by Matt Rogers
Chapter 34: A Valiant Quest
The Siege (Blight’s Encampment)
The Troll Toodrake was watching as another found endless sleep.
“Tell them to look up!”
The other ones, his kind, agreed to do so but it was a difficult process. Their warnings didn’t fall on deaf ears, exactly, but on ears attached to heads without memorization skills.
“Hey Orc!”
Grunt.
“Watch the sky above! That’s where the rocks are falling from!”
Grunt.
The Orcs would glance skyward, not see a rock and forget why some of their fellow soldiers were playing pancake.
Splat!
“This is humiliating.”
Cutter couldn’t agree more. He didn’t care one way or the other but agreed the flattening of Blight’s creatures was a little embarrassing considering they only needed to scan eyes upward for avoidance of permanent pressing. The fact they didn’t furthered his beliefs; any creature stupid enough not to avoid falling rocks was a creature he would willingly sacrifice for his gain.
“It doesn’t matter. The Giant cannot reach the target.”
They’d realized the reason for the thrown projectiles early on. It wasn’t a surprise. They knew the Queen’s defenders would attempt to put a stop to their plans. It was why they’d located the well so far in the back.
“Come. It is time to consult with the Prince.”
They moved through the encampment without pausing, paying little heed to others, unaware one paid full heed to them.
He’d been placed in a cage which hung from a branch. He was tiny, frightened and exceedingly important. He was also determined to change his precarious position.
“Mr. Troll?”
The enormous green beast glanced in his direction.
“Can I have some water?”
He could tell the beast had no wish to aid his desires. It didn’t matter. He’d been present when the orders were given.
“You will guard this Elfin with your life! If you fail you die!”
The Troll was his personal bodyguard. A bodyguard who would most likely eat him as soon as his services were no longer required but until that time a bodyguard who would wait on him hand and foot in order to keep on breathing.
“Thank you.”
The Troll said nothing. It didn’t matter. The act was all he desired. Tweedlewink knew his appearance for what it was; unintimidating. His kind were the worker bees. The others hardly noticed them because they worked to achieve the results. Creatures of one-foot in height were not exactly in a good position to stand out. They watched with curious eyes as those who saw with regal sight went about claiming their superiority and ruining lives in the process. Elfins weren’t without fault but they were definitely without arrogance. The Troll who guarded him could not see beyond the physical. He viewed the tiny creature with disdain. He saw only a victim. He was blind and he didn’t even know it.
“May I have some bread?”
With every question came the same answer. Nothing verbal but always a response. It didn’t matter. The act was all he required.
“Thank you.”
All items were tools. They might have been intended for other purposes but they were still instruments of use. The Elfin was merely altering their design. The water was brought in a mug. The mug arrived with a handle and left without. The bread was on a plate. The plate was given whole and returned in pieces, accidently dropped on purpose. He was engineering something different, something more to his liking, something to change perspective. He was designing a picklock tool. It wasn’t so hard. He’d done it before.
“Hey, where are you going?”
“I’m going to save a damsel in distress. She’s been captured by an evil witch and locked away in a tower.”
He was young back then, barely out of childhood and curious about the ways of others. The knight on horseback traveling through the forest was something he couldn’t resist.
“Can I come along?”
“No.”
He was not good at taking ‘no’ for an answer so swept through the treetops, following the metal-clad gladiator without notice. They soon arrived at a castle. It was surrounded by a moat. It appeared uninhabited.
“Hey, it doesn’t look like anybody’s home.”
The knight startled because the Elfin announce his thoughts without first announcing his presence.
“You! What are you doing here?”
The question held many overtones. What was anyone really doing? Did the man mean at that moment specifically or in life generally? Tweedlewink was always questioning the meaning of things, it was his curiosity which led the way. So when the knight asked he decided to respond with the truth.
“I’m watching you save a damsel in distress.”
The knight was, as all knights were back in those days, kind of a stuffed shirt. He wore body armor which gave him a menacing appearance, was regaled throughout the kingdom as a champion of good and honored as a hero without equal. He was pompous, arrogant and infatuated with himself. He was also a realist. He saw a slight flaw in his plan to save the princess. If he were unsuccessful who would learn of his travails?
“Can you write?”
The question seemed an odd one to Tweedlewink but he’d long ago realized Humans were ever indecipherable so he, again, answered truthfully.
“Yep.”
