Grump & Rose

by Aaron Burdett

  Power raced and roared through his blood. The swamp was a scarlet mural given depth by the Hunger coursing through him. Another brother landed a blow against Grump's chest. Sixthborn? Yes, this must be him. His blow was so puny it only enraged Grump further.

  He took a step back and blinked at the distant throbbing against his ribs. "You are weak," Grump said, licking his lips.

  Sixthborn stumbled back. Grump lurched forward and smashed his heel on the troll's foot. Toes crunched. Sixthborn wailed. Grump's grip fastened on his brother's open jaw and squeezed hard. The jaw snapped in a spray of blood.

  "Now let me teach you what a troll's fist feels like," Grump said. He smashed his knuckles against sixthborn's chest. Unlike his younger brother's blow, Grump's knuckles shattered ribs, and the troll collapsed, gurgling crimson slop from his lips as he sunk beneath the slurping swamp's muddy waters.

  His fourthborn and fifthborn sisters—twins—charged next. They brandished rusted blades made for hacking meat and not enemies.

  "Did you use those to carve up my goat?" Grump asked.

  Fourthborn spit and swung. Grump twisted beneath the blade and tried dodging the fifthborn's swing, but fifthborn was fast. Her blade sliced his cheek and gashed his shoulder. Muscle and sinew popped as it tore from the jagged metal. Blood coursed over his arm and oozed down his face.

  Grump grinned and passed his tongue across his lips. "You both won't get another like that one in."

  He lurched beneath fourthborn's next strike while her sister came back for another swing. Grump slipped beneath the blade and snatched fourthborn's forearm.

  "Sister!" she shrieked.

  With a quick jerk he snapped her elbow. Her blade fell as her scream filled the air. Grump spun low and caught the weapon before it sank. He vaulted up and raked the metal across her throat, and fourthborn's scream silenced.

  "You wanted a troll?" Grump bellowed, his laughter replacing his sister's wail. "Here is your troll!"

  Fifthborn launched at Grump, her own Hunger dilating her dark eyes. Calm as a clear sky he smirked at her and swatted the weapon aside before driving his own through her eye.

  "None of you are trolls to me," he growled, kicking her into the mud. "You're all weak! All of you!"

  Movement pricked his senses. His gaze shot to the side. Welt and Crab charged through the fog while the other trolls panicked and fled to their homes, probably seeking weapons more capable of downing a troll in the thrall of his Hunger.

  Crab and Welt brandished bows. They nocked their arrows in unison and pointed the barbed tips at Grunt. Crab spit, her knuckles whitening on the weapon. "So you've killed a few of the littlest Bulderbags. So what? They were weak, just like you. You deserve death, just like your precious Teacher and your fat, stupid goat."

  "Drive it through his heart, my love," Welt said.

  She nodded, and together they loosed the arrows. Grump stood rigid. One thunked in his good shoulder. The other whistled past his ear and struck a fleeing troll by the sound of the shrill cry.

  Grump took a deep breath and charged while Welt and Crab grabbed fresh arrows. Mud exploded around his heels and coated his shins as he vaulted onto the boardwalk. He kicked one of the broken bars from his cage, catching it mid-stride.

  Crab fumbled with her arrow and cursed. Welt roared and nocked his on the bowstring. Grump reared back and launched the bar. It zipped across the hamlet and skewered Welt straight through his heart. The troll spun to the side and launched his arrow into a tree, then flopped into the mud, a sad, writhing creature grasping for life in the swamp's wet air.

  His wife screamed, tears pouring down her cheeks. "Crush, Thorn, help us! He's out of control! I—his Hunger—it's not ... it's not...."

  "Not normal?" Grump roared. "Not troll enough?"

  Grump hurdled through the hamlet. Scarlet fog swirled around him. Such vicious, glorious beauty violence was. He breathed in the air and tasted the death woven in it.

  He crashed before Crab, rocking the boardwalk's planks. She fell back, staring wide-eyed, the catlike sneer of her smile transformed into a terrified pit.

  "Please, don't kill me. Forgive me, Grump, Crush put us up to it. I—I never thought poorly of you. If I did anything at all, it was because I pitied you. Mercy, please. Mercy!"

