Grump & Rose

by Aaron Burdett

  She cocked her head and bleated.

  He blew her a kiss and headed for the gardens. "Yes, it would be very good."

  First he reached his garden, with its neat rows of leafy greens and vines sporting swollen tomatoes and ripe grapes. He walked between two rows and let his hand pass along a grapevine. Its leaves tickled his fingers and caressed his palm. The soil beneath his feet crunched with each footfall.

  Grump came to the end and rolled his shoulders, his muscles nice and loose and his smile draped from cheek to cheek. He turned on a heel and surveyed his work. Teacher trained him well. This garden rivaled hers in every way.

  It was then a chill skated up his spine, standing the hairs on the back of his neck on end. He frowned and looked around the canyon. No toads croaked, and the crickets that woke him had quieted. Neither did hoots drift from the high woods into the gorge.

  He absentmindedly chewed on his thumbnail. Minutes passed in total silence save the sighing breeze and hushed murmur of the brook.

  "Maybe a storm's coming," he murmured, padding toward Teacher's garden. Along the way, his gaze flitted about the canyon. His heartbeat quickened, and the Hunger woke from its slumber. Grump pressed his tongue against the roof of his mouth and huffed. His footsteps quickened.

  On his left, Teacher's tomatoes hung in rich vermillion bulbs from sturdy, whiskered stems. To the right, her bean vines green as a summer thunderhead formed a leafy wall.

  A twig cracked beyond that wall. Grump's shoulders tightened, his gaze darting to the sound. "Teacher? Is that you?"

  She did not reply.

  He planted his fists on the ground and slowly made his way deeper into the garden. Without so much as a rustle he peeled two vines apart, leaning through the gap. A shadowy silhouette lingered there, much larger than Teacher stood and many times as wide.

  The vines slid closed as Grump peeled hack and dropped to his belly. Like a cat he crawled down the row, closer and closer to the trespasser in their home.

  Grump reached the end of the garden. He shook his head to quiet Hunger's roar.

  He took one breath. He took another. He tensed. Then, Grump lurched around the corner.

  Knuckles slammed against his jaw, and he twisted to the side, falling into a tangle of bean vines. Leaves slapped his face and coiled around his arms. Stems snapped as he struggled, uprooting a long line of vines in his terror-fueled adrenaline.

  "Grump? Is it really you?"

  Thorn's familiar voice struck like a shock of ice against his heart. Grump choked on his breath, falling to a knee before the silhouette. "Firstborn? Thorn, I ... you ... you're in Farlain...."

  "By the ancestors, Grump, you're alive?" Thorn charged forward and embraced his brother, slapping Grump hard across the back. "Crush said you died in the storm trying to save your goat. I knew even you wouldn't go that far for a stupid animal, but what could I say? There was nothing left behind, and the others just, they just...."

  Thorn's voice trailed off, but Grump knew the words. They just didn't care. Grump peeled away from his brother, hands clasped firmly on the firstborn's shoulders. "What're you doing here?"

  "Good to see you too." Thorn pushed off, his lip curling in a snarl. "Father never returned. I think the elves got him or the humans did, or both, I don't know. Crush has nearly turned everyone against me, Grump. I need Father's help before Crush murders me, so I ordered raiding parties into Farlain to find him. You're lucky I found you and not secondborn—I mean thirdborn."

  "I am secondborn again," Grump said, slumping. He nearly winced at the name as Thorn brought the world of the swamp flooding back.

  "You are secondborn again. Cheer up, Grump!" Thorn chuckled and embraced his brother once again. "You don't know how relieved I am to see you. They all fear Crush."

  Even me. Thorn's posture betrayed his thoughts as he pulled away and offered up a weak smile.

  Thorn's eyes sparkled and the smile slapped over his face couldn't be wider, but it was an empty warmth, like flames scrawled on stone and not consuming tinder. Firstborn had his shield against Crush again. Thorn could keep Grump alive just long enough now to take the crown of bones. If Father truly was dead, the ceremony would happen soon enough.

  Thorn turned casually toward the garden and ripped a tomato from the vine. He crushed it in his grip, and rich juices gushed between his thick fingers, rolling in seedy lines down his forearm.