And so he became the scribe. He would be witness and recorder of the knight’s actions. He became a little excited because his purpose, suddenly, became a lot more important.
“Okay, I guess the first thing I need to know is your name.”
The knight, realizing a name was rather crucial to a tale of heroism acknowledged his birthright.
“I am Sir Loin.”
Tweedlewink wasn’t sure he heard correctly so asked him to repeat.
“Sir Loin.”
The Elfin realized he had a problem so began correcting the mistake.
“Um, is that your whole name?”
Sir Loin, recognizing his namesake had been purloined by butchers, understood he’d never get the recognition he deserved so, again, acquiesced to the Elfin’s desire.
“Sir Charles Valiant Loin.”
Tweedlewink’s ears perked up.
“Valiant?”
“Yes. I know, I know. It’s a bit imperious but my mother insisted and my father was somewhat indifferent so…”
“No, no, no. Valiant is perfect.”
“You don’t think it’s a bit much?”
Tweedlewink did not. He saw potential in the name. He could see it all. His name in big bold letters across the cover, announcing to the world his incredible penmanship and dictatorial abilities.
“Look, you’re on a quest to save a damsel, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Then go big! Use Valiant! Shoot, no one’s going to mock you on that one especially if you actually succeed in this death-wish of yours.”
The knight’s eyes opened a bit wider at the Elfin’s statement.
“Death-wish?”
Tweedlewink again responded truthfully.
“Yep, what else would you call it? I mean, come on! A damsel in distress? Who kidnaps a princess and locks her away in a tower? I’ll tell you who. Someone waiting for a hero to come along so she can fry him with a lightning bolt. Think about it! She’s a ploy! She’s bait!”
Valiant appeared to have a few reservations.
“Bait?”
“Uh-huh, bait. She’s the worm on the hook, the cheese in the trap, the meat in the pit, the…”
“Okay, okay, I get your examples.”
Tweedlewink was happy because normally Humans did not understand Elfin logic. They were always going on about honor and purpose and all those other meaningless words. Elfins didn’t have the conception of honor. They were without the idea of purpose. Their reasoning was simple. They enjoyed life itself, not the abstract views of those attempting to dictate it on their
own terms. Elfins could never understand Humans and their innate desires to achieve immortality. Except the book part. The one where his name was emblazoned on the hardback. The one which proclaimed ‘Written by Tweedlewink, the greatest Elfin Author in the Realm!’. He was daydreaming when Valiant brought him back to reality.
“So you think this is a suicide mission?”
Tweedlewink thought it over before answering.
“Are you planning on killing yourself?”
The knight, somewhat perplexed by the question, answered awkwardly.
“Um, no.”
“Then it can’t be a suicide mission. Now, it can be a horrendously unsuccessful mission filled with pain and death but it can’t be a suicide unless you perform the deed yourself. You see, suicide is defined as…”
While the Elfin explained the difference of definitional description Sir Valiant was rethinking his decision. He’d agreed to the quest because the King had asked. He’d never met the mysterious princess, never heard of a witch who kidnapped royalty but denied a ransom and had become slightly hesitant about performing the service. In fact, the more he thought about it the more he realized the absurdity of the situation. Why send only one knight? Where was the King’s army?
“… now, I suppose it is possible to commit suicide using someone else as the triggerman but I believe you’d need to keep them in the dark or else the act would be assisted suicide which is taking quite a bit of license with the word but since I’m not a definitionist…”
While the Elfin prattled along the knight came to a differing opinion.
“Um, you know what?”
Tweedlewink, ever curious about vague questions, answered appropriately.
“What?”
“I believe I’m going to skip this mission. It seems to be fraught with peril and I’m not too sure I wish to save this particular damsel.”
The Elfin, even more curious than before, pondered a question of his own.
“What happens if you quit?”
Sir Valiant again rethought. The Elfin was becoming somewhat annoying because he was bringing up consequences before they arrived. What would happen if he decided to forgo rescuing the princess? The answer, of course, was to lose his head when the King found out. He realized his mistake. Once he agreed to the deed he had but two choices; successful princess procurement or death by any number of unimaginable sources.
“Crap.”
Tweedlewink, definitional to a fault, asked the correct query while looking at the ground.
“Where?”
Valiant, realizing the little creature took every word literally, re-spoke.
“I meant ‘darn’. I think I’ve gotten myself into something I would rather avoid.”
