by Pirateaba
It occurs to me later what the problem is. I don’t have a problem with Durene, no matter who she really is. But Yesel and the other villagers don’t like that I don’t care.
Not one bit.
Day 22
I’ve just begun to adjust to the new circumstances of freezing weather. It’s impossible for me to really find my way around outside without Durene, but we can still go walking in the snow. Of course, I have to be bundled up like a sausage, but that’s okay.
And it’s not like we lack things to do inside. There’s still so much that no one ever taught Durene—whether because this world doesn’t have any standard of education or because no one taught her specifically, and I enjoy talking with her.
But sometimes we do crave the outside, if only to perform vital tasks. Despite the decent construction, Durene’s outhouse freezes all my bits the moment I try to do my business. That makes everything slower, but she waits patiently for me as I attempt to speed up my natural body processes.
That’s when I hear the laughter, and the malicious voices. Children—the village children—come running up the path towards Durene’s cottage as I sit in the outhouse.
“Freak! Come out, Freak!”
“There she is! Get her!”
It’s like listening to a movie, only I’m sitting in a freezing-cold movie theatre and I don’t have a bag of popcorn. And this is real, so my heart immediately pounds harder when I hear Durene’s voice.
“Ow! Stop!”
What’s happening? I hear paffs, the sound of snow hitting—
Snowballs. Those little bastards are throwing snowballs! From the sounds outside Durene isn’t doing anything, just trying to shield herself. But the children are laughing.
“Get her! She’s a [Witch]!”
“She’s tricking the blind man! Let’s slay the Freak!”
“I’m not! I—ow!”
More laughter, and the sounds of more snowballs being thrown. I fumble with my pants, trying to think of what to do as the situation outside escalates.
Those—there’s a difference between having fun and being malicious little demons. I have to do something. But what?
For a few seconds, I worry about consequences and repercussions. Durene has her own relationship with the villagers. Who am I to interfere with that?
Who am I?
An [Emperor].
Oh.
Of course.
How could I have forgotten? This house is my empire; Durene is my subject. And those annoying little brats are harassing her. I have a duty to her.
I don’t quite kick the outhouse door open, but I do push it out with more force than normal. Frankly, I’d hate to break the door even in my anger. No one wants to have wind and ice flecks blown right at their private parts in the midst of an intimate moment.
The laughter cuts off as soon as I step into the snow. I turn in the direction of the kids.
“Hey. You lot. Stop that.”
Not exactly fighting words, but I’m deadly serious. And these are just kids. I hear uncomfortable shifting, and then voices.
“What should we—?”
“He don’t know nothing! He’s blind!”
“Yeah! We gotta chase away the Freak!”
I point in their direction.
“I don’t appreciate bullying. Keep away from Durene. If you little bastards throw snow at her again, there will be consequences.”
For two seconds I think that will work. Then one of the children laughs uncertainly. He jeers at me.
“You can’t do nothing! You can’t see!”
“Yeah! He likes the Freak more than real people!”
“Get him!”
Something flies past my face and I flinch back. Crap. Suddenly all the animosity of the gang of children is transferred at me. A snowball filled with ice bursts against my coat and I wonder what I should do next.
“Stop that!”
Something huge interposes itself between me and the children. I feel Durene protectively shielding me.
“Look! The Freak’s in the way!”
“Get her!”
“Throw these! Eat pinecones, Freak!”
Something bounces off Durene and she yelps. That’s when I lose my temper.
“Enough.”
I push Durene aside and the word comes out of me like a shout. But it’s not quite a shout. It’s…something else.
The rage burning in my chest ignites, and it attaches to the word. It bursts out, and I feel it leave like a physical thing.
What happened? What did I just do?
I hear screams, and then the sound of someone throwing up. Then I hear footsteps, running, confusion, screams—
Then silence.
“Durene? What’s going on?”
I reach out and touch a thick back covered with cloth. I feel Durene’s cold skin shivering, and then she takes my hand with her callused palms.
“Laken? I—I don’t know. You did something just now. The kids—they’ve all run off!”
“I did that?”
I must have. And it must be—
“[Aura of the Emperor]. Durene, tell me what happened.”
We stand in the snow as Durene tries to relate what happened. According to her, it was suddenly as if I shouted and something hit the kids. She felt a presence—and sudden fear. But what I did wasn’t aimed at her, so it was brief.
The children clearly had a more violent reaction. They made tracks. I don’t know what I did, not exactly, but I can guess.
“I was angry. Seriously pissed. I must have used that to scare them. The aura—I might be able to use that in other ways as well.”
I can remember the sensation. It was physical; like sending part of myself out into the world. It was amazing, and terrifying. I’ve never felt like that before, but I’m glad.
Yes, I’m glad I did it. And so is Durene. In her own way!
“You shouldn’t have done that. You shouldn’t have! There will be trouble—”
“If there is, we’ll be causing the trouble. Those children had no right to harass you.”
“But that’s just them being…”
“That’s them being intolerant idiots. I won’t let anyone do that again. It stops now.”
How? All I know is that I mean every word as Durene and I dry off. How would I stop those kids, outside of using that skill again?
