WEAVING THROUGH BLACK METAL MISTS
Over in the distance lies an ancient
forest, of oak Sitka. Dark & grim
quiet and still this place my tomb for eternity, on the forest floor rotting
down with the earth and beasts feed upon me.
The moon is full shrouded by the
mists its power above me a majestic force that draws me on, ancient and
mysterious as the forest below. The
mist carries me along to my earthen grave; the silence is eerie in this
nocturnal time.
Entering the forest for the last
time, the mist lays me down hanging over me like a solitary ghost. A menacing guard until dawn when im taken
forever.
IN MORDOR
In Mordor surrounded by mountains,
disguised as dark emissaries of hate and a poisonous malice that seeps through
the blackened foul air that hangs
stolid and stifled. Here in this place
of grim evil, the ring of power was made by the hand of sauron. Forged in Ghâsh forged in hate and to take
the world into darkness, in his tower of Barad durr he waits the time when the
ring is brought unto him. So the
tightening grip of power can be taken to him, and all his vengeance will be
released upon the earth.
Out of Mordor march armies of orcs
clad in armour and chain mail, thousands march out of the blackness they come
vicious and bellicose as he who awaits in his lair, to take form an immense
struggle for power on both sides of middle earth let the light prevail over
Mordor, land of starkness treacherous and barren a fetid place, emitting
legions of evil forces that stretch far and wide a dense pulse of utter
bleakness lies imminent if the dark force endures.
Originally written in 2003 with
amendments on 12th August 2009
VAMPYRES
Twisted and contorted they seek solace in nocturnal bliss,
coming from the depths of sleep and idle slumber. A lustful desire to drink the warm blood of their victims,
blackened sunken eyes bloodshot and bulging as they sink yellow gnashing fangs
into soft flesh of their captives. Long
black hair matted with the stale cold odour of blood.
If caught by light brings about their
demise and death, guiless gurgling screams as they shrink and expire, the thin
skin broken, ripped and burning as the body jolts. Burning on coal longing for the solitude of a coffin shrouded in silk
and oak in the catacombs away from its destroyer
By Megrimmtroll 20th
January 2003 with amendments 12th August 2009
WARRIORS OF A BLACKENED LAND OF YORE
They ride into the valley on horses
from a distant land, the warriors hold on the crest of a hill. Black clouds hang grim like crows in this
dark density of aggression. The
rainfalls from the death like sky upon them, the war horns are sounded they
charge forth.
Their enemy wait stood still like
stone tyrants, with swords and shields.
The first strikes are made, in the blackness of harsh aggression. Swords clash the roar of battle, as the
warriors grip on its enemy tightens.
Blood flows like a sea of misery, in the valley as the battle goes on
dissecting their foe, which has plagued the warriors for aeons.
The aftermath of warfare leaves blood
strewn carcasses they are triumphant, the mountains are silent witnesses to
this battle. They look on in silence
knowing the warriors have risen above their torment, and can rein their lands
evermore.
By Megrimmtroll 22/9/03 with
amendments 1/6/2005
THE WANDERING SOOTHSAYER OF OUTLANDISH BOOTS
Through many lands and long ago, he
tarried seeking knowledge of the earth below his feet. What strange wonders did it hold? His tale begins, from legends long ago. Wandering deep his quest unfolds…
Upon the mountains to seek knowledge
speaking with and listening to their wisdom, snow covered giant ogres. Steeped in mystery they are the keepers of
this dark wonder.
Further on he wandered to the
forests, many discussions with twisted archaic trees. An eerie atmosphere in the forest, moss leaves & creatures
all his trusted companions. He worked
many magicks, he learnt from the trees that taught him. Always listening understanding their true
majestic might, preserving their legacy.
Always wondering deeper searching,
Låårg his face in thought a long grey beard long silver hair and woven robes
that covered him, he would sit entwined with his surroundings, green dark and
shades of black alluring and mysterious.
He wrote these old magicks on scrolls of parchment, his understanding of
nature preserved forever. He alone
holds the key the learned friend of the forest mountains, trolls, reindeer,
birds, and bears, and rivers this stewardship betrothed to him.
