Mary Anne Gruen - The House of Red

Relish the Troll King was gone but not forgotten. His people were alternately mourning him and gnashing their teeth for revenge. They had been routed from the Fourth Kingdom easily after their leader’s murder, but only because they were confused at being left without his leadership.

Trolls are a very family oriented bunch and that’s probably the only positive thing you can say about them. Relish was descended from a long line of great bloodthirsty troll kings, one of whom had been presented with the Third Kingdom after a savage war had made it obvious to the others that they had to do something for the trolls or suffer their constant warring. Given Relish’s violent forefathers and the troll people’s respect for family, it was certain they would look to Relish’s three children for their new leadership. That is, if they moved quickly to show their dominance. Trolls don’t follow wimps, no matter what their bloodline.

Relish’s three children had escaped from Wendell’s castle on the night of his coronation during the confusion that followed after the Evil Queen was killed. It took quite awhile for the party guests to come to their full selves and regain their propriety. And of course, King Wendell, had to explain over and over to them about the enchantment that had fallen upon him and the great danger they had all escaped thanks to his three friends.

By the time the guards were sent to check on the troll children, they were long gone. They weren’t the best and the brightest, but they knew King Wendell wouldn’t be real happy with them after they’d worked so closely with the Evil Queen. It seemed best to get out while they still had the chance.

Once back in their own kingdom, the troll children told their people how they had tried their best to avenge their father’s murder, but had been turned back by a ferocious army bent on taking their lives as well and thus ending the succession of the Troll King. Since then, they’d been in quiet seclusion, alternately mourning the death of their father and fighting over the shoes and weapons he’d left behind.

They settled finally on dividing things equally between them, with just the occasional item being snuck out of one sibling’s wooden box and put into another while the others weren’t looking.

“That’s the last of the important stuff,” eldest brother Burly announced, throwing a pair of ancient sandals into his box. “Now we just have Dad’s old collection of magic salves and powders and his extra leather laces. Since I’m the oldest, I claim the laces.”

The younger two groaned, but didn’t put up a fight. They’d both stolen several of the laces already while no one was looking and didn’t consider the ones remaining to be all that exciting.

“I’ll take the salves,” Blabberwort, the middle child and only girl said.

“I’ll take the powders,” Bluebell, the youngest said.

“Done.” Burly threw Blabberwort the circular silver container with the salves and Bluebell the rusted black container with its collection of powders in little leather sacks. The laces went into his own box, which he nailed shut. The others followed his example and nailed their boxes shut as well.

“So, what do we do now?” Bluebell asked.

“We’d better plan our next move,” Blabberwort said. “Our people are getting restless. They’re calling for revenge and if we don’t give it to them soon, they’ll kill us off and put in some military general as King instead.”

“We can’t let that happen,” Burly said. “Dad would kill us. That is, if he weren’t already dead.”

“We’ve got to defend the House of the Troll King!” Blabberwort said.

“Yeah!” piped in Bluebell.

“King Wendell wouldn’t even turn over our father’s body to us for a decent burning,” Blabberwort said.

“Yeah!” piped in Bluebell.

“And he wouldn’t turn over his murderer either,” Burly said.

“Just told us some fairy story about how the Evil Queen had killed him, when we all know it was that girl Virginia,” Blabberwort said.

“Yeah!” piped in Bluebell.

“I say we call up the army and attack King Wendell’s kingdom,” Burly said.

“It’s what Dad would want us to do,” Blabberwort said.

“Yeah!” piped in Bluebell.

“But who’s gonna lead?”

“I will,” Burly said, wagging his shoulders and straightening to his full height. “I’m the oldest. I should be King.”

“Oh, go suck an elf,” Blabberwort said, “Dad always said you had more height than brains. I should lead.”

“Who died and made you Queen?” Bluebell retorted.

One thing led to another and a scuffle started. Before long, all three were wheeling from the blows they’d delivered to one another.

“I don’t think this is getting us anywhere,” Burly said at last.

“Yeah,” Blabberwort said. “At this rate, none of will survive to be ruler.”

“So, maybe we should unite into one deadly fighting machine,” Bluebell said, raising his sword. “Are you with me?”

Burly and Blabberwort grimaced at each other, but raised their swords in the affirmative.

“OK,” Bluebell said, “So we call the army and make plans for our assault on King Wendell’s kingdom. It shouldn’t take more than a few days to get everything ready.”

“Yeah,” Blabberwort said. “They’re preoccupied now with all those new immigrants coming in. They won’t be thinking about arming themselves for war.”

“By the time they realize what’s happening,” Burly said, “it’ll be too late.”