by Steve Thomas
***
A crowd had gathered at the base of the Ceremonial Coconut Tree.
“So you’re saying the coconape may be afraid to come down?” asked Froskur.
“That’s right,” said Tolmy with a nod.
“And you want me to help Klondaeg hunt whatever is scaring it?”
“That’s right,” said Tolmy, and he slapped Klondaeg on the back. The crowd cheered.
There was a slight rustle from the top of the coconut tree. Everyone present looked up in unison. The coconape was carefully arranging the coconut leaves into a bed. Froskur glared at his son. “And this was your idea?”
“That’s right!” said Tolmy, grinning widely.
“And you realize that I’m very busy conducting my sacred duty and don’t have time for your nonsense right now?”
“That’s right,” said Tolmy, and his eyes sank to the ground. The crowd awwed.
Froskur shouted, “So get back to town! This is a great honor for our family, one which we’re increasingly unlikely to receive again. You will shame us all if you keep trying to ruin it.”
“It’s already ruined!” Tolmy shouted back. “The coconape won’t come down. We should be eating the Fromsday feast, not arguing under a tree. Anyone else would have given up and gone back to his son, but you’re so hung up on watching this tree that you won’t admit you failed as Ceremonial Yon Toadlius. You failed, father!”
The crowd went silent and stared, wide-eyed. Froskur’s face turned from healthy green to raging blue. Tolmy was panting, his vocal sac pumping like a bellows.
Klondaeg tossed yet another empty coconut shell over his shoulder. “I don’t know how Fromsday is supposed to work, but—”
“Don’t, Klondaeg,” said Sinister. “This is a family matter.”
Froskur threw his trident to the ground and crouched down to stare into his son’s eyes. “Now you listen to me. I sacrificed everything for this post.”
Tolmy stood tall. “Yes, you did. Even me. It’s obvious now that there’s only one way for me to spend Fromsday with my father.” He drew in a deep breath and jumped.
Like a coconut moving backwards in time, Tolmy shot up toward the top of the coconut tree. In fact, he flew so high that when he reached the apex, he was looking down at the coconape.
It was a leap worthy of Fromsday. In later years, this jump would become an integral part of the Fromsday story, and lead to new traditions. Only the Yon Toadlius of legend had ever leapt the height of a coconut tree, but no legend claimed he had exceeded it.
It was only when Tolmy started to fall that Klondaeg realized the frog-boy’s error: he had jumped straight up. There was nowhere to land but the ground, and a harsh landing it would be.
The crowd gasped as Tolmy hurtled down. They gasped as he grabbed for a coconut leaf, but could not gain purchase. They gasped as Froskur ripped off his helmet and desperately tried to position himself to catch his son.
And they gasped when the coconape snatched Tolmy out of the air, pulling him to safety atop the Ceremonial Coconut Tree. A somewhat dazed frog-boy wobbled atop the tree while the coconape fussed over him. He gently set the boy down amongst the branches and hissed at the crowd below.
Froskur looked up. “Are you unharmed?”
“Yes,” said Tolmy.
The fear for his son’s life lifted, Froskur’s rage visibly returned, now entwined with the anger of a parent who just saw his only child put himself in needless danger. “Now you see here, Tolmy! This sort of behavior is simply unacceptable for the son of Ceremonial Yon Toadlius! Come down from that tree this instant!”
The coconape hurled a coconut at Froskur’s head. An onlooker dove to catch the holy fruit.
Froskur ranted and paced around the great tree trunk.
“Klondaeg, say something,” said Sinister.
“Now you want me to get involved? Not a monster, not my business,” said Klondaeg. “It would take intervention from Fromdon to solve this family crisis.” He reached out an arm, and someone supplied another shell of coconogg.
Soon, the argument had become the entire focus of Fromsday. Some members of the crowd kept close watch over Tolmy and his father. Others were bringing the celebration to the tree, carting in food and drink and music. Within an hour, once Froskur had calmed down, Tolmy had even convinced his friends to repeat the Fromsday pageant and narrated from the tree-top. Froskur never took his eyes off the narrator, and smiled for the first time that day.
When it was over, Froskur said, “Excellent narrating, son. I’m sorry I skipped it the first time. And all the other times.”
Tolmy called down, “And I’m sorry I embarrassed you. I’m ready to come down now, if someone will bring me a ladder.”
Some of his friends dashed off to town and returned with both a ladder and the village elder. “What is the meaning of this?” the elder croaked. “Where’s my Fromsday dinner? I’ve been napping alone at the table since sunrise, and no one ever woke me up to tell me the meal would be late.”
Froskur expertly snapped to attention. “The coconape is yet to descend, oh great Elder.”
