Debra L. Rollins - Revenge For the Huntsman

Wendell and his troops broke camp early hoping to arrive at their destination long before Madam Tatler had time to rise for the day. The King hoped to take her by surprise, for if she were indeed a witch, then there might be trouble in store. On top of that, she had the power of the magic mirrors at her disposal. They freshened up in a nearby stream before marching onwards, deep into the Disenchanted Forest.

The courier pointed the way to the last leg of their journey. The cottage that housed the Huntsman’s mother was but six miles from their position. A stone’s throw really, thought Wendell, if all went smoothly. He looked behind him, back at the determined men traveling with him. All remained solemn in their expression. Even the Trolls seemed keen on the mission. Trolls usually enjoyed a good adventure. These two, though bumbling, proved no exception.

He thought back to just a few days ago when he was so excited about the discovery of the ancient book and its contents. Wendell hoped Anthony and Virginia would be as astounded as he at what he found within its leather bound covers. Once Madam Tatler was in custody along with the mirrors, he could return to the castle and share the discovery with them. They should have returned from their world by now.

“Do you ever think we’ll find our brother?” Bluebell worried of Blabberwort. “We haven’t seen or heard a word of him since he left the Troll Palace about a week ago.”

“Ahhh…he’ll be fine,” replied Blabberwort, trying not to show her concern. “Probably off terrorizing Elves or laid out on those magic mushrooms I gave him somewhere. King Wendell swears he has not seen him so he must be alive somewhere in the Nine Kingdoms.”

Bluebell shook his head in agreement and laughed.

“Yeah, you’re right. Burly can take care of himself. He’s almost as mean as Dad was and as ugly to boot,” he said with a snicker. “No one would want to bother him.”

“He’s not as ugly as you, Bluebell,” retorted Blabberwort, hoping to goad her younger brother into a fight. She was bored and needed some entertainment. “Your nose is too long and your legs too short.”

“As least I don’t wear my hair like a dog’s tail. I don’t understand what Bork sees in you.”

“I have a certain charm and finesse. You on the other hand have the manners of a drunken Giant.”

“Well…you smell like one!”

“And you belch like one…highly disgusting I may add!”

“Toad face!”

“Dragon dung!”

“Ah, suck an Elf!” they yelled at each other in unison.

Wendell turned back to the road in front of him, shaking his head at the Trolls antics and sighed deeply. Sometimes a king’s job ran above and beyond the call of duty.

Madam Tatler scrupulously studied the men washing up and watering their horses through the mirror for spying. From the bits of information she gathered from their conversations she was able to piece together that King Wendell was on his way to stop her in extracting revenge for her son.

She was lucky that the mirrors worked with many elements that only had to reflect…like water from a stream.

Thus she was now forewarned of their intent. But what action to take? There was a good chance that they would be at her cottage before Cierce could arrive with Wolf and they were as yet too far away to cast a spell upon them. That left only one thing to do. She would have to leave at this very moment and arrange for her pet to meet her elsewhere.

“Problems…problems,” she muttered irritably, then turned from the mirror to prepare for the change in plans.

Wolf watched helplessly as Virginia retched behind a tree off the side of the road. His delectable dish was in a terrible mood, not at all in sorts this morning since they awoke from a soft bed of moss and fallen leaves. He himself had totally enjoyed the few stars peeking down from above, the call of night life ringing through the forest canopy and the soft breath of his Virginia upon his chest. He had pulled off his dinner jacket and wrapped her in it, then covered them both with the blanket for warmth last night hoping she would be comfortable. She had fallen promptly asleep in his arms, content, safe and weary. He had not suspected that by morning his sweetie pie would turn quite so touchy.

Virginia groaned pitifully as she walked slowly towards him.

“I’ve never felt so miserable in all my life.” She looked up at the horse as Wolf prepared to help her up on its broad back. The continuous, rhythmic gait from the night before was still deeply embedded in her memory. She shuddered, then allowed herself to be boosted up onto the beast.

“How far to the castle from here?” she asked.

“About a half-a-day's journey. The Troll road will end on the outskirts of Little Lamb Village. But it is best for us to stay clear of the roads. Travel as much as possible beyond the tree line. The smell of Troll is strong here. I don’t like it, but it’s the safest route at the moment.”

They traveled in silence for nearly an hour, weaving back and forth through trees and brush until Virginia had had enough.

“Wolf”

“Yeah?”

“I-I’m hungry.”

Wolf was too. They had not eaten since the meal at the seamstress’s shop and for a wolf, that was a long time indeed. He stopped the horse and slid off, then turned and helped her down. Wolf sniffed the air. Nearby was a family of field mice in their burrow and a ground mole digging out a home to sleep in, but he doubted if Virginia would be interested in eating either of those animals. If only they were closer to Little Lamb Village. Not that he had fond memories of the place, but he did have a pardon and they had such succulent food. Plumb piglets and juicy lamb chops to entice his taste buds.