By Megrimmtroll 24th
February 2009 with amendments August 31st 2009
THE SAGA OF MOUNTAIN TROLL
Alone on the mountainside, always
alone on the mountainside. Grymmuurh
the chieftain troll, borne of rock and stone.
Raasvøarsberg the mountain his fortress of solitude, Grymmuurh’s long
black hair hung over his menacing face, as he gazed into the valley below.
Alone alone on the mountainside the mountain troll, always
alone on the mountainside. The wind his
companion, an eerie ethereal sound blows for eternity. Under the stars, the moon it glows bright
like a sentient ghost.
Alone forever alone, on the
mountainside gazing upon Moorsfest. The
ancient forest twisted archaic trees, deeply rooted in the earth. Old as time venerable and gracious, Grymmuurh
had known the trees from a dark and long time ago. Talking in their ancient mysterious language.
Hidden in a labyrinth of his making,
he carved great halls under Raasvøarsberg.
Fires light them up majestic magical and esoteric, Grymmuurh’s fortress
he would sit on his stone carved throne. His goblet always full of frothing beer.
Alone alone on the mountainside the
mountain troll, always alone upon the mountainside the great and fierce
mountain troll
Written by Megrimmtroll 26th
& 27th November 2009
THE TALE OF GRYMMUURH THE GRAVE MOUNTAIN TROLL
(Spoken word)
From aeons ago borne out of the earth of rock and stone,
from the mountains from what times tells us the vast range known in the old
speech as Raasvøarsberg. Hear begins
our saga; of Grymmuurh an immense mountain troll. Strong and courageous, with a vast knowledge of this age-old
earth of which he was borne.
There many conflicts that were settled with bloody
violence, with men ogres some of these disputes agreed with pledges of
silver. Sometimes gold which was sought
in the great river Sathryyn.
A nearby farmer called Guthwyn a greedy scheming man of
great wealth, who has accused Grymmuurh of stealing his flock. This was met with such indignant disbelief,
as the trolls knew Guthwyn to be both devious and cunning.
It was agreed that with witnesses they should meet at the
edge of the darkening forest Moorsfest.
When Guthwyn spoke venomous lies dripped from his mouth like a sickening
poison, and his horde of cronies jeered.
Grymmuurh spoke enough of your trickery and deceit, be
gone back to your farm he bellowed.
With this Guthwyn goaded the trolls, a grave mistake on the part of
Guthwyn.
Suddenly Grymmuurh lunged forward with great force,
Guthwyn cowered and fell onto the frosty muddy ground. Squirming and grovelling and begging for his
life, the troll loomed over him his long black hair masking his face. His fathomless eyes wise and venerable
pierced into Guthwyn dread was upon his face, Grymmuurh let out a menacing
growl with this Guthwyn and his men fled in terror never to be seen again.
Miidvaard his longhouse was burnt to the ground, it is
believed that Guthwyn went east were many evil men dwelt. The blackened remains of his hall still
stand, the cold grey light as snow began to fall softly over the land.
Grymmuurh returned to Raasvoarsberg with his clan of
trolls.
Much was discussed that night, about the problem of men
and their trickery and deceit. War
could be one way of dealing with piped up Rythaan, herd them out! No we must not go down the path of war said
Grymmuurh, we must use other methods war becomes eternal and unending. We have been here since the beginning of
time, before trees and other living things including men he said with disdain.
With this through the cold snowy night came Laarg a
wandering soothsayer, wise and sagely he was friend with all natural things and
he knew the trolls from long ago he himself was not a man but something
otherworldly. He was welcomed by
Grymmuurh more beer was consumed, Laarg talked at length it was betrothed that
counsel would be held. Throughout the
northern lands and this feud would be settled, over much time and many counsels
agreements and pledges were made and peace was made once more. Throughout this golden magical land of
course other troubles would come but for now Grymmuurh and his trolls were free
to roam and wander their mountain lands for many long years.
Written by Megrimmtroll 13th & 14th
November 2009
SAGA OF THE FOREST TROLLS
In the darkening depths of Moorsfest, the ancient forest
shades of green darken as night descends.