  "What is this place?" Thorn asked, flicking bits of tomato from his hand. "And why've you been hiding out here? You're a troll, not some fair folk coward. Come, I'll take you to the others. I'll order a feast even! Only Father and his guards have ever survived this long in Farlain. It's a feat worthy of some roasted meat, eh little brother?"

  Grump grimaced at the words. Thorn didn't notice or didn't care, instead grabbing Grump's wrist and yanking him toward Teacher's cabin.

  "Wait." Grump ripped out of his brother's grasp. "Why're you taking me there?"

  "We need to get rid of the hag before the others find her."

  "What? Hag? She's not a hag, and—You're not alone?"

  "No, I brought—Grump, stop!"

  Grump didn't wait for Thorn to finish. Instead, he sprinted toward Teacher's home. Nothing mattered but that cabin and the woman within it. Everything else from Bah to the garden vanished. "Teacher? Teacher!"

  A shattered door swung on its hinges beneath the toppled wall. The left window frame lay in a shattered pile, the right window a web of cracks. Teacher's cauldron tipped on its side, the tripod it hung from now thrown onto the cabin's roof.

  Grump wrung his hands and cast about for any sign of her. "Teacher? Where is she? Thorn! What did you do with her?"

  Dark thoughts raced through his head, imaginings of what normal trolls might do to an old woman who smoked too much thimbleweed. He pounded his fists against the ground and spun around. His brother lingered just out of arm's reach and examined Grump with a narrowed stare. "I didn't think even you would stoop so low to friend the fair folk," he said softly, shaking his head.

  "I will kill you if you hurt her. I'll kill anyone who hurts her!"

  Hunger seethed from every pore. Scarlet pulses colored his world. His veins bulged as a song of violence rang in his ears. Break them. Bleed them. Smash their bones. Grump's fingers trembled with anticipation, and his mouth watered like a starving man smelling roasted meat.

  Figures filtered from the gardens, from the rocks, from the long shadows of the dark gorge. Trolls, every one of them. Ten? Fifteen? Grump had trouble counting.

  Two trolls sauntered into the moonlight. Between them, they held a bean of a woman wearing a tattered cloak, gag stuffed into her mouth and sinewy ropes binding her arms and legs.

  Grump roared, and the canyon shook. He launched himself at the trolls with the full force and fury of his Hunger. "DIE!"

  Thorn skated before him. Grump reared back to avoid his brother, but was slow and sloppy in his rage. Thorn's massive fist smashed straight into Grump's cheek. The world blinked out as his brow cracked. Something warm and wet spewed from his nose. He hit the ground, reeling, wobbling like a doe taking its first steps.

  "Calm your Hunger, secondborn." Thorn's voice carried the hard edge of authority. "You will not attack a troll to save some decrepit human hag."

  Grump tried finding his balance, but even as the world slowly returned, the ground felt as solid as a churning swamp. The Hunger thumped through Grump's pulse. He snarled and spit blood. "Free her. Free her now! I will ... go willingly. Just let her go."

  "Trolls don't let fair folk flee, especially trolls of the Bulderbag clan. Take her back home with us," he ordered the others.

  When Grump looked up, three other trolls had joined Thorn. His brother's closest allies in the hamlet, loyal to a fault. They crossed their arms and glared darkly at the shameful secondborn. You're pathetic, their eyes said. You're not troll.

  Teacher's captors strolled into view. Welt and his wife Crab, Crush's most faithful minions. Welt sported
a patch over his milky eye now. When his good eye settled on Grump, he blinked in surprise. "You're alive? How in all the hells did you survive out here so long?"

  "Welt," Crab snapped, slapping his shoulder. "He had a protector, don't you see?"

  A vicious smile split Welt's lips. "An old woman protected secondborn all this time? A human?"

  "Fair folk," Crab said.

  "Fair folk," Welt repeated.

  "She's different!" Grump rasped.

  Crab dangled Teacher like a fish hooked on a line. "What, is she your lover? Look everyone, Grump's finally found himself a lover worthy of him! I think they make a perfect pair. Two of a kind!"

  Raucous laughter filled the canyon. Mocking laughter. Even Thorn snorted. Firstborn lifted his hands, and the cackling receded like low guffaws.

  Crab licked her lips and flashed her predatory sneer. "Well, well, it looks like Crush is thirdborn once again."

