The bridge trembled. A hideous great arm shot over the top, peeling ancient masonry which tumbled crumbling down into the abyss. The fat grey torso scraped more rubble across the narrow way, rising on stumps knotted in coarsest hair.
An adventurer slid from his strap of leather all he had. The sword charged in its wielder’s hand, at sopping bellows which shook the bridge. The old dulled point arrived to cut one short, between gripping bloated fists which crushed the man behind it.
Lifted from his charge, the adventurer watched the nasty troll expire down the sword’s length from the neck. Doused in bilious flesh he fell from loosened arms, which flailed toward the wound until the sudden bridge’s edge arrived to take from whence the devil came.
Back through the leather the sword crossed. Snow pulled from piles bunched in sweeping winds cleaned as it dared without a hope of warmth, before the adventure resumed.
Across the bridge high peaks proclaimed a searchless range. One tooth specially sharp rose there amongst the rest, from which even the path recoiled. Spotless white to the ankle went up to it’s pointy top, tearing the sky.
But water flowed, which the adventure begged to drink. It flowed from heat where sky had bled, down into the tooth’s rocky depths. With spirits quenched he descended with care, beside the waterfall by climb.
He fell though, breaking the pearly surface of a pool. A splash rung back from many walls, and through this cave’s egress. The labyrinth of beyond a trickle’s path revealed a thousand veins all much the same.
So a screaming howl chose the way. It rushed from one, and then another went in answer. The cries shrilling through darkness bested blizzards at freezing blood. The adventurer shot a glance back, where some shuffling creature brandished his crude spear to join the others’ haunting screams.
Sprinting into one he went, any chance to get away. He dared not turn, yet when at last he did a second had joined the hunt, and third at the next juncture. The screaming rose, shredding all sense from the wild chase. Soon only the glow of goblins’ torches shown the way, brighter with every desperate step.
They howled louder, splashing loudly through the stream a shocked adventurer even with soaked boots had failed to notice. At last he turned to face the end.
Instead a surge in current took him, by slip of foot into a hole. Searching torchlight shrank above as the adventurer escaped. He collapsed rolling down a quite tall hill somehow, in this deepest depth of mountain.
The ground shifted peculiarly beneath him, and spilled from his swimming grasp until the descent at last concluded. It shined, this clanging mass which broke the fall. Only dimly, by light which warmed the ebon petals spread from thorny stem planted above.
The adventurer scrambled to it. With a wince he plucked, to tease from those dark depths the blue of mythic legend. There indeed it hid, the streak azul, over a crimson drop sinking its keen green handle. The bashful hue danced meekly in his circling hand, by holes of smoldering red which crossed the darkness.
Meanwhile in a field outside the castle stood a man. He scrubbed his chin, and picked a daisy from the grasses. Then he went to climb the steps to the main hall.
‘Ho there! A sore sight you look to be.’
The adventurer paused, clutching a jar of glass tucked tight beneath his arm.
‘Ah! A flower yes, and so too have I chosen.’
He peeked out from his hood. Despite all his adventure, to this he found no words.
‘By the heavens you come beat! Lose battle with a furnace did you?’ The daisy man laughed, and hopping up a step continued the ascent.
He entered first, and then the other, hobbling with face scorched and hand bandaged and torso wrapped much tighter still in cloth and arm left free. Before a mighty throne they stopped, which held its king.
The king’s hand waved. Guards stepped from the shadows, to either side. The adventurer placed the jar along the marble floor, and beside it dropped the daisy.
‘We bring you flowers.’
Beneath the crown an eyebrow raised. ‘On dragon’s breath they say black petals feed.’ His hand dropped.
A guard approached and swung. The daisy man collapsed, whose head rolled on to kiss his daisy one last time.
The king chuckled. ‘Two flowers. Not the same.’