Before Godrick had left the pub, he had inquired where this troll lived. He thought he knew where; the faraway mountains that housed many of the rugged creatures. But surprisingly the dwarf answered that he lived in a nice house across town, marked by a mailbox that simply said “Troll” on it (Very convenient for Godrick, eh?). Godrick walked through town, noticing the various human selling goods that were unmatched by any of the other woodland creatures. By unmatched, he meant that the goods from gnomes and elves were such better quality that the humans didn’t even come on the same level. The gnomes had no cloth to match the humans poor quality, nor did the elves.
Although their houses were matters of pride for humans. It was insisted that the nicer the dwelling the more fortunate the dweller, and that money was equal to character.
He came across the house marked as he was told, with a large mailbox out front marking a path that led up to the most wholesome house in all of town. A large doorway was framed between two masterfully sculpted window-pieces, being not flat glass but a seemingly-flowing scale pattern that formed upon one another.
The house was small compared to the other structures in town, but it appeared much larger, even when you were close to it. Godrick marveled at the shackled roof and pillars that supported it from the ground up. Lining the roof was a series of glyphs, presumably in the Troll’s native tongue. There were also scenes depicted in the base of the pillars, crafted with skill outmatching even the elfish work that had made its way to LogHaven.
Staring dumbly at the house, he failed to notice the large creature that had walked up behind him.
“It has that effect, doesn’t it? It truly is a terrific house. Wonderfully built.”
Godrick whipped around, and looked up to see a well-dressed troll, outfitting himself in a cape-like robe around a human’s suit. His head was bare, as were his feet. Spectacles sat on his wide nose, and the eyes were a beautiful emerald color.
The Troll squatted down and looked at Godrick while squinting behind his glasses. “May I help you, young Gnome? Or do you go by ‘Pixie’? It’s rare that we see your kind nowadays.”
Godrick scrambled with his tablet and wrote a quick response before handing it to the troll. Only later did Godrick have the realization that their entire conversation was in Gnomish.
The Troll scanned the slate quickly. “So. You’re after those cards, hm. I suppose the dwarfs told some tale about how I stole them?”
Godrick nodded, predicting what came next and preemptively heaving a sigh.
The Troll noted the exasperation and said, “Indeed. I stole no such cards. I won them in a duel. The little twerps insulted my companion, and challenged me for his honor for he was too weak to fight. He had lost an arm in the war.
Anyhow, I sent them running with their axes between their legs, and one dropped this deck of cards,” he pulled out a golden deck fitting the description by the orange-haired dwarf. “I never thought to give the cards back, as I thought them spoils of war. And I still do,” he finished, eyed Godrick as though he was a thief.
Which was, in some cases, true enough.
Godrick scribbled a response, and the Troll laughed. “No, there’s nothing I want in exchange for the cards. I’ll just give you them,” Godrick’s mood immediately brightened, and seeing the reaction the Troll laughed once more. “Take the cards, and you’ll owe me a favor in the future. Beware though. It might not be as trivial as picking up a lost item.”
Godrick thanked the Troll, and made his way back to the pub while the dwarfs continued their game. As he hopped up onto the table, the game stopped and the orange-haired dwarf gaped in astonishment. He reached for the cards, but Godrick move them out of his grasp while kicking his wax tablet towards the dwarf.
Reading it, the dwarf complied and took out the silver and gold, plopping the bags next to Godrick. “This settles our agreement, Gnome. Now, give me the cards and scat.”
Godrick only executed one of these orders. Grabbing the bags, Godrick launched himself off the table and, delving into his stored energy and superior strength, toted all three treasures out the door and dashed through town, losing the dwarves in the midst of the crowd.
Later on, when the dwarfs had returned to losing themselves in spirits, Godrick found a small shack on the opposite house. Knocking, he dropped the deck of cards and left for LogHaven.
Moments after, the door swung inward revealing a dirty-faced miner who had rid himself of most evidence of his profession save for his sooty head. He looked around, and then down. Picking up the golden set of cards, he recalled his favor to the gnome earlier in the day. Smiling, he shut the door and told his wife that they were moving to Port Alheim, a trading central port near two rivers and a lake.
He went on to become a widely known success story that farmers told their children to inspire them. His shipping business usurped all others, and his slogan “The little things count” became common talk.