Legends of Runeterra

A massive figure waded through waist-deep snow at the canyon floor, climbing with a determined stride, as if defying the blizzard. He left a trail of deep furrows in his wake, his heavy, clawed feet tearing the loose shale beneath the snow with every step. The howling wind lifted his patchwork cloak of animal hides, and the figure tugged at it, wrapping himself tighter.

Even for a troll, Trundle was massive. His muscles rolled like rock beneath his skin, and his blue skin had the texture of leather tanned in the desert sun. Though Trundle had never seen a desert, he knew what it was.

The Frost Witch had told him of a place on the other side of the southern mountains, where the sun would burn you red and the snow was fine rocky gravel that poured in your back door and never melted.

To Trundle, this seemed a little surreal. If it never melted, could it still be called snow?

On his broad shoulders he carried a huge leather bag, bulging with chunks of Ernyuk, Guvask, wild boar, and goat meat. He had walked for more days than he could count on his fingers since leaving his cave, and the meat had begun to smell of rotten flesh, and the blood at the bottom of the bag had clotted black.

On either side of him, cliffs of glaciers rose to the sky, deep blue walls of ice like waves of the ocean suddenly frozen in place. Perhaps that was indeed the case, Trundle didn't know. The Frost Witch had told him of a time long ago when magic had done mad things to the world. Perhaps he was truly crossing the ocean at the top of the world. He liked the idea, and even began to wonder if he could find the remains of a sea monster this far north.

A sea monster in the ice, yes. He could tell that story when he got back. It didn't matter if it was made up. Most trolls didn't have much in their heads anyway, so they pretty much believed whatever he said.

He paused for a moment to think hard.

All the hardest thinking needs to be saved for later.

This was not his territory, there were more ways to die here than he could count, and he could count better than any troll he knew.

He might fall into a crevasse and be devoured by a sudden burst of giant frost grubs, or be cooked in a cauldron by the wild troll clans here. The trolls here are larger than those elsewhere, and they don't know they need a king in charge, and the title means nothing to them.

If he got too big, they would cut off his arms and legs and eat them as snacks.

Which made his trip all the more bizarre. He'd heard that a particularly large troll named Yettu was going to make every other troll clan know that he was the Troll King. Trundle had to bang his head against a few of the rebellious trolls to get them to shut up and swallow their silly stories. How silly, for example, if any troll could claim to be king, why would they let Trundle get the lion's share of food and obey his orders?

Yes, we must deal with this Yetu, otherwise things will be out of control.

Even though he himself wants to be a great king like Guabrak and the other ancient troll kings, that doesn't mean other trolls want the same!

The bristles on the back of Trundle's neck tingled slightly, as if he were being watched.

He couldn't see them yet, but he could smell body odor beneath the snow ahead. Any troll who called himself king had to be sensitive to the air before the bloody storm if he wanted to survive long.

He continued forward, pretending nothing had happened, like he was just going out to clean his bowels in the morning. He pretended to yawn, showing his sharp teeth, and then glanced at the uneven snowfield ahead.

It was hard to see anything in the raging snow and howling wind.

There they were, two snowdrifts, too big and square to be naturally formed.

Moreover, he could see a foot sticking out of one snowdrift and a tuft of hair in another.

Trundle grinned and shook the frost from his red beard.

Then he reached into his dirty makeshift cloak, grasped his faithful frost club, unhooked the handle from its loop at his belt, and trudged on, making it look as if he was struggling against the wind and snow.

On his left, a pair of slender fingers with waxy yellow nails emerged from under the snow. After quietly retreating into the snow, a pair of yellow eyes appeared and stared straight at him.

Trundle waited until he was within a club's reach, then suddenly swung the Bone Crusher. Instantly, the temperature plummeted, a biting chill piercing his hand as the Eternal Ice shone a frosty mist around him. The club, a massive block of True Ice set in an obsidian handle, had never failed him in battle.

The eyes in the snowbank opened wide in terror as Trundle leaped up and slammed his massive club into the snow with a resounding crack.

A troll, his skin green as a mossy tree trunk and the back of his head dented, staggered to his feet from his disguise. He swung a stone sword at Trundle, but from the furrowed brow and sidelong glance, he didn't yet know whether he was dead or not.

"I feel like I'm dying," said the troll.

“I think you’re right,” Trundle said, and the troll lay in a pool of blood.

The second troll in the ambush leaped out with a roar, raising a massive stone club and striking at Trundle. He was puzzled to find no dead troll lying at the end of his weapon. A moment later, he noticed the only dead troll was his companion in the ambush. By then, Trundle had already grasped his neck with his broad hand.

He lifted the troll from the ground. It was a medium-sized creature with rust-colored skin covered with gnarled bones and a few tufts of stiff hair protruding from its armpits and crotch.

"Don't move, you bastard."

"You deserved to be dead," the troll said with difficulty. "I hit you with a club."

“I expected that,” Trundle said, tightening his grip on the troll’s neck until his face turned purple. “But it seems I’m the one who’s surviving well here, while you and your companions were the ones clubbed to death, aren’t you?”

Trundle let the troll go, and he dropped to the snow, gasping for air.

"This is King Yetu's territory," the troll said. "What are you doing here?"

Trundle brought the bonecrusher close to the troll's head, and the icy force made him groan in pain.

"I am Trundle, King of the Trolls. I want you to take me to Yettu," he said.