The trolls of the forest wake from their slumber, as the sun sets a
blaze of orange glow.
Fires are lit in their underground
lairs, beneath the roots of the trees.
Golden light emblazons the might of their archaic home, old mythic
carvings adorn this woodland throne.
Glørsorn the chieftain troll head of
his woodland tribe, powerful and venerable, his fellow trolls set out one
midwinter’s night. A Neptune sky the
northern lights dance a mysterious green shimmer, an eerie beauty. Fathomless the trolls march on.
To Miidvaard to tear this place down,
men who took from the forest without permission. From its ancient keepers the thieves, will pay for the needless
error. The trolls begin to plunder…
6th April 2010 Last
Quarter by Megrimmtroll
THE SAGA OF THE FOREST TROLLS
By Megrimmtroll
Throughout the valley vast with sharp
mountains, black and ominous. Lies the
old forest of Moorsfest. As the sun
sets across the land orange glowing red, about a deepening blue sky it
disappears. In the forest darkening
green into black, age-old trees stand stoic and beautiful. The trolls begin to stir, immense
individuals of great strength and courage.
Glørsorn and his troll wife Urringår had lived for hundreds of years, in
peace quietly going about their lives.
Hunting, story telling, and the brewing of Troll Beer. Living among this dense forest meeting with
other trolls, and exchanging stories and tales. Of late whispers and mutterings heard the advancement of men
cutting down trees to build their long houses and their churches, this
displeased the trolls immensely! Their
ancient kingly realm being taken and encroached upon. The trolls were not foolish and were aware of the wrong doing of
men, disrupting the noble ancient forest and all that lived in it. Glørsorn had called a counsel among his
fellow trolls, in his lair beneath the trees and their mighty roots; his
dwelling was ornate and regal. Intricate
carvings and old writings adorned the walls lit by golden fire; they sat in a
circle their pointy ears shrewd and sharp.
With their long hair and tails, huge they were but quietly spoken, the
trolls were beginning to form a plan to trick the people! Some mischief, which the trolls always
enjoyed, war would be a last resort but the men angered the trolls! With they’re stealing of age-old trees to
build their church and longhouses.
Glørsorn decided this and Uffwggsår
who was revered troll on the western side of Moorsfest, this was pledged with
tokens of silver put in by each member of the troll counsel. The vessel for this was an intricate carved
bowl with interwoven designs, and scribed by the ancient order of troll
lore. Urringår took the vessel to its
place, which was kept among other objects used for settling disputes. Upon nightfall the trolls would go to the
southeastern fringes of the forest, hide all the timber that the men has
pilfered. Knock anything that had been
built, it was known by the trolls that the men left the area when darkness
fell. Going back to their homes in
Miidvaard, to the north west of the forest.
The night was cold; up above the moon shone radiant this gave the trolls
a guiding light. They marched on
purposefully through the dense cover of trees it was silent except the foot
fall of the trolls, above in the night sky the northern lights flickered and
danced across this Midwinter night.
Sentient green lights weaved like an ancient spirit an eerie light but a
stark beauty of natural wonder, this wonderful spectacle. Onwards the trolls went the trees in this
part of the forest, were immense Sitka and further to the north were silver
birch, and Rowan grew ancient trees wise nearly as old as the earth
itself. Glørsorn lead the way armed
with a massive hammer made in the depths of the smithies, in the mountains of
Raasvoarsberg. An old stream ran
through the route that the trolls took; it was quite wide and deep this lead
the way to Miidvaard. After quite a
long time the land began to open out onto more open ground with fewer trees,
and here they saw the buildings the people had been building. Enraged by this terrible site Glørsorn and
Uffwygsår and the other trolls began to decimate everything that was in their
way, timbers were cracked and splintered trampling on the stolen wood leaving
Miidvaard demolished and their church in ruin!
The men had not asked permission from the trolls to take wood, these
were ancient trees and the trolls were the keepers of the forest and had no
right to fell trees in Moorsfest.
Satisfied Glørsorn let out a great
chuckle, then in a gruff voice “that should put them off for a while, we have
had dealings with men before. A don’t
mind if they behave but this lot haven’t”.