The frog-boys leaned the ladder up against the coconut tree. The coconape helpfully held it steady while Tolmy mounted the top rung.
The elder clicked his tongue. “Is that your boy up there? Is this why everyone left the celebrations?”
“Yes, sir,” said Froskur. “I’m very sorry. He’ll be down shortly.”
“I should hope so,” said the Elder. He stomach gurgled. “Well, it seems to me that someone went up the tree, and something is coming down. Did you witness this, Ceremonial Yon Toadlius?”
“Yes, sir,” said Froskur.
“Good enough for me. Now back to town, you layabouts. I give you the day off to celebrate a holiday, and you spend the whole afternoon slacking off standing around a tree. I want music, food, dancing. Now celebrate like your next meal depends on it!” He met Klondaeg’s eye. “Glad you could make it, Klondaeg. Try not to kill any coconapes. There’s a good fellow.” The elder shuffled back to town, muttering the whole way.
When Tolmy safely touched ground, he ran into his father’s arms for a long embrace. Up above, the Coconape waved at him, then nestled down into his bed of leaves. Klondaeg watched on for a moment, finished the latest shell of coconogg without even wincing, and said, “Right. Back to town. I’m interested in this Fromsday feast.”
“Interested?” said Froskur. “You shall have the seat of honor, my friend.”
“Well, I won’t say I don’t deserve honor,” said Klondaeg. “But I haven’t slain any monsters for this village.”
“No,” said Froskur, “But if it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have reconciled with my son. I had no idea he’s been upset with me for so long. We frog-people have become so obsessed with our traditions that we forgot the true meaning of Fromsday: taking the day off and celebrating that we live in the bounteous coconut forest blessed by Fromdon. It’s not about feasts and vigils and pageants and coconogg. It’s about family.”
“Hear hear!” said Tolmy. Hand in hand, Tolmy and Froskur hopped back to town.
“Remember that image, Klondaeg,” said Sinister. “You made it happen.”
“I don’t see how,” said Klondaeg.
Sinister sighed. “And what about you, Dexter? Was this a successful Choppinsmas?”
“I learned something, too,” said Dexter. “I don’t need a holiday and an extensive manifesto full of traditions to celebrate chopping things. And I certainly don’t need to set aside a day for it. I just need to chop things. Every day is Choppinsmas for all who hold wanton destruction in their hearts.”
“Hear hear,” said Klondaeg. Resting the King’s Rest on his shoulder, he charged back to the village.
***
The Great Coconape reclined in his nest of coconut leaves, basking in the revelry of the town below. The frog-people were finally enjoying t
heir Fromsday feast. Klondaeg presided and carved—or rather, chopped—the roast with his axe, and each child was comfortably seated amongst friends and family. The whole town had come together for a day of peace and festivities, rallying around Froskur and Tolmy’s reconciliation.
The Great Coconape stood tall and stretched. As he did so, his limbs and torso lengthened. The brown fur thinned in some places, fell away in others. His face turned round and smooth, and his muzzle flattened into a humanoid mouth. White robes appeared around a frame that, like the coconut, was brown and hairy.
Fromdon, God of Coconuts, stood atop the coconut tree, looking happily upon his chosen people. It was another successful Fromsday, and this one carried Fromdon’s explicit blessing.
Fromdon winked to no one in particular and vanished from the mortal plane.
THE END
More by Steve Thomas:
Klondaeg the Monster Hunter
Klondaeg is a simple Dwarf with a simple plan: rid the world of monsters. When he was a boy, his parents were killed by unidentified monsters, and he swore revenge against all of them. Armed with a talking battle-axe with two personalities, Klondaeg travels the countryside, slaying everything from tiny werewolves to gold-devouring demons. He negates prophecies, disproves history, and even comes face to face with Acerbus, the god of darkness himself. But will he ever find the thing that killed his parents?
Klondaeg and the Klondaeg Hunters
Klondaeg’s adventures continue with five new episodes. Klondaeg the Monster Hunter has hunted down monsters all over the world, but he should have searched closer to home. When Klondaeg discovers that one of his closest allies is secretly a monster, he must choose between friendship and duty. Meanwhile, a secret society slinks in the shadows with sinister intent. Can Klondaeg defeat the Klondaeg Hunters, or will monsters take over the world?
Smite Me, Oh Dark One
Acerbus hates his job. While he is content to watch and study the mortal races, the other gods constantly look for reasons to destroy their newly-created world. When they finally find an excuse, they command Acerbus to become the Smiter, destroyer of all creation.
Armed with nothing but spite and goblins, Acerbus decides that there is only one way to ensure his own failure and save the world: by becoming an Evil Overlord.