A Troll Tale

A Story from the World of Carthage

By: Sheila Buck and Katherine Hamilton

She had finally received her retirement. Her Master had just informed her that she would be leaving in the morning for her trip to Troll City. ‘I am so happy,’ she thought; she rushed straight home to pack the few belongings that she planned to take with her on her journey. As she entered the big rust-colored barn and climbed the ladder to the hayloft, her two grandbabies stopped playing in the lower level to watch.

She didn’t own much, but over her years of service, she collected a few small things that sparked her interest. She was odd in that. Most trolls didn’t have anything but the ragged clothes on their backs. She picked up the mirror that her Mistress had thrown away. It had a crack down the center, but other than that it was fine. She glanced at herself as she was getting ready to wrap it up in an old dress.

Her brown eyes stared back at her. Her face had many wrinkles and her hair had gone completely white. ‘I got old,’ she thought as she looked at her face. She sighed and finished wrapping the mirror in one of her dresses. She set out her best dress for the morning, and packed her one other dress with her mirror in the sack. The dresses all had holes in them, but they were the best she had.

She looked around the small room to see if there was anything else to pack. Her eyes wandered across the bare wooden walls and over the small pile of hay that was her bed. Her ratty old blanket lay in a heap on the hay. It had many holes, and smelled of mold, but it was hers. She thought about packing it, but decided it was better to leave it to her grandbabies. It wasn’t much, but it would help them stay warmer in the winter.

When she had finished packing and turned to leave the room, she noticed her two grandbabies standing in the doorway. They each had tears in their eyes. Their round faces, dirt and all, looked up at her with questions in their eyes. Mud Pie, her granddaughter, said to her, “Why are you putting all your stuff in that sack, Grandma?” Her grandson, Swamp, did not say anything because he was unable to talk.

She was starting to feel very sad. “I am going to Troll City,” she told them. “I hate to leave you, but I have worked so long and so hard. It’s time for me to go. Your Momma will take good care of you after I’m gone. I promise.” She wanted to make sure they knew that they wouldn’t be alone, and that they might see each other again someday.

She sat them down with her on her pile of hay. One little troll on each side. She put a small arm around each of them and said, “I am 35 years old. That makes me a very old troll. Since I could walk, I have worked very hard for our Master and our Mistress. I have cleaned and even done a bit of cooking. I have worked hard in the fields. Now I am done with all of the hard work. I am ready to leave this place and live the rest of my life in Troll City.”

She moved her hands down to each of the children’s backs and started to rub each. “You have heard the wonderful stories spoken of Troll City. Do you not want to go there someday?” Both of the children shook their heads yes. “Would you like it if I told you a tale about the city?” They nodded. She hoped that her tale of Troll City would make her leaving easier for them.

“Many years ago, long before I was born, there wasn’t any place for old trolls to go. Instead, we worked for our Masters until we fell over dead, or until one of the Mukesh raids on the town took us away, never to be seen again. This was a sad thing for the trolls because we didn’t get to have any fun before we died. It was just work, work, work, and more work.”

She glanced down at her two grandbabies, looking up at her with wonder in their eyes. They couldn’t remember the time of the raids. She knew that this all must seem so strange to them, to think that their cozy barn, so close to the main house of their Master and his Mistress, could be anything but the safest place in the world. She remembered thinking the same things when her mother and grandmother had told her these same tales.

“The Mukesh were big and mean and hairy, and they took little trolls, and even little Masters and Mistresses, out into the woods. My grandmother told me that her grandmother said you could hear them screaming as the ogres dragged them up the mountains and down into the caves where they live. All the Masters had been trying to find a way to stop the ogres from coming into the village and taking their babies.”

“Tell us about Sludge, Grandma, please?” asked Mud Pie. Swamp nodded vigorously on her other side. She smiled at them, exposing the few brown teeth she had left. Sludge was a tale they had grown up with.

“Sludge was one of the first trolls to go to troll city. He was not a big troll, or a very small troll, either, but just an average troll,” she continued. “His mother and father raised him to be a hard worker, but he made a lot of mistakes. He always tried his hardest. He worked for the same Master that his parents had worked for, and he was a kind Master. When trolls got old, he would send them out to a corner of the far field, where there was a hut for them, and they were allowed to rest there until they died. Sludge saw his parents grow old, and then said goodbye to them when it was time for them to move out to the hut in the field. Sludge decided one day that if he could do all the tasks that his Master could set for him, without being asked, maybe his Master would let him go and visit his parents. He hadn’t seen them in a long time, and he missed them. The raids from the ogres had been bad that year, and he was worried about them. He wanted to make sure they were okay. So for a long time, Sludge worked as hard as he could, doing every chore he could think of. Then Sludge went to his Master and knelt before him and asked to go see his mother and father.”

“Sludge was very nervous, because he didn’t think anyone had ever asked this of his Master before. He was not surprised when his Master replied with, ‘No, Sludge. You may not go visit your parents in the outer field.’ This made Sludge very sad, and he began to get up and leave when his Master told him, ‘I know you have worked your very hardest for me Sludge. I would allow you to visit your parents, but they are not there. They didn’t survive the winter.’ Sludge began to cry.”

“The Master rubbed his back. ‘However,’ he said, ‘the other Masters and I have devised a way to stop the Mukesh raids, and have created a new place outside the town.’ Sludge did not know what to think about this turn of events, but knew it wasn’t his place to question his Master. ‘Sludge,’ said his Master, ‘You have worked very hard for your whole life. We have created a city for trolls to go when they retire. A place where all trolls who work hard all of their lives can go, and live out the rest of their days in peace. A place where we Masters do not go.’ Sludge was very excited. After all, his Master had seen how hard he worked and now his Master was going to reward his hours of struggle. A whole city of just trolls! Troll City sounded like a wonderful place to Sludge.”

