Zote’s bait was a sensuous orchid with silky petals glowing blood red. This tiny crimson orchid grew only in the conglomeration of dirt and fungi between his toes. His huge hairy feet and toenails were always filthy, generating plenty of “toe jam” in which the orchid could easily take root. When the orchid bloomed into its full beauty and glistened with its own aromatic perfume, Zote felt sure the rare flower would catch Laelia’s eye.
His dull mind had worked hard and long memorizing the little troll’s habits. He selected a hiding place behind a sweet bay tree next to a fen’s running water and its path of rocks. Laelia, though a mountain troll, was in tune with the healing witchery of the bog. She often skipped over these rocks to pick water lilies for use in her medicines.
Zote, like a hairy beast waiting for its prey, squatted in the dark recess of the bog’s swampy belly. Salty perspiration dripped from his forehead, stinging his eyes. Deep in thought, he was unaware of the snot dripping into his shaggy beard while he scratched with long brown nails at a tiny louse crawling in his dirty matted hair. Swaying across the treetops, a harsh wind dropped low, rustling up the aroma of leaf mold and then boldly slapping his face; he ignored its scolding.
Zote held his head high so his massive ears could pick up Laelia’s humming, all the while sniffing the air. His nose twitched at the first hint of the little troll’s scent. The time was ripe; Zote’s body quivered just a little as the clusters of gold bracelets on Laelia’s arms jingled feminine music announcing her presence. Through the foliage of the bay leaf tree, he could see the graceful movements of her small shadow on the path. Zote’s calculation of the little troll’s innocence was now paying off as she trotted along, so very close to his trap.
As Laelia crossed the fen’s rocks and rounded the bay tree, bristling winds that had earlier reprimanded Zote now blew whispers of warning, stroking her skin and tousling the curls of her black hair. On this sun-soaked day, Laelia tossed away the trusted intuitions that had always kept her safe.
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Zote, crouched behind the tree with his stench masked by the bay’s sweet fragrance, extended his fungus-infested foot onto the grassy edge of the trail. Nestled between his big toes was the brilliant orchid. Zote’s tongue flickered nervously as he lowered his tense body, ready to pounce on his unsuspecting victim.
Laelia caught sight of the lone orchid that seemed to grow from the wild grass on the path in front of her. Captivated by the orchid’s scent and crimson splendor, she was unaware of the unpleasant place in which the tiny orchid grew. Laelia’s one thought was to pick this intriguing flower. She bent down.
A hairy hand covered her face and another grabbed her around the waist. Weak from fear and gasping for air, she desperately pulled at the strong fingers covering her mouth and nose with a piece of rabbit fur. Fighting off helplessness, she struggled with all her strength to set herself free. Intermingled with a putrid odor, Laelia recognized the scent on the rabbit skin; her thoughts raced to the bog’s blue lily. Laelia’s mind screamed, “Please, not this lily.” The last thing she remembered was a matted hairy chest bending over her and the pinch of her earring as it fell to the bog’s black soil.
Zote tossed the lily-soaked rabbit’s fur and flung Laelia’s small, unresisting body over his massive shoulders as if she were a gunnysack full of grain. Shuffling off toward the north sky, Zote began his long journey home. His massive tail dragged in the swampy soil as he trudged slowly toward his underground cavern. Moving into the deepness of the bog, a green fog flowed over his body; it was as if Laelia’s bog was pleading for her. Unaware of the pleadings, Zote felt smug. He had fooled the little mountain troll of Mt. Grieg.
After a long journey, Zote entered the mouth of his cave. The blood-red moon, as if content with the evil deed, retreated behind black clouds.
Perched high in a spruce tree, an old raven’s sharp eyes caught the lavender glint of an earring lying on the ground. Never one to pass up a glimmering object, the winged thief thought the treasure would be a great addition to his hidden cache. When he flew down and hopped close to pick it up, he recognized the lavender stone and remembered it belonged to his friend, Laelia. A warm gust of wind ruffled his black feathers as he flew away with this shiny treasure. The raven did not notice that the wind carried a misty- green hue. But when this wisp of wind swept past him, he thought of the bog witch, Manti. With the earring held tightly in his strong bill, he immediately changed course.