The Elfin nodded his head because he was aware of the Human proclivity to make decisions which were both illogical and quite deadly. He was also aware of something else.
“You don’t really have a choice, do you?”
Human action generally resulted in another Human’s reaction.
“Nope.”
So the two began their quest, Sir Valiant in the lead followed by Tweedlewink, striding along as fast as he could all the while asking questions better left unsaid.
“If you die, who should I contact?”
“Can I have your horse if she turns you into a frog?”
“What do you do if you need to pee?”
The last question actually caused the knight to pause. He was fully clad in metal, a necessary precaution when fighting forces who wielded iron weapons but somewhat unnecessary when dealing with someone dedicated to spell-casting. There was also another reason he stopped.
“Wow, that’s an ugly moat!”
Armor didn’t float.
The body of water surrounding the castle was not pleasant to view. It was brackish, had a thin film of slime on the surface and smelled atrocious. There was a way to cross, however, a drawbridge for access. Unfortunately it was raised high, unavailable to those on the opposite side, the side they were occupying.
“What now?”
Valiant, not exactly thrilled with the Elfin’s company, made a quick decision.
“What are you doing?”
He was removing his armor.
“What are you looking at?”
He was gauging distance.
“What are you…? Hey!”
He picked up the tiny creature, reared back and threw for all he was worth.
“Yaagh!”
Tweedlewink landed with a thud. He was not in a good mood. He could feel the place on his backside where discomfort would last for days.
“What did you do that for?” he yelled.
“Lower the drawbridge!”
And so Tweedlewink finally realized the reason he was tossed over a smelly moat filled with green mush and lord only knew what other disgusting things. He looked toward the bridge and realized another problem.
“How?”
The knight, unaware Elfins never used drawbridges, replied huffily.
“Just turn the wheel!”
Tweedlewink walked over to the contraption and, sure enough, there was a giant wheel which resembled the steering mechanism on a ship. It was large, wooden and five times his height.
“Um, I don’t think you thought this all the way through!”
Valiant, for his part, came to the same conclusion. The Elfin was much too small. He had absolutely no way to budge the enormous device. He could do something else, though.
“Watch your head!”
“Watch my head? What the heck does that…? Yaagh!”
The sword landed two feet away, still quivering in the ground where its tip had penetrated.
“Cut the rope!”
The Elfin realized the knight’s logic and began following the advice.
“Umph.”
“Pull harder!”
Tweedlewink paused for a second to scold the young warrior on proper advising etiquette.
“Pull harder? That’s your advice?”
The knight, realizing pulling harder to remove a sword from the ground was rather obvious decided to keep quiet and allow the Elfin to complete the task. The Elfin finally did, cut the rope and the bridge slammed down. The knight walked across and they both looked up because, while they were on the other side of the moat, the castle was still in front of them looming large and appearing inhospitable.
“Now what?”
“Um…”
Tweedlewink waited but when the knight didn’t answer further he asked the obvious.
“Um? What kind of plan is ‘um’?”
Valiant had never actually rescued a damsel in distress before. He’d been a knight in the King’s army, fought long campaigns to rid the land of evil empires and sat at great banquet tables eating roast meats and drinking fruity wines.
“We should look for a door.”
The Elfin, realizing entrance observation was an appropriate option quickly found the solution.
“Like that giant gate?”
Valiant, looking where the Elfin pointed acknowledged that, ‘yes’, a giant gate was exactly what they were looking for. So they walked up and peered through. The gate was metal. It had bars welded together and when lowered the bottom of those bars, sharpened points, entered the ground. It was thick, imposing and impossible for a Human to squeeze through. For an Elfin it was nothing.
“Okay, now that I’m inside what do I do?”
The knight didn’t know. They’d never covered palace portal penetration in knight-school.
“Look for an opening mechanism.”
“An opening mechanism?”
“Yes.”
“What does an opening mechanism look like?”
He didn’t have the foggiest. He didn’t even know if there was an opening mechanism. For all he knew the witch used some kind of spell to raise the gate. He was coming to the conclusion he’d not properly thought through the difficulties of damsel-rescuing when suddenly things changed.
&nbs
p; “I found it!”
The gate lifted as though pulled with unseen hands.
“How did you do that?” he asked after entering the palace grounds.
The Elfin, happy he’d been of service, pointed to the means of operation.
