The Troll King’s Bride – A Supernatural Tale of Curses, Love, and Redemption

It was pitch black—darkness so complete it swallowed me whole. My hands fumbled along damp, jagged stone walls, my feet carefully testing the uneven floor of the cold mountain tunnels. I had no memory of how I had arrived there, but I knew one thing for certain: I had to keep moving. Stopping would mean death, or worse, being forgotten in the endless dark.

I don’t know how long I wandered those stone veins beneath the earth when, finally, a distant flicker of yellow light appeared. Not the crisp light of the sun, but the warm, flickering glow of fire. Along with it came laughter, music, and the smell of smoke. My pace quickened, the walls now faintly illuminated, my steps guided by the echo of celebration.

As I neared, the corridor opened into a grand chamber. What I saw made me freeze in awe and disbelief. Trolls—hundreds of them—danced and sang, their forms varying from small and squat to towering and massive. At the heart of this strange gathering sat the largest of them all, the Troll King. He reclined on a throne adorned with glittering crystals, gold, and precious stones, like the treasure hoards of old legends. Yet his expression was not one of pride or joy, but of deep contemplation, his eyes shadowed by thoughts unseen.

Before I could retreat, a troll, about my size, caught sight of me and with a hearty grin pulled me onto the dance floor.

“Join us!” he bellowed, twirling me around with surprising gentleness.

My legs wobbled with exhaustion, and the troll noticed. “Ah, poor soul! Come, eat and rest!”

I was led to a banquet table groaning under an array of foods—some strange, others familiar. I washed away the grime from my hands and face, then ate heartily, careful to avoid the more suspicious-looking dishes. Refreshed, I sat watching the trolls revel while the king observed them all in silence.

The Bride in Waiting

Not far from the feast, a small door caught my eye. Curious, I slipped through it unnoticed and entered a quiet chamber. There, in stark contrast to the chaos outside, sat a young woman dressed in a bridal gown of shimmering white, her silver-blonde hair cascading like silk down her shoulders. She held a delicate lace veil in her hands, a bouquet of summer flowers resting nearby.

“Hello,” I ventured softly.

She looked up, her eyes calm but distant. “Is it time?” she asked.

“Time for what?”

“The wedding.”

I shook my head. “I don’t think so. Who are you marrying?”

“The Troll King,” she answered simply. “My father promised me to him to secure peace between his kingdom and the trolls.”

Her words disturbed me. She was a peace offering, a human bride traded like a token. It didn’t sit right. “We could escape,” I offered on impulse.

She hesitated. “How?”

I had no plan, but determination fueled my steps. We navigated through side chambers until we reached an underground river where a small boat was tied. I helped her in, and we drifted silently, the current guiding us. Eventually, we emerged from the mountain into the cool night air, the moon bathing us in silver light. The sky was a cascade of stars, the world serene—but the princess wept.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“I don’t want to run away,” she confessed between sobs. “When I first met him… I saw into his soul. I loved him. But… he’s a troll. How could we ever truly be together?”

Her conflict was palpable—love tangled with impossibility. I tied the boat to the bank, unsure how to help her, wishing I had answers. In the distance, shouts echoed along the river. Trolls from the party approached in another boat, pointing as they neared.

Thinking quickly, I said, “We just came to see the stars. I didn’t think about how to get back.”

The trolls, though skeptical, accepted the excuse. They sprinkled some sparkling dust over our boats, and magically, we drifted back upstream, returning to the mountain’s depths.

The Unveiling of True Love

Back in the grand hall, I helped the princess adjust her veil. Together, we returned to the ballroom, where the Troll King stood anxiously, eyes filled with worry. The wedding proceeded, the ritual foreign to me, yet beautiful in its own peculiar way.

At last, the Troll King leaned down to kiss his bride, careful and tender. The moment their lips met, a brilliant light burst forth, forcing all of us to shield our eyes. When the glow faded, the monstrous figure was gone. In his place stood a tall, handsome man, his features strong yet gentle. He held his bride’s hands with reverence, his voice thick with emotion.

“Thank you for seeing my soul, my love. Centuries ago, I was cursed to live as a troll, trapped in the mountain. Only she who could love me despite my form could break the spell.”

The princess gazed into his eyes, all hesitation vanished. Now she understood the connection she’d felt—the soul she had glimpsed beneath his trollish facade.

I too now understood the king’s earlier expression—hope, anxiety, and fear of disappointment all at once. Would this be the day his torment ended? Would someone finally love him enough to see past his cursed form?

I had nearly ruined everything with my impulsiveness. Yet, the story ended not with escape, but with understanding, patience, and the transformative power of love.

Moral of the Story

True love sees beyond appearances. It recognizes the soul beneath the surface and breaks even the oldest curses. What we judge as monstrous might just be a heart waiting to be seen.