  Mercy. Mercy like they showed Teacher as they danced around her burning body. Mercy like they showed Bah as they roasted her on a spit. "You forget, Crush. I am troll, and we know no mercy for the weak."

  Grump grabbed her arrow. Crab screamed, but when he drove the arrowhead through her chest, her cry ended with a whimper as her eyes rolled back and she went limp.

  Blood his own and of others dripped from his knuckles and splattered on the rotted wooden planks. Thick scarlet oozed in the cracks and disappeared somewhere in the muds of Blackwood Swamp. Grump rolled his shoulders and smirked as figures melted from the fog. "Somehow I knew you weren't running. You just couldn't. You have to prove you're both more troll than me, don't you?"

  Thorn and Crush edged onto the boardwalk. Firstborn brandished a rusted battle axe nicked on both its crescents, and Crush wielded a broadsword in his thick fists tall as a grown man.

  Grump nodded at his firstborn brother. "You were always smarter than the rest. Of course you'd hide weapons near, just in case."

  A bead of sweat rolled down Thorn's temple. "Stupid firstborns die fast."

  "Not always." Grump cracked his knuckles. "Not tonight."

  Thorn hesitated. "We were wrong about you, Grump. Mother is dead. Father's probably joined her. The three of us are all that's left now. Calm. Forget this. You've repaid blood with blood. Your Teacher and your goat are avenged."

  Grump took a deep breath. He could barely see his brothers through the red. Somewhere deep within him, the Grump he remembered watched. What a pathetic, weak fool that Grump had been.

  The new Grump passed his tongue over his upper lip and cracked his neck. "I've only just begun to repay this debt, older brother."

  "You see?" Crush looked to Thorn. "The Hunger's made him insane. We need to put this thing down. Now."

  Grump pouted as he took a step forward. The planks creaked beneath his weight. "Oh now, Crush, why so scared? Don't you remember what you told me? You said, 'You will give in to your Hunger one of these days, little brother, and when you do, I will be there to crack your ribs.' I think the others may have cracked one or two before I killed them, but I've got plenty left for you. Come on then, fight me. Let's end this."

  "We should kill him together," Crush said, ignoring Grump's taunt. "It's killed the other Bulderbags. The others will never accept it. They see him for the freak he is, the weakling troll who loved a forest witch and put a goat above his family. It isn't troll anymore, it's just Hunger. We can take him. Together."

  Thorn's eyes narrowed at Grump. "You just had to be different. You couldn't have been a good troll, a secondborn Father and I could be proud of."

  Thorn and Crush spread apart. Grump saw their plan. Trap him between those long weapons. Hack him until he bled to death.

  As space grew between them, they revealed the blackened tree and charred corpse hanging from it. Grump stared at Teacher's blackened body while he let his brothers surround him. Forgive me, Teacher, but I will only ever be a troll.

  The Hunger bulged his veins. Thorn roared and swiped. Grump wheeled beneath the blade, barely pivoting from Thorn's deadly swing. The Firstborn's axe smashed into the boardwalk as Grump spun toward Crush.

  Thirdborn brother's eyes glimmered hatefully. The troll slashed a long arc before him. Grump jumped back, and Crush lurched forward. "See? I'm still better than you. You'll never beat me, little brother!"

  "You're wrong," Grump sneered. "I've already won."

  Crush cut his sword to the side in a hard arc. Grump lifted his chin and stepped into the blade. Steel split skin. Muscle tore. Blood surged from the wound, and Grump laughed.

  He smacked the blade and pitched within arm's reach, Crush realizin
g his mistake in that splinter of an instant. Grump grabbed his brother's throat and hurled him onto the boardwalk.

  "I yield, I yield!" Crush screamed.

  All the hate and rage bottled within Grump flooded into his fist. He reared back, and like a boulder hurtling from the stars, his fist crashed against Crush's brow. Thirdborn's skull shattered. It burst through the boardwalk in a shower of jagged splinters and vanished into the mud, ripped entirely from Crush's twitching body.

  "Now who is the better troll, little brother? Now who!"

