these endless pastures of ice are not our own.”

Noble Gildarts grimaced as the weight of morality tugged within him. He rose from his kneeling position that had allowed him to bow to the dragon’s head. “Can you not tell this is the female? She does not even have teeth. Either the dwarves thought they caught the real ice dragon or they are using her as bait.”

“WHAT?!” Droggle gasped and took a second look at the dragon, as he began to steady his gaze, she began to look more and more feminine and he noticed she lacked any essence of battle. She was not even adorned with claws for defense. “This is the wrong one? But she’s huge!”

“Yes, and she doesn’t have much time left.” Gildarts confirmed and glanced at the droplets of frozen tears that formed as dewfall around her eyes.

“So that means...” Droggle’s voice trailed as he heard a distant wind gusting in rhythmic cascades upon the icy lair.

Darkness grew under the shadow of its wings as it fell from the sky and broke through part of the ceiling in the crystalline cavern. The dragon growled with anguish from its position as it crashed through the cloudless night sky.

The room began to crumble and collapse. Droggle, who was still injured, was pushed back into the safety of the doorway where they had entered. Larken, the disoriented dwarf, felt his head spinning and had awoken to the sound of beating wings. The dwarf’s eyes grew as they met the deadly dragon he saw over the Prime’s cloaked shoulder.

Gildarts stood alone as he took in the beast that caused the room to quake with a single flapping of its wings. It was intelligent, it was deadly, and it was enraged. Its snake-like eyes fell upon its captured mate who had been tortured to near death.

“The dragon has come!” Larken stood and charged, picking up a nearby weapon that had been kept on the other side of the door in order to torture the female dragon. “YAHHHHHH!!!!!!” His voice swelled as his sword grew closer to the great beast and suddenly, as though the dragon of ice had no time to deal with such a small threat, took a large bite of Larken so that only his head remained.

Blood splattered against the silver dragon’s now very crimson teeth, the beast curved its lips into a smile and roared with rage. It was as if he was saying, This is what becomes of all those who stand against me! He thrashed about the room and the beast’s tail scraped along the walls, uprooting chunks of rock and crystal until it finally laid eyes on the Prime that was a little too close to the injured female.

Without hesitation an eruption of sharpened ice burst from its lips, Gildarts strained to intercept the flying daggers as he released his crash magic and the ice became cubes in the middle of the air. The dragon and man kept at this for a while until the dragon realized it was a draw. The human made no attempt to attack the beast and only offered a promise of defense.

A near-deafening eruption released from the dragon’s throat as it roared; the sound was so powerful that waves of frost creased into the ripping air. Gildarts clasped his ears in pain as the screech thickened with time and the dragon then raised his sharpened claws. There was no doubt that this was a beast that imitated Acnologia’s evil. The dragon’s wings had wrinkled to fit in the room and his jaws hung open to brandish the sharpness of his teeth. The depths of his black eyes welled with an endless fury as his silver scales blocked any of the remaining magic that flew towards him.

The Prime’s resolve was renewed once more and his cloak was thrown from his shoulders. It would only get in the way. He rose to face his fifty-foot tall opponent, as he showed his own battle scars and bandages that wrapped around his chest. Strong muscles flexed and Gildarts prepared another attack but before it could be deployed, the dragon’s breath coated the room in a chilling exhale. The dwarf’s rolling head became crisp as ice, the chained dragon was showered in particles of snow, and Gildarts rolled out of the way of the curling shards that grew from the ground and threatened to rip his flesh to bloodied shreds.

Steadfast eyes fell on the bloodthirsty beast. This was an enemy he knew he could not loose to. Its claw reached for him and scathed his shoulder as he dodged from its reach. Blood trickled from Gildarts’ right bicep and the slice of pain enlivened his rage. The room seemed to quake as another breath of razor icicles shot for him in a spray that grew around the chilling room. The Prime’s crash magic shattered the energy once more and he prepared a punch that collided with the beast’s scales in a swirl of white.

A howl of anguish released from the beast as its powerful jaws plunged forward to take a chunk out of Gildarts, who carefully evaded the maw with another delivered punch. The heavy weight of his fist alone drove into the dragon’s scales and crushed into his ribs. The beast’s wings waved desperately in the condensed room and shards of rock fell from the still intact ceiling. The heavy blocks fell throughout the room, a large one crashed into the chained dragon behind the killer reptilian at the same time chunks of stone scattered in the Prime’s wake.

