Let sleeping giants lie

In shadowed glen where no birds sing, a troll lies bound by slumber’s ring. His hide is stone, his breath is deep, the forest shivers at his sleep. Yet on his back the bold have sown, a crooked village, brick and bone.

They till the soil upon his hide, and carve their homes where shadows bide. But every tale the elders tell, speaks of the day he wakes from spell— when hearths will crack and steeples fall, and he will rise to claim them all.