Fence? Too hard, and they’d just climb over it or get around it somehow. Bear trap? Probably not.
“I suppose we could just bury them in the snow head-first next time they come by. I’ll hold their legs; you dig the hole.”
Durene giggles nervously, and I smile as I tell more jokes to make her laugh. But I can’t help but feel like I’ve started something.
I’m right. Not thirty minutes later, I hear someone approaching. Durene tenses up and she tells me Prost has come by. We invite him in, and he gets to business in a matter of seconds.
“The kids say you did something Mister Laken. They weren’t hurt none although they’re fair terrified. But we’d like to know what happened.”
“Oh, you know Mister Prost. I heard them throwing snowballs and pine cones at Durene and had a word with them. We can’t have children going around attacking people, can we?”
“No, I suppose not. Still, that was a bit of a thing to do over a little thing like that, wasn’t it? I’m sure the children didn’t mean nothing by it. They tease Durene, but there’s nothing in it.”
I keep my voice light and friendly, like a calm before the storm.
“I’m sure you’re right, Mister Prost. I’m sure they didn’t meant anything by the snowballs. Or the name calling.”
He shifts, and I hear Durene swallow.
“Mister Laken, you seem like a nice enough young man. But there’s something you don’t know about Durene.”
“So I’ve been told by you, the children, and your wife. I thought I made it quite clear that I don’t care.”
“Nevertheless, sir. Durene’s d
ifferent.”
“Mister Prost—!”
I can almost feel Durene shrinking back. And now I’m even angrier than I was at the kids.
“Stop that. Yes, you, Mister Prost. Durene has been nothing but friendly to me since I arrived here. Your children on the other hand attacked her, and then me.”
“I know that sir, and I’ll make sure they remember it. They won’t be walking straight, you have my promise. But Durene—”
“What is your problem with her?”
I snap. I can’t help it.
“Durene is different. I get that. But what does that matter? She’s a friend. My friend. If she has a secret, she will tell me herself. Now, I think it’s time you leave.”
Prost hesitates, but he doesn’t get up.
“You might think Durene is fine, but you don’t see her like we do. Now, Durene, you’re a good enough girl, but—”
I stand up.
“Enough. I think you should leave, Mister Prost. Now.”
The other man stands up. He’s angry, now.
“You don’t understand the situation, Mister Laken. Durene’s our village’s problem, and she was easy enough to manage before this.”
“I—”
I’d almost forgotten Durene was in the room. She sounds like a mouse—a big one—as she tries to speak.
“I’m not doing anything! I just want to help Laken!”
The other man’s voice is flat as he replies.
“You don’t belong with our kind. You help—but we keep you away for a reason. Remember your father? If his kind came back or you lost control—you’re not like us, Durene. And Mister Laken doesn’t know that!”
“He likes me! He doesn’t care! Why is that so bad?”
For once Durene is arguing back. I don’t respond and let her raise her voice. But now Prost is shouting.
“Don’t you raise your voice to me! Who do you think took you in, fed you? We risked our necks for you!”
“You only did that because my mother asked you to! And you gave me scraps! I had to sleep in the barn with the other animals! I never—never ate with you all! And now you’re trying to take away my only friend!”
Now it comes out. Durene’s voice is filled with emotion, and I can hear her hands cracking the wood of her table as she grips it. There’s a crack, and I feel the table I’m sitting at break.
Prost knocks over his chair and retreats to the door. Durene’s on her feet—not advancing—but I get up before anyone can act.
“That’s enough. Prost, it’s time for you to go. I’m staying here with Durene, and nothing you tell me is going to change that.”
“But you don’t understand!”
It sounds like Prost is nearly tearing out his hair—if he has any—in frustration. But he’s afraid of Durene as well, I can tell.
Durene’s voice is cold.
“If that’s what Laken says, he stays. I’ll take care of him here. Now, you’ve gotta leave Mister Prost. This is my house, and you’re not welcome here any longer.”
She advances, and I hear the man rush out the door. I follow Durene out, and hear Prost’s voice. He’s far away from us but shouting.
“Do you know what she is!? She’s a monster! A freak!”
My pulse is boiling in my veins. I glare in his direction.
“I don’t care. Go away and stop bothering us!”
“You don’t know anything, boy! She’s tricking you by acting friendly, but her kind can’t be trusted! She’s a monster. She’s not Human she’s a—”
“A Troll!”
The word doesn’t come from Prost’s mouth. It comes from Durene, a shout. My heart skips a beat, and then I hear her shouting.
“Troll! There! I said it! Troll, Troll, Troll!”
Her voice is huge. Huge and deep, and it’s so loud I swear snow is falling from the trees. She screams at Prost, leaving the man speechless.
“Why can’t you let me have this? Why did you have to tell him? What harm would it have done if I—”
Durene is crying, sobbing as she shouts as loudly as she can. She rails against Prost, cursing him. I hear an impact and sense she’s fallen to her knees. In the next silence I listen and hear distant crunching in the snow.
“He’s running.”