“The boulder there, the one with that rope tied to it, was sitting on a ledge. All I did was pull a lever on the wall which released the wedge holding the boulder in place.”
Valiant looked and saw the boulder on the ground with a rope attached. It was grey, round and enormous. He allowed his eyes to follow the rope which ran up the wall, over a pulley and attached to the gate. It was an ingenious system. It also had a flaw. The flaw led to a question.
“How does the boulder get back on the ledge?”
The question was answered when it appeared.
“Me bash!”
The Ogre in the courtyard had emerged through a door. It was large, vicious and horrifying to behold. It stood ten feet tall, held a club in its hand and stomped forward while the two heroes raced backward.
“Uh-oh.”
“Eek!”
The knight was not a novice when it came to Ogres, he knew their potential and realized their danger. They weren’t the most skilled of foes, they had no need to be, they were strength and power personified, brute force given life, a powerful opponent to all and known to hold no fear.
“Elfin?”
“Yes, Sir Valiant?”
“Stay behind me.”
The statement was unnecessary, Tweedlewink was already there, cowering behind the Human who cowered in front of the Ogre. The knight held his sword in front, at the ready, unshaking and strong. The Ogre held his club, a six foot piece of tree trunk, able to deliver death with smashing velocity.
“Sir Valiant?”
“Yes, Elfin?”
“Have you ever fought an Ogre before?”
The answer was both satisfactory and somewhat deflating.
“Yes, but always with others by my side.”
Tweedlewink did not think the ‘others’ included his kind. He was pretty positive his kind reacted differently to Ogre encroachment. He believed in the adage of running away to fight another day. Another day being very far in the future. So far away ‘never’ was probably the better description.
“What do we do?”
The knight thought long and hard considering the circumstances. His reply was one the Elfin believed held value.
“Run!”
And so they ran. The gate was open so they took its implied message and sped through. The Ogre was right behind them.
“Oh crap!”
“Yikes!”
The bridge was down so they ran across, noticing as they did a strange feeling. The bridge was shuddering. The Ogre was responsible. It was massive and thick, able to crush most things in the realm and proportioned to do so. The bridge was not made for Ogre crossings. It was made for Humans and steeds. While the Ogre was not much heavier than a man on horseback it was different in design; it ran on two legs instead of four. Two legs which held a huge frame. Two legs which did not allow for weight distribution. Two legs which were eating up the distance in rapid time.
“Elfin!”
“What?!”
“Run faster!”
The Elfin could not run faster for his legs were not built for speed. They were built for treetop locomotion. So Tweedlewink was about to reply he was going as fast as his legs would allow when suddenly, without any fanfare, he was lifted and carried in the arms of the warrior sprinting as fast as possible from the beast closing the gap. They arrived at the end of the bridge and leapt the last distance. They leapt because something they knew would occur did so. The bridge collapsed and the Ogre fell into the moat.
“Oh, thank God!”
“Praise the Lord!”
They stood there on the edge, gasping in air as the Ogre splashed in the water. It was a strange scene. It appeared the giant creature was in trouble, almost as if it held not the ability to survive, as though it could not tread the liquid.
“Me need help!”
The knight was slightly taken aback. He’d never heard an Ogre speak more than two words. He believed the beast incapable of forming a third descriptor.
“Me drown!”
He made a decision that day, a decision some would find ignorant and unjustifiable; he decided to give the beast a hand. It was something in the way the creature cried out, almost as though it was aware of its limitations, as though it knew the end was near and did not like the thought.
“What are you doing?”
“Helping the creature.”
“Are you insane?”
He didn’t know. He was somewhat aware of the dangers involved but couldn’t stand by, allowing another to die, if he could easily prevent it so grabbed a large branch and reached it out for the Ogre.
“Give me a hand!”
Tweedlewink did not think so. He was of the mind to allow the moat to do its job and rid the world of overly large individuals who employed bashing in every sentence.
“Come on! Grab my leg so I can get a firmer foundation!”
He couldn’t think of a good reason not to. He tried really, really hard but other than Ogre removal he could not find a reason to avoid helping the knight so he grabbed hold of the youthful, but very foolish, warrior’s right leg and held steady. It took the Ogre seconds to extricate itself from the water. They then stood there, staring at the beast, wondering who’d be eaten first.
“Me thank you.”
