Debra L. Rollins - Revenge For the Huntsman

It hadn’t been easy, but the courier, with the help of his friends, stole the oldest mirrors they could find from Wendell’s castle and loaded them carefully upon the man’s wagon. Most looked plain and decidedly unmagical but he felt the more the better for the old witch to try in the hopes that one would fulfill his duty to the old hag. The most promising ones had been found in the dungeon, but the absence of dust made him wonder how long they had been down there. Not very long, he thought, wondering why anyone would leave perfectly good mirrors, abet ugly ones, in a place such as the dungeons anyway. Thanking his friends profusely, he left for the forest.

Virginia woke slowly from a deep, healing sleep to the “thump, thump, thump” of a dog's tail wagging happily upon her mattress.

“Prince!” she mumbled, still half asleep. “Get off the bed.”

A soft whimper, then a growl woke her the rest of the way.

“Prince…stop it I said. I…oh!”

It wasn’t the dog, Prince, after all but Wolf sleeping beside of her dreaming a decidedly wolfish dream from the look on his face. His wolf tail brushed against her thigh, tickling her delicate skin.

Probably chasing sheep or chickens again she thought, shaking her head with concern. Dreaming was fine, just as long as he didn’t do it in real life in her world. How would she be able to explain to a judge in New York City that Wolf was just being himself? They would lock them both up in the loony bin and throw away the keys.

For the moment though, she languished in the knowledge that they were safe in her grandmother’s home, able to rest in a soft, clean bed without fear of Trolls and evil queens. She thrust away the thought of evil queens as fast as it popped into her head. She knew that someday soon her grandmother would have to be told about her daughter’s death but not now, not today. Today was the beginning of a new and wonderful life and the beginning of life as well, she thought as she caressed her abdomen lovingly.

Her future husband stirred beside her, his hazel eyes opened slightly, squinting against the bright sunlight fingering between the curtains. He saw her touch her tummy where their baby lay and drew her into his arms tenderly.

“Good morning, my little morsel.”

“Good morning to you too, Wolf. Are you ready for breakfast?” she asked shyly, feeling his nakedness against her as if for the first time. She knew as a half-wolf that he would probably be different from human men. Velvety fur covered his body from the waist down reminding her of the mythological Pan except his feet were not cloven hoofs, but human in shape. Teasingly, she stroked his tail against the fur, sending him into instant goosebumps. “Ohhhh, huff-puff! I’ll get you good for that, my succulent sweetie-pie!” he warned, then kissed her lips with all the passion he could muster.

Virginia relaxed in his arms, missing the mischievous glint in Wolf’s eye. Quickly though, she knew she had been had as his searching hands found a particularly ticklish spot on her side. She wiggled and twisted, laughing till it hurt and cried “Uncle”! Wolf loved what she considered “childhood games”, but he always seemed to turn them to his advantage…and hers. Breakfast would wait and this time, even Wolf didn’t care.

Burly was having a very, bad day. He, Blabberwort and Bluebell had returned home, deciding to rule together, but something had gone terribly wrong. They had returned to an uprising within their own kingdom and found themselves prisoners yet again, this time in their own dungeon.

The clank of a key in the door woke all three Trolls. They growled in anger and fear as they recognized their late father’s most supreme general, Bork the Brave, walk in and circle the small, dank cell. Carefully they were looked up and down, as if a heavy decision was riding on their appearance alone.

“Why have you imprisoned us, Bork?” Demanded Blabberwort, her dark face screwed up in anger at such insolence from an underling. “Our dad has been murdered. Do you wish to make us even more miserable by locking us up in this cell?”

“When I get out of here, I’ll have your head on a stick, you…you traitor to the crown, just you wait and see!” Whined Bluebell pathetically.

“That goes double for me!” said Burly. “You have no right to keep us here!”

“Shut up all of you!” Bork growled at them menacingly. “You must now listen to me or die a miserable death much like your father and my soldiers with him. Or I personally will take great pleasure in cutting all your throats. Do I make myself clear?”

All three siblings took a giant step back, nodding their heads that they understood. Bork the Brave was not a Troll to be trifled with. Very few Trolls had the courage, or strength for that matter to go a round in battle with him. They liked their heads on their shoulders just fine.

“When your father started this “allegiance” with the Evil Queen, I warned him to take care. He asked that if anything should befall him that I watch over his children, as pathetic as they are, and see to it that one becomes the new Troll King.” He looked over at Blabberwort. “Or Queen if you will. Unfortunately, your father and I did not foresee an uprising upon his death. As we speak, many Trolls are vying for the throne, but they are not of royal blood such as yourselves. I knew the moment you re-entered this kingdom that the news would spur these challengers to hunt you down and murder you all and unless you go along with my plans, I promise you…I will step back and let it happen.”

The trio huddled together in a circle to discuss Bork’s reason for imprisoning them.

“Do you think he speaks the truth?” Burly questioned the other two.