It seemed like a draw. Gildarts could punch through the ice the dragon deployed and the dragon could withstand the force of his power with its impenetrable scales. There was only one other option that the Prime had yet to try and it took all his effort as he charged the punch and began to climb up some of the shambled remains of crystal as he drew closer to the dragon’s eyes. I will end you. Gildarts seemed more motivated by his previous failure than the intimidating carnage that would follow if the Prime was defeated. This was his last shot.

Gildarts leapt from the wall and into the dragon’s head as his glowing punch collided with the great dragon’s skull and it shattered upon impact. The ice dragon’s head became limp and fell to the ground with the wizard on it.

“That was almost too easy..” Droggle told himself as he watched the Prime seemingly beat the beast with a single punch.

With the death of the ice dragon, the female in chains shuddered. “The curse has been broken.” A smile seemed to crease her lips until the resolute presence began to fade with its ascending soul.

The approaching Gildarts couldn’t guess what the dragon was talking about, so to offer peace he removed the chains binding the bloodied creature, so she could sail the skies once more. Even in death.

Wait, did it just speak to me? The man turned back to look over his shoulder and lying there in the midst of where the female dragon had lain, once vanquished by her wounds and crushed under rubble, was now a woman. Scales of frost ascended into the air and rose from her body in swirls. In the place where the dragon died, a woman now remained. A silken gown shimmered to her toes, icy white hair curled into the stone floor. Her beauty filled the room with light.

Droggle had been limping now and at the loss of his foot, he had a few things on his mind. One of them being that he would have died had he fought with the Prime, who was quite evidently on a whole different level in battle. The troll’s eyes moved over to see the shattered scales rising into the stars through the little crack in the crystal ceiling. Instead of another dead dragon, his eyes fell on a majestic scene. Gildarts had hovered over the beautiful woman and held her limp hand in the shining room that was only lit with moonlight. For a moment it almost felt romantic as the man’s eyes revered the woman in her brave death, but even from a distance Droggle could see the frost forming on the smoothness of her cold hand. ”Is that the princess of Estadia?”

In his hands Gildarts held the woman’s human body. It was a tragic death. The man knew more than any other of the many despairs of tragedy. The unspoken words of the woman’s suffering prompted immediate sorrow in his heart. The worst part was that every tragedy could -in one way or another- be avoided. Gildarts gave the magnificent woman one last longing look, to assure that her suffering would have meaning and be carried on in him; her face brought him life, even in death. The Prime stood now as he parted his hand from the corpse of the elven princess and glanced at the remains of the ceiling before being beckoned by the troll’s question. The orc grunted with shock as he neared and was offered only a quizzical expression from Gildarts as response to the name.

“The Princess of Estadia... Estadia was a great kingdom from many years ago. It has since fallen. However, in the lore I distinctly remember them saying that their princess was no more after a curse that befell the land could not be cured.” A curse... The Prime’s expression seemed even more solemn as the troll continued, “Worry not, Prime, for it is good that if she was not fated to die with her people, it is more important that she may still rest with them.”

While his words were true, Gildarts couldn’t help but to feel as though her death could have been avoided, A curse that turned her into a dragon... What a mysterious world. And if their kingdom was lost, there was no place for her to be buried. After all that struggle, who knew how many years she endured, living with the face of a monster because no one had slain the very dragon that held her captive? “What was her name?”

“Huh? Oh, uh...” The troll scratched his grey and wrinkled head for a moment, thinking back to the stories passed on from the previous generation, “Daughter of Queen Anastasia... Princess Thalaeria.”

With the last of his magic he released some crash energy into the domed ceiling in order to give her a proper burial. It was his farewell to the lost maiden. Surely her will to live while bound to those chains was only motivated by a wish to survive and see her kingdom once more. The two dodged the giant crystals falling from the sky; a room designed to hold a dragon, yet it could not even hold the rage of a single man.

In their hastened departure, Droggle grabbed in his hand the frozen head of the dead dwarf and a few of the dragon’s scales and crammed them into his pockets.

“What’s that for?”

“Decoration.” The troll spoke with a grin and his sharp teeth glinted savagely in the light. Maybe Droggle planned to bring it home as compensation for loosing his foot.

...

Droggle muttered, “Prime, we will be nearing the village soon.” Gildarts was the dog and in the makeshift sled, the wounded Droggle suddenly stood up and began to walk beside him, lightening the load they pushed.