The Ogre, it turned out, wasn’t really a bad monster. Oh, he’d eaten a few people over the years but no one of any real consequence and he never ate children.
“They too stringy.”
He’d been employed by the witch to place the boulder back on its perch which, of course, would close the gate. In return he lived a rather boring lifestyle eating whatever the woman with a broomstick happened to give him that day.
“So there is a witch?”
“Yes, she green.”
The witch was a deplorable woman. She was a hag with a problem; she’d been told an adage and wanted to verify its veracity.
“Do inside count?”
The truth was completely superficial.
“So, she stole the princess to do some kind of experiment?” the knight inquired.
It took a while but they eventually learned what took place. The witch was actually the sister of the princess, the daughter of the King. She’d been raised to believe in a certain moral code, one which stated the outside of a person was not as important as the inside. She believed in it wholeheartedly and lived a life of quiet humility. It had not turned out well. She was rebuffed and scorned by all suitors. The princess, on the other hand, was outwardly beautiful but inwardly selfish. She demanded things and pouted when they didn’t go her way. She was haughty, rude and completely, unworldly beautiful. She, of course, was never rebuked.
“Witch ugly.”
“And the princess?”
“Princess pretty.”
The Ogre had a name.
“Olaf.”
And a wife.
“Olga.”
And he wanted to see her again. He lived in the castle because he owed the witch a favor. She’d saved him from a dragon.
“A dragon?”
“Yes, big lizard.”
The dragon had a treasure. Olaf liked treasure and came upon it one day while terrorizing the countryside. He didn’t know the gold and jewels were the dragon’s but , then again, it wouldn’t have made a difference if he did. Ogres liked baubles and the dragon’s lair was full of shiny objects. The dragon returned as Olaf was leaving. The sack he carried weighed a ton. The dragon took notice and Olaf took a defensive position. It would’ve been the end for Olaf if not for one slight detail.
“Dragon tooth bad.”
The giant winged reptile had broken a fang on a particularly tough Orc. It wasn’t a huge problem for the enormous serpent except for another slight deta
il which came in very handy for the Ogre; breathing fire was agonizing with chipped enamel. Therefore, what should have been over in seconds actually became quite a battle.
“Me bash dragon.”
The two fought for a while, so long it drew the attention of another, one with ulterior motives and empathy for creatures derelict of looks.
“Stop!”
The two beasts who knew no masters looked upon the tiny green woman with surprise. She was skinny, her voice cackled and she carried a stick with straw bound to one end.
“A broom?” Tweedlewink inquired.
“Yes, flying stick.”
“Um, I don’t think a broom is…?”
The Elfin quit asking the question because the Ogre gave him a look of annoyance. Surprisingly, the look was the same he gave when preparing to devour others so Tweedlewink took the hint, shut his mouth and listened some more.
The skinny green witch, it turned out, did something remarkable.
“Okay, I believe I have a solution. You have a bad tooth…” she began, pointing at the dragon.
“… and you like glittery things…” she said to the Ogre.
“… and I need some help. I propose we all agree to a trade. I’ll fix your tooth, the Ogre may keep some of the treasure as payment and he will work for a year until the debt is paid off.”
The two enormous adversaries again looked at her like she was crazy.
“Or I can put a spell on the two of you which will cause your eyeballs to rot and your skin to fall off.”
They were unsure whether to believe her.
“Don’t believe me?”
They were further unsure how she read their minds.
“Fine, here’s an example of my power.”
The dragon’s eyes bulged, the Ogre’s skin boiled and, before anyone could begin the process of begging, all agreed her solution showed promise.
“So that’s why you’re in the castle?”
“Yes.”
“Is the witch in the castle?”
“Yes.”
“Is the princess in the castle?”
“Yes.”
With all bases covered the knight returned to the crux of his problem.
“Well, I still must attempt to rescue the princess or the King will have my head.”
So they turned to look at the fortress again. There was still no one visible.
“Where is the princess being held?”
The Ogre lifted his giant hand and pointed to a tower.
“Why are they always in a tower?”
The Ogre didn’t know the question was rhetorical, didn’t know what rhetorical meant, would’ve been useless if he did, so shrugged his shoulders.
They then observed another problem.
“The bridge is collapsed.”
Tweedlewink, having already performed the service offered his advice.
“No.”
Knowing a cowardly answer when he heard one he badgered the knight until the man relented.
“I cannot believe I’m agreeing to this.”