Coward. My heart is beating too fast, and I feel something clenching at it. I’m furious, but right now Durene is more important.
Slowly, I step forwards towards her, reaching my hand out. I touch her—and her rough skin slides under my fingertips. She makes no move; only sobbing as I slowly touch her.
Arm. Rough arm, practically bursting the seams of her clumsily-sewn clothing. And then up to her shoulder, twice as broad as mine. Her muscle is as dense as a rock, and her skin feels like an elephant’s hide.
Then her neck, her head. It’s like a Human’s but big enough for her body. Her nose is…wide, and she has eyebrows. And hair. Long and coarser than Human hair, but not by much.
That’s the secret. That’s what she feared. Her terrible, meaningless, sad secret. But she told one lie, and as I touch her face, I know. I see everything.
I murmur the words into the snow as I touch her tears.
“Half-Troll.”
[Emperor Level 4!]
[Skill – King’s Bounty obtained!]
Day 23
Troll. What do you think of when you hear that word? I’m told that movies have wonderful images of Trolls, but I have obviously never seen them.
So I can only work off the descriptions of Trolls I’ve read in stories. When I first read The Hobbit, my notion of Trolls were these slightly bigger-than-average Humans with cockney accents and weird names. One of them was called Bert, for goodness sake!
But then I listened to The Lord of the Rings movie, and my idea of Trolls was different. The idea of some massive, grey humanoid creature that roared and swung a club around fixed itself in my head. Even when I read the descriptions of green Trolls with noxious odors, the image of the Troll with stone-like skin and savage, dimwitted rage stayed with me.
That is not Durene. So when I listened to her, I threw away all the notions and preconceptions I had about Trolls. All of them. I put the stories I’d heard in a box and tossed it out, because she deserves to tell me who she is rather than have me judge her before I know her.
And I do know Durene. She isn’t violent. She isn’t angry. And from what she tells me, neither are Trolls.
“I didn’t know my father. He was—he was a wandering Troll, and I think he met my mom during the Spring. He was hungry and she was living by herself and—”
Trolls are monsters. Everyone considers them as such, apparently. They don’t have a civilization like Drakes or Gnolls, but they are smarter than your average monster. Smart as a Goblin, which might not be saying much. I don’t know. But not all Trolls are violent.
“He must not have been hungry, because he didn’t eat my mom. Not all Trolls eat…people.”
We sit together in Durene’s home as she tells me everything. The fire crackles, but aside from that, everything else is quiet. I sit silently at her broken table, listening as Durene’s low voice speaks into the silence.
She’s done crying. All the grief and fear of last night is gone, and now the truth comes out of her. All the things she wanted to tell me, spilling out. I can feel the fear in her voice, that I’ll judge her, run from her. Fear her. I listen to it all in silence.
“Mom was living alone, away from the others. She’d been married—I think she’d had a husband before, and another kid. But she lost both so she had a small farm by herself. And Dad was hungry, so she found him in her fields. And I guess she must have liked him, or gotten to know him somehow, because a few weeks later she was pregnant.”
“That’s how they met?”
Durene shifts.
“I don’t know. Mom never said, and the villagers just said that Miss Yesel came up one day and found her pregnant and alone. And Troll tracks nearby. I think that’s how it happened.
I hope it is. Otherwise…”
Otherwise, her mother was attacked by a Troll. And Durene will never know which is true, because her mother is dead and none of the other villagers were there. But they speculated, and Durene probably grew up hearing that speculation.
“Anyways, they let Mom stay, but an adventurer heard about a Troll and came to kill it. He—he did. And afterwards, he wanted to kill me too, but Mom wouldn’t let him.”
“Did she raise you alone?”
“She tried. But after I was born she was so weak because I was too big—and she never fully got better. She died when I was four. After that, the village took me in, but I didn’t really have a home.”
Sleeping in a barn. Fed scraps. I can only imagine what it was like.
“When I was bigger, I made my home here, where Mom used to live. I’ve been living here since, and the villagers only call me when they need help. I was alone, and I’d hide every time adventurers came by. I hid from other people too, in case they thought I was dangerous. Until I met you.”
I get it. The crying in the woods, the hope that I wouldn’t immediately judge her, the villagers wanting to separate me from the potentially dangerous half-monster.
It all makes sense. It’s such a predicable story in some ways.
And it’s such crap. Durene doesn’t deserve any of this.
I choose my words carefully in the silence after Durene’s confession. I really don’t know what to say, but I know what not to say.
“Durene. I’m sorry all of this has happened to you. But it doesn’t change anything for me.”
She gulps.
“Laken. I—I’m sorry I lied.”
“That’s okay.”
“No. It’s not. I should have told you. And you don’t have to—to say nice things. You can leave. I’ll bring you into the village and apologize.”
“Why would I do that?”
Pause.
“What?”
“I’m staying here. With you.”
“But—”
“You being half-Troll doesn’t change anything. I told you that, remember? I got to know you, and that means I won’t run away just because you’re not Human.”
“I—you don’t understand. I’m half Troll. Adventurers would kill me on sight. If I were in a town or a city I’d probably have a bounty put on my head!”