Debra L. Rollins - Revenge For the Huntsman

“Ouch…Cripes! Stop poking me! I’m not a pin cushion you know!” Growled Wolf, nearly losing his head as he suffered another jab from the man sizing his tuxedo jacket.

“Sorry, sir,” replied the tailor Marjorie had picked out.

Wolf didn’t know what to make of the strange little man. He appeared quite fussy in nature, his voice rising to an extremely high pitch whenever Wolf made the slightest move, hurting his sensitive ears. The smell of the man’s cologne made him terribly queasy and he wished the suit were finished so he could be off with Virginia visiting prospective clients instead.

“Now, sir. If you will just step out of your trousers and try this pair on, we can…”

“NO! Er…no, not now,” exclaimed Wolf as the little man backed off slightly confused and a little scared. He swore his client’s eyes had just turned pure green, but maybe it was a trick of the light.

“I’m sorry,” Wolf explained. “I don’t feel very well. Can we finish up another day?”

Wolf couldn’t let the man see him from the waist down. How could he explain his furry legs and tail? He could try shaving his legs like he saw Virginia do in the bath one morning, but that still left the problem of his tail. It was a part of him that couldn’t be cut off. It was a part of him that made him who he was.

Grandma was out walking Roland and submitting the invitations to the printers for the wedding, so he had the apartment to himself for once. He was glad she had taken the little poodle with her for they didn’t particularly like each other. Actually, the dog and the tailor reminded Wolf of each other, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on why in the world they did.

In the weeks that Wolf had returned to Virginia’s home, he had become increasingly fond of New York City. The smell of fuel fouling the air wasn’t exactly enticing, but everything else was wondrous and titillating to his enhanced wolf senses. He could walk down the street and no one noticed him for what he was, a half-wolf, whereas in the Nine Kingdoms, the population was more attuned to recognizing his kind. Here he found the human population even stranger than in the Nine Kingdoms. Most acted as if he were not at all unusual or looked through him as if he weren’t even there. The women dressed and acted more provocatively though and that was going to be the hardest to resist beyond the lovely smells coming from the food vendors on the streets day and night. Wolves mated for life and Virginia was his choice of mate, the love of his life, but the animal side of him was constantly enticed much like his time in Little Lamb Village and those brazen shepherdesses.

A full moon would crest in a few nights and that was when he had to fight the hardest against the natural urges he so desperately wished would go away and never return. He must talk to Virginia as soon as she returned home and let her know his time was near. Maybe between the two of them, they could decide what was the best way to handle his cycle.

Burly, Blabberwort and Bluebell were led before the Elder Council of Trolls to prepare themselves for their fates at the Third Kingdom coliseum. There had been rumors of fine leather boots to be given out to the first one hundred Trolls through the gates so naturally a huge crowd had grown since early that morning to receive the boots and select the choicest seat possible.

The trio was led out onto the podium before the council at high noon under blistering shouts for their heads while others yelled their support for the three young siblings.

The council stared down at them from their seats of honor surrounding the conspicuously empty throne. Most, including Bork, who sat as one of the council, were impressed by the fact that Burly, Blabberwort nor even Bluebell cowered before them. That was a surprise as most of the Third Kingdom considered the offspring of Relish to be quite idiotic and foolish from their previous troubles in the Fourth Kingdom. To be caught and jailed without having had killed nary an enemy for your troubles was not only dishonorable, but very degrading to the Troll Kingdom.

The raucous crowd quieted as Derk the Dangerous, who held the council high seat held up his hand and began to speak.

“Trolls! We have before us the royal offspring of Relish, our late and beloved king.”

Catcalls and indiscernible shouts interrupted his speech.

“Quiet or I will have the guards put a sword through the gullet of the next Troll who speaks out of turn!”

A few mumbled oaths, then a cry of pain quieted the rest of the Trolls in the coliseum.

“Burly, Blabberwort and Bluebell,” he began again. “You are here before the Troll Kingdom to accept your fate and futures decided upon by this wise council of leaders you see here before you. Have you anything to say to your fellow Trolls before we pass on our judgment to you and the Troll Nation?”

“Only this, Your Eminence,” said Burly, speaking for the trio. “Our Dad taught us to stick together no matter what happens. We won’t be separated under any circumstances and that’s our final word.”

“Is it now?” asked the High Counciltroll. “Allow me to read off your choices… individually by Troll. Blabberwort, only daughter of Relish the Wrathful, deceased King of the Third Kingdom…marriage to Bork the Brave commencing immediately following this hearing…or death by beheading? What say you…daughter of Relish?”

Blabberwort glanced at her two brothers as she grabbed her neck and gulped loudly. Then she glanced at Bork who sat with a smug look on his face.

“Marriage,” she grumbled under her breath. She didn’t feel too guilty. Marriage to Bork didn’t necessarily mean that she would be separated from her brothers. She had kept her promise to Burly and Bluebell. Besides, who else was of high enough stature in power for her to marry anyway?

“Bluebell, second son of Relish the Wrathful, deceased King of the Third Kingdom…become ruler of the Third Kingdom by proxy or death by beheading. What say you second son of Relish?”

Bluebell shuffled his feet, watching his other siblings from beneath his protruding brow. The power of being king of all Trolls was tempting; much more so than death, wasn’t it?

“Ruler of the Third Kingdom.” He answered. The crowd roared loudly, though Bluebell couldn’t determine if they were happy or mad at his decision.

