For Whom The Trolls Bell

For Whom The Trolls Bell

Oorgmph awoke, stretching his large frame into the darkness. The damp rocky walls of his lair glistened in the faint light giving him a comforting sense of home.

Today is the day! He could feel the anticipation. For generations, his kind had lived in the catacombs under the Vatican. Their duty was to ensure that the bells of St. Peter’s Basilica were rung each mid-day. Failure to do so would void the arrangement and they would have to leave … forever.

Today, Oorgmph would take over the sacred duties from his father. His heart filled with pride. He had been trained in campanology – the art of bell ringing - since trollhood. He was ready!

Gnarlish the Elder led the way through the winding tunnels. Turning, he clasped his son on the shoulder. “Remember your training. You know all the tricks of the trade. You are prepared. We are counting on you.”

Oorgmph began the long climb to the dome. Arriving, he checked the sundial and saw he still had five-minutes. He checked the bell, adding a few drops of oil so it would turn smoothly. He went to rope, giving it a perfunctory pull … and was astonished when it crumbled and fell down the shaft! He glanced and saw the shadow almost touching the XII mark.

“No time for repairs,” he murmured. Taking a deep breath, he ran and launched himself head-first into the side of the bell.

“BONG!”

Standing, he launched himself eleven more times before collapsing.

A passing Cardinal stood dumbstruck at what he had just seen. He summoned an acolyte who was watching the proceeding.

“That’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen,” he blurted out. “Do you know his name?”

The acolyte bowed his head. “No, your Eminence … but his face rings a bell.”



Notes:
An entry for "The Lair Contest (Mythical Creatures)"  [ASR]
Prompt: Write a story about Trolls

Word Count: 300

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