“Soon after, Sludge and a few other trolls whose Masters felt had worked very hard for their whole lives, climbed into the wagon that the Masters had made just for the trip. One of the Masters climbed into the seat to drive them, and they rode out of town.”

“Troll city is such a wonderful place, with games and mud pits, and lots of trolls to play with. There are no Masters to yell at them, and no extra chores to be done. It is so wonderful there, that once we get there, we never want to leave. And that, my little ones, is why trolls don’t come back from Troll City. We just wait there, knowing that we have taught all of you young ones well, and that you will work hard. That way, one day, you can come join us there, and we will all be together again. You will work hard, right? So you can come be with me again?”

Mud Pie and Swamp both nodded. “We will, Grandma, we promise. Don’t we Swamp?” said Mud Pie to her brother, who nodded even harder and fell right off the side of the hay pile. He looked sheepishly up at them, and they both chuckled at him.

“Okay then, little ones, scat with you so I can finish packing and get some sleep. It is a long journey to Troll City, and I want to be awake to see the whole thing.” She swatted them on the butts and sent them out the door.

The next day dawned bright. The sky was blue and the birds were chirping. She had gotten a wonderful night’s sleep and was looking forward to the trip. She gathered up her ratty old sack from the corner of the small room, thinking to herself, ‘Goodbye, room, you have served me well,’ and she turned and left her little space for the last time.

Mud Pie and Swamp were already at the table when she went out to the little open area they used as a kitchen. “Good morning,” she said to her youngest family members. “Are you up to see me off?” They nodded, and Mud Pie’s eyes started to get damp. “No tears, now,” she told them. “This is a happy day for me, and I won’t have you making it all mushy.”

“Yes, Grandma, we’ll be good, we promise. We’ll miss you, though.” Mud Pie and Swamp came around their little table and hugged her as tight as they could. She rubbed each on the back and held them tight for a moment.

“Okay, you two, help an old troll carry her things outside.” She gave each a pat on the head as they went to get her bag from the doorway where she had left it. They each picked up one end and started toward the big front door. She followed them outside, into the bright light of day. It was a big difference from the darkness inside. She hoped that the barn would be a good home for her babies, and her baby’s babies, and their babies after them. There would be more room now, and Swamp and Mud Pie could stop sleeping in the kitchen corner and move into her old room. Even if the walls were just old boards with knotholes in them, her old hay pile, with her old blanket, was better than the floor.

She stood by the road with her bag at her side, waiting for the wagon that would come to pick her up. It wasn’t long before she saw it coming down the street, pulled by an old mule wearing a straw hat. Its big ears poked out of holes on each side. The cover over the wagon was painted with pictures in bright red, showing trolls playing games and having fun. ‘It looks very grand,’ she thought. Trolls only got to ride in a wagon once in their whole lives, and she was looking forward to it like she had never looked forward to anything before.

The Master driving the wagon stopped it in front of her, and the shorter Master riding with him got down to help her up into the back of the wagon. She sat next to another troll on one of the long benches that ran the length of the wagon, and the short Master slid her bag to her, which she tucked under her seat. She waved to her grandbabies through the doorway in the back until she could no longer see them.

She looked at the troll next to her. He was one of the trolls who worked for the Master just down the road. She had seen him before. He was even older than she was. Her brow furrowed in thought. ‘Stump, that’s his name,’ she finally remembered. She had walked with him once or twice to the market that had been in the center of town. Her Master’s house had been just on the edge of town, and Stump’s place had been just a bit closer. He had been nice enough and sharing the walk had made it go by faster.

As the wagon rolled out of town, she and the other trolls began to talk about what they wanted to do first when they got to the city. They were all happy to finally be on their way, and there was a lot of smiling and laughing. They watched out the back of the wagon as trees and the road fell behind them. They talked and played hand games for what seemed like hours. Some of the trolls started singing and soon they had all joined in. They sang songs they had grown up with and some news ones they had learned or made up as they got older.

After a while, they ran out of stuff to say and, even though she tried not to, she dozed off. When the wagon started the climb into the mountains, a bump woke her up. As the road climbed, it got rougher. There were trenches in the road from where water had run down it. All the trolls had to hold on tight, so they wouldn’t slide out the back.

Afternoon turned into evening as the wagon neared the end of the trees. The driver pulled off the road and into a cleared space. She got very excited, because she knew they were there. The trolls all climbed out of the wagon, feeling very young and full of energy. They began talking excitedly all over again, and the air was full of anticipation.

To one side of the flattened place there was a wooden fence, set in a circle. The fence was made of rough-hewn boards with posts set into the ground. Spaces between the boards showed there was nothing inside. There was a gate facing the road made of the same boards, with leather hinges. The latch was nothing more than a leather strip, with a big metal ball hanging on the end that went into a wooden catch on the fence post.

In the ground near the fence, was a big wooden post with a cross bar on the top. It had a big circle of flat metal hanging from it. The gong looked to be made of brass. A strip of leather with a metal rod attached to the end was nailed to the post. The Master who had driven the wagon went to stand by the pole, and the short Master told the trolls they needed to wait in the fence until the other trolls were signaled to come for them. She was a bit confused. She had expected to see other trolls when she got off the wagon, but there was no one to be seen.

The short Master herded the trolls into the fence and shut the gate. ‘Why does the gate need to be shut,’ she wondered. The thought passed as the other Master lifted the metal rod and used it to hit the gong. The sound was very loud in such an empty place. As soon as he finished, the Master dropped the rod and walked back to the wagon. The short Master had already climbed back up and they turned the wagon and headed back down the road.

She shoved her way to the gate and pressed her face against the wooden slats. The encroaching darkness made it harder to see. As the wagon rolled out of sight, she saw something moving up the hill from them. ‘That doesn’t look like a troll,’ she thought. As it got closer, other trolls noticed it, too. Then one of the other trolls screamed.

