The Lonely Troll
By Harpie Alexander
Copyright
Copyright @ 2019 by Harpie Alexander
This novel is a complete work of fiction. Everything included in this novel: characters, places, events, accidents, storylines, etc. are drawn from the imagination of the author, not based on real life. Nothing told in this story is based on any real events, any real person, any real business or story. Any resemblances of the characters, or events that occur in this book are completely coincidental.
All rights reserved. Under no circumstances may this publication be distributed, transmitted, reproduced in any form, by any means (including but not limited to: recording, photos, photocopying, handwriting etc.) without the explicit authorization documented and signed by the author prior, with the exception of brief quotations for critical review and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.
About
A Troll Romance Novel.
After an incident that leaves her running for her life, Delilah unknowingly flees into the territory long since claimed by a troll, but anything is better than murderous villagers who only seek to take her life.
Skarde never meant to let her live, not after she saw who and what he was. Humans are not allowed to know of their existence. It is forbidden. And yet when the human female stumbles into his life, he's unable to do the one thing he has. Claim her life for good of his long lost tribe.
Delilah is terrified of Skarde, but in order to survive she needs his help. Problem is, Skarde hates humans. They are the reason for his wretched existence. Can Skarde manage to put his hatred aside in time to save the woman that trespassed on his mountain or will she succumb to the people that are after her?
Skarde & Delilah, the first slow burning romance story in a series of unlovable monsters. Guaranteed HEAs!
***WARNING*** This book is for adults (18+) and contains physical & mental abuse against women, attempted rape, explicit love scenes, occasional use of heavy language (sexual &non-sexual in nature). Some of the content may trigger individuals, some may find the content dark etc.
Warning
This story contains violence against women. Several attempted rapes on the heroine. Mentioned rapes for other characters. Lewd language. Steamy sex scenes. And virgins.
This book is not for everyone.
I really hope you enjoy Skarde’s and Delilah’s story. I have been working on it for so long now, you wouldn’t believe how many times I tossed what I had. I had a vision for these two and it was so hard to get on paper.
Prologue
Skarde
A few hours prior...
The horde of varduush—a large, silver, native fish—Skarde was fishing narrowly escaping death as the sharp blade of his spear launched straight past them and into the turbulent river. A string of curses flew past his snarled lips as he observed his meal scattered about, and then dashed downstream and out of sight.
"It’s like they expect my attacks!" he grumbled irritably, unable to control his voice, which echoed through the forest vibrating from one tree to the next. It created such an intimidating sound that even crows scattered from their perches and shot straight into the sky in pure terror.
He glanced upwards watching as they too, just like his meal, disappeared out of sight.
A resigned sigh escaped between his lips as he stripped down to nothing and entered the cool water. Hours of waiting gone in an instant. If he wanted the fish badly, and he did, he’d have to travel downstream and patiently wait for the varduush to congregate before trying again. It was not only unlikely to happen, but Skarde didn’t have the patience.
At least not for this.
Under normal circumstances, he’d have used his net. Unfortunately, his last one snapped the previous year when the weight of his haul was simply too much for the netting to bear. Between this and that, he had yet to find the time to make a new one.
Who are you trying to fool?
It was true, he could pretend all he wanted, but the fact of the matter was Skarde had started a garden just to avoid the daunting task of using thread and needle to repair his fishing gear.
Don’t remind me.
With a deep inhale, Skarde dipped his head below the surface and swam toward the bottom. The riverbed was covered with a variety of sizable pebbles, driftwood and tall willowy reeds that stemmed from beneath the sand. His eyes searched vigilantly for his spear while his hands felt between every crevice and crack until finally, he spotted his precious weapon. Of all places it could be…He drew upwards to the surface for a quick breath before he dove back down a second time.
Sand murked the water around him as his feet thunked to the floor, then he braced himself. With his hands gripped tightly around the spear caught between two rugged boulders, Skarde yanked. Hard. Unfortunately, the wooden pole became slightly bent.
He stared in wide-eyed bewilderment. It was made from the wood of an old red oak tree and it should have held up. Was this incredibly horrible luck or was all his fishing gear going to break on him?
Skarde tried again, but this time he was more mindful of his hand placement. He was not one to make the same mistake twice.
Whoosh.
The weapon had broken free of its binds. He took one last look around, and then propelled himself toward the surface, with his misshapen spear in one hand and pure disappointment in the other. Just as he thought, another wasted attempt. Not a single fish was speared.
Furthermore, this was his third attempt that day alone to catch the migrating varduush before they all left downstream to breed. If he didn’t catch any soon, he’d have to go without any fish for the next two seasons; fall and winter. Of course there were still other creatures swimming around, but they were far too small for his appetite, tasted horrid and lacked the required nutrients Skarde needed to remain healthy. After all, trolls required fish as a steady part of their diet, particularly the ones that kept evading him.
