Zote moved only in shadows. Secretive and preferring to be alone, he dwelled in the black water bogs below Mt. Grieg. He was neither a mountain troll nor an oil troll, but something in between.

  Mountain trolls, “the ancient ones,” who lived on Mt. Grieg had known Zote for many years. They spoke of him as the village nuisance, but believed Zote was harmless. His words were never cruel, nor his behavior terrifying like the tribes of oil trolls that crept along the riverbanks in the depths of the swampy bottomlands.

  The gray-bearded mountain trolls would look away when Zote, in his dim-witted way, announced his presence with his foul smell. They had named him Zote, meaning filthy and obscene. Loud and brash as he swaggered through the village, he scared the young trolls with his snarls, exposing blackened teeth and growls like that of a cave bear. A hairy grin spread across his face when they screamed and ran away. Satisfied, Zote would turn on his tail and scamper off to hide in the bowels of the secret cavern he called home.

  Often, on cloudless days, Zote would enter the mountain trolls’ village and stand for long periods mesmerized by the icy blue, purple and green glitter of the crystals embedded in the mountain’s deep crevices within the village. The elders huddled together, watched with squinted eyes, and wondered about his fascination with the crystals. They were unaware of the crystals’ growing power over Zote.

  Back down in his bog, Zote would sit resting on his strong tail and watch the sun’s rays bounce off the mountain’s towering cliffs. His eyes caught glimmers of the gold and crystal braided throughout the granite. Tantalized by the crystals’ mysterious energy, Zote believed they beckoned to him. In time, lust dominated his slow mind and greed took control. He must somehow possess Mt. Grieg and its temptress crystals.

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  Laelia and Odin’s noble father had led the mountain trolls in the great war that banished the feared oil trolls from Mt. Grieg and the surrounding bottomlands. This memory kept Zote fearful of a direct battle. But, after much thought, he devised a plan that would win him Mt. Grieg without a fight.

  First, he must plan the ambush and capture of Laelia, the little mountain troll. With the instincts of a bog witch, she was as natural in the bog as the provocative orchids she collected. It would not be easy to take her captive. Tribes of oil trolls hunting for prey could also be a problem. Zote, to protect the little troll from their hunger, sharpened each of his teeth into a point. If the oil trolls discovered Laelia, he would bite and tear into their flesh.

  Zote began to spend long days stalking the little troll. When the fog floated in and wrapped the bog in gray silence, he crept along, his hairy body blending into the shadows of the bog’s black spruce. As he watched for his victim, his dark eyes gleamed with the menacing glint of a reptile. Zote’s huge rutabaga nose with cavernous nostrils flared for just a hint of Laelia’s feminine fragrance. With the instincts of a bear, he could pick up and follow her scent from miles away.

  The bog troll could hide his massive body, but not his repugnant scent. Often a puff of wind carried a whiff of his sweat. Laelia, thinking it was a dead animal, would search the bog hoping to bury it, unaware that the stench came from a loathsome creature creeping ever closer. There were moments when Laelia thought she recognized the odor and had fleeting thoughts of Zote, the village nuisance. Fright would begin to take hold, but vanish as she brushed aside her nagging intuitions. Charmed by orchids painted in dazzling pinks and secreting their sweetest of scents, the little troll trotted down her familiar pathways, skipped across the bog’s fens and gathered the enchanting plants.

  After the passage of two moons, Zote decided the time was right to take Laelia captive. He had one thing of beauty and he knew this would lure her into his trap. Zote’s evil plan and titillating bait were ready.