Читать книгу Polly the Pocket Troll - Jaclyn Lee - Страница 2

It was a beautiful day in the land of the trolls. Polly was just waking to the sound of the busy streets outside the kingdoms walls. When the door to her room swung open and in walked her father, the king. He is a brute of a troll. What you would expect the king the trolls to be. Greeting her with a smile as she stepped into his hand,” Good Morning, my daughter! Smile my love. A princess is much more presentable with the look of joy on her face.” The King stated. Lowing her head, Princess she was, but Polly never felt much love from her kingdom.

“Father, the people talk, and I have heard what they say. I am not the princess they desire. I’m odd and not like any troll before. They don’t want a bug for a royal.” She said holding back the tears.

Raising his hand till she was eye to eye with him, he replied, “The size of a bug you may be but the size of your heart, they can’t see.” Then he placed her back on the ground and left her to get dressed.

Polly threw close on and ran out the tiny door made just for her. Polly had to be extra careful. It was not an easy thing making your way through a kingdom of giant trolls, and she did not want to be remembered as the princess who was killed by the foot of anything. Snatching her coat from a nail an inch and a half from the floor. She flung the door open letting the light and warmth of the sun engulf her. She was off to do what she did every day. She would make her way out of the city and into the forest where she felt more at home. Walking down the same betting path, she had become friends with the creatures of the forest. Coming to realize she was more accepted by the animals and the fairies then her own trolls. Sitting on a pebble along a very small stream of water, she played and practiced her magic. She loved to help and heal anyone or anything.

Polly was healing the wing of a fairy, when Krys, her cousin approached. “Krys, what are you doing here?” She asked startled. It was not like Krys particularly liked her. She was the only thing keeping him from inheriting the thrown when her father passes. “My dearest cousin, I’m here in honor of our kingdom!” He responded as he bowed and picked her up by the back of her coat. Hanging from the grip of his pinch, She knew nothing good was about to happen. Walking with her, he made his way to what was known as Bellthorn forest. It was the part of the kingdom that only dark magic was practiced.

Krys was arriving at a thrown of what seemed to be made of burnt wicker. Sitting atop the thrown was Polly’s worst fear. The banished elf queen, her father had defeated many years ago. Pale and covered in her own reddish hair with the just very tips of her ears showing, like pearls hanging from a curtain of flames. “Queen Roslyn, I have brought the princess as asked.” He said as he placed Polly in the palm of the wicked elf’s hand. Glaring at her the queen seemed quite pleased. Without a word she stood and strolled over to a table. On top of the chard table was a small glowing glass case. With no more than a smirk, the queen waved her hand and the cased seemed to just snap open. Placing Polly inside it automatically shut. “Now! Krys there’s one more thing I need, the tear of the King.”

Handing him a small vile, she turn and left with no regard to him. Standing by himself in the dark of the forest, Krys shrugged his shoulders and proceeded to make his way back to the kingdom. At the gate of the castle Krys was pondering how in the world he was going to be able to get the tear of his uncle. The king was not the emotional kind. The love of his life had died just days after the princess’ birth and no one had ever seen so much as a mist in his eyes. The king was a strong Troll. Even if somehow Krys got him to shed a tear how was he going to get it in the small vile the queen had given him.

He made his way through the castle and requested that the king see him immediately. The guard escorted him into the chamber of defense. The King glanced up to see his nephew approaching with a look of grief. “Nephew, what is so important that you must interrupt me at this time?” Krys with his head hung low sobbed, “Uncle, I have really distressing news! The princess! Sir She has been killed!” Dropping everything else the Kings attention was hanging onto every word that Krys spoke. By the end of the conversation the King sat in the high back chair, in gulfed in rage and grief. He didn’t want to believe that his little girl had been taken from him and by the fairy folk. The ones so willing to be friends his daughter, but then again he thought that was their plan all along. Make his daughter trust them, and then betray her when she did. Without a word King Landry rose and left the room to gather his thoughts in peace. Krys notices a small gleam on the arm of the chair, one little spec of liquid. Could he really be this lucky, "the tear of a king", Krys thought. Scrapping the vile on the arm of the chair to gather the single drop, Krys rejoiced in his victory.

Back at the place of things charred, Krys felt his own troll skin crawl. He didn’t really trust the Elf Queen, but didn’t want a misfit of a troll on what he thought should be his thrown. The Queen was his only way to see that Polly would not be around to become Queen. He jumped when he realized that Queen Roslyn had appeared within a few feet of him. “So, you have what I need?” she asked holding her hand out but never really acknowledging him.

Taking the vile from him, in one swift move and releasing the one drop upon the case in which Polly was imprisoned. The glass began to change colors and as no one expected, even the Elf Queen herself, the glass case started to spin and change shapes. Then with a loud scream and blinding light the glass case exploded and the Princess was no where to be found. Raged by Krys’s stupidity the Queen point her pale boney figure to the fragments of smoking glass, “This is not the curse I intended to use, for the drop in the vile was not the tear of a king. You idiot! You brought me a drop of nectar from an Angel Trumpet. The curse was supposed to freeze her; it wasn’t supposed sent her away. We have no leverage against the King. Leave and never return, for if the King ask I will throw you at his feet.” She screamed.