  A shadow fell over Grump. He rolled away just as Thorn's axe came down and buried itself in Crush's chest. Thorn roared and ripped the weapon from the body, slashing at Grump. He ducked beneath the blade, then vaulted into reach too late for his brother to dodge.

  "Grump, stop this." Thorn gagged as Grump tightened his grip around the firstborn's throat. "This isn't you. This is not ... Grump."

  "They mocked me, and you said nothing." He squeezed harder, shoving Thorn onto his back and into the mud. "They humiliated me, and you said nothing." His grip tightened like a vise, and he leaned so close his breath washed over the firstborn. Tears rolled down his cheeks and splattered on Thorn's face. "They took everything I loved from me, and you let them! All along, I thought I was the weak one, but you, Thorn, you were always the true coward of our clan. You were supposed to lead. Instead, they led you."

  "Grump ... can't ... breathe ... stop...."

  "I know." He snapped his grip closed, and his brother's neck broke, his head lolling aside. "Goodbye, Thorn Bulderbag, you will never wear the crown of bones."

  Hunger gave Grump life. It gave him power. He was troll—true troll! He fell to his knees before Teacher's dangling corpse and roared to the sky. "I am troll. I. Am. Troll!"

  This world held no pain. His Hunger devoured it. No wonder the others fed it so often! This blood, this death, this would sustain him forever. He needed nothing, no one.

  And then, the quiet came. A soft breeze whistled through the boardwalk massacre. Teacher's chains creaked, and the branch holding her groaned. It snapped, and her body fell before him.

  He stared at the remains and blinked. With no living trolls in sight, there was nothing to fuel his Hunger, and so it slinked back into his heart. Grump slowly turned around. Bodies of the others lay strewn around him in fleshy, bloody heaps.

  These are the seeds you plant, the wind whispered. This is the garden your Hunger grows when it is the master a troll knows.

  "No. What—what was I doing?" Grump pressed his palms into his temples. "Why did I let it take me? No, no, no. Teacher! I failed you. I—this wasn't me!"

  Grump's lower lip quivered. Tears flooded from his eyes as his body shook with violent sobs. He raised his hands, his bloodied, murderous hands, and they, too trembled as if they feared their master. He gave in. He gave in and failed her—failed everyone.

  Seek the West, for there is where the sun rests.

  Grump howled. He beat his bloodied, mangled chest. He scooped up Teacher's body and what remained of Bah and bounded from the hamlet. No trolls pursued him, but those who remained would never forget the might of the secondborn of the Bulderbags.

  Grump kneeled before the graves of Teacher and Bah, tucked as they were at the head of her rosebushes. A paste coated his deep wounds. If he remembered his lessons in herbs, it would keep the gashes from rotting, although nothing would keep them from scarring. They would serve as a reminder of his past, a warning of the beast inside him.

  He stared blankly at the mounds of fresh dirt. Trolls didn't mourn their dead. If they were good trolls, they joined their ancestors in the afterlife where night was eternal and glorious war everlasting. If they were bad trolls, then they would feed worms and no one would care.

  But Teacher and Bah deserved more than a troll's death. So Grump did what he thought she might like instead.

  His overalls still fit, so he put them on. They didn't feel quite right; after all, they belonged to that old Grump and not the new one.

  As he leaned over, the antler pipe tumbled from his chest pocket and plopped onto her grave. He stroked the hollowed bone and nearly left it there, but some odd force compelled him to take it. He turned it in his hands, pursing his lips. "Thimbleweed. It will keep me numb. It will keep me ... good."

  He placed a hand over the mound. For a long while, he kneeled there in total silence, the memories of his time in the canyon flooding through his mind, of soil and soup, of gardens and greens.

  "Goodbye, Teacher. Goodbye, Bah, I will always remember the lessons you taught me. I will try to be a better troll. I...." Grump's lip quivered as he fought back tears. "No, I will try to be something more. For you."

  Grump nodded and turned from the graves, trudging down the rows of her garden. He paused where it ended and stared at the shambles of her cabin. In all the time he knew Teacher, he never went inside it. Maybe he didn't deserve to see inside it.

  He very nearly left it behind, but an odd feeling nipped at him. Something waited inside there. He knew it, and he had to see it.