“Burly, eldest son of Relish the Wrathful, deceased King of the Third Kingdom, you must prove yourself worthy before you are crowned King of the Trolls. Revenge Relish’s death by bringing back the witch who murdered him. Do this and the kingdom will be yours to rule with your brother as your second. Do you accept these terms or choose death by beheading?”

“I choose to bring back the witch, your Counciltrollness. Our dad’s death will be revenged, right Bluebell? Right Blabberwort?”

“Yeah!” Blabberwort cried loudly over the sea of voices from the crowds. “We will crush her. No one kills our Dad and gets away with it!”

“We will plant her head on a stake and feed it to the vultures. That will show her!” threw out Bluebell, not to be upstaged by his sister.

Burly struck his chest hard and loud, nearly bruising his own ribs with a closed fist.

“When do we leave, Your Eminence?”

Derk looked at the young Troll before him and somberly asked, “What do you mean, “we”?”

“We…us…you know, Blabberwort, Bluebell and myself,” explained Burly, confused by the look that the council was giving each other.

“Your brother and sister are not going with you. This quest is yours alone to undertake, Burly, son of Relish. You shall either prove yourself worthy as a leader or failure as a Troll. You shall leave at first light tomorrow. Tonight we celebrate your sister’s marriage to Bork and your brother’s swearing in as proxy king.”

“Suck an Elf,” each murmured despondently as the guards led them back to their rooms.

“A royal invitation is being made far and wide for all unattached young ladies of royal or noble blood to present themselves to his Royal Highness, King Wendell of the Fourth Kingdom for possible contract of marriage three days hence,” stated the proclamation nailed to every billboard in the Nine Kingdoms.

“Too bad I’m not a blue blood,” a mulish-looking girl sighed, reading the announcement to her illiterate friend. “I’d love to be bed and bred by the likes of his Royal Highness. He’s the most handsome man around these parts and rich, too.”

“I agree with that now, Dicey,” laughed her friend maliciously. “But even if you were a blue blood, King Wendell wouldn’t marry a plain girl, he’d pick the most beautiful of the lot. He doesn’t even need the money; he just needs a brat to heir. The woman who marries His Royal Highness will live happily ever after in extreme luxury.”

“If only I could transform myself into a raving beauty like Cinderella or Sleeping Beauty,” Dicey sighed. “He would have no choice but to fall in love with me and I would be picked to be his queen for sure.”

“Quit your daydreaming and come on, Dicey.” admonished her friend. “You have better things to do with your time than daydream your life away. Come on! I hear your mother calling for you.”

The two girls ran off, pushing past the old woman that had been eavesdropping on their conversation.

Madam Tatler had spent all night racking her brain on how best to gain entry to the ball without casting suspicion on herself. She was far too old to be considered a contender for the queenship and had no relative to introduce as a possible wife for King Wendell. Not only that, but she was known well in the inner circles of Castle White and was under suspicion of practicing black magic. Of which they were correct, she smiled to herself. Even if she did gain entry to the ball, Zenda knew she would be watched like a hawk and never be allowed to search for the mirror to locate the half-wolf. No, she had to find another way.

Now, after listening to the two young women, she came up with a brilliant plan. It had some fine-tuning to complete, but she was positive she was on the correct path. Returning to her cart and horse, she began the journey home to her cottage in the Disenchanted Forest in a much happier mood.

The morning after Blabberwort’s wedding to Bork heralded a dismal day. Perfect, thought Burly, for the start of such a miserable quest. It wasn’t as if he didn’t wish to revenge their dad, but he was going to miss Blabberwort and Bluebell’s companionship. He was sure they would always be together, through thick and thin, no matter what.

Now here he was, awaiting his siblings in the courtyard of the Troll Palace to say his good-byes, possibly forever.

Oooh! He would stomp that little witch good when he got his hands on her!

The large wooden door to the palace opened, allowing Bluebell, the Troll crown tipping drunkenly over his heavy brow, to enter the courtyard, followed by Blabberwort and her newly acquired husband.

Burly noticed Bork looked out of sorts, which he thought unusual for a Troll just off his wedding night. He sported a bruised eye and walked sort of funny too. His sister on the other hand seemed downright cheery as she slapped him on the back to wish him well and good luck. She even pressed a supply of magic mushrooms on him, which he dropped into his pouch with his Trolldust. Maybe he could lose himself in a mushroom induced haze to pass the time away on his journey so he wouldn’t be so lonely, he hoped.

“Why are you so happy, Blabberwort?” he asked, peeved since he was so depressed. “I thought you didn’t want to get married?”

“I don’t! I didn’t,” she corrected, looking over at Bork’s sour face. “He tried some touchy-feely with me, so I let him have it…POW…right in the eye! Then, while he was blinded…I struck him from behind! From there it was easy…I trussed him up like a turkey vulture on Trollday and knocked him out with the flat of my broadsword. He didn’t give me any trouble after that. I for one, slept like a newborn Troll.”

“Wow!” exclaimed Bluebell in awe of his sister. “Bork the Brave, done in by a Trolline. Who would have thought it possible?”

“Yeah!” Burly agreed. “That’s amazing!”

Bork cut in on the trio’s conversation.

“Enough good-byes!” he roared, embarrassed that his young Trolline wife had bested him whilst in the bedchamber. Though he looked at her with new eyes and a begrudging respect, he vowed she would never best him again.

The Trolls clapped one another on the back and said their farewells, waving back and forth until Burly disappeared from view over the horizon.