She stood frozen, unable to make a sound, as the ogre came up to the gate. Behind him several others were coming. He was so big. He had animal fur all over his legs and bones tied around his waist. The others were dressed very much the same. They all had holes in their trousers, and they were all very ugly and mean looking. As the ogre reached for the latch on the gate, she glanced at the gong. ‘The Masters called them,’ she finally reasoned to herself. ‘They lied to me, to us. Why would they do this?’

The ogre opened the gate, grabbed the nearest troll, and tucked her up under his arm. The poor girl was terrified, and kicked and screamed and bit and pulled at the bulging, hairy arm that held her, but it did no good. One by one, they were all scooped up by the ogres and carried off to the caves.

Inside, they put all but three of the trolls into a small dent in the wall, and a rock was rolled in front of it. She looked at the other two, trying to figure out what would happen next. The cave was dark, and smelled of rotten meat and excrement. One of the ogres held up a smoking torch and motioned to the others to follow.

The ogres carried them deeper into the cave. At the back of the cave a large ogre woman was waiting. She had big, pointed sticks, and a fire burning. Tears rolled down the little trolls’ faces as two of them watched the ogress put one of the sticks into the mouth of the first troll and push it all the way through his little body. She lifted him up on the stick and set him over the fire to roast.

A horrible taste rose up into her mouth from her stomach. The ogre arm holding her had begun to loosen and she had the sinking feeling she would be next. Warmth spread between her legs, and the pee dripped from her feet. She tried to fight the big arm that held her as the ogress came toward her with another of the sticks, but it was useless.

The ogre set her on her feet, his grip nearly crushing the bones in her arms, and another one pried her mouth open. She tried to scream, but the awkward angle they were holding her head at made it impossible. The ogress came closer with her big pointed stick. All she could think about was her grandbabies; how everything they had ever known was a lie. Blood poured into her mouth as the point of the stick went through the back of her throat. She had never known that blood tasted like copper coins. She could feel the stick as it went down through her throat and into her belly, then the pain drove all thought from her head.

Published in Crosscut Literary Magazine in 2009

Fluffikins: Part 14

Baskins hid his yawn behind a paw, and slid back his chair. It had been a productive day, even if that fool of a brother had taken up way too much of his time with festivities. Sleep sounded wonderful, and he deserved it. Now if only his agent in the Spice Islands could tie up that one loose end for him…..

Morning came, and Baskins awoke to the sound of the door shutting behind the maid who left his breakfast tray on the table in the sitting room. He hadn’t bothered to even close the door between the chambers on his way to bed the night before, otherwise he would never have known she had been there. Rising and donning his robe and slippers, he wandered out to see what the tray held for him. Lifting the cover on the plate he found some toast and sliced fruit, which looked like melon. A bowl held some porridge; Baskins assumed the fruit was to make the horrible hot cereal palatable. Moisture beaded on the outside of the pitcher named the contents chilled milk.

A plain breakfast, but his brother had always been one to tend toward the simple things in life. How he had ended up with the monarchy was beyond Baskins. This, of course, sparked wistful thoughts of what it would be like when Baskins himself was the king. Even breakfast would become an occasion worth mentioning. Oh, the balls and parties he would throw! Of course, those parties would present his loyal subjects a chance to adore him and renew their loyalty to him. They would all be loyal subjects, simply because those who were not would be charged with treason. Smiling to himself he thought about how quickly the people loyal to his brother would become his once he started summarily executing anyone who even hinted that he wasn’t the true and rightful king of Catilina.

Castor opened the doors to the apartments. He had been out early this morning to gauge the temperature of the palace. It was important to know what your servants said about you behind closed doors, and that was Castor’s purpose this morning. “Well?” Baskins asked, wiping his whiskers clean with a linen napkin.

“The staff is loyal,” Castor replied. “Not that there aren’t some who have been punished for transgressions recently that couldn’t be persuaded into my service.” The manservant of the King’s brother was a high position among the rest of the servants, and that gave Castor quite a bit off pull, almost as much as the coin that Baskins gave him to throw in to sweeten the deal. “I do believe some of my investments may pay off quite handsomely.”

“Let us hope you are right. I have a few details that need my attention first, though,” Baskins told him. “Do not make a single move without my express approval.”

“As you command. Is there anything my Lord needs before I make arrangements for future meals? I know the current fare isn’t up to your standards.” Castor bowed and left as soon as Baskins indicated that he was not currently needed.

Today was going to be a slow business day. No further moves could be made before he knew that the rotten little prince was out of the way permanently.

As the sun rose to the sounds of gulls, Fluff sat up carefully in his bunk. The accommodations on Captain Allman’s vessel were passable, but tight. The first two mornings, Fluff had forgotten where he was and tried to sit completely up before he was even fully awake. He still had a sore spot on his head from where it had made solid contact with Boomer’s bunk above his. They had touched up his dye job over the course of the voyage, and the crew and captain knew him only as Red. Since Boomer had made the initial negotiations with Captain Allman for passage, Fluff and the others deferred to him, at least where anyone else could see or hear, and as far as any of the crew were concerned, Boomer was in charge of their little group.

Fluff rubbed the sleep from his eyes and crawled out of the bunk. The room was small, right up against the bulkhead. Originally intended for an extra set of deckhands, it had been empty. Captain Allman said that the room was usually used for the stowage of crew items, but they had cleaned out their items on Allman’s orders. It had taken Boomer several hours at the docks, searching for a captain who would take them all, no questions asked, and sail as soon as possible the next morning. Allman had demanded an outrageous fee for the crossing, but Boomer had figured, and rightly, that time was of the essence. Fluff’s thoughts flashed back to the smoke rising above the town, and he hoped again that no one was hurt on his behalf.

