Another original Fairytale by Vikki Anderson

In a clearing far off in a neighboring glen lived Trevor, Twanda, and the twins, Treena and Travis Troll. They were a happy family for the trolls helped the animals of the forest if they were hurt, caught in a hunter’s trap or lost. They did everything that could be done to help the wildlife in their part of the wood. They were especially adept at mixing potions from near-by growing herbs and plants — strong medicine for themselves or the inhabitants of the forest.

Trevor, the husband of Twanda, father to Treena and Travis, was a very strict but fair sort of being, for a troll that is. He was getting on in years and had hoped for some time that the children would leave to get married and start a life in another part of the wood. He only wanted peace and solitude now; funny, although he wanted these things, he never left any one alone and was anything but peaceful. In his old age, he was getting very ornery and nasty.

The children married a few months later and lived near each other in the far side of the glen. Mother Troll would miss their company more than she could imagine; however, Twanda would never stand in the way of anyone’s happiness.

As the years flew by, the children were in trees of their own, and already had a few offspring to show for their married years.

They had all but forgotten home now for their lives were busy with raising the wee ones and making life happy and fun for their families. They had to pass down recipes of their potions and teach them the ways of the wood. Although Treena and Travis visited frequently, one could understand that new families had priorities and the old family structure was waning fast. Mom and Dad weren’t that important any more, but Mother Troll made the best of it and enjoyed a rich, full life with her hobbies in astrology, tarot and crystal therapy and knitting a sweater or two for the cold, winter months. After all, trees were not equipped with heat, so she knitted hats, sweaters, blankets, afghans or whatever was needed.

Twanda tried to talk Trevor into going out in the wood more, make him visit his old friends the animals, and talk to old acquaintances; perhaps even make some new friends, but in complete opposition to her requests, Trevor became a recluse. He didn’t want to do anything but count the crystals he had collected throughout the years, eat and sleep. Sleeping was all right Twanda had decided, but he snored louder and louder every day that she had to find a vacant hole in the tree to get any rest at all! But being the tolerant troll she was, she rarely complained.

For after all, he was 899 years old, quite elderly for a troll, and Twanda felt he was going through mid-life crisis late. Nasty, annoying, always criticizing whatever Twanda brought home to try to make their tree a homier place. She was getting used to his complaining so stopped sharing anything with him. Even her own thoughts remained hers. The love she felt for him had been destroyed throughout the last year but she wanted to do something nice for her husband. After all, most of their married life, he was kind and a good man. It’s just now…

Twanda, was a young woman of 705, still vibrant, had lots of interests and really knew that someday Trevor would be upset that he let these golden years fly by without making an attempt to enjoy them. He had children and grandchildren who thought highly of him. Well, at least they used to when he was a more sociable troll. He had a wife, who was loyal and wanted the best for him, although he would never admit that he needed any help from her or anyone.

Twanda knew what she had to do. She would take his mind off of his age and throw him a wonderful surprise party with all of their family, friends, acquaintances and all the animals of the wood. She tried to conceal the party from her ever-crabby husband because she wanted this to be a special time for him. 900 was a triumph in troll years — a time where he could give up all his responsibility to his children and younger adults to take over his job in life.

For years Twanda had been collecting and polishing unusual and brilliant crystals from the wood. She had a special place for them that only she knew, so the expense of the party did not concern her. She had the means to pay for it. Mrs. Trevor Troll wanted everything to go right with this party. The foliage was ordered from the other end of the forest; the fairies were bringing lovely garland to tie to trees as an enchanting decoration and the flower fairies were going to place a variety of petals in the nearby stream as a continual celebration of his turning into retirement age.

She coordinated the food with the local gourmet chefs — all the best food was to be there including all of Trevor’s favorites: raisin almond muffins, lake weed pie, swamp water punch, ground root salad with moss, algae surprise — everything would be perfect. The entertainment was going to be the local pond inhabitants. The frogs and crickets agreed to play their melodious songs for the evening. Things were really going along quite well, Twanda thought. Won’t Trevor be surprised?

But Trevor, in his senility or ridiculousness, had decided to leave Twanda. He needed time to reflect or be alone, but he knew he wanted to start another life with a younger troll. He left the following note.

To My Wife, Twanda:

You have been my wife for more years than I can remember. I don’t want to remember any more of them with you. You spend crystals like they were water and never gave me any happiness in all of our married years. The kids are grown now and I don’t need to support you any longer. You are more than able to care for yourself. I feel all of this is your fault. You should’ve taken care of me better and agreed to listen to my every word. Women are supposed to be dominated by men, however, you didn’t allow that, so good-bye, wife. I will try to get another wife unlike you – one who cannot think for herself; one who doesn’t have ideas or put them into practice but one who is docile and able to take and obey orders.

I had given you every chance to repent your sins, but you continuously needed to feel superior to me by planning parties (yes, I found out and I wasn’t even going to show up to teach you a lesson). Don’t you think I knew it was just an excuse for you to be the center of attention and spend more money to show others how rich you are? What a ridiculous woman you are. How did I ever think we would be happy together?

If you try to find me, I will leave this wood forever and neither the children nor you will ever hear from me again.

Trevor

Twanda read the letter in disbelief, but waited for Trevor to return that evening. This couldn’t be the truth. She had been nothing but a loyal and accommodating wife, she thought, but according to Trevor this was not the case. She waited and waited for him – but the days turned into weeks, which turned into months and finally a whole year had gone by without any word from him. Eventually she realized that she had never loved him, not really. He was always bossing commands, telling her what to do, ordering her about and treating her like a child. Why did she ever agree to marry such an old troll anyway? She had many other offers from younger, richer trolls. She supposed she had taken pity on him. Her temper elevated as she thought more about the many years she had given herself to an ungrateful troll, even after accepting him as her husband when she had found out that he had cheated continuously on his first wife without her or his children ever suspecting. She thought that perhaps his children from his first marriage should know the truth, but she didn’t wish to hurt them. They had always been so nice to her.

Winter was upon them again. Taking care of the tree alone was difficult, but at least the children would stop by with the grandkids and would bake and laugh, and sing and had many days of fun and adventure. No one ever mentioned Dad or Grandpa ever again. It was as if he never existed. Even hearing rumors that he had taken up with a 400-year old female troll didn’t phase them. Funny, they were much happier without him in their lives.

A knock came to the door. She saw a young neighbor who lived a few oak trees down the lane and asked, “Yes, Trentin? Is everything all right?”

“It’s Trevor,” he had said trying to catch his breath. It was obvious he had been running. “My brother and I found him on the other side of the wood. He was frozen to death in the lake, Twanda. I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you. Now, do you want any hot cocoa? We don’t want you to catch your death of cold, do we? Such a nice boy. You haven’t been around here much lately. What have you been up to?” she questioned as she showed him into her warm and cozy tree – all her knitted objects scattered carefully around the living quarters. Some of her crystals gleamed in the windows. She had indeed made a happy life for herself. Trentin was glad. “Just remember, dear, we all get what we deserve in the end.”

And life went on, as it should.

Copyrighted 2002 Vikki Anderson. Do not reprint without permission.