I lost her. Was it my fault? It would have been better if she didn’t meet me. But if she didn’t, then I would have been the one to lose my life.

It was a bone-numbing winter ,exactly like this one, last year. I, a lonely troll hunter, almost met my end by the hands of a towering troll, upon a cold snowy plain. My sword was lost, my arrows all gone. All I could do was watch in horror as it tried to end my life. A sudden gush of blood, but not mine. The troll collapsed onto the ground. I wasn’t looking at it anymore, but at the angel who saved my life; a girl with a sword as tall as her, soaked in troll blood. She looked at me and gave a fearless smile.

Trolls are nasty creatures. They are as tall as five humans, brown and beastly; with a crooked nose and crooked teeth, showing little to no hair, both looks and smells reminiscent of a swamp. They fed on our livestock and sometimes children. They live in a colony but hunt alone or with their families. To find this colony and to exterminate each and every one of them was her only dream.

Of course, people laughed at her, but she never showed any sign of doubt. She knew she could do it. She set on her way, not to prove herself but to make her dream come true. So no one would have to suffer from this “Troll problem”. Since then, her dream has become my own dream as well. 

Two lonely hunters, united by fate, we traced through the rest of the winter, killing trolls as we met. She was an extraordinary swordsman. Her blade was as gentle as a feather swaying in the wind, yet brutal enough to decapitate the monstrous trolls with few blows. The snow was soaked by blood, and I was soaked by her presence, her voice, her smile, her golden hair and her deep green eyes. Throughout my lonely life, I  had never felt such warmth. Where there was all white, now there is crimson red. And some new feelings lingering here and there.

It was not until flowers began to bloom, that I realized what had blossomed within me. All the trolls have gone into hiding, for it was their mating season. No signs of brown, only colours of wonder. But among lilies and daffodils, she stood out, like a red rose. Everything about her was very inviting. Not just her looks, but the way she would look at me sometimes, with her jade green eyes peeking playfully from behind strands of golden hair. It was also her undying spirit, the whimsical gestures of youth. It was as if I had never understood what it meant to be alive. I had to unfold my feelings towards her. Her face lit up, with a bright pink. She leaped towards me with a radiating smile, wrapped her arms around my neck and said “yes”.

Upon a bed of flowers, we felt each other. Her sweet smell overpowered that of the flowers. The sun was warm, but her bare skin was warmer. The petals were soft, but her pink lips were softer. They say it feels better to be alive during spring, but not as better as how it feels to be enfolded by the lush, pulsating flesh within her. 

“Now I am your betrothed and you are mine”.

She whispered at the end of it, her deep breaths sending a tingling warmth across my neck. I could look at her forever. The patches of pink upon her fair skin, the dew drops of sweat that ran across them, telling me that she is full of life.

Pleasure is not without consequence. We met shortly after. Now she is with child, I had to remind her. But she was stubborn as ever.

“This is a child of two warriors. If his blood is strong, he’ll hold on no matter what”.

That was her excuse to keep on fighting and killing trolls.

As it grew days longer, the sun brighter and warmer, the smile on her face slowly dried away. Her struggle was visible in the way she talked, walked and in the way she would give her protruding belly, a gentle stroke. I never felt so guilty for bringing this pain upon her. Does she resent me as much as I resent myself? Was her resentment hidden behind the soothing smiles she would give me? But no amount of resentment can outgrow my eagerness to meet my son.

Now there were more and more trolls, as the males would hunt for their child bearing mates. Though unwillingly, she had to step out of some fights, for the warrior growing inside her didn’t allow her. She would feel a kick or two, whenever she lifted her sword. She would want to throw up at the smell of trolls or at the sight of blood oozing from severed troll flesh. But she gave it her all, either by distracting trolls till I kill them, or by stabbing as many troll hearts as her unborn son would allow her.

As thunderstorms washed the blue out of the sky, my mind was clouded by anxious thoughts. For, the most dangerous season was yet to come. When all the troll parents and children come out hunting together during the harvest season.

The child was due next winter, but it seemed our tiny warrior wanted to come to us a bit sooner. He couldn’t have chosen a more terrible time.

We were confronted by a troll family of three. I looked at her to see she could carry on. But she already had her sword in her arms and gave me a nod of affirmation. She went for their legs, they were easy for her to reach. I took care of the rest. The adult trolls were predictable, but the baby troll was frantically throwing its arms and legs at us. Amidst the ear-soaring growls of the brown beasts, I heard a shrill that sent a numbing feeling down my spine. I turned my head to see her, leaning against a tree, clutching her belly with all her might. Her screams grew louder, my heart raced faster. I reached her in time, before a troll could stomp her with its feet. 

The legless troll fell on the ground in anguish and she was sitting beneath the tree over a pile of dead leaves, in pain. I wanted to tend to her but the trolls were keeping me busy. I severed their flesh, almost mechanically. From time to time, I would catch a glimpse of her struggle–tears running down her eyes, blood flowing along her thighs. Her yells of pain fueled me, no matter how beaten down I was. 