“Dad has always put his trust in Bork in the past,” Blabberwort stated, grinding her teeth. “And has always spoken highly of him. He has been with Dad since we were all children, remember? Dad brought him in off the streets as a young Troll to train himself personally. Bork owes Dad much, I am certain of that.”

“But can we trust him,” asked Bluebell with more cunning than usual.

“Suck an Elf!” rationalized Burly. “We don’t have much choice, do we?”

“No…you don’t.”

The three conked heads as they jumped up from their huddle to see Bork towering over them. He was perhaps one of the tallest Trolls in the kingdom. That was pretty darned tall.

Burly, Blabberwort and Bluebell stepped forward and accepted Bork’s terms.

“Now,” asked Burly. “What are we supposed to do?”

Bork gave them a tight smile and outlined his plan to defend the Troll throne.

Their second day back in New York City was faring not much better than the first. Not only had she and Wolf had to go to live with her grandmother because Tony had lost his job and the apartment they had shared by Central Park, but she found out from Candy that she no longer had a job either.

She trudged back to the Gramercy Park address where she prayed that Wolf and her grandmother had not done each other in during her absence. She had not particularly wanted to leave them alone with each other, but saw no other way. A trip to the restaurant would serve no purpose but bring out Wolf’s instinct to eat everything in sight if possible. As she was leaving the apartment to check on her job, she saw Wolf bounding joyfully to the kitchen to prepare his beloved bacon breakfast. Grandmother wasn’t up yet so he had free reign for a little while at least. Even Roland, her grandmother’s pampered poodle, stayed noticeably quiet in his doggy bed, not even lifting his head as they left the confines of their bedroom.

Saying a little prayer before turning the key in the latch, she entered the apartment.

“Wolf? Grandmother?” She called out. The apartment was still, which worried her due to Wolf’s last visit to her grandmother’s abode. Quickly she ran towards the kitchen, stopping outside the closed door as she heard the murmuring of voices, high and excitable through the thick wood.

What was going on in there? Virginia pressed open the door to an unbelievable scene. Wolf was cooking all right, but not her grandmother. Instead she found five mature women, including her own grandmother, sitting at the large kitchen island watching Wolf prepare a lunch fit for a king. Everything was garnished beautifully and the aroma from the food smelt divine. At the head of the table was Wolf, excitably explaining every nuance, every flavor, every texture that the women were about to experience.

“Oooh, ladies! Here’s my succulent sweetheart, the holder of my heart, my creamy, dreamy love! Come in and sit down, Virginia. The girls and I are about to embark on a culinary voyage.” The women giggled with pleasure at being called “girls”.

Wolf raced around the table, dodging a few of the old ladies to lead her to a seat and drop a kiss on her pert, little nose.

“And now the best of all, my favorite…young lamb marinated in my secret sauce, slowly roasted to perfection, served with a side of bacon wrapped chicken. Eat up ladies, it’s absolutely delicious. Wolf’s honor!”

“What’s going on?” Virginia asked in confusion. Wolf actually appeared to be getting along with her grandmother. Not too long ago, he was ready to cook her up in this very room. Could she really be ready to overlook that and trust Wolf in the kitchen so soon? The answer to her question came to her in the form of the woman herself.

“Virginia, daaarling!” Her grandmother exclaimed. “Why didn’t you tell me our Wolf was such a great chef? Keeping secrets from your grandmother again, are we?”

“He is absolutely fabulous, Marjorie,” Mrs. Lefler gushed. “Virginia, my dear, do you think maybe, just maybe that your Wolf would be available next Friday night to whip up a few savory dishes for a small dinner party of six? I would love to see the look on Chef Ramón’s face when I tell him I hired another chef for the occasion. He nearly ruined my last dinner party by showing up an hour late!”

“Huff-puff! Mattie, how awful for you!” Wolf looked properly shocked. “Why, no one should ever have to suffer through a late breakfast, lunch or dinner. Never!”

All the other women nodded their heads in agreement then looked to Virginia for an answer to the dinner party.

“I…I …well I suppose if Wolf wants to cater your party, it’s okay with me, too,” she answered, then threw in quickly, “But I need to be there too. To…to help him with the cooking and serving. We are a team you know.”

“Yeah, a team,” Wolf repeated her words, scratching at his temple.

“Wonderful!” Matilda Lefler clapped her hands together and nearly danced a little jig in the knowledge that Chef Ramón would soon have his comeuppance. She handed Virginia a scrap of paper with her phone number and bade her to call later that day to set up the menu for the party, then turned back to the table to feast on the plate of lamb set before her. Virginia couldn’t believe her and Wolf’s luck. Matilda Lefler was from one of the oldest families in New York City. To win her praise and business was just what she and Wolf needed to get set up in their own business. Originally she had dreams of one day owning a restaurant with a good man. She smiled broadly. Little did she ever dream it would turn out to be a catering service and a half-wolf that could cook like a dream.