The White Mother

We all know the story of the first female hat troll, how she was created by Da'Muun. Made out of a pumpkin and the hearts, brains, and at least some of the bones of the 10 biggest, smartest hat trolls. This is not that story. This is the story of all that came after.

Now, male hat trolls were never created, they just always be here. They have no beginning, and therefore, have no end. Now, female hat trolls, they have beginning, they be created; so the question is, do they have an end? To answer this, we must look back, back to the story of the first of our race.

The first female hat troll was there to help teach the male hat trolls important things about life - how to use fire to cook meat instead of eating it raw - because really, who knows what kind of diseases hoomans and thinskins have? How to use a stick to put the hooman into the fire instead of using their hands, avoiding burning themselves. You know, important life lessons that male hat trolls, bless their hearts, are too stupid to learn on their own.

Well, da first female hat troll - she never had a name, by the way, she refused a name, merely referring to herself as a hat troll - she be getting very, very old. She be getting tired, the kind of bone deep weariness that comes with the countless years of such a long life. Trials and tribulations, constant mentoring of the male hat trolls, battles and rivalries. All of these will eventually begin to wear on those who have lived through them, and must carry those memories with them. Male hat trolls have escaped this fate, they have terrible memories and do not remember much of what happens during their lives. Unless an event directly affects themselves, they are unlikely to remember it, and even those memories they retain fade in time. Female hat trolls - they remember it all. And through the long years, this knowledge begins to wear you thin.

And this is how it was for the first female hat troll, weary from the countless years and memories. One day, after a particularly long time isolated by themselves, the hat trolls be getting hungry, and remembered there be a town nearby, which was to be fairly unguarded. They decide to go on a march and help themselves to the delicious hoomans in the town, for it had been long since their last meal.

Tearing up small trees and such to use as clubs in their attack, the trolls marched on the town, and it was a beautiful sight. A Family of trolls, over 70 feet total, marched on the town, burning and eating those they found on the way. Entering the town, they met little resistance, and much delicious food. Unfortunately, their luck would not hold.

Halfway through the town, the trolls met a large and well equipped garrison. A bloody battle ensued, and despite their numbers, the trolls were turned back, bludgeoning the hoomans as they retreated. Now, male hat trolls quickly regenerate, and battlefield wounds are generally little more than a nuisance. But for female hat trolls, regeneration takes significantly longer, one of the trade-offs for increased intelligence and memory. The female hat troll fought her way through the garrison, killing (and snacking on) many hoomans in the process. But as she neared the city gates, a great knight stepped forward from the line of soldiers, and delivered a grievous wound to her, embedding his sword into her side. As the hat trolls escaped into the forest, they saw the female hat troll staggering off by herself into the woods, blood pouring from between her fingers as she clutched her side in agony.

A long time went by, and the male hat trolls grew very nervous and concerned as time passed, without news of the female hat troll. They discussed amongst themselves, whether she could have died from her wound. They knew she could regenerate, but she had not seemed to heal as they would have from her wound. They not remember any trolls dying of their wounds, but could she? She be the same as them, but distinctly different, and they be unable to come to a conclusion.

After a long time - it could have been months, years, or even the next Tuesday, who really knows? - when the male hat trolls were sitting around a fire, and suddenly, out from the bushes she stepped. A short, pretty hat, being worn by a lady. A hat they all remembered. But, she looked very different, for instead of the deep, beautiful purple they came to expect, she was instead white. Completely white, not a speck of purple to be seen. A hushed silence fell over the group, and one of the male hat trolls slowly walked up to her. Holding a sharpened stick, he suddenly tried to grab her and shove her on the stick, obviously confusing her for a hooman. She grabbed the stick from his hand and smacked him on the head.

"What is wrong with you?! Who do you think I am?!" she yelled. A raucous cheering came from the trolls, who began to ask her questions. Where did she go? What happened to her? Did she die? What is for dinner?! Very important questions that needed to be answered. She quietly stated "I nearly did die, but at that moment, when so close to death, I looked Death in the face, and said 'not today. Today, I live'. I learned to use nature to heal, and I have returned. And hooman, is what's for dinner".

Over time, the hat trolls began to notice how much older the White One - as they started calling her, but never to her face, for she would get very angry - looked. She often appeared deep in thought, concern written in the ever deepening lines on her face. While she never spoke of her thoughts to the trolls, her melancholy was palpable. While the hat trolls' thoughts were constantly fixed on the present - and dinner - hers were of the future. Of her race, her Family. How could she secure their future, ensure they would always be protected, cared for? These were the thoughts rolling around her head, the weight on her shoulders, her responsibility. Over the coming years, the White One diligently planned, and her mood shifted. Melancholy no more, her attitude became more buoyant, determined, resolved. But to what end, the trolls did not know.

For years, the hat trolls became more and more active, prominent. A terrifying menace to the hoomans that lived in the surrounding towns. The White One led many raids, heading the battlefield, using her knowledge of healing to its fullest. In the towns, it was whispered that the trolls had become impervious to blades, because with the White One's ointments and tinctures, a trolls regeneration meant even grievous wounds would heal within moments. Finally, the hoomans had enough, and sent a great army to the nearby town to deal with the troll menace. The White One smiled when she heard, and summoned all the hat trolls she could. They would march on the town with such a force as hadn't been seen in living memory.

The day came, and over 100ft of hat troll marched, the White One at the center of the frontline. In years and raids past, she had taken a place within the crowd of trolls, shouting orders and fighting when needed, but this day was different. Armored, wielding her shield and club she stood assuredly before her Family, battle lust glowing in her eyes. This was a different troll than they had known, and when asked where they should attack, she turned to them and stated, "Where do you think? Everywhere. Everyone. Everything." With that, she faced the enemy, giving a battlecry that chilled the hoomans to the bone. They charged.

Sword on shield, club on flesh, the trolls barrelled through the enemy, snacking as they went. Screams of agony and terror would erupt from the garrison, only to be silenced moments later. The battle raged on, and whenever the trolls would glimpse her, she was fighting as if possessed. An enemy soldier would find purchase and cause her a wound, only to be cut down seconds later. She appeared to feel no pain as she battled on, chunks of flesh flying.
Eventually, the trolls began to lose interest, as they do, and began to wander off. They looked around for the White One, and in dismay, they found a white arm, a white leg, and something they were fairly certain belonged inside of her. Saddened, they sat there. "I thought she couldn't die! She can regenerate, will she come back? Why?! Who's hungry, there's a homestead a few miles back." They all wandered off for a time, and after a while - it may have been the next Friday - they returned to find three female hat trolls standing where the White One had perished. Confused (not like it takes much), one troll said "Ok, I am not good at math, but I am pretty sure there was an arm, a leg, and something on the outside that belonged on the inside. So who are you three?!"

The three hat trolls looked at each other, then at the other trolls. Quietly, they said "We are her daughters". From that day on, the White One became known as the White Mother, and her daughters chose their own paths.

Credit to Gretchen, first Belegarth female hat troll