Wolf stopped and thought a moment scratching his temple. Did he mention bacon? No? Ahhh! The bacon was to die for! Scrumptious, mouth-watering, tongue-teasing bacon!

“Stop it!” he mumbled aloud to himself. The thoughts were pure torture.

“What?” Virginia asked, looking at him strangely. “Stop what?”

“Oh, sorry,” he apologized sheepishly. “I got carried away thinking about food. You know…tender chicken, luscious chops and delicious bacon. I’m so hungry for it, I can smell it.”

“I know…I can too! I mean, I really can smell bacon frying!” she exclaimed, stomach growling. The baby wriggled slightly as if he too, could smell the tantalizing aroma. Virginia’s mouth watered slightly.

“Cripes! You’re right.” Wolf sniffed with a deep appreciation as the smell wafted past his nose. He tied the horse to a tree limb as they silently slipped towards the direction of the smell.

Cautiously they entered a small clearing in the woods. No one was about, but a campfire was lit with a pan of bacon sizzling in an iron skillet. Nearby sat plates, cups and cutlery, even a pot of coffee and delicious bread begging to be sliced were laid out on a cloth across a tree stump. Wolf wondered if the owners of this small feast had disappeared magically into thin air. No one, and he meant no one, should ever leave a pan of such tasty-looking breakfast alone. Why, someone might spirit it away when his or her backs were turned. His eyes glazed over at the thought of the salty morsels of meat and fried fat sliding down his throat, ending in a satisfying heap in his stomach. He sniffed the air for signs of danger, but none prevailed except for the overpowering smell of bacon and…and something else. He sniffed again, deeper this time. The odor was unusual, but he had smelt it once before…he was sure of it. Then he remembered. Mint! His gaze made a quick inventory of the forest bed. Mint was everywhere. It was an old trappers trick and how he was captured by the local law enforcement once before while sheep worrying. They staked out a plump lamb on a stake and laid down mint everywhere to mask their own odor. He never knew they were there until it was too late.

“Cripes…oh, no!” he fretted aloud. “Virginia, we have to leave…NOW!”

Virginia looked up from the feast before her with a look of consternation on her face.

“Are you crazy? I’m starving! Is there something wrong with the food?” Her tummy protested loudly as she laid the loaf of bread back down on the makeshift table, disappointed.

“Don’t you see? It’s a trap! The mint…it’s masking the scents around us.”

“I can smell the bacon just fine.” She picked up a piece and went to nibble on it. Wolf was being ridiculous.

“Huff-puff! Come on, Virginia, before something terrible befalls us!” He grabbed her by the arm and hurried her towards the direction of the horse, but a few feet from the safety of the forest overgrowth, a large net dropped from the canopy of the treetops, entangling them inside.

“Wolf!” Virginia cried as she tried in vain to free herself.

“Cripes! Virginia, are you okay?”

“Y-yes…I-I think so.” The vines of the netting were thin but sticky. She found that the more she struggled the more entangled she became. “Wolf! Stop moving around so much. The more you try to fight against the vine, the tighter it becomes!”

“Huff-puff, Virginia. I told you it was a trap. Now what are we going to do?”

“Do?” A familiar voice spoke up behind them. “You two are going to do nothing but die!”

Virginia groaned and looked up. There stood Burly and behind him, the transformed she-wolf. Surprisingly, she was still bound by the leather tethers, looking none too happy.

“Hah! Thought you all had outsmarted Burly the Troll, eh? We Trolls are the best trackers in all of the Nine Kingdoms.”

“Hardly,” Wolf murmured under his breath.

“Quiet!” Burly kicked Wolf hard in the side, knocking the breath from him. “You got lucky with the dog once, but never again. You’ve got an appointment with Madam Tatler and your destiny. A destiny that was sealed when you killed the Huntsman.”

“He was killed by his own bolt as I saved Virginia from his bow. It was purely accidental that he was in the bolt’s path as it came back down to earth. I did not set out to kill him although I am glad he’s dead.”

“It matters not to me that he is dead, but it does matter to Madam Tatler. I will have my reward for taking you in to her and that reward is the witch, Virginia!”

Burly reached into Cierce’s leather pack and produced the small magic mirror. He laughed cruelly as she turned to bite him, dodging her sharp teeth. Burly glanced around, grabbed a napkin and twisted it into a gag, tying it over her mouth. She glared at him in complete and utter rage, her eyes turning an icy shade of silver as her hackles rose. How dare he humiliate her so…he would regret it someday…somehow. She tried breaking the leather bonds but Wolf had done too good a job. They were wrapped too thick.

