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“I don't know anything about that. I just do what I must.” Bréagán's smile was sad but understanding. He knew what it was like to be pushed to do what seemed impossible. He also knew how the kinship he felt for those around him made him a better elf. To think that Erlenkönig had sat aside a home for him if he chose to return to the Village, and Dyndoeth, still there to greet him when he arrived. Then there was Gwaldon, a truer friend there never was. He so longed to see them again. He thought of Rian. If Bréagán was capable of hate, he reserved it all for Rian. The one who destroyed what little life he had. The one who killed his friends. The one who caused years of havoc throughout the Kingdom. He often thought that Erlenkönig somehow knew the events that would unfold and sacrificed himself for the good of the elves; and now, his son had fought and defeated Rian. He wondered if it was fate. “You asked me what the magic of the Trolls feels like. Take my arm,” he instructed the Elf. Bréagán was reluctant to do as he was asked, “I don't wish to corrupt your magic.” “Corrupt my magic?” Joulupukki wondered what he meant by that, then, it was clear. “You think you will harm other elves if you return to the Village. You think you damaged Erlenkönig's magic when your magics were combined. He left a parchment for me hidden in the Keep. It was locked away in a vault. One of the things that was written on that parchment was 'I wish that it had been possible for me to explain to Bréagán what the combining of our magic has done to me. It opened my eyes in a way that is difficult to understand. I have felt the goodness inside of him and it has allowed me to see more clearly, the events that are to come, but he was gone before I came back to myself. If ever you see him, tell him I and the elfin people will be forever in his dept. I hope that my magic did not harm him.' You did nothing to hurt my father, Bréagán, but you did change him. Has his magic changed you?” “It has, for the better. I could never have created that,” he gestured to the magic wall in front of the cave opening, “before I left the Village.” “Take my arm, Bréagán, I am not my father.” Bréagán slowly took his arm and Joulupukki reached out with his mind and touched the flow of magic that pulsed around the Trolls just outside of the cave entrance. He felt the aimlessness of the energy. The strength of it, but also the inability of the creatures that emitted it to control it. He also felt the strength of Joulupukki's power. The only magic that he had ever known that could come close to this was Erlenkönig's and even his was nothing compared to Joulupukki's. It wasn't just the immense power but the unusual diversity it had. If he chose to he could be the greatest fisherman who ever lived. He could know more than the wisest scholar. He could be the most powerful king. His magical power would allow him to do anything he wished, become the most advanced ship designer, create the most beautiful art, build the tallest buildings, it would not surprise him if Joulupukki could calm the seas and raze the mountains if he so chose to. “I thought when my magic touched yours we would be covered in toys falling from the sky, as it was with Erlenkönig.” “When your magic combined with his did you also noticed how those around you reacted?” “Yes, they all started laughing,” Bréagán hesitated, “at me.” “Erlenkönig was counting on that laughter. That is what ended the battle. They were not laughing at you my friend. They were laughing because of the overwhelming joy that combining your special magic and the purity of Erlenkönig's brought to each one of them. They laughed simply because they could not, not laugh. I understand that the goodness in their hearts lasted for several days. That was because of you.” Was that true, how could he know what the magic would morph in to? He was an amazing elf but even Erlenkönig had his limits. Even this powerful half-ling in front of him could not know everything. “By the way, you saw no toys fall from the sky because part of my magic comes from you.” This took Bréagán by surprise, but, as he thought about it, he realized that it was likely true. The half-ling wasn't born until after Erlenkönig's and his magic had been joined. Joulupukki stood up and walked to the entrance of the cavern, looking through the transparent barrier that separated the Trolls from he and his friends. They no longer tried to hide their appearance, but it was difficult to define what he saw. In general, at first glance, they all seemed to have skin made of stone, but at closer examination it was really more like poorly tanned goat hides, flexible but with weathered cracks evident throughout it. He could even see areas where the cracks were bleeding. The small ones that he assumed were children were all the same. When you looked at their faces they seemed to constantly be changing, the noses elongating then becoming bulbous and shorter, lips fat and filled with blood then almost disappearing. There was nothing physically appealing about these creatures to any human or elf. Abnormally small ears adorned the sides of their heads, one of the adults having lost the one on his left side. They were nearly twice the height of Joulupukki and three times his girth, and there stomachs were distended like that of a starving child. The others walked over to join him. “I heard the tales of the Northern Trolls as a child, but this is the first time I have seen them. They are more frightening than even the worst of the stories.” Lumi stood staring at them.
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