  "Wait 'til he hears about this," Welt quipped.

  "I'm sure he'll want to meet the one who stole Grump's heart." Crab lifted Teacher by her arm. A dark bruise discolored the old woman's temple. She hung limp, eyes closed.

  Grump clenched his teeth and growled. Crab raised an eyebrow, her grip tightening on Teacher's wrist. "Careful now, it's so easy to snap a human's wrist, especially once they get this old." Her thumb whitened as it pressed against Teacher's skin.

  "No. I ... please, don't." Grump forced his Hunger down. "I surrender. I'll do whatever you want, just don't hurt Teacher."

  "He calls her Teacher," Welt said, turning to Thorn. "Your secondborn calls this hag Teacher, shows her a place of respect he never showed any troll. This is your shame, Thorn. Your. Shame."

  Thorn's neck tensed. Grump tried to meet his brother's eyes, but the firstborn looked away.

  Thorn cleared his throat and motioned at Teacher. "Why have you done this, Grump? Even alone, you found a way to shame our family. To shame Mother and Father. To shame me."

  Except for Thorn, the trolls encircling him stared down at Grump. A few of them shook their heads and muttered to each other.

  "You don't understand," Grump said.

  "Answer my question, secondborn. Why, Grump Bulderbag, have you done this?"

  Grump rolled his knuckles against the ground. The others did nothing to hide the disgust in their eyes. His lip quivered for a moment, but he steadied it. "Because I care for her. She taught me how to work the earth to grow food. She taught me how to control my Hunger."

  Crab gagged and looked to her husband. "He's so gross! He did love this human!"

  Welt nodded, poking Teacher in her belly. "Like I said, abomination. Makes you wonder about the other Bulderbags."

  "Watch your words," Thorn growled.

  "No offense intended, Thorn. What do we do with your brother now?" Welt asked.

  Thorn stroked his chin and thought for a moment. "Bind him. Bring him and this human called Teacher back to the blackwoods. You shouldn't have done this, Grump. I hope our father is dead. It would save him this humiliation."

  Grump beat his fists on the ground as the trolls closed around him. "They'll kill her if she goes to the swamp! You can't do this, Brother. You can't!"

  "You have no place to order me around."

  "I hate you! I hate all of you! I'll kill—"

  "Silence him," Thorn said. "This is for your own good."

  Another massive fist smashed against Grump's temple. The world burst into a blinding light. His head hit the ground. His vision faded.

  He reached for Teacher. She was so close. His lips tried forming the words to say he was sorry, but they refused his mind's commands. Forgive me, his thoughts screamed. Teacher, I will save you. I will save you!

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Beyond the Stone

  Twist and turn and bend and curve, those were the tunnels of the under mountain. Boil raced through the quiet passages, his only companions the shade and stone and deathly quiet. His breaths echoed in his ears. Sweat rolled down his neck and stained his shirt. Even after torch fall, the tunnels oppressed greenskins with their hot and sticky air.

  Despite the uncomfortable dark and the thundering of his heart, Boil grinned. No matter what happened now, he would be free. Whether that came from digging through the arch or death by Skar, at least he knew he wouldn't have another day sleeping in filthy hovels or chained to a mine master's bed.

  He whizzed through the main room, taking a fleeting glance at the massive elevator that rose to the high mountain. Down through the familiar tunnel he went, a pang of grief slapping his heart as he thought of the many nights Ember stole down this same path on her way to the one place in the world that gave her hope of something better.

  The tunnels thinned and roughened the deeper he went. This far down, not many diggers spent their days eating at the rock. Fewer torches studded the walls. The passage turned, and he spotted the familiar entrance worming its way to the deepest and darkest part of the under mountain where the black arch waited. Hopefully, Urt waited there as well.

  Boil squeezed into the tunnel and scurried through the last twists and bends. A soft glow like amber placed before a candle flickered around the curve. Hope ballooned with his breath, but caution slowed his pace. He crept along the wall, slowly edging to the skeleton room's entrance.

  One torch propped against the wall. Another flickered in Urt's liver-spotted hand. The greenskin shoved the fire against the black wall and grumbled, waiting for the glowing cracks to appear before he tore into the rock with his broken teeth. At least he hadn't given up.