The sound of the others stirring drew him from his thoughts and brought him back to the present.

Fluffikins: Part 13

Taking one more deep breath, Val opened her eyes and felt better. Starting back toward the kitchen to check on dinner, she wondered how long Lord Baskins would be staying and hoped for not long.

Baskins settled into his apartments in the palace and dressed for dinner. He hadn’t spent much time in the capital recently. He would have to make arrangements to contact his informants in the area and give them new instructions. They no longer needed to watch everything his brother did. He would see to that for the most part himself, and there were always servants willing to share a little for the right price.

He had received the pigeon from the Spice Islands only two days ago. His agent there, a clerk for a money changer, had located the prince. His message indicated that he was attempting to deal with the problem. Baskins had hoped, when the ship Fluffikins had been on had never reached its intended port, that the little brat had done the decent thing and gone down with it. That little fur ball had been trouble ever since he had been spawned. Well, he was across the ocean. The king, however, was right here. One step at a time, Baskins reminded himself. Deal with the problem in front of you instead of worrying about the one that might come later. Fluffikins was a worry for another day. Right now he had to secure his position in the government, so that when his brother died, he would be in place to assume leadership without anyone thinking about it too hard. Once he was ruling, the title could come later. He would be King; it was only a matter of time now.

Several hours later, Baskins sat at the writing desk in his apartments. Numerous messages had to go out in the morning. His brother had insisted on an elaborate meal of several courses and entertainment that had taken them into the wee hours of the morning. It was too early in the game for Baskins to do anything but sit and wait and pretend to enjoy the fruits of the effort his brother had gone to in Baskins’ honor. But now he would be up until the sun rose trying to put everything in order for the next step in his plan. His glance fell on the locked chest in the corner of the room. Everything he needed to complete the next step was in that box.

Finishing the last note, he folded and sealed it. It was not his normal seal, but one that he used only for these types of things. Nothing that left his hands could be traced back to him once it had gone. He handed the stack of notes to his manservant, the only person in the world who knew where the letters originated. They were even signed with a pseudonym, to prevent identification if the notes were to fall into the wrong hands. Even his agents knew only that he was powerful, and wealthy enough to pay handsomely for their services. All of his original conspirators had been neatly dealt with, no loose ends remained. He had tied up everything before making his first real move. Establishing his network had required go-betweens in the beginning who knew him. He had made sure to choose people who wouldn’t be missed. These notes would pass through several hands on their way to their intended recipients, the first contact knowing only that they came from Castor, his manservant, and the last knowing next to nothing. It would take more digging than anyone could hope to accomplish to trace the notes back to the palace, let alone him.

Baskins hid his yawn behind a paw, and slid back his chair. It had been a productive day, even if that fool of a brother had taken up way too much of his time with festivities. Sleep sounded wonderful, and he deserved it.

Fluffikins: Part 12

Val suddenly realized that in her worry she had been standing over the same pot for a full five minutes, holding the spoon. She gave herself a mental shake, told Cook that the soup smelled wonderful, keep up the good work, but remember that the first course was due precisely at six, and bustled out of the kitchens to check on the preparations of the guest rooms. There was still so much to do before Lord Baskins’ arrival.

By the time Baskins’ coach pulled up to the palace gates, Val had managed to get everything in order. Grooms were standing by to take the horses, footmen to assist Lord Baskins and deal with his luggage, of which there was sure to be plenty, and maids with bowls of warm water and towels to wash the road dust from face and paws. As the guards pulled the gates wide, Val took her place beside the maids, ready to assist if anything was needed. The black coach rolled to a stop in the center of the courtyard, footmen rushed forward to open the door and assist the lord. As he climbed from the coach, he surveyed the gathered assembly. His whiskers twitched as his eyes ran over them and took in the rest of the courtyard. He was obviously displeased. Val approached to ask if there was something in particular that was missing, but he was having none of it.

“Where is my brother?” he demanded once he ascertained that Val was the only one in the yard with any authority. “He should be here to greet me! Take me to him at once.”

“My apologies, my Lord, but the King is busy with matters of state at the moment, and told me to have you shown to your rooms to rest for a time from the rigors of your journey. If you would follow me, my Lord? I will pass your desire to see the King onto him at the earliest possible time.” Val kept her hands firmly linked at her waist, refusing to let her fists clench. The rudeness! How dare he think that the King had nothing better to do than stand around waiting on his arrival? Baskins’ face quivered, his eyes narrowed, but he gestured impatiently for her to lead on, so she did.

She set a brisk pace through the halls, wanting to be done with this onerous chore as soon as possible. Opening the doors to the second biggest suite of apartments, she dropped in a curtsy, allowing Baskins to enter first. The sitting room that the doors opened into was well furnished, comfortable armchairs were scattered about the room, with a small table at each. A desk on the outside wall, with a large window over it, was next to the glass paned double doors that opened onto a balcony overlooking the palaces private gardens. The fireplace to the left balanced the two doorways to the right, one leading to the master bedroom, the other to a small room for a manservant. Everything was in place, a small fire burned away merrily in the hearth, with some herbs thrown in to freshen the air.

Baskins swept by the First Maid, barely noticing her. Servants were almost more trouble than they were worth. Lowly peasants. It was a crime that they had to be paid at all. Baskins ran a finger over the top of a table and peered at it. He sniffed. “Well, it isn’t as good as what I’m used to, but it will do for now. You may go. Make sure you tell my brother that I need to speak with him as soon as possible.”

