Grump & Rose

by Aaron Burdett

  "You think so?" Grump smirked and adjusted the shovel on his back.

  "Of course I am! That's how all good teams work. You've got one for all the heavy lifting, and one for all the heavy thinking. I think we make a perfect pair, if you ask me."

  "Well, there's only one other we can ask and I don't think she talks. You sure she's okay just sleeping like that? Don't humans eat and drink and all those other things even if they're brand new?"

  Boil eyed the satchel from his perch on Grump's shoulder. "There's mojo at work on her. I can feel it, if I'm still and close my eyes. I tried to get her up while you were sleeping yesterday, but it's no use. Only the wizard can wake her up."

  "Why does this wizard want her? And these fair folk? What makes her so special?"

  The goblin scratched his bald head and shrugged. "Beats me. You know the fair folk. Doesn't matter if they're elves or humans or even wizards. They all play games and prophecies and wars and whatnot. They're not like us greenskins, no sir. We're smart enough to stay away from all that mumbo-jumbo."

  "Yet here you are, sitting on a troll's arm with a baby under a magic spell, making your way to a wizard. Maybe us greenskins are not so good at keeping out of trouble as you think?"

  "Yeah, but I'm not like other greenskins. Clearly, you aren't either."

  The goblin snickered as they stumbled up a mountain brow and onto a flat gap between two hooked peaks streaked by snow. He reached up and plucked Boil from his shoulder and tossed him to the ground. "Maybe not. But like other greenskins, you can walk for a minute. My shoulder's getting sore."

  Grump licked the moisture beading on his lips. The burns from his arms had faded into little more than sore patches of toughened skin. He flexed his fingers, holding his hand to the light. Would he ever work the earth again?

  "Tell me, Boil, how do you know so much about the world? Are goblins nomads?"

  Boil snorted a laugh and shook his head. "Maybe once. After the horde was driven out of the Ridge, we fled to the Grand Mountain and started digging. Most goblins never see the sun. They don't even think about it, really. They just dig until they die," he said, his ears drooping.

  "Then how'd you become so worldly?"

  "The wizard didn't throw me into Oya unprepared. I know all about the world now, or at least all about the world protected by the Torn Ocean. I know where the cities are and who lives in 'em. I know where to find friendly greenskins and where to avoid the fair folk. I know old paths and new ones and the secret ways forgotten since the Wizarding War. It's strange, isn't it? I haven't seen it all, not by a long shot, but I know Oya."

  "I watched a traveling mage. She set up a tent along the road by my woods. The human turned the sky into sparkling fire for some farmer children. It was ... pretty. Is that what wizards are like?"

  "A mage is like a wizard." Boil turned to Grump and hooked his thumbs on his shirt. "Like coal is like a diamond."

  "You're proud of that one, aren't you? Eh, I get a lot more use out of coal than diamonds," Grump said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the antler pipe, rolling it in his hands. A good puff of thimbleweed would soothe his nerves. His tongue passed across his lips.

  "What is that thing? You keep pulling it out and looking at it like it's a drumstick."

  "Hmm? It's nothing for you to worry your little green head about, that's for sure." Grump dropped the pipe into his pocket and patted his chest reassuringly. "Safe and sound and for another day when I can have some peace. Alone."

  They walked in silence for a while. Every so often, Grump would catch the longing look in the goblin’s eye as he cast about for anything interesting in their bleak surroundings. "You're not one for silence, are you?" Grump asked.

  "It's awful. Do you know any troll songs? I've never heard a troll sing before and you've got a pretty deep voice. Bet it sounds really nice up here."

  The truth was, he did know a song. His mother sang one to him once, and though it was so long ago, he remembered every note as if she had hummed the tune the night before. But sing for a goblin? Grump would never in a thousand generations do something so silly.

  "Nope," he said. "Don't know any troll songs. We beat drums, and I'm fresh out of drums."

  "Any goblin songs?"

  "No songs of any sort. And shouldn't we be quiet up here?"

  "A little quiet tune might be good for the soul. Help put us at ease considering how awfully desolate these peaks are. And the fair folk fear them? Silly superstition and not a thing more."

  They traveled between the two peaks and came to a wide, flat bowl forming the cup of three angry summits. Grump stretched his arms to the howling winds and sighed. "Well, I'll not be singing for you tonight, and that's that. You're barely tolerable as it is. I sing and you'll be about as pleasant as a corn on my toe."

  "It's just so boring up here." Boil scurried beside him with a scowl and marched across the rocky soil. "Why do you have to be like this? You're always so sour when I've been nothing but sweet to you."

  Grump opened his mouth, but Boil swung around and jabbed a finger toward him before he could speak. "And don't tell me it's 'cuz you're a troll, either. I know enough to know you're different for a troll, just like I'm different for a goblin."

  "Whatever." Grump huffed and strolled past Boil, rolling his eyes. "I don't sing for anyone, and I don't know any songs."

  "Everybody knows a song. We've all got one in our hearts."

  "Oh, so you're a greenskin thief and a poet?"

  Boil danced past him, jumping into the mist. "And so much more!"

  "He's like a child," Grump sighed, smiling warmly at Rose. "But don't worry. You don't annoy me. You're very well behaved."

  "Grump!" Boil's voice whipped through the mists and echoed off the dusty slopes.

  He, pulled the shovel from his back and planted his shovel into the dirt, leaning onto its handle with a sigh. "This wizard better be powerful."

  "Grump!"

  "Coming, coming!" He scanned the shifting misty tendrils drifting through the dark mountains and dove into the fog.

  It swirled around him in soft tongues, leaving droplets on his chest that cooled his fading burns and blisters. Some twisted part of him wanted those burns to hurt forever. That way, he would never forget the human's face who turned his pride and joy to nothing more than ash to be swallowed by the forest.

  Everything taken from me. I will never have anything of my own. This world is never kind to trolls, he thought bitterly.

  The scar across his chest itched. Grump blinked away old memories, the haunting whispers that refused to die no matter how many years had passed since he fled the swamp and Farlain.

  Once thick mists thinned, and for a time, the stars bathed Grump in silver. Boil waited just ahead, prodding a pyramid of loose stones barely taller than he stood. When Grump saw the rocks, he frowned, his hand snapping over Rose. "Get away from that, Boil."

  Boil circled the stack and peered at Grump from the other side. "It's just a cairn. Fair folk put them in special places. Maybe something special happened here." His eyes lit up. "Maybe there's treasure!"

  "There's nothing we want around here. We should find someplace safe to camp. It's not too long until sunrise and...." Grump took a step back. "I don't like that cairn. You of all people know not to go poking around the Ridge. I'd think a wizard would at least let you know that much."

  "Awe, c'mon, where's your sense of adventure? It's just a pile of rocks some people made." Boil whipped around and kicked the cairn. It crumbled into a loose tongue that rolled toward Grump, the last stones clattering to a stop at his toes.

  "Boil," Grump snapped, "there are no people here. There. Are. No. People. Here!"

  Boil's mischievous grin melted like wax in a cooking fire, and some of the color drained from his face. "There might be. Maybe they drove the others out. Maybe—"

  "You air-headed twerp. Even if it was the fair folk, you want a bunch of steel-waving humans to come crashing down on us? You think th
ey'll serve us tea and cake? Maybe a nice bath?"

  "Sorry, sorry. Sometimes I just ... see something, and I have to, I don't know, do what I think." He looked around and cleared his throat, then darted over to Grump. "We should find shelter. Someplace not anywhere near the cairn. It's—it's probably abandoned anyway. Whoever built it probably doesn't even live in these parts, if they live at all anymore. They say the haunts—"

  "Shh." Grump shot the goblin a furious glare. "Don't tempt fate and call them by name. Let's just get to bed. Tomorrow, if we make good time, we can cross to the other side of the Ridge. Shouldn't have to worry about them there. As long as we stay quiet, they'll stay underground where they belong."

  Boil nodded—thankfully without muttering another word—and they quietly zipped through the clearing until they came upon the westernmost peak, the last mighty thorn of granite tearing toward the sky.

  Beyond this wall, the old kingdoms waited, full of ancient lands and mighty ruins from the time when the races were young and wizards ruled the skies.

  The greatest countries of men also waited beyond those passes, rich and old and full of steel and bloodlust