Legends of Runeterra

The rust-skinned troll, named Sligu, led Trundle through the blizzard toward a patch of glacier speckled with spots, each one a cave entrance. Sligu wasn't much for conversation, but after some gentle encouragement from Bonescrapper, he found he had much to say.

Trundle knew that trolls generally had little imagination, but from Sligu's description of Yettu as a mountain with eyes, fists like boulders, and an insatiable appetite, Trundle began to guess what he was facing.

"Then why does he call himself the King?" asked Trundle.

"He heard you were saying you were the king, so everyone gave you the best food first," said Siligu. "After hearing that, he started saying he was the king of this and that!"

"I thought you northern trolls hated titles?"

"It's annoying, but Yetu said that if a southern warm-skinned troll like you thinks it's a good idea, then he'll be king too. Then he killed every clan chieftain who said he wasn't king. It would be foolish to disagree."

"He killed them all?"

"Yes, the Stone-Swallowing Tribe's chieftain had his head blown off," Siligu said. "He flew straight into the next valley and never came back."

"Not bad," Trundle said, wondering how far he could send a head flying.

"Then he smoked out the Ice Cave trolls and robbed their nest."

"How did he get smoked out?"

"They eat a lot of cave mushrooms and Enuk dung, then block the entrance and pour a lot of it through their pores."

“Brilliant,” Trundle said. “Disgusting, but still brilliant.”

"Then he ate the biggest troll of the Night Earth Tribe until he was left with only his knees."

“Why start with the knees?” Trundle asked. “The paws are delicious.”

Siligu shrugged, and a small rodent poked its head out from the thick fur on the back of his neck, making a disturbed little chirp. "I don't know. He said it was too smelly. He said even shit-eaters wouldn't touch it."

"The paws are fresh and crisp," Trundle said, glancing at Sligu's feet. They were broad and flat, just the way Trundle liked them, with intact, crisp nails.

"I prefer eating hands, but feet are delicious too," Siligu agreed.

Trundle poked him with the bone crusher and said, "You're going to tell me about Yetu."

"Oh, yes, that's right," Siligul continued. "Well, he heard about the great troll horde you commanded, and wanted one for himself. Someone told him only a king could have a great army, so he decided he needed to be king."

"Does he have a crown?"

"What's a crown?" asked Sligu.

"It's just a hat with thorns that tells others you are a king."

"So, God's hat? The kind with magic?"

"Some of them do," said Trundle.

"Oh, in that case yes, he has a crown."

"Where did he get it?"

"He told us he found it in the belly of a giant frost maggot. He said it was like a long, smelly tunnel. But my friend Reggie said he might have made it out of teeth and horns he found in a dung heap."

Dunghill or not, Trundle wanted to see the crown. No troll aspiring to be king could claim to be better than Trundle simply because his crown was bigger.

"How far is Yetu's cave?"

Sligu pointed a twisted finger at the glacier at the end of the canyon. The blue ice seemed roughly carved into the shape of a troll's head. The massive icy face was the second largest thing Trundle had ever seen, with two enormous eyes that seemed to gleam with cunning, and thick lips and protruding fangs beneath a warty nose.

“Is that what Yetu looks like?” Trundle asked, masking the admiration in his voice.

Siligu nodded, "Yes, but the nose is not quite the same."

A series of winding stone paths and climbing frames made of bones form a treacherous path on the steep glacier.

"Okay, let's get started," Trundle said.

As the sun sank slowly below the edge of the canyon, Trundle and Sligu arrived at the entrance to Yetu Cave, a wide nostril carved into the ice face, bathed in a greenish glow as dripping icicles streamed down from the cave.

Two wild trolls were standing guard, each carrying a huge bone battle axe. They were almost naked, with only helmets made of Juvask skulls on their heads.

Honestly, they were huge, with orange skin and a tangle of bristly hair like a bird's nest sticking out of the eyeholes of their helmets. Both of them were bigger than Sligu—and Trundle was beginning to understand now that Sligu had been sent as sentry because he was smaller and easier to hide.

If the guards are all this big, how big must Yetu be?

"Who are you?" said the first guard.

"It's me, Siligu."

"Which Sligu?"

"You piece of shit brain, I'm your brother."

"Oh, that Sligu," the guard said, "why don't you just tell me what you want?"

Siligu jabbed his waxy thumb in Trundle's direction. "This guy wants to see Yetu."

"No one is allowed to see Yetu," the second guard said, his eyes shining like two lumps of coal.

"He'll definitely want to see me," Trundle said.

"I? Who is I?" asked the second guard. "Is it you?"

Trundle tried to follow the guard's logic, but the thought of his head aching kept him from thinking anymore.

"I am Trundle," he said. "Trundle, the Troll King."

"I've heard of you," said Sligu's brother. "You're from out of town."

"You're a smart guy," Trundle said.

The troll opposite shook his head, waved his axe, pointed at the troll next to him with bright eyes and said, "He's smart."

Trundle struck the bright-eyed guard hard on the head with his bonecrusher and turned to face Sligu's brother. The troll took one look at his former fellow guard, now a mass of gleaming True Ice. Trundle could practically hear the stone grinding in his skull, his eyes darting between the club and its wielder.

Trundle, knowing full well that trolls take a long time to think, lowered the large sack from his shoulder and opened it to Sligu's brother. The overpowering stench of maggoty flesh and congealed gore filled the sack's opening.

The troll licked his lips, and yellow streaks of saliva flowed from between his fangs.

Trundle reached into the bag, pulled out a large hunk of slimy meat, and held it out.

"You go in." Sligu's brother said with a hungry smile.