And so Olaf the Ogre lifted Sir Valiant in one hand and flung him across the moat.
“Yaagh!”
“Not so fun is it?”
The knight chose not to answer the Elfin because he was waiting for the other to cross. The other who had no idea he’d been chosen to perform the secondary purpose. A secondary purpose he’d whispered in the Ogre’s ear before being lifted and tossed over stagnant water.
“Hey! What are you…?”
Throwing tiny creatures was much easier.
“Yaagh!”
And much more enjoyable to the dignity of a youthful knight as he watched the Elfin fly through the air without the greatest of ease because he was still freaking out over getting thrown by the ten-foot brute with a wife named Olga.
Thud!
“Ow!”
And so the two would-be heroes once again found themselves on the correct side of the moat while the Ogre did not. He was on the opposite side, sitting down without a care in the world waiting to see if a knight and Elfin could do what countless others had not and save a spoiled brat from her jealous sister of a witch.
“Okay, I don’t think this is such a good idea.”
Valiant didn’t either but he couldn’t think of a better one which involved keeping his head so said nothing and made his way to the tower where the princess was held.
“The door’s locked.”
It was there Tweedlewink first came up with the idea of reclaimable picklock supplies. He looked around, found a few items he deemed worthy and before Sir Valiant could begin asking what he was doing he walked to the door, inserted the tool and open it sprang.
“Good job!”
“Thank you!”
So they entered the tower, climbed the stairs and finally reached the top.
“It’s locked also.”
So Tweedlewink again worked his magic and after a minute or so it, too, opened wide to reveal…
“My Heroes!”
… an incredibly attractive woman with more hair than anyone thought possible. She was dressed in a gown of white with flower-patterns sewn on for visual delight. She had blond hair, pink cheeks and the whitest smile in the realm. She was, also, not alone.
“Hello, my pretties.”
They didn’t know who the green woman was speaking to but, since there was no one else around, they figured it was them.
“Um, hello.”
With initial greetings out of the way they got down to business.
“The King hired me to rescue the princess.”
The two women looked at each other and smiled wide their delight.
“Oh, he has, has he?”
Neither Elfin nor knight knew how to respond to a question already answered so they waited in silence.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” the pretty princess asked.
There was a pause. It became quite clear the princess was not actually a prisoner. Her legs were not manacled, she wore nothing to hinder her movements and the silly conspiratorial grin she kept giving the witch indicated she was in on the ruse.
“Um… what are we supposed to do?”
“You’re to carry me away with courage and honor while my sister attempts to stop you by using any means necessary.”
Valiant was not the wisest of men, he held no upper level education and was without a piece of paper signifying he was of the learned. He did, however, have common sense and it was telling him something was very bad with the princess’ plan.
“Any means necessary?”
The princess must have caught his hesitation for she became enchanting, alluring and utterly enticing.
“Yes, but I am worth it, as you will see, if you are successful in freeing me.”
Now, while it was well known Valiant was an attractive man and had many women in his life it was also true the princess was an exception. She was perfection. She had nary a blemish and smelled of rose pedals and vanilla beans. She had the complexion of a goddess, hair so silky smooth it took stylists a week to groom and the seduction of a siren. She was, in every case, every man’s desire. Fortunately not everyman was in the room.
Bonk!
One was an Elfin.
“All right, grab the witch and let’s get out of this place.”
While it was true a witch was, indeed, a dangerous opponent it didn’t mean they were invincible. They took time to cast their spells. Time was not something she had.
Bonk!
So, with the well placed shots of an Elfin with a vase and a knight with a sword-handle, both the King’s daughters were knocked unconscious before getting the chance to kill aspiring heroes for one’s inflated ego and the other’s misplaced anger.
The knight returned home to a hero’s welcome, the Elfin returned to the forest and the Ogre returned to Olga who beat him for staying away so long. The incident was pivotal for all because the knight went on to have a remarkable career, the Ogre became more dom
esticated and the Elfin retained the knowledge of picklock engineering.
“Mr. Troll?”
The beast ,again, only looked at him.
“I need another cup of water.”
The Troll strolled away. It did not move fast or with any sense of purpose. It didn’t matter. The act was all he required. When the Troll returned he found something different, something altered; a change in perspective. The one he guarded with his life, the one who held the knowledge of explosive discovery was no longer in the cage. Tweedlewink was gone.