Strapping his spear to his backside, Skarde trekked toward the mountain peak with the intention to speak with his old acquaintance Astur. While the males only lived a few hours apart, they only sought each other’s company a few times a year, mostly when their loneliness was too much to bear. However, neither of them were willing to admit such things and usually one would arrive under the guise of some important news they wished to share. Well, that’s how Skarde viewed their meetings.
Of course, he didn’t know how Astur truly felt, but he presumed anyway.
This year, however, he wanted to catch the male well before the first snowfall. Something deep inside his thick troll bones was telling him something would be different this winter. The feeling was irritating. Skarde didn’t like surprises or to be caught off guard to any degree. He strongly believed that the key to survival was knowing thy enemy, that enemy being the cold, harsh elements of nature, something he was far too familiar with. So on he went, despite it being rather early to check in with his friend this year.
Sometimes, one would visit the other between their yearly check-ins, but only if such travel warranted it. It’s not that they lived too far away from each other, but Astur could no longer fly, and Skarde despised the final climb that led to Astur’s den. With winter fast approaching, he wouldn’t have a chance to go any other time, as his dear friend would soon be making his yearly rounds around the region in search of a mate.
Skarde’s heart felt for the Faulken, who still believed without a doubt that someone, somewhere was out there waiting for him. He didn’t want to be the one to remind the hawk-like man he was the very last of his kind and that it was time to let the past be the past.
Skarde had, so why couldn’t he?
Hours passed as Skarde trekked up the mountain fol
lowing the river without exception. His muscles ached from the exertion, but he remained as vigilant as ever, even when he’d arrived at the base of a cliff that dropped down in a flat, vertical line. With one hand over the other, his claws dug deeper into the hard earth as he scaled his way up. It was the most grueling part of the entire mountain he was sure, but there was no other way to get to Astur. The blasted male chose to live up here for the very same reason that Skarde hated to visit him.
And there it was. The cliff.
Suddenly, while he was only halfway up, the earth shook violently. Debris from above tumbled downwards and nicked his shoulder.
"By Erike’s axe!" he cursed, glaring at a large chunk of rock that had broken free from above.
His eyes widened in horror. For the first time since he was a youngling, fear gripped him. With all the strength he could muster from his tired and sore body, he dug his toe-claws into the wall and squatted down on his powerful thighs. In one bold move, he leaped up the wall dodging his death, and then continued in this fashion until he was only a few arm lengths away from the cliff’s edge.
When his arm reached the top, he gripped on for dear life and pulled his body upwards, then rolled onto his back, sighing in relief while his heart continued to thunder in his massive chest.
"Astur will come to me next time," he grumbled.
The wretched earth felt nice beneath his body, but he wouldn’t be taking any more chances. He was done making this trip. He didn’t care how lonely he’d become. If Astur wanted to live in such a ridiculous place, then he could come to Skarde for their yearly visits.
It took some time to regain his strength after such a grueling experience. He hated the trek to begin with, but for the earth to quake during his travels, it was enough to steer Skarde far away from any cliffs for a while yet.
“Do you expect your horde to build on its own while you laze on my doorstep?” Astur said, creeping from out of nowhere…
Skarde opened a weary eye at the aggravating male. “Let me rest.”
“You have much time to rest later,” Astur said impatiently, tapping his large talons on his arms as if he’d been waiting for Skarde to arrive for some time.
“What could possibly be so important that you cannot wait?” Skarde asked, annoyed, regretting his last-minute decision to visit.
The male bristled with irritation, his feathers standing to attention and exposing the wound on his shoulder that refused to heal. “The humans have come.”
Skarde sat up with incredible speed, his hands balled into firsts. “Explain.”
Astur stood tall, his talon pointed downwards toward the grassy plains just beyond the foot of the mountain. It was rather fortunate this was one of the few spots with a clear view without having to scale to the top of a tree. While Skarde prided himself on excellent vision, it was nothing compared to the Faulken. Of that, he was sure.
In their earlier years when their friendship had begun, they often competed against one another, until they both realized they needed to be strong to survive and rid themselves of foolish tendencies. Playing was for younglings, not full-grown males.
Getting to his feet, he shook the dust from his chest and eyed the scene below to where his friend was pointing.
“Don’t play with me. You know I see nothing.” He turned his head over his shoulders and glared at the other male, readying his spear to spar. While he didn’t dare battle Astur, knowing the male could easily outmatch him, it didn’t mean the thought never surfaced on occasion, reminding him of how things used to be between them. Friendly sparring matches and all.
“I see them plain as day. Spotted them earlier on a hunt. They chase a female.” Irritation was evident in his voice. Even his posture indicated the male on high alert.
He knew Astur had a soft spot for females and he didn’t put it past him to assume that also extended to humans, but that’s where their similarities ended. Humans were vile and not even a female, as revered as they were, could change his mind. They were all the same.
“I care not for what they do.” Skarde shook his head and backed away from the cliff. He didn’t come up the mountain to waste his time speaking of wretched humans.