Val unfolded herself and backed from the room, pulling the doors closed behind her. Rage boiled in her. She made herself walk away from the doors and down the corridor, taking slow, deep breaths to hide her anger. What a self-entitled, haughty, undeserving….. Val rounded the corner, leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. Counting to ten, she envisioned herself on the old family farm, on the swing her father had made in the big tree next to the horse paddock. Her happy place. It was a trick her mother had passed on to her and her brother, a way to calm them when life threw them curves. She maintained the visualization until she could hear the nicker of the horses, smell the grass and the hay, feel the sun on her face.

Taking one more deep breath, Val opened her eyes and felt better. Starting back toward the kitchen to check on dinner, she wondered how long Lord Baskins would be staying and hoped for not long.

Fluffikins: Part 11

As her feet carried her into the large kitchens, she pondered why it was that as soon as the prince was gone, Baskins seemed to pop right back up out of the woodwork. Val had a shrewd mind. Sometimes her employers forgot that. She did her job well enough that they forgot her presence, for the most part. She had been privy to conversations concerning everything from the day to day running of the country to security and secrets that her betters hoped that no one else would ever know.

Val loved her King, and she had loved her Queen. Fluffikins had grown up under her tender ministrations. She had scolded him when he was caught stealing cakes from her kitchens, and cleaned his wounds when he had fallen from his horse, celebrated his successes and mourned his failures with him. This was her home. The thought of Baskins invading here made her nervous, and she had learned over the years to never ignore her gut feelings. Right now, her gut told her things were about to go very wrong. She wished she knew where Boomer was. Her baby brother was, undoubtedly, where ever Fluff was, but right now, where they needed to be was home.

It had been two weeks since the Prince was last seen, leaving the stables with his five shadows. They had gear with them, according to the groom who had loaded the two packhorses; at least enough for a few weeks. But still, she worried. It was unlike Boomer to take off without saying goodbye, and he hadn’t even left her a note. It smelled funny to her, but no one else seemed to be concerned yet. Baskins’ sudden appearance just added to things.

Lord Baskins, she corrected herself. If she thought of him too often without his title, she would be sure to slip and refer to him aloud without using it, and she did not do things like that. Of course, in her mind he was totally undeserving of such an honorific. The cat was oily; almost too smooth. She didn’t like him, but what she liked or didn’t like was irrelevant. Her duty at this point was only to organize the dinner honoring his arrival from his estates. She smiled to herself with the idea of spitting in his food. She would never do such a thing, but the thought was amusing.

Val suddenly realized that in her worry she had been standing over the same pot for a full five minutes, holding the spoon. She gave herself a mental shake, told Cook that the soup smelled wonderful, keep up the good work, but remember that the first course was due precisely at six, and bustled out of the kitchens to check on the preparations of the guest rooms. There was still so much to do before Lord Baskins’ arrival.

So ends this week’s episode. I have discovered a need for some ‘writer’s upkeep’ and will spend some time this coming week on said tasks. The list of people in this story has gotten rather large, and my little slips of paper tucked all over the place are no longer sufficient. Time to organize.

Fluffikins: Part Ten

Val tucked the key ring in her apron pocket. She made her way through the palace corridors to the kitchen. Her purposeful stride had each of the servants she came upon working hard before she even reached them. They knew that she brooked no nonsense where the chores were concerned, and slacking was the next thing to a mortal sin in her book. Each one bobbed their head in dereference as she passed, though, and none were truly frightened. Val may have been strict, but good work was always noticed and rewarded, even with just a comment to the individual. Val prided herself on her attention to detail.

As she reached the hallways leading to the kitchen, she began to smell the scents of dinner being prepared for this evening. The smell of a dozen turkeys roasting in the ovens and all the fixings to go with them was mouth-watering. Cook really did know how to put out a spread. The grand hall was coming along nicely, the floors swept until they shone, fresh boughs lain in the fireplaces at either end of the large room, the tables arranged to accommodate the large number of guests expected to be at the feast this evening.

She mentally ran down the list of things that still needed to be done, the rooms that needed to have windows opened to air and have the dust chased away. There were hours left, but she still felt rushed. His Majesty had landed this one on her late last night, barely enough warning, as she saw it. But Val had worked harder miracles with less before, and no doubt would again. Glancing into the storerooms along the hall as she passed them, she took a mental note to review supplies on hand with Jory tomorrow. This little party would put a goodly dent in the supplies they had stocked up for this coming winter. Fall harvests had been good, but with Her Majesty gone now, and Master Fluffikins disappeared right after they put his poor mother in her grave, the King’s appetite wasn’t what it used to be. Even the servants had been subdued this last month or so, and with fewer people to look after, she had even let one or two of the younger ones go.

Shortly after the Prince had gone, Lord Baskins had come from his country estates. He claimed to want to be with his brother in his time of need, but where had the scoundrel been when the Queen had been so ill? Oh yes, that was right. He had been at his estates, throwing parties for all the noble families, and speaking ill of his brother for thinking that the young prince would be capable of running a country. Lord Baskins had never thought very highly of their little heir. He had sequestered himself at his country estates right after Prince Fluffikins’ birth and had refused to come back to the capitol, even for his Queen’s funeral rites.

As her feet carried her into the large kitchens, she pondered why it was, that as soon as the prince was gone, Baskins seemed to pop right back up out of the woodwork.

Fluffikins: Part Nine

Fluff sat back in his seat. He had never expected such a response. Now what? Fluff pondered this. He had known they’d fight leaving, but the stubborn set of their jaws told him that continuing along that line was a bad idea. Definitely a fight he wouldn’t win. In fact, he wouldn’t put it past them to follow him no matter what he said or did. If he released them from service, they would probably just follow him anyway, claiming it was where they wanted to go and since he released them, he had no say in what they did. Well, this was a fine kettle he had gotten them into. He just couldn’t take it anymore.

