Grump & Rose

by Aaron Burdett

  "Well then, it's clear the gods themselves want us to be paired, don't you think? The emperor does his best to keep his prized descendants safe."

  With a sigh, Grump rolled to his knees and blinked at the cave wall. Torches usually extinguished flickered on the smooth stone, lit no doubt by the impatient goblin. Grump shook his head and stood, brushing off his knees. "I need a good breakfast."

  "I cooked you one!"

  "I've got to tend to the garden before we go to your treasure."

  "I already tended it for you!"

  "I want to say good evening to my goats." He jabbed a finger at the goblin and bulged an eye. "And if you told me you already did it...."

  "I did no such thing," Boil said, placing his hand dramatically over his chest. "But I did feed them. We need to go, Grump. Leaving's hard, but you and I both know those blackthorns'll be back any day. We can't stay here. I'm sure their mission wasn't just to kill the caravan's escort, but to take what it carried."

  "Yes, yes, through the Granite Ridge we go." He plopped before the table and sniffed at the steaming stew waiting for him. He puckered his lips while Boil rubbed his knuckles and watched. Grump picked up the bowl and took a sip. Salty onions, soft carrots, cabbage, and chickpeas gave the stew a hearty thickness.

  "Well?" Boil asked.

  Grump harrumphed and downed the bowl. "Good enough, I suppose. Let me enjoy some thimbleweed and take a walk through the garden. We'll go get your treasure after."

  He still had no intention of accompanying the greenskin on his ridiculous journey, but the thought of glimpsing the treasure did intrigue Grump. So, he pretended to be interested as best he could as the goblin prattled on about the other side of the Ridge.

  After he had smoked his thimbleweed, he slid the boulder aside and ambled into the cool night, swiping his shovel from the wall and patting his chest where his favorite pipe rested comfortably beside Holger's key.

  Outside, fresh air dancing on trails of pine and onion caressed his cheeks. Not a single cloud broke the twinkling sky. Before him, his garden stretched in neat rows to the redwoods. Beside him, the goats bleated their excitement.

  "Just a minute, boys and girls," he said, lumbering into the verdant rows. Grump tickled a tomato vine. The bulbous sprouts in various stages of lime to lusty carmine bobbed at his passing. He rounded the tomatoes and came to the coriander. Holding his hands against the small of his back, Grump wriggled his toes in the soft soil and smiled warmly at his plants.

  She had always loved coriander best for cooking. In a way, it was what brought them together.

  Memories prodded his heart. Grump rubbed the scar slashed along his chest and tightened his jaw. "This is my place. This is my sanctuary, my home."

  Behind him, Boil cleared his throat. "Sorry, what was that?"

  "Eh? Nothing, nothing."

  Grump pulled Holger's shiny key from his pocket and held it before him. To think a human had actually given a troll a gift. No one save the annoying goblin would ever believe that could happen. Humans and trolls didn't mix. They hunted one another. They glorified in each other’s' deaths. Yet somehow, his time with Holger had subtly shifted his opinion on the fair folk. He found himself thinking some humans might not be so bad after all.

  "All along. You knew this would come all along," he murmured. "You tried to tell me, but I wouldn't listen. Curse you for cursing me."

  "Huh? The human cursed you?" Boil asked.

  "No, that Holger fellow did no such thing. I was thinking of someone else."

  "Who? There somebody else I should know about?"

  Grump clenched the key and dropped it in his pocket. "Thankfully not. Now, let's go have a peek at this treasure and see what all the fuss is about."

  "Lead the way!" Boil grinned, but his eyes lingered longingly on Grump's pocket.

  Grump smirked and patted his chest pocket. Boil rolled his eyes and started skipping beside him. "You smile to yourself a lot."

  "I do?" Grump flattened his lips. "When you live alone you learn to make yourself laugh. Now keep on your guard and quit dancing around like some fairy who's sniffed a little too much tulip pollen."

  They marched deeper into the Russet Woods. More often than Grump could count, Boil would whisper a few words in a desperate attempt to gin up conversation, but Grump cut him short each and every time. Not solely because Boil's voice was about as pleasant as an onion shoved clear up his nose, but because Grump knew these woods, and tonight, the creatures in it held their tongues, closed their beaks, and swallowed their nightly songs. The forest never fell this silent. Never.