When I was done, both myself and her were soaked in blood, me of the trolls, but she of her own. The deep red between her legs disappeared behind the bright colors of the fallen leaves. She held out to me our son, small, with a face as red as a freshly ripe fruit. It seemed to me that time had stopped. I felt heavy in my chest and wet in my eyes. Has the world always been this beautiful? But the world I knew was never calm or peaceful. It never looked beautiful. That’s right, the world’s beauty was never in its serenity, but was in its chaos, violence and cruelty. 

Amidst a most awkward laugh she blurted out,

“I’m never doing that again “. 

Right before it died under her pain.

I had to cut him off from her. I had no clean blade. I dived deep into my pockets to find a tiny silver dagger. The parting gift from my father. It was meant to protect my life in danger. But I was glad that I got to use it to give life, instead of taking someone or something else’s. 

Another winter was upon us, but now we are not two, but three. No matter how cold the wind was, the little one was always warm, softly wrapped against his mother’s bosom. It was his mother that I was most worried about. She was no longer the woman I first met, the angel who saved me. I could see her unworded feelings in her now dim eyes. Every time I saw those unfamiliar eyes, my heart sank a little deeper. 

Humans may go into hiding in winter, but trolls flourish in it. As usual, we had our hands drenched, with their blood. It was both exciting and terrifying to see mother hunting trolls with a child cradled against her chest. She could only move very finitely. The constant cries of the young one, allowed her to think very finitely. Of course we took turns, caring for the baby. But the baby preferred his mother over his father.

Once, she barely evaded a fatal blow from a troll. Its sharp nails brushed the soft bundle of life, but was not harmed as the mother swiftly turned her own back for those nails to sink in. The wraps came undone, the blood cascading down her back, but our son was safe in his mothers arms. When I got to them, both mother and child were crying uncontrollably, and so was the father from within his heart.

We were lucky to come across a small village, before the snow got worse. But the village too has seen better days. Trolls have been snatching their cattle and sheep, a few kids some years back. You can see how battered these villagers were from their bitter expressions. They begged me to kill the troll that bothers them, it was always the same troll, they insisted. Naturally, I took the job, not for me but for us.

“Maybe I ought to  stay behind this time, with the baby.” She murmured, looking at me intently. 

And I agreed. It made sense.

It took me some days to hunt down the troll. There weren’t many trolls in this area. So this had to be the same troll. It put up quite a fight. But looked weary for some reason. It wasn’t that hard to plunge my sword through its heart. Once again, the white was drizzled with patches of crimson.

As I turned to return, I saw another troll whimpering and cowering. As it approached me, I readied my sword to bring it down. But it showed no interest in me. It put itself upon the corpse of the other troll, letting out moaning cries. Its cry pierced my heart as the winds of needles pierced my skin and wounds. Which was more painful? I didn’t know. This troll was a baby, and the one lying dead, it’s mother. I stood beside its lofty figure, as troll tears rained down near my feet. I stood there wondering, which would be more cruel, to leave the creature to die a slow death, engulfed in the freezing snow? Or to hasten its impending death with my own hands?

It didn’t even notice my sword slitting its tender throat.  We were the same, always were. But that doesn’t change anything. No. It couldn’t. Life and death will always reside together. 

When I returned, I found that the villagers had given my wife an abandoned house. She was safe. The child was safe. She hugged and kissed me as soon as she saw me. She dragged me inside excitedly. Our son was sleeping snuggly in an old wooden crib. 

“I was thinking “. She began. 

“It would be better if I stayed here. Surely I cannot kill trolls while carrying our son. I don’t want anyone else to care for him either.” 

She said with a smile, not quite like the one I saw on her face before. 

“But what about your dream? Our dream?” I asked. 

“That can wait, at least until he grows up.” She sighed, looking at the crib.

“I do like the idea of hunting trolls as family.” I said pulling her closer. I wanted to lighten up the mood.

She looked at me with that unlit smile once more. 

“You can hunt trolls together, with him” She placed a gentle kiss upon my lips.

I never felt so distant from her yet being so close. It felt as if the winter cold was lingering within the walls of the house. I wanted to be close to her. I wanted to feel her warmth, like that day upon the meadow under the sun. But maybe, it was too late. All I could do was to accept fate as it is.

“Then I shall also stay here with the both of  you. I think I could pass as a decent farmer”. 

I said.

“Don’t be silly. You are a hunter”. She said, confused. 

“Not until he grows up “. 

I laid down my sword, my arrows and my bows. I took off my cape and every little weapon in my pockets. Finally, I took out the little silver dagger and I wondered, did I, by accident perhaps take someone’s life with this, when I first used this? Maybe of the one who saved my life?