Fluff rested his hands on the tabletop, levering himself to his feet and pulling for every ounce of height he could muster. “Well,” he said to them, as stern as he could manage, “aren’t you just the most utterly incompetent group of soldiers I’ve ever seen in my life. I couldn’t have gotten a more disobedient, loud, opinionated, undisciplined lot of men if I had asked for them at the start.” He eyed each in turn, laying the full weight of his royal glare upon them. One by one, they dropped their gazes to the table in front of them. “I give you an express order, and it is your job, your duty, and should be your pleasure, to carry it out. You are soldiers in the Royal Command!” By this time, even Boomer was looking a bit sheepish.

“I am at a loss gentlemen. I…” A smile started to crack the corners of Fluff’s facade. “Am..,” his knees started to shake. “Honored,” and the laugh was out.

The mainland became visible on the horizon before noon. Captain Allman predicted they would be in port with the morning tide.

*And another sticky wicket. To take the next name from the list I have or start anew? Sheila seems to be getting some good feedback. 🙂 The truth of the matter is that my evil mini-me brought home the evil plague for winter break. I have lost two days to a Nyquil haze. Even now, the hacking, sneezing, horribleness of the plague goes on around me as the whole family drops just about dead with it. I have written epic notes of schools across town as the fevers abate, but I’m still struggling a bit to catch up. I apologize, and since I have overnights next week, I shall even promise a longer than average piece to come.

Katie

Fluffikins: Part Eight

It was a short walk to the pier, but Fluff was nervous anyway. Boomer was alert for any sign of danger. Fluff was overwhelmed with gratitude for his old friend. Here they were, thousands of miles from home. Boomer and the rest of the crew knowing next to nothing about their journey, even if they thought they knew more. Yet, they trusted him. They trusted him to lead them and look out for them, even as they looked out for him. Without reservation they fell into line with the ruse that he was someone other than who he was, and played it to the best of their abilities. He was in awe of them. He loved them. He needed to tell them the truth.

They made it to the docks without any trouble. Axle, Rider, Gunner, and Knox were already on board and had moved the luggage into their respective cabins. Fluff spoke briefly with Captain Allman, and with a few shouted orders from the man, it wasn’t long before ropes were being cast off and the ship was making its way towards the open ocean.

Some of the crew was looking back toward the town, pointing. When Fluff looked to see what the excitement was about, he saw a thick column of smoke rising over the town. He couldn’t be sure, but it looked to be in the same area as their inn of the previous evening. He shook his head ruefully. He hoped the inn-keep was alright. It distressed him to think that his mere presence may have brought the man misfortune. He would have to follow up at some point, and if it was indeed the inn he thought it was, make some kind of reparations to the fellow.

Even with the concern he had, there was a bit of relief, too. If his uncle’s agents had burned the inn, then they must have thought he was still there. If they had even a hint that he had already departed they would have sent someone to check first, rather than risk exposure by getting caught. This is it, he thought. I have to tell them. The certainty of the danger he was placing them all in made him fear for his friends lives. Telling them wouldn’t be easy, not because he thought they wouldn’t believe him, but because if he was any sort of friend to them at all, he would send them off. Away from him, their danger would evaporate. Fluff stood at the rail and watched the waved pass as he pondered the best way to send away his best friends.

It was after sunset when Fluff gathered his crew together. The captain had allowed ‘Red’ the use of the galley for a little while, assuring him he wouldn’t be disturbed while he conferred with his group. Fluff took a seat at the head of one of the tables, Boomer claimed his right and the rest of the boys plopped themselves down on whatever part of the bench was closest. After a little good natured ribbing and jostling, they settled down and looked expectantly at Fluff.

Fluff cleared his throat. He still hadn’t figured out exactly how he was going to break the news to them. In a week or so they would make landfall on the mainland. Still forever and a day away from home, but they were going to have to find their own ways from there. Fluff still had some business to attend to before he could go back and confront his uncle. “I want you to know,” he began, “how much you mean to me.” He was interrupted with a chorus of aww’s and kissy noises from the group. With a small smile, he continued, “I have to admit, I would never have gotten this far in life without your support. It means more to me than I can express. However, this means that I have to admit to you that I haven’t been exactly honest with you as of late.” Boomer nodded. Fluff looked at him and his eyes narrowed.

“We know, Fluff,” Boomer told him. “Maybe not exactly what’s going on, but we know there’s something you aren’t telling us. We’ve known since we left home.” The others nodded agreement, but allowed Boomer to speak for them. “We trust you, you’re one of us, and now, more than ever, you need us. We knew you’d tell us when the time was right.”
“I do need you,” Fluff told them. “But you can’t stay. What is coming is more dangerous than anything I have ever faced before, and it’s all focused on me. If you leave as soon as we reach the mainland, you should be perfectly safe. You can make arrangements from there to get home again, I have funds for everyone.”

The boys stared at him. Just that. Simply stared. The flat looks on their faces told Fluff more than all of their protests could have. This was a group that was settling to dig their heels in for a long fight. One they intended to win. This was going to be harder than he’d thought. He stood and put his paws on the table. “This is not up for discussion,” he told them. “I have never pulled rank on you before, and I would hate to have to do it now. Let me explain to you what it is I’m facing, so you can understand why you need to go.” It took a while for Fluff to explain. He had to go back almost a year, to the first time he had suspicions that his uncle, Baskins, had designs on the throne.

It started small, little bits of conversation overheard that made him wonder, all leading up to his mother’s death. Just after her funeral, Fluff finally found just enough evidence to cement his suspicions. Now he needed proof. That it was out there, he knew. The method of his mother’s death was almost unique. It pointed to a very small corner of the world; a corner that knew a very great deal about poisons. To find that proof Fluff knew he was going to have to go there, and the merchant at the bar that fateful evening was just the excuse. It wasn’t until they were days out of port that he had uncovered that the merchant was not a trader in spices, as he had claimed, but rather in information. He was also an agent of his uncle.