“Hello? Hello? Madam, it’s me…Burly the Troll! Suck an Elf! How do you turn this thing on?” Burly cursed the little instrument of communication, whacking it on the ground a few times before it made a crackling noise, slowly revealing Zenda’s features.

“If you hit it any harder, it will break, you fool!” she said with contempt. Trolls were such useless creatures unless you guided them. “There has been a change in plans. My home is no longer safe. Instead, meet me at the top of Cascading Falls River. After I take possession of Wolf, I shall turn you back into a Troll and you can be on your way. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yeah…we’ll be there.” Burly turned off the mirror, then tied it to the side of his belt for safekeeping.

Virginia and Wolf looked at each other as they realized that the Troll prince had found their horse, for Burly brought the animal forth, throwing them together across the animal’s back still entangled in the netting. After settling Cierce back across his own steed, he hopped up and guided both horses through the forest towards their new destination.

Bork and Derk the Dangerous were at the head of the troop of Trolls as they turned a sharp bend in the Troll road, running smack into Wendell’s own troops. The two opposing sides stood a moment in surprise, each one as shocked at the other, then swiftly backed off, ducking behind boulders, trees or whatever they could find to protect themselves. Each troop was armed heavily, but Bork had the edge with numbers. He simply overwhelmed King Wendell’s troops nearly two to one.

“In the name of Bluebell the Terrible, King of the Trolls, I demand that you throw down your arms and surrender to the Troll Kingdom!” Bork yelled in his most horrific voice. “Do this in a calm and peaceful way and we may have mercy on you and your men. We will kill you swiftly instead of torturing you first!” The hoard of troops behind him cheered loudly until Bork silenced them with a raised hand. He needed to hear King Wendell’s answer.

“Go suck an Elf, Bork!” a feminine voice cried out instead.

Throughout the Trolls there arose a collective gasp. Three figures walked into view of the Troll troops, King Wendell, King Bluebell and the Princess Blabberwort.

Bork was astounded.

“What in witch’s warts in going on here?” he sputtered in anger. What were Blabberwort and Bluebell doing with King Wendell? He stalked towards them, withdrawing his sword, Derk not far behind.

“You kill King Wendell, then you must kill us as well,” Blabberwort proclaimed.

“Yeah…I made a bargain with King Wendell to protect him and Dad always said, “A Troll’s word was as good as he is.”

“Great…in that case the Troll Kingdom is doomed,” retorted Bork angrily, then looked to his bride. “I suppose you made this “bargain” as well?”

“And if I say I did?” Blabberwort raised her chin in a show of defiance.

Bork grew red in the face. So red, the Trolls around him were afraid he was going to explode. Slowly they backed away as he prepared to do battle with his wife.

“I cannot reprimand the king in his decision,” Bork hissed loud enough for all to hear. “He has made a bargain and as a Troll loyal to the king, I must abide by that decision. But I will not, cannot allow any wife of mine to disregard my wishes nor degrade me by any means!”

Bork strode up to both kings, bowed in front of both, and begged their pardon.

“I must have a few moments alone with my dear wife.” He looked back at her with determination, causing Blabberwort to gulp loudly in trepidation. “By your leaves, of course, Your Majesties.”

Wendell nodded his acquiescence. The Trolline was his wife after all, while Bluebell just shrugged his shoulders. What could Bork do to Blabberwort anyway? Talking never hurt anyone.

Unfortunately, Wendell had no idea how long the two newlyweds were going to take to talk things over. Hopefully not too long. Wendell checked his watch. The day was growing late. The chance to catch the old witch while she still slept was now lost. They would have to be extremely careful as they approached the woman’s cottage or the element of surprise would possibly be lost.

Bork bowed once more, turned, grabbed hold of Blabberwort’s hand and led her away from the dozens of pairs of staring, curious eyes into the nearby wood.

Blabberwort looked back at her younger brother beseechingly but he wouldn’t raise his eyes to hers. She was in no real harm, right? He didn’t think so, but couldn’t help but feel guilty anyway. Blabberwort had done some pretty rotten things to Bork in the short time they had been wed.

Bluebell took a few steps towards the pair as they melted into the tree line but Derk stopped him, laying his large arm across the smaller Troll’s chest.

“Bork and your sister must work out their differences, Your Highness. Take the advice of an old Troll who knows better and leave them be. Do not fear, no real harm will come to your sister, I promise you.”

Bluebell looked up at the Troll and saw the truth of what Derk was trying to say written in his eyes. The little Troll King smiled a tooth-filled grin, lay back against a large boulder and waited for his sister and her husband to return.