  "Urt?" Boil whispered, creeping into the room.

  The old greenskin stopped and straightened. He twisted to Boil and flashed his shattered smile. His eyes gleamed with a look that sent a shiver down Boil's spine.

  "So you are alive." Urt sounded almost disappointed.

  "Barely. Glad to see you're well enough to dig again."

  "I'm not well enough. This black stone hurts each time I bite it, but I'm almost through. I figured you and the girl—"

  "Ember."

  "Yes, Ember. I figured you and her got caught and died. I've been sneaking out and hunting scarabs for food. Thought I'd dig through and up myself, but now that you're here I can finally get some rest." He looked over Boil's shoulder and arched a brow. "And where's she at?"

  "She, ah ... she won't be coming."

  Urt's brow slouched. He nodded and turned to the wall. "And so there were two."

  "You're not going to yell at me? Tell me I was right? Why are you even digging, anyway? When I left you it sounded like the last thing you wanted to do was find out what's beyond the arch. Now here you are stuffing your face with the tasteless rock. I thought you feared the other side."

  "I do." Urt grabbed the torch and slammed the flame against the cracked and gashed wall. Sparks blossomed over its surface and washed across his crinkled arm, but he didn't seem to notice. "They stopped whispering when she came. She told me I had to do this for you, to make you ready. She's very convincing."

  "She?" That sent a frigid shock through him. "It's a woman you hear?"

  "That it is. She told me you were coming and that I should dig. Said that if I didn't help whispers would be the least of my worries. So, I dig. It's what I do. I'm a digger. I'm a good digger."

  Boil grabbed the other torch and stood beside Urt. Just a little more, and they would break through. "You've really been going at this."

  Urt buried his face against the hot rocks. Bits and pieces crumbled at the corners of his lips and clattered to the ground. He ripped a chunk out and wiped drool from his jaw. He turned and spit the stone into a growing pile at his feet. "Can't stomach the stuff myself, but can't stop when we're this close to getting through. I don't know how you and Ember ate so much."

  Boil blinked. Each time he entered this room, the Urt he remembered changed. Now, he hardly recognized the greenskin. "I'm scared, Urt."

  Urt stared at Boil. His pink tongue slid slowly across his lips. Those lips
twisted to a smirk as he slapped Boil's shoulder. "You should be. There's death on both sides of this wall, of that much I'm sure. Thing is, whatever's waiting for us on the other side has the mojo to keep us safe from what's on ours. Maybe if we can get through, it won't be us doing the dying come torch light."

  "Diggers shouldn't fear the mountain. We're part of it, aren't we?"

  "Ah, but we're not diggers anymore, remember?"

  "You're sure about this, then." Boil turned and stared at the massive arch. Long cracks formed along its face from their many nights chewing at its surface.

  "As sure as a greenskin long past his prime should be. Now get to digging or get out. We've got precious little time before they find us. You smell like piss, by the way."

  "I don't want to talk about it." Boil slammed the torch against the stone and watched the black glow orange and red. He pulled the fire back and chomped into the arch. The stone gave way beneath his sharpened teeth, and he pulled a chunk from the wall. Unlike Urt, Boil swallowed the rock. Even though it lacked taste, it didn't turn his stomach like it turned the greenskin's.

  And so they ate and dug and ate and dug, deep into the torch fall. A dark and slobbery pile collected at Urt's feet while dust collected at Boil's. Exhaustion weighed Boil's lids, and his lips long ago lost feeling. His heavy arm grasped the torch. He stared into the flames, his body aching for a nap he knew he couldn't take.

  Boil clenched the torch and slammed it into the wall. The black stone glimmered, glowed, and sparkled. He forced his teeth against it and wrenched a chunk from the arch, jerking his head back as he did.

  Air whooshed over his face and filled his nostrils. A long sigh swirled like a snake through the skeleton room, carried by the faintest, joyous laugh. Boil chewed the stone and straightened. Once solid rock now bore a hole the size of his fist, beyond which an impenetrable black loomed. The rock rolled slowly down his throat as he swallowed it and leaned toward the opening.

  "I can't see anything in there." For some reason, he expected more than just black. After all this time, after Ember's murder, he imagined something more than a boring void.