The device doesn't feel like a trap. It feels like something that projects light. Maybe a recorder? Or a communication device.
The letter is fairly illuminating all on it its own.
It's written in a strong hand, in large letters, as if the person doing it had much bigger hands than a human. Indeed, the paper itself is larger too. It fits over several pages.
To whosoever comes across this letter,
I write these words with a heavy heart. My name is Blinkous Galadrigal and I am the leader of the Trolls that once lived here in Heartstone Trollmarket.
We Trolls are a proud people, and aside from mild personal squabbles, we are for the most part a peace-loving people that cares for its own. We are a people that has even coexisted peacefully with some of our human allies, despite our differences; and the times we rose to conflict, it was against great destructive forces plaguing human and Trollkind.
We built much and delved deep into the earth, to depths no other species has been able to go, and we've unearthed what resplendent beauty could be found there.
Something fairly obvious by all the jewels and crystals around Trollmarket.
The letter goes on:
The greatest and most pulchritudinous of these treasures was the Heartstone, the great stone in the center of our community. It was more than just sublime in appearance - until it was damaged by one of our enemies, it was something that tapped into our planet's sacred energies, a medium that channeled life energy and magic from the Earth itself. It provided us with light and sustenance.
Not long after it was broken and we nearly faced Earth's final night, calamity befell our people. Our home was spirited away to this world and Trollmarket was forced above ground. Part of the cavern's roof caved in, partly exposing our realm to sunlight, which is fatal to our people. Strange creatures roamed in the lands outside, as well, held only at bay by the Heartstone's light. We fear what will happen when that light finally fails, and we believe it will fail soon.
If you're reading this, I ask that you respect our honored dead, those who were turned to stone in the disaster. We lost many good trolls that fateful day and have laid them to rest in our people's way.
We plan to move on, under the guidance of our steadfast and sagacious human friends, who plan to keep scouting ahead for refuge to escape the sun each day, until we might find a new home, suitable for our kind. They have already traveled great distances in their scouting. They said they've learned something of this world from other people in it: that it has drawn in large swaths of land and entire realms from other worlds, much like our own.
According to those they've spoken to, many of the places drawn here - to a world its communal people apparently call the Wilderlands - are worlds of myth and magic. We've also been told that there is respite to be found past the mountain pass, far beyond the lake. A small desert lies beyond but our friends have already timed how long it takes to reach shelter. It's traversable in one night and there are greener lands beyond the ruins they found. The creatures that prowl the night seem to fear the desert sun.
Word from passing forest guardians called "rangers" is that these wooded lands beyond are supposed to contain a haven of safety and healing called Rivendell. We are hoping they'll give us refuge - and they may do the same for you. One of the wizards that travels with us says they may be able to grant you the answers we cannot.
...Although I'm sure he could leave you with some answers of his own, but unfortunately he's disobliging on a good day. However, I can at least offer some guidance at the behest of the wizard. Disagreeable though Merlin is, his gift of foresight has been irritatingly spot on. I've pressed him enough that he talked me into writing this letter for someone.
Apparently, it will be read by a talking sword and a man with golden skin. I hesitate to believe him, but I suppose I have seen things far more unbelievable than that. So I intend to take him at his word.
If you are one of those individuals and are currently reading this, he says that you and the group you find yourselves with are bound to a greater destiny in this world - and bound to one another. And that your path will not be an easy one. I'm afraid he is often right about such things, which is why I agreed to write this, so I can render what little aid I can, even if it's only information.
I have seen the burden that destiny can be on one's shoulders, and if he tells the truth, I'm terribly sorry you and those you're with may have to bear it. But I have also seen the heights it can cause one to rise to.
The wizard has had Master Jim, our champion and defender, our Trollhunter, record something for you on some strange device. I don't know what it is he said but it's supposed to open at an appointed time, when the message is one you need to hear most.
Whatever it is you face, I wish you all a safe journey and I make one humble request, lest we're unable to make our own journey safely:
Please. Remember us. Even if all that you know of us is "they cared for their own, grieved those they lost, and tried to guide those that came after."
