His eyes glow faint beneath the trees,
He speaks in groans with every breeze,
A crooked grin, a rocky throne,
Guarding secrets long unknown.
Travelers fear the forest trail,
Where lantern light and courage fail,
For every branch and snapping twig
May wake the troll, enormous, big.
But hidden near his ancient den,
Buried far from eyes of men,
Lies a bison with a scroll,
To ink your name, that is the goal.
To find the prize, you'll need the nerve
To wander where the dark paths curve,
Past hollow stumps and owls that cry,
Beneath the watch of midnight sky.
The troll won't speak of where it lies,
He guards the truth with cunning eyes.
Though none can force his lips to part,
The answer lies where shadows start.