  Grump slowly approached her home. Gingerly he moved the shattered door aside. Dust swirled in the faded starlight lancing through the broken windows.

  A long table surrounded by pots and pans and a tiny oven occupied the home along with a little bed hiding in the shadows. Herbs hung from the rafters while cobwebs coated the ceiling's corners.

  There was a package wrapped in burlap placed upon the table. Curious, he crawled through the doorway and knelt beside it. Grump pinched the burlap, carefully peeling the dusty folds away.

  He blinked at the object before him. "A shovel?"

  But it was no ordinary shovel. This was a shovel made for massive hands and great strength. Longer than anything a human could easily handle, this shovel was nearly as tall as Grump from steel blade to handle tip.

  Grump picked it up and ran his hand along the smooth wood. His fingers found the handle's end and paused. It felt odd—not as smooth as the rest of the shaft.

  He pulled the shovel closer and focused. If he hadn't seen it before, he might not have ever noticed, but sure enough, the features of a raven were barely distinguishable in the smoothed wood. Teacher must have cut the antlers away, but Grump would never forget her staff. A parchment fell from the burlap and twirled onto his foot. In the starlight, words were scrawled onto its rough surface.

  If you're reading this, what I have seen in the stars has finally come to pass. I have failed you, my student, because I have left you alone in this angry world. There is so much I wanted to tell you, so much I wanted to teach you, but fate is fickle and brought you to me at the end of my days when yours have only just begun. Take this gift of mine and keep it with you always.

  You came to me lost. You have yet to find your way, but I sadly have nothing left to teach you. Whether you ever truly find peace is up to you, Grump. Find the love in the world. It is there. One day, it may even seek you out. Look for the signs. They are not only made by stars.

  Goodbye, my precious Grump. You may think yourself a child of the swamp, but what I see in your eyes is of the sun. Nurture the seeds you grow, and I have no doubt one day they will reshape the world.

  You know me as Teacher, but I have another name, a true name from a time long ago. It was a time I dearly wish could be forgotten, but I am afraid it refuses to forget me.

  My name then was Rosathranilion Ashvanasawatha, or as those who loved me dearest knew me, Rose.

  Grump clutched the note against his chest. He closed his eyes, wiping the tears from his cheeks. She might be gone from him, but before she left she gifted him with something he would cherish always. He would take this shovel, and he would flee from this forest that held only sorrowful memories for him.

  He would find a way to cross the human plains. It would be a hard journey, and a dangerous one, but he would rather risk turning to stone than lingering in Farlain and waiting for elves or angry trolls to hunt him down.

  There wer
e woods beyond the plains. Teacher had mentioned them before. Perhaps if he could find them, he could find a plot of land deep within them where no fair folk travel or greenskins lurked.

  He would find that place, and he would tend his garden there. Maybe, he might even find a goat or two to raise along the way.

  Grump slipped from Teacher’s home. He kissed his palm and placed his hand upon its stony wall.

  “I will never forget you, Teacher. I swear, one day I will make you proud.”

  With that, Grump climbed out of the empty canyon. He headed west, toward the plains where men made their cities, and prayed to his ancestors he would make the journey to the lands beyond them.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Boil's Mission

  Mojo tore through the sarcophagus room. Bleached bones flew in a maelstrom around Boil and his mysterious protector while the all color drained from Skar's face. The mine master stumbled back. Skulls clamped on his shoulders, spurting blood where they bit into greenskin flesh.

  Urt and the mine masters behind Skar screamed and spun around, only to find themselves surrounded by obsidian skeletons pulling themselves from the wall, their bones rattling and cracking as dust fell in trails from the ceiling. The high clan greenskins froze. Urt dropped Boil's book, and it landed in a cloud of dust.

  The swirling storm of bone engulfed Skar, plucking the shrieking mine master into the air and hurling him against the wall. Wind pressed his arms wide and held him to the stone. Bone shards drove into his palms, nailing him to the cave.

  Boil clenched his quivering jaw. He squeezed his fists and glared at his tormentor, the murderer of his love, and reveled in the greenskin's pain.

  "How does it feel, Skar?" Boil asked. "You told me you'd nail me to the wall above your bed and let me slowly die. Who's nailed to the wall now? Who!"