May your own path be safe and swift. With great consideration and estimation,
no subject
The letter is fairly illuminating all on it its own.
It's written in a strong hand, in large letters, as if the person doing it had much bigger hands than a human. Indeed, the paper itself is larger too. It fits over several pages.
To whosoever comes across this letter,
I write these words with a heavy heart. My name is Blinkous Galadrigal and I am the leader of the Trolls that once lived here in Heartstone Trollmarket.
We Trolls are a proud people, and aside from mild personal squabbles, we are for the most part a peace-loving people that cares for its own. We are a people that has even coexisted peacefully with some of our human allies, despite our differences; and the times we rose to conflict, it was against great destructive forces plaguing human and Trollkind.
We built much and delved deep into the earth, to depths no other species has been able to go, and we've unearthed what resplendent beauty could be found there.
Something fairly obvious by all the jewels and crystals around Trollmarket.
The letter goes on:
The greatest and most pulchritudinous of these treasures was the Heartstone, the great stone in the center of our community. It was more than just sublime in appearance - until it was damaged by one of our enemies, it was something that tapped into our planet's sacred energies, a medium that channeled life energy and magic from the Earth itself. It provided us with light and sustenance.
Not long after it was broken and we nearly faced Earth's final night, calamity befell our people. Our home was spirited away to this world and Trollmarket was forced above ground. Part of the cavern's roof caved in, partly exposing our realm to sunlight, which is fatal to our people. Strange creatures roamed in the lands outside, as well, held only at bay by the Heartstone's light. We fear what will happen when that light finally fails, and we believe it will fail soon.
If you're reading this, I ask that you respect our honored dead, those who were turned to stone in the disaster. We lost many good trolls that fateful day and have laid them to rest in our people's way.
We plan to move on, under the guidance of our steadfast and sagacious human friends, who plan to keep scouting ahead for refuge to escape the sun each day, until we might find a new home, suitable for our kind. They have already traveled great distances in their scouting. They said they've learned something of this world from other people in it: that it has drawn in large swaths of land and entire realms from other worlds, much like our own.
According to those they've spoken to, many of the places drawn here - to a world its communal people apparently call the Wilderlands - are worlds of myth and magic. We've also been told that there is respite to be found past the mountain pass, far beyond the lake. A small desert lies beyond but our friends have already timed how long it takes to reach shelter. It's traversable in one night and there are greener lands beyond the ruins they found. The creatures that prowl the night seem to fear the desert sun.
Word from passing forest guardians called "rangers" is that these wooded lands beyond are supposed to contain a haven of safety and healing called Rivendell. We are hoping they'll give us refuge - and they may do the same for you. One of the wizards that travels with us says they may be able to grant you the answers we cannot.
...Although I'm sure he could leave you with some answers of his own, but unfortunately he's disobliging on a good day. However, I can at least offer some guidance at the behest of the wizard. Disagreeable though Merlin is, his gift of foresight has been irritatingly spot on. I've pressed him enough that he talked me into writing this letter for someone.
Apparently, it will be read by a talking sword and a man with golden skin. I hesitate to believe him, but I suppose I have seen things far more unbelievable than that. So I intend to take him at his word.
If you are one of those individuals and are currently reading this, he says that you and the group you find yourselves with are bound to a greater destiny in this world - and bound to one another. And that your path will not be an easy one. I'm afraid he is often right about such things, which is why I agreed to write this, so I can render what little aid I can, even if it's only information.
I have seen the burden that destiny can be on one's shoulders, and if he tells the truth, I'm terribly sorry you and those you're with may have to bear it. But I have also seen the heights it can cause one to rise to.
The wizard has had Master Jim, our champion and defender, our Trollhunter, record something for you on some strange device. I don't know what it is he said but it's supposed to open at an appointed time, when the message is one you need to hear most.
Whatever it is you face, I wish you all a safe journey and I make one humble request, lest we're unable to make our own journey safely:
Please. Remember us. Even if all that you know of us is "they cared for their own, grieved those they lost, and tried to guide those that came after."
May your own path be safe and swift. With great consideration and estimation,
- Blinkous Galadrigal