“Why is it that the dwarves and the trolls do battle? It seems like needless death to me. Are your differences really so vast?” Gildarts asked and pushed the lighter sled.

“There are many reasons and one cannot be singled out with an equal solution. Simplicity is a lifestyle that is not always easy to maintain here in this land of ice and death. But Prime, I’ll be honest with you,” Droggle stopped his hiking pace that seemed to cause him to wince and looked back at the human, “Speak this to none of the others. I may not look like it, but I am a half dwarf.”

Gildarts let his eyes size up the troll. Droggle looked like a troll to him. With the fiery intensity in the beast’s eyes he could tell this information was not to be taken lightly and his sincerity made his very words true. For Droggle to trust an outsider with this information had meant the words he spoke had probably eaten him alive as he waited all this time to find someone worthy to tell.

“I could be killed if anyone knew, it is a reason I cannot have children of my own when the time comes. So I travel instead.” Droggle admitted to his endless wanderings and revealed in a hint of a flaw that he fled from his truth.

“Then why not go to live with the dwarves?” Gildarts reasoned.

“What? Are you insane? I’m a troll. They would kill me. Dwarves hate trolls almost as much as trolls hate dwarves. We’ve only brought their species hardship in times that should have been peace.”

“But you’re also dwarven, are you not?” his prime understanding was not enough to fully see this fact could start a war in his absence.

“Aye, I am, but me father has been long since dead. An’ me mother is an old hag. You’re a great and powerful warrior, should they put me to death some day, I wanted you to know the reason why.” Droggle’s eyes fell to his wounded leg, as though it wouldn’t be long now.

“What? Your own people would kill you for such a thing?” Gildarts felt his eyebrows crease together in agitation.

“It is not something we can control, the rules are-” Droggle suddenly stopped the Prime mid-step by extending a furry white arm in front of him. Gildarts followed the half-troll’s gaze into the white land before them and could only hear the whirls of wind twisting through the air. “Something’s out there...”

The troll continued, “Oh no,” Droggle glanced at the human’s unbroken composure before imposing a weighted look of concern on him that remained until Gildarts was forced to acknowledge it.

“Something the matter?” he asked and his eyes searched the stirring the white blurred darkness.

“So soon? I didn’t want to see the runt get thrashed this early... Not after killin’ the dragon...” Droggle seemed to be talking to himself or the destiny that had been delivered with the calmed wind. “When the wind becomes silent, it is then that we have to be aware of...”

RUMP... RUMP... RUMP...! The clamoring sound of thunder distinctly resembled footsteps.

“What is that?” The wizard’s head spun as he glanced over his snow coated shoulder and could not see far in the darkness at the source of the approaching creature.

THUD! A giant foot stomped the ground before him and Gildarts fell to the fluffy ground as his eyes widened in awe.

Droggle explained in his gruff troll voice, “That’d be the Snow Giant.”

Suddenly a huge toe could be seen before in the gray dawn light, it formed from the shadows into complete fat pair of shoes. The beast’s big toe protruded from its ripped boot and almost made up the entire bottom half of Gildarts body. His eyes carefully ascended upward but was only able to see just past its knees before darkness and snow meshed together and blocked the rest from view.

“Yer’ outta luck. They don’t like travelers and can’t be reasoned with.” Droggle continued to mention before a gigantic hand seemed to scoop down from the heavens in an attempt to grasp Gildarts. As this happened, Droggle passively watched as he kept his bloodied and bandaged toes from the white ice below him. At least the beast would get the executioner’s job done quickly.

Gildarts wouldn’t be taken by such a simple attack and instead quickly rolled himself between the giant’s colossal feet. Droggle was still a troll who loved battles that ended in casualties and snickered at the Prime’s mistake as a huge foot raised to stomp on the small man. The human braced for squishing impact of the sole of the giant’s shoe by releasing a charge into the ground below him as the weight of the mammoth man became too intense for his shoulders to take alone. “Wow, you’re a big guy aren’t ya?” He grit his teeth as the ground cracked beneath him and the pressure of the crushing blow seemed to evaporate with the transfer of where the momentum would collide, giving Gildarts an outlet of escape.

The giant being bellowed a loud grunt, “GRAHHGGG!” As it searched for the human that had caused him to stumble and nearly fall. Just as Gildarts could not see the majority of his foe, darkness was his ally against the giant warrior as well. A huge chain suddenly began to propel into the air in a tremendous whipping noise before suddenly, WHOOSH! The Prime’s hair and cloak flapped against the intense wind of motion as a massive weapon waved past and brushed against his nose.