  But the creatures of the woods did watch. They knew something more than just the troll and his tiny companion disturbed their shadows. Somewhere, the blackthorns lurked.

  Grump eyed Boil. At least if the assassins attacked he could hurl the goblin at them, maybe confuse the men long enough to flee into the canopy and make for home. Horses could hardly outrun a troll swinging from the trees, much less men on foot, even if they were assassins.

  They reached the familiar clearing where Holger's caravan—or what remained of it—waited. A sweet stench coaxed him on even as he grimaced at the smell.

  "What is that smell?" he wondered. He knew it, remembered it, but couldn't quite place it.

  Hunger teased his blood. Grump slowed as he stepped into the clearing. The air clouded with buzzing flies and zipping gnats. Grump pressed the back of his hand against his nose and swatted at the living fog with another.

  Bodies littered the space, all greyed and rotted and bent and broken. They were like pale, putrid roots layered over the redwoods. Mouths opened in silent screams. Centipedes and spiders flitted across bloodied steel and torn leather.

  "Death," Grump murmured, finally realizing the odor.

  Boil gagged and stumbled back. "Ack, gross!"

  A sudden urge to grab Boil and twist him in half electrified Grump's blood. His heartbeat thundered in his ears. He could do it.

  Bend. Break. Bleed. Kill, the Hunger whispered.

  "No." Grump sucked in a breath and blinked away the violent tremors. "No."

  He buried the dark thoughts and surveyed the scene. The wagon itself lay in shattered shambles, the door ripped from its hinges and thrown to the ground. Only a single wheel remained. The others lay shattered next to dead horses.

  Beyond the mounts' carcasses, just at the base of a redwood, he spied a conspicuous rock coated in grey lichen. Strangers to the woods would never have noticed the disturbed stone, but Grump knew his kingdom better than any human could hope. He sniffed the air one last time for any sign of a living human, then bounded for the rock. Boil squealed and skipped behind him, dancing up to the stone as Grump heaved it out of the way.

  "There's nothing there," Boil groaned. "After all this time!"

  "Oh, it's there."

  Grump clawed into the soil. It came up easily and in loose clumps. Quicker than a goat's bleat his fingers hit something hard. He snorted a laugh and clamped his fingers on the object, then yanked it from the earth like he would a weed in his garden.

  Dirt fell away from the box revealed in Grump's hands. Strange runes covered its surface in lines too tiny for him to read, and they shimmered whenever Grump's heavy breath washed over them. A gold chain was wrapped around the box and fastened by an oversized lock studded with gems chiseled from shadow. The box was far heavier than its size suggested. Too heavy.

  Mojo. Grump instinctively dropped the container, as any creature with a half a brain would when they encountered the stuff. Humans called it magic. Elves called it ethyr. Dwarves called it soulsmith. No matter the race, all on Oya knew the power of mojo and feared it.

  Except Boil, apparently. The goblin spread his arms wide and collapsed on the box, cooing at it like a lover.

  Grump arched a brow and frowned. "You're not afraid? What if it turns you into a toad or gives you fever dreams until you go insane?"

  "The wizard would've told me if it did. It doesn't."

>   "If it cursed you with fever dreams you won't know until you go to sleep," he said with a smile. "And you don't need sweet dreams to get the box to the mountain."

  Boil lurched away from the treasure like it had ignited. The little greenskin grumbled and cleared his throat. "Yeah ... well, whatever. It's not like the dreams I have now are all gold and glory anyway."

  "I think you'll be okay." Grump sighed and approached the chest, reaching in his pocket. "What do you think's inside it?"

  "I dunno. Open it and find out."

  "Could be some kind of artifact. Like a broach or a necklace or a crown. Think it's a crown?"

  "Well, there's just one way to know for sure, Grump. Get the key out and unlock it."

  "I wonder what a magic crown would do. Maybe control minds? That's what kings and queens would want, right? Not having anybody giving them lip when they spout an order at a subject. That's what I'd want in a magic crown. I could've told you to take a hike and not thought twice about your silly quest."

  "Goblin Emperor, save me the torture and get this damned troll to open this chest! How long do you think I've been waiting for this moment? You're killing me here!"

  "Oh I am?" Grump's playful grin widened. "I thought you wanted me to stop?

  "Grump!"

  "Fine, fine." He chuckled as he placed the key into the lock. A shiver coursed down his spine. "So why does the wizard want the treasure? Holger said it needed to go to his people in Glenloch. Maybe we should do that."

  "Oh yeah, like a troll and a goblin would ever get within ten leagues of that place. The Lord of Glenloch's family was one of the first human families to settle the East after the Horde Wars. They say he's got a statue of his great-great-great-great-great grandfather made of greenskin bones in the palace courtyard." Boil exhaled through his nose and puckered his lips. "If you think a good for nothing human like that knows what's best for an enchanted treasure, then be my guest. Take it to Glenloch. Die, and don't get your wish."

  Boil crossed his arms and looked away like he was deadly serious even though his tone betrayed him. Grump smirked, turning the key. "No, no, you're right."

  "Good," the goblin said, whipping around.

  Grump held his breath as the key finished turning. The lock clicked. It opened. And then, it thunked to the ground and shattered into chunks like dry clay. The gold chains crumbled off, and the runes dulled.

  Boil squealed and grabbed the lid, throwing it back. "I've gotta see what a wizard's treasure looks like!"

  Grump threw an arm over his eyes and held his breath. Thoughts of him living out his days as a frog or roach flashed through his mind. He stiffened, waiting for the snap and sizzle of a spell.

  "Well, I didn't think it'd be anything like that," Boil finally said.

  "It's not going to curse us, is it?" Grump asked.

  Boil sighed. "Definitely don't think it could do that."

  Slowly, Grump lowered his arm. He peered into the open trunk, a spacious box lined with plush velvet, cushioning a….

  "Girl." Grump blinked at the infant. "It's a human girl?"

  "Doesn't look more than a few months old, but I'll admit I'm not a proper expert on any type of fair folk anatomy. They all look the same to me. Ugly things, all fat and soft with teeth that can't hardly eat a nut much less—"

  "Be quiet, Boil!" Grump bent over the chest and stared at the child. Small enough to fit in his hands and peachy like fresh cantaloupe. Hair dark as shadow and curled in thin, fluttering wisps. She had a birthmark on her right hand, but it looked like nothing more than a blob to his eyes.

  Grump's lips contorted. He swallowed his snarl as he lurched away from the chest. "And what're you supposed to do with a baby? You wanted me to cart that … that … that thing halfway across the world? Through the old kingdoms? Hells, through the Ridge? We both know what's up there in those mountains, Boil! Nope. This isn't a quest for me. Good riddance, goblin, and good luck to you."

  "I told you I didn't know what was in the box," Boil snapped. "This is as much a surprise for me as it is for you."

  He threw up his hands as dramatically as possible and turned away. This was his chance to lose the greenskin and get some peace for good, and he planned to make the show believable.

  "We can't take her anywhere. Leave her here for the blackthorns or for Holger's men in Glenloch … I don't care. But you and I are not doing this. I don't know the first thing about human babies."

  "You've got a pen of goats. They can't be all that different."

  "Oh, you're very funny." Grump stomped away from the chest and paused before the mangled massacre of wood and soldier. "I'm done with this. I don't want my wish anymore. It was a tempting offer, but you'll have to make the journey on your own."

  "But, Grump, how am I supposed to carry that tubby thing through the mountains? The old kingdoms and beyond? I need your help. You might not care about your wish, but I'd do anything to get mine. Please. You promised you'd help. So it's a girl and not some ancient weapon or artifact. I don't think she's even awake. Looks to be in an enchanted sleep of some kind. Probably needs the wizard to wake her up. Not quite what we expected, but we'll roll with it. Please?"

  "You roll with it, not me. Roll far, far away with it, please. My answer is no, and there's nothing you can say to change my mind."

  "But—"

  "I said no. Taking a crown or a jewel or a sword to the Grand Mountain is one thing. Her? That's totally different. Not in a million years."

  "But—"

  "No," he snarled, stomping into the woods. He rounded a tree and pressed his back against the trunk while he took deep, calming breaths. "Finally, some peace. Fortune's got her eye on me today!"

  Grump lingered in the shadows, staring happily into the canopy. He'd begun to head home when Boil's voice drifted to him on the wind. "Well, I guess it's you and me. I tell you what: we'll have a grand adventure through Oya. I don't know exactly how I'll carry you, but I'll manage. The wizard believed in me when no one else would. That's got to count for something, and I'm not gonna let either of you down. That's not what aspiring emperor's do, now is it?"

  "It counts for nothing," Grump mumbled as he folded his arms.

  "Now, it might be dangerous. The road through the Ridge is closed so we'll have to find another way through the peaks, but I know a few trails that've been forgotten."

  "He'll never make it," Grump huffed, rolling his eyes.

  "Hmm. But what should I call you? I can't very well march through the East with a stranger. I'd ask your name, but I don't think humans as little as you can speak yet. My name's Boil."

  Grump ran his tongue over a tusk and narrowed his eyes. He couldn't imagine what name the stupid goblin would give her.

  "That's a pretty mark on your hand. Looks kind of like a flower I saw in that nasty troll's garden. What did humans call them?"

  Grump frowned. The mark on the child's arm didn't look like anything but a mark. What flower was this stupid goblin imagining?

  "I remember! Roses. Humans called them roses. So I think I'll call you Rose. Hello, Rose, it's nice to meet you."

  It took a few breaths for Grump to calm his thrashing heart. Rose? He names her Rose?

  "Okay, Rose," Boil continued, "I might have to drag you a little ways, but I'll try to do it over the soft parts of the ground. I've got to warn you, though, they call it the Granite Ridge for a reason. Ready? Three, two—"

  Grump cursed and beat the ground with a shaking fist. "Wait!"

  He lurched around and sprinted to the goblin. "Blasted stupid greenskin. I'm coming with you."

  "Well, that's a right change of heart. What made you reconsider?"

  "I'm a damned fool, and that's all you need to know. You are not going to be dragging her anywhere, you hear?"

  "But I would've been extra careful. The wizard didn't say much about the condition of the treasure, but I don't think dead would be ideal."

  "It never is."

  "That's for sure."


  Grump bent over the box and smiled softly at the infant. "Rose," he said, sliding his finger down her temple.

  "It's a good name," Boil said.

  "It's a beautiful one." Grump lifted Rose from the box and cradled her in his arm. She was so warm, so alive.

  The wind shifted. Grump's nostril's swelled. A familiar scent mingled with the death pervading the clearing. Sweat. Steel. Leather. Men.

  He squeezed his shovel and headed for home. "No talking, Boil."

  For once, the goblin listened.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  World Alight

  Acrid smoke assaulted Grump's senses as his Hunger assaulted his blood. The pressure in his veins built to such a strength he thought he might scream, but he sealed his lips and kept quiet.

  Control the monster. Ignore its song. Calm your nerves. Be more than troll.

  He repeated the mantra as they neared his home until the words and nothing else filled his thoughts, and his Hunger was a distant roar. Grump tucked the infant named Rose into his overall's chest pocket. She hadn't stirred once on the way home, and neither did her eyes open to the world. Boil guessed magic. Grump was inclined to agree. He tightened his grip on his shovel. The stench of smoke grew almost intolerable, and his eyes filled with stinging tears.

  Orange and red light washed across the redwoods. Grump's calming mantra faded, and the Hunger's song became a scream blasting in his ear. "My goats!" he roared, leaping into the flames.

  "Grump, wait!" Boil hissed.

  He ignored the annoying tagalong and charged through the underbrush. Ferns tickled his burly arms. His feet smashed twig and leaf. Smoke drifted in obnoxious tendrils through the canopy, and ahead, the air popped and crackled angrily from wood split by fire.

  The last line of redwoods appeared. Grump twisted and slammed into a trunk, rolling until his back pressed against it. Sweat rolled down his temples, and his muscles bulged with the Hunger's might.

  Boil came crashing through the underbrush, panting with one breath and coughing with the next. His bulging eyes reflected the flames consuming everything Grump had worked so hard to create. "The blackthorns came back, Grump. They always do. I'm so sorry."