“Even as they make their way up?” Astur asked, his surprise evident.
“No,” he grumbled.
Astur crossed his arms expectantly, waiting for him to elaborate.
“Fine. Yes. They should know by now that they are not welcome here. But this is not why I came to visit you.”
“Go on,” Astur said, beckoning Skarde to follow.
The two strode forward without a destination in mind as Skarde explained the conditions he found himself in. The lack of prey, starving predators desperate for food and the only thing to do was to put the hungry beasts out of their misery and the decline of varduush in the river. It was obvious food was becoming scarce.
But why? It was a question that puzzled him for more reasons than one and was the main reason for his visit that day. He hoped the old Faulken could offer guidance.
“Humans,” he interrupted nonchalantly.
Skarde halted. The annoyance was back, almost instantaneously.
“Must you persist? I will deal with them.” His lip curled in disgust. He most certainly would deal with them, but not this second.
“They are to blame for the shortages. Reaping disaster wherever they lay root. It is a wonder they have not depleted this land already.”
Skarde snarled at the thought. True, the humans had been here first, but this mountain was his and his alone. Well, except for Astur. He’d been here long before anyone else. Skarde eyed the male meticulously and wondered why he had no qualms sharing the land with a troll. While he knew little about Faulkens, one thing was clear, trolls without a tribe were dangerous, wild and untamed.
At that moment, he knew that while he hated to admit it, Astur was part of his new tribe, replacing the one he’d lost. Astur was the one that kept him sane all these years.
The hard lines on his face softened, removing the scowl that was almost a permanent feature. I need to not…be so harsh with this one.
“Additionally,” Astur said, pausing and turned to face him, “I will be unable to watch over your den this winter. News has spread of something unearthly lurking in far-away lands. As my duty dictates, I will need to investigate. I leave the morning after next.”
Skarde thought it was eerie that Astur could communicate with the crows, hawks and other species of flying creatures. He shuddered. It was unnatural.
If Astur planned to scout out some unknown beast far away from here, there was nothing he could do to stop the male. While he didn’t like leaving his den unattended during the winter months, he didn’t have a choice. He would just have to deal with it just like when he had when he was a mere youngling.
Sorrow filled his heart when his mind returned to those dark times. Alone and scared in a large world he barely knew nothing about as he fended for himself. He was only a youngling–barely over sixteen years in age–when he had been separated from his family.
“Skarde?” The Faulken said, calling his name. “Bah. It is of no use speaking to you. You’re always lost in your head.”
Waving his hand dismissively, he turned back to look at Astur. “I assure you, I heard everything you said. It is rather unfortunate that you cannot assist me this year, but I understand that you are duty-bound.”
They spoke for a while more, but eventually it was time to leave and deal with the pesky humans once and for all.
Chapter One
Delilah
“Get that woman before she gets away,” angry voices shouted from behind.
Delilah glanced over her bruising shoulder at the mob of villagers who chased after her from the Suitors’ Ball.
If I don’t get out of Bethania now, I’m good as dead.
There had been a terrible accident, and instead of giving her the benefit of the doubt, they treated her like some rabid animal that needed to be immediately pu
t down. Not slowing in their pursuits even in the slightest left her with little time to process what happened as she dashed in and out of alleys, skirting around people she knew and many she didn’t.
“Watch where you’re going,” a man shouted after they nearly bumped into each other.
“Sorry!” she shouted back, hoping he’d accept her apology. It wasn’t like she meant to run in his way. There were just so many people out this evening. The village was bustling with life, and while it was to her benefit in some ways, in other ways it wasn’t.
As she weaved her way back onto the main path, Delilah spotted a familiar horse carriage heading in her direction. The black seat with golden gilding adorned with rich gemstones was easily spotted from any distance and everyone knew who the masterpiece belonged to; the Chesters.
They were a posh family, not only the richest in Bethania but also in Aurelia, where they originally hailed from. Or at least it was the story village folk told from time to time when they thought no one was listening to their gossip.
She rushed toward the carriage and the mild-tempered horses pulled their carriage behind with heavy steps, intending to slip out of sight. The horses were tall and bulky, bigger than any other breed she’d seen in her entire life with the exception of the other giant horses the Chester family owned. Delilah speculated they must have been imported from lands she’d never heard of.
Just as she ran past the driver, a gloved hand pushed the privacy curtain aside in a quick whoosh and a loud voice called out to her.
“Halt,” the booming voice demanded.
Shock rolled through Delilah’s body as she obliged the stranger’s command, coming to a complete stop entirely against her will. The commanding voice was so authoritative and sounded so similar to her father her brain short-circuited, blinding her senses in a wave of confusion.
“Where are you heading?” the stranger asked.
His voice pulled her out of her temporary disorientation. Delilah gulped while she turned her head and faced the man she knew couldn’t be her father.
The Lonely Troll Page 1