Strokes of hair softly brushed against Laelia’s cheek. A tranquil female voice called to her from far away. As the sweet voice floated in and out, it brought rainbow waves of cornflower blue, the color of her mother’s eyes. Captured in the haze of a dream, she recognized her mother’s face. Then, as Laelia awakened, she recalled what her mother had whispered throughout the dream—Kindness is power.
Now fully awake, she tried to recall the details of her mother’s face framed by long red hair. Laelia lay very still, afraid to move lest she lose the essence of her mother’s words of wisdom. After much thought, she understood the dream’s message and knew her own natural disposition for kindness would help build the trust she needed with Zote. Kindness seemed one of the few advantages she could use to subdue his powers.
Hope rang loud in Laelia’s heart. Her first thought was to persuade Zote, with the power of kindness, to take her into the bog. This was her domain. With all of its dangers and sly temperament, she was unafraid and could venture into the bog’s depths with confidence. Once in this familiar place, she could conjure up a plan to free herself.
That morning Laelia, in her sweetest voice, spoke to Zote. She mentioned his maladies and told him about the healing power of roots and bulbs hidden in the bog. She also knew that the strawberries growing on the sunny slopes of the lakes would be ripe and sugary. She felt just a hint of happiness touch her heart when she thought of the fresh berries swollen with sweetness; they would be a treat compared to Zote’s awful food. By the time the sun was high overhead, Laelia had convinced Zote of her good intentions. He agreed to lead her through the cavern’s tunnels and into the bog.
However, Zote was not taking a chance this time. He placed a skin of rabbit fur across Laelia’s eyes to prevent her from memorizing the labyrinth of tunnels. At the mouth of the cave, he removed the blindfold. At first, the sun’s rays were just as blinding as the soft leather placed over her eyes. Once Laelia had adjusted to the sun, she was surprised at her sense of cheerfulness. The welcome brightness of the sun, the scent of the bog’s wet soil, and the dream of her mother kindled Laelia’s “fire within.” She plotted her escape.
Light winds carried the sun-ripened fragrance of strawberries. This scent coaxed Laelia in the direction of a sunny patch in the bog’s meadow. She warned Zote to listen for bears. A hungry bear might also have discovered the aroma of flavorful berries and would not take kindly to Zote, who was quite bear-like himself. She wondered why she protected him. Laelia knew the bog bear would not harm her, but the thought of a bear mauling the giant troll seemed too cruel.
When Laelia felt it was safe for Zote, she skipped ahead and led him into a voluminous patch of wild strawberries. The fleshy fruit was so abundant that Laelia and Zote’s bare feet stained blood red as they moved among the berries. Pleased with the discovery, Zote hummed as he enjoyed the delightful fruit. He stuffed so many in his mouth that crimson juices ran from its corners and down his beard. Laelia found herself laughing; it felt good to laugh again as this came easily for Laelia. To live a long life, elders taught young mountain trolls to laugh a hundred times a day. In his gruff manner, Zote joined her in laughter. As she had promised, the berries’ nectar helped to soothe his stomach pain.
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Laelia also enjoyed the taste of berries but what made her happiest was being back in her bog filled with wild flowers. She gathered not just the tasty strawberries, but also its pink blossoms. With these blooms, she would make a perfume releasing the essence of strawberry flowers in the cave. Hopefully, this would cover the stench of Zote. In her heart, she believed she would not be in his cavern for much longer. Her spirits took flight as she enjoyed thoughts of being free.
As the afternoon sun dimmed, the bog’s wet air swept down on Laelia’s face. The scent of decayed bark and perfumed orchids brought back her bog witch intuitions. Instinctively, she found the radiant green matting of moss brimming with the healing wolfberry. Gathering its white berries and leaves, she planned to grind the plant into a paste to help heal Zote’s stomach blister. Its pleasant fragrance, like that of honeysuckle, would please him.
Laelia knew that the most potent herbs needed for treating Zote’s pain grew deeper in the swampy bog. Confident in her kinship with the bog’s secret nature and her ability to navigate the twisting paths, she slowly took control of Zote as he passively followed her. Laelia was aware, as she led him into thickets of orchids, that she was very close to being her own master.
Just ahead, she discovered a quaking bog composed of a carpet of sphagnum moss floating over a pool of water. Laelia’s memories of the bog’s pleasant playfulness led her to step upon the green mat of moss; it responded to her smallest movements, rippling under her weight. Forgetting for a moment her fear of Zote, she began to dance on the blanket of moss. Her slow tempo rippled across the surface causing the returning waves under the soggy sphagnum to rise to meet her feet. Laelia’s happy feet set the entire patch of moss into a rhythmic motion. She danced with wildish delight to its beat.
Mesmerized by her love of dance and the sense of freedom, Laelia was at first unaware of Zote’s panic. When she stopped her dance and looked into his black eyes, she understood—the lake’s water, brown from tannic acid was dark, deep and frightening to Zote.
He moved toward Laelia, insisting that she get off the quaking bog. She stepped lightly away from the mat of moss and stood on solid land. Zote reached high and pulled down a vine threaded through the tree branches. He broke off the vine, wrapped one end of the tendril around Laelia’s waist and tied the other end tightly around his body. She meekly accepted this gesture. Zote warned Laelia that she must never again dance on sphagnum-covered pools and to ensure this he would keep the two of them connected with the strong vine.
As they moved through the bog, Laelia felt a warm wind blow across her black hair and slide down her long neck; she sensed something or someone was near. Green mist fluttered overhead. Capsulated within the vapor was a female voice humming a familiar tune. The tune was one Laelia’s mother often sang to her when she was a little troll. It was a simple melody about the intoxicating red water lilies. Laelia remembered these water lilies grew along the edges of nearby ponds.
A budding bog witch, she guessed the sweet juice from the red lily would make a troll drowsy and induce sleep. She hesitated, then reached for Zote’s hairy hand and led him to the patch of lilies. He began to pick the scented blooms, unaware that the flower would be used against him.