So they went back to their forest home, following the same route they
had taken. Upon their return oak casks
of beer were opened, to greet the trolls.
They drank deep into the night, as the fire burned bright in the hearth
a glowing warm glow.
The men of Miidvaard upon seeing the
destruction of their settlement, enraged they where one of them a greedy ugly
man called Guthwyn and scheming too wanted revenge, they thought it maybe the
trolls who Guthwyn did not like because Grimmodhr a mountain troll had had
disputes with Guthwyn previously.
Guthwyn was a callous man who did not
understand the trolls and other living creatures of the forest and could not
understand the ways of nature! So
Guthwyn gathered his men to seek those who had destroyed their church and other
dwellings, they set off at once.
Guthwyn and his men did not understand the ancient lore of the woods or
its inhabitants, the way of the trees goblins, trolls, wolves and even people
who dwelled in the forest all harmoniously!
However not men like Guthwyn the forest was quite and still and the odd
shafts of light here and there through the trees.
His men plundered on not knowing
where they were going. They quickly
became disoriented and were hopefully lost, getting tired all the forest
dwellers would not help Guthwyn and his men.
They had no respect for the trees and would cut a way through this
angered the forest, but over a number of weeks one by one the men fell and died
through exhaustion. It shows that you
should pay respect to nature and all its creatures, Glørsorn and his tribe of
trolls were free to live among the forest without interference from wrong
doers.
6th September 2010
THE DARK OF MIDWINTER
The earth snow covered, it glitters under the moon. A silver spectral glow, silence reigns the
cold night. The winds blows above a
mesmerising sound, a magical beauty of nature.
Frost forms on the trees on the hardened bark.
The Dark of Midwinter, a land of
frost and snow.
The Dark of Midwinter, of old tales
of yore.
The Dark of Midwinter, the heart of
the earth.
Upon the sky The Northern Lights,
swirl and dance immense and Voluminous green and blue glaring, strange and
enchanting. Its wonder never ending,
stark glimmers over a Midwinter shy.
The Dark of Midwinter, a land of frost
and snow.
The Dark of Midwinter, of old tales
of yore.
The Dark of Midwinter, the heart of
the earth.
Trolls wander below enchanted by the
magic of the solar winds, the low light of daybreak. The sun across grassland moors, golden colours radiate. The ice-cold north wind blows on forming a
ghost from the whirling snow.
The Dark of Midwinter, a land of
frost and snow.
The Dark of Midwinter, of old tales
of yore.
The Dark of Midwinter, the heart of
the earth.
By Megrimmtroll, 1st
October 2010. Last Quarter
URRINGÅR TROLL
This is the tale of Urringår troll of the forest
Moorsfest, she waged war against the men folk of the south.
Her anger at the destruction of the
old forest, she played many tricks on these infidels. Who had left vast tracts of the forest bereft and barren. This harnessed her hate of the men, and lead
them to their demise.
Urringår`s saga is legend throughout
the arctic lands, upon dark nights virulently destroying Christian mens
villages.
With her ancient hammer made under the
mountains of Raasvoarsberg, forged steel by the hand of Grimmødhr troll. Ancient carvings of runes upon its ivory
handle.
Urringår troll would wander far and
wide, under the Midwinter curtain of the Northern Lights. Red eerie flickers and mysterious green
shroud and swirl overhead an illustrious vision of ancient wonder. The wind accompanies this sentient force while Urringår plunders below.
By Megrimmtroll 7th
November 2010
WAR ON MIDVAARD
The snow covers the earth, of frozen arctic lands. Trolls wayed through the snow intent, the
moon shines through the frozen fog. An
eerie light as green shimmering lights radiate overhead.
Trolls angered by men folk and their
destruction, wanton and arrogant Glørsorn a menacing troll. Fierce black long hair sways with silver
nose rings, he leads the way filled with blackened rage armed with clubs and
hammers.
Torn trees lie dead, to build men
folks church. Glørsorn knew all the
trees of the forest Moorsfest, upon approaching Miidvaard the trolls look upon it
with disdain. They hold silent the
sound of heavy feet on frozen snow, the trolls render Miidvaard to the ground
in splinters!
