Selections from a translation

“…when (I) happened upon a most unusual scene. (The) various trolls of (the) region, two score or so, had come together and were sitting in a loose circle as (the) sun was setting. One of them started a low growl. Altogether, (the) others also sounded their own growling. What a tremendous roar! (The) very earth trembled, and my chest thudded as if being beaten with invisible (sticks, possibly drumsticks)! Sound washed over me, tides of notes crashed on (the) shore of my head in thunderous waves that I thought would crush (my) skull! Eventually, (the) notes coalesced into a single drone that was felt in (the) bladder (stomach?), as much as heard with (the) ears. From this drone, another note, a much higher, piercing note appeared, not given by a single troll, but as a result of (the) slight fluctuations in (the) way that (the) sound interacted with itself. Then, another note, and another, until it was as if a chorus of voices danced on the air.
Ogres around me swayed to (the) music, humming along as best they could. Some tapped a beat on their chest with (the) flat of their hands, feeling a rhythm from inside.
After a time, (the) trolls stopped abruptly, and I felt as if I would fall over; as if I had been pushing against a hard wind that was suddenly cut off. I felt stunned, lost, and lonely, as if cut off from something profound. My ears streamed, but if it was from emotion, or from being buffeted I could not tell.
(A name, possible an Ogre) turned to me, and said, 'This is the way the trolls become the Troll.' using (the) peculiar word of indication that they have with differing stresses that I have attempted to convey. 'Every ten years they return, like this in order to tell each other all that has happened and become one entity again.'...”
ms. LDrBillel 152.4

“…she laughed, ‘No, faeries aren’t animals!’
Then, I asked, how do new faeries come to exist?
‘As we go along, a faery will develop an egg, when it is ripe, the faery looks for a human boy to fall in love with. Then, we go to them, while they are sleeping, and take their dreams, which turn into a baby faery, inside the egg, which we then plant in a flower until it hatches.’
You sound as if you have done this yourself.
‘Of course, I have had hundreds of babies, and those faeries have gone on to have little ones of their own. More than once, I have flown into a great great great granddaughter. ‘
And what of the humans? Do you keep any kind of relationship?
‘No, once their dreams have been taken, it’s hardly worth loving them anymore. Dried out husks of people, they become. Some wither and die, while others do menial labor, like sweeping floors and emptying bedpans.’…”
ms. LDrBillel 201.88 L.2ed

“All along, we had thought that humans were the product of Elvish science, a slave race designed to obey their every whim. It turns out that Elves are the product of human science: engineered to perfection, lacking the flaws of aging, of genetic decay, of limited mental capacity. Even certain behavioral tendencies were erased. Except pride, no, that particular flaw grew, if it did anything. Seeing themselves as gods, they ruled over their backwards cousins, the humans, those whose parents were too short-sighted to give them the benefits of Elven genes. They designed other races, more primitive, even, in order to do other work for them.
Any number of creatures were designed and bred by them, some for this world, some for other colonies. Other worlds, can you imagine? They could, easily. One world couldn’t be enough for a race that wouldn’t die. Goblins and ogres certainly, and I believe that if we tested other sentient beasts we would find the signature of Elvish industry at the very core of their being. “
ss. LDrUjeki 4.pref

"Avoid the minotaur my child
Life is pain life is anger
to the minotaur
When Jrussla the witch
Heart broken by Jasper
That father of all minotaur
She cursed him, direly
Never more woman’s hold
nevermore woman’s touch
nevermore woman’s love
to behold for Jasper
A bull he acted
A bull he became
Cows his herd
Cows his women
No one his equal in life
So no one his equal in curse
Fed he on love
feeds he now on his own children
Jasper’s sons, no daughters for Jasper
His herd, his harem,
his herd his food.
Avoid the minotaur my child
Life is pain life is anger
to the minotaur."
From poetry collection JaSmith 17.a