GA-DOOOSH!

Earth quaked below his feet and he staggered to remain standing upright. Thunder from the very being’s movement shook the ground which clattered as the burly being had taken a shot in the dark with his medieval flail that struck the icy ground. The black spiked ball attached by a chain into a stick seemed to be quite hefty, not to mention the entire weapon was twice as big as Gildarts. He eyed the spikes on the ball, I’d hate to have gotten hit with that thing...

Gildarts had a fighting strategy he always depended on. It was a balance of sheer force, headstrong will, and surpassing the limited extent of his own power. Not all of these could be fully realized in a duel against a Giant dummy. Still, he had yet to plant an attack on the beast and paid no mind to the troll that seemed to be cheering for the Giant as he idly watched from the sidelines.

“Give it up Prime, there’s no way you can win against this huge cretin!” Droggle jeered as the immortal seemed to be preparing something within the folds of his hands.

“Prepare for a fall!” Was Gildarts’ only response before his coiled fist made contact with the beast’s large achilles heel. A white glow seemed to come from the Prime’s fist as it recoiled from the sheer impact.

“ARRRGH!” The Giant howled in pain as he grasped his foot and lost his balance. Instead of falling, the titan grabbed his flail weapon once more and took a swung at the origin of the pain: Gildarts. The Prime had since moved from the spot but because of the vast range of this particular melee weapon a rusted spike was aimed to eviscerate him in one blow. There was no time to dodge and no way out of the attack. Ripples of air allowed Gildarts to anticipate the trajectory of the blow before it happened. At this, he charged his magic.

Determination seeped from the man’s expression as his chin lowered to brace for the oncoming bombardment. No matter the confidence he exuded nor the form of defense he created, his readied stance could not prepare him from the exertion of the blow that would be delivered. The immortal’s silver arm was raised and his resolve increased the energy of the shield that had formed in front of him. But the force of the single spike was too strong for his magic alone and around it, the protection magic burst. Suddenly a grating sound could be heard from the two metals now grinding together; the speared point seemed to crush into his silver hand. In the moment, the steady swing plunged through his metal appendage and the Prime was battered away and thrown from his feet.

He glided through the air and his heels slid against the coarse ground. As he slowed to a stop, the giant’s war cry rattled the air in a senseless howl of desperation. “I will not loose to someone who knows nothing of honor! Never will I be defeated by a killer like you.” Gildarts spoke under his breath to the giant and prepared another attack.

The colossal adversary swung again, this time missing and overshooting his aim. Gildarts got a glimpse at only the large body parts of the giant and never saw the full size of the figure, which only told him that the beast was beyond his reach. Gildarts saw the wooden log before the speared ball, as it threatened to slice through the air and hammer into his ribs, yet he held his ground. “Shatter!” He declared as a wave of energy was released into the abiotic weapon and his hands clenched painfully against the dominance that a single attack had over him. The base of the spiked ball broke and flinders of wood spread through the air as Gildarts was once again thrown from the ground.

Unfortunately, the unruly beast continued his swing and the wooden stick upward as it crashed into the Prime’s ribs and drove in a winding collision upwards. In this motion he scooped from the ground and found himself balancing on the swaying weapon many feet from the now distant ground. A blaze of wind and ice sliced the Prime’s cheeks as the higher altitude made his fingers purple and numb they were bitten by frost.

There was a huge drop below his feet, one that would kill him instantly should he decide to jump or fall. Dizzily, he made haste to stand on the broken bat before running along the wooden weapon as though it were a bridge. The giant grunted and noticed the spiked ball of its weapon was no longer attached by the chain at the end of the spike. As it noticed the weight difference, it caught sight of the puny human running at him. The colossal bat was slowly raised, as if against Gildarts, which only propelled the Prime into the air and towards the giant’s face. This prepared him for a near-perfect launch.


Gildarts extended his punch as he flew toward the creature’s nose and with a crash, the bones of the giant’s nose shattered as he drove the titan to the ground.

The Prime fell too, with the great effects of the momentum, a little more gently as he held onto a bed of the creature’s fuzzy beard hair.

The creature was knocked into the ground and the collision it made as it rammed into the icy rock below crushed the earth below. Gildarts silently growled at the sleeping beast’s bloodied nose and stepped off.