The bastard had made a try for Fluff’s life, though a half-hearted one, since the attempt didn’t come until the night of the storm, and the loss of the ship was all but certain. His opponent had not anticipated the training that Fluff had received at the hands of his friends, however, and had gone into the water with his own knife in his side. If it hadn’t been for the need to exchange money, Fluff could have disappeared for a while. The whole crew would have been thought lost to the storm. As it was, his uncle knew now that he had survived. The speed with which the attack came told him that not only did his uncle have agents in the area, but that he was getting close to what he needed. The closer he got, the more danger he, and anyone with him, was in.

The boys listened as Fluff unraveled his tale. When he finally finished, he looked around the table at them. “So you see, now, why it is that you have to go home on your own. I can’t ask you to take this risk with me. It’s too great. I’m sorry I kept this from you.”

Boomer heaved a great sigh. “Oh Fluff,” he said wearily. “You just don’t understand.” Looking around the table, the others nodded for him to continue. “We knew there would be danger when we hooked ourselves to you all those years ago. You’re the sole heir to the throne of Catilina. You were never a ‘safe’ bet, Fluff. But as you’ve grown you’ve become more than a job to us. You’re our friend, one of us. If you think for a second that we would leave you just when the fire is the hottest, you’ve got another think coming. We’re in it, Fluff. All the way.”

“Aye, all the way,” Gunner said.

“All the way,” the rest of the crew echoed.

Fluff sat back in his seat. He had never expected such a response. Now what? Fluff pondered this. He had known they’d fight leaving, but the stubborn set of their jaws told him that continuing along that line was a bad idea. Definitely a fight he wouldn’t win. In fact, he wouldn’t put it past them to follow him no matter what he said or did. If he released them from service, they would probably just follow him anyway, claiming it was where they wanted to go and since he released them, he had no say in what they did. Well, this was a fine kettle he had gotten them into.

Fluffikins: Part 7

Fluff looked about as they made their way down the street in the general direction Jackson had indicated. His crew would be on the lookout for any trouble, as always, and Fluff would need to know the general layout so he could find places to stock up before the next leg of their journey. There was blacksmith, a stable, and across the street was a seamstress. The list of things they needed to replace began to form in Fluff’s mind.

They spent the rest of the day securing supplies and a bed for the evening. There was an inn near the docks that wasn’t too disreputable. Jackson had helped them find some of the items Fluff thought they may need, a few of which put an odd look on the native’s face, like the request for hibiscus flowers and calendula. They had different local names for them, but after Fluff described what he was looking for, Jackson was surprisingly quick at finding it.

Boomer had spent the day perusing the ships, looking for a likely candidate to get them off the island. Fluff hadn’t yet mentioned why he was in such a rush, but his crew trusted him. Boomer left with instructions to find a ship headed off island. The destination was less important that the departure time, and the safety of the vessel and honesty of the captain. Fluff wasn’t taking any chances. Although he hated keeping secrets from his fellows, he worried that the knowledge he was sitting on would have unintended consequences if he revealed it too soon.

Sitting around a table in the common room after the evening meal, they talked quietly about tomorrow’s plans. Jackson had taken leave of them after giving Fluff a small purse. “Your take from the sale of the catch,” he told Fluff. Fluff tried to return it, knowing the money would be useful to the village, but Jackson refused. “Do not dishonor us,” he said sternly. “We have everything we need, and we have great pride that we have earned it. This is yours.” Forcing down a sigh, Fluff took the purse from Jackson with great seriousness. Jackson flashed a grin over his shoulder as he sauntered off down the street towards the outer walls. Fluff had offered to put the group up for the night with him at the inn, but Jackson and the rest had declined. Even as late as it was in the day by the time everything was accomplished, Jackson felt they could make good headway on the return trip.

Fluff pulled his thoughts back to the conversation at hand, “…just a week to the mainland. If the weather holds,” Boomer was saying. The ship he had decided on was a smaller, two-masted affair. The captain was portly, with a scraggly beard and shrewd eyes, but Boomer felt they could trust the man to get them safely off the island. “Runs a tight ship, and clean,” he told Fluff. “It shows the crew works hard for him, and they wouldn’t if they thought the man was going to short their pay or treat them poorly.” Fluff trusted Boomer’s judgment of the man; he had never steered Fluff wrong before.

“Alright. I think it’s time we turn in. We have an early morning tomorrow, and we could all use a good night’s rest in a bed before we begin the next leg of our journey.” They rose to go. “Boomer, if I could have a quick word with you before you go?”

After the others had made their way up the stairs, Fluff took Boomer’s arm and led him toward the kitchen. “The innkeep has made a tub available for me, but I’m going to need your help.”

Boomer grinned. “Need your back scrubbed? Awful strange time for a bath, but if that’s what you want, you’re the boss.” He winked at Fluff.

“It’s not that, you great oaf. I need your help to dye my fur. I’m trying to stay out of sight. I’m not ready to be hauled home by Father’s guards just yet.” Fluff winced inside at the evasion. It wasn’t a lie, exactly, but it wasn’t the whole truth either. He knew Boomer could be trusted, but if it came to it, he also wanted Boomer and the rest of the boys to be able to totally deny any knowledge or involvement. He wouldn’t drag them down with him when the time came. Besides, at this point he had no proof. He certainly wasn’t going to expose his closest friends to such a huge risk when he couldn’t even prove anything.

“Dye? Don’t you think that’s a bit much? I mean, really, I doubt your father even realizes you aren’t out hunting yet.”

“Better to be overcautious now than to look back and think about what could have been done,” he told Boomer. The herb and tub had been set in one corner of the stables. The stable boys had been told off for a few hours, and they had the place to themselves. Fluff stepped into the lukewarm water and began the long process of dying his soft white fur.

It was hours later when two cats walked back from the stables. One a big and burly grey, the other a fluffy red. Finding their way to the room they were sharing, they fell into a deep slumber.

Dawn came, bringing the bleary-eyed group back together in the common room. Fluff’s new look had caused some commotion this morning, but Boomer covered quickly. “This is Red,” Boomer said, loud enough to carry. “He’s new, but he’s gonna travel with us for a bit.” He gave a long look at the boys arrayed around the table, and after a moment, they followed suit, murmuring greetings to their ‘new’ member. “Fluff will be down a bit later, he was feelin’ a little under the weather this morning.” With that, he took his seat next to ‘Red’ and began to eat his breakfast. The others still looked at Fluff occasionally, trying to puzzle out what their friend and master was up to now, but nothing could be done about that in the middle of the common room.

About an hour later, over mugs of the local tea, they finalized plans for departure. The stable boys were sent to the docks with the horses for loading, and one of the thugs the innkeep had, to keep the nightly visitors from causing too much damage, took the inn’s carriage to deliver the newly purchased trunks with the supplies, as well. Fluff had sent Rider and Gunner with the horses, and Knox and Axle had gone with the carriage. Boomer and Fluff were all that was left at the inn. After waiting for Axle and Knox to get a good lead on them, they quietly slipped into the kitchen and out the back door.

It was a short walk to the pier, but Fluff was nervous anyway. Boomer was alert for any sign of danger. Fluff was overwhelmed with gratitude for his old friend. Here they were, thousands of miles from home. Boomer and the rest of the crew knowing next to nothing about their journey, even if they thought they knew more. Yet, they trusted him. They trusted him to lead them and look out for them, even as they looked out for him. Without reservation they fell into line with the ruse that he was someone other than who he was, and played it to the best of their abilities.

Fluffikins: Part 6

“Well, any friend of Jackson is a friend of mine,” the fellow said, taking Fluff’s paw in a firm shake. “My name’s Gareth. I own this little establishment. Why don’t you have a seat over here and I’ll see what I can do for you.” He indicated the chair in front of his table. Glancing at the other table and its occupant, Fluff took the seat Gareth had indicated.

“I have some letters of credit from home. We were shipwrecked on the other side of the island a few weeks back, and unfortunately everything not on our person at the time was lost. I need to know if you can redeem them so that my companions and I might resupply.” Fluff rummaged in his pack to retrieve the letters. “Some are a little smudged from their swim, but most are legible, and the seals are intact.” Gareth reached across the table and took the documents that Fluff offered.

Putting on his spectacles, Gareth frowned over the letters. “Well,” he said, “don’t see papers from (Insert country name here) very often. Must be near on ten years now.” He peered at the blue wax seal on the bottom of the page. “Everything looks to be in order. The local exchange is variable though. I’ll have to look up the figures to be sure. Sit tight and I’ll be right back.” Rising from the table he went through a curtain on the back wall into another room. Jackson took the opportunity to tell Fluff that he needed to get to the market, which was just down and over one street. Fluff could meet him there when his business was concluded. Fluff thanked him again for his help and said he would be along as soon as he could. He watched through the front window as Jackson and the villagers made their way down the street. Boomer and the others stayed put, waiting on Fluff.

“The exchange rate is good for you, I’m not sure I can cover the whole amount, but I may be able to change one or two for you.” Fluff gave a nod and Gareth passed several notes back across the table to Fluff, keeping back two. “Let me just go get that for you.” Knowledge glinted behind those sharp green eyes. Fluff realized that in his research out back he must have turned up the names of the people in the government. His name must have been listed. He wondered how far-reaching those consequences would be. Surely there wouldn’t be any panic over his disappearance yet. It wasn’t uncommon for him to take his crew and go out hunting, and that was the story he put about on his way out of the palace. He could be gone for weeks under that guise before anyone would even think to look for him.

Fluff sat nervously waiting for Gareth to return. If his father found out where he was before he could move on the place would be flooded with soldiers, all trying to ‘protect’ him so they could return him to the safety of the palace walls. He could never live up to his father’s expectations if he wasn’t allowed to try. He hoped Gareth would keep his secret, at least long enough for Fluff to take his crew and get off the island where he could be so easily corralled.

Just as Fluff was thinking it was about time to forget the money and go, Gareth reappeared from the back room. He was carrying four leather purses, each bulging with the weight of their contents. Setting them on the table as he took his seat again, he put a piece of parchment in front of Fluff. “Just the formalities, sir. I only need you to sign here for receipt of the money. I’m sorry it took so long; we didn’t have any contracts for this type of currency on hand, so one had to be written up. It also outlines the guilds rules for confidentiality.”

The contract was, indeed, still sporting some of the sand used to hurry the drying of the ink. Fluff noted the comment about the confidentiality clause and knew it for the fellow’s way of telling him that he was going to be safe, at least from him. Fluff’s eyes slid toward the other occupant of the room. Gareth noted his glance and he made a calming gesture with one paw. “Anything you say in this house is covered, sir. Be at your ease.” Fluff thanked Gareth warmly and gathered his crew to meet up with Jackson.

Fluff looked about as they made their way down the street in the general direction Jackson had indicated. His crew would be on the lookout for any trouble, as always, and Fluff would need to know the general layout so he could find places to stock up before the next leg of their journey. There was blacksmith, and a stable, across the street was a seamstress. The list of things they needed to replace began to form in Fluff’s mind.

*There is a disclaimer this week. I am still working on a name for the homeland of Fluff and his friends. I have the list narrowed down to four ‘finalists’ and will put it out for Facebook-land to rule on shortly. Apparently my house isn’t any good for this sort of thing as the last four ended up with a four-way tie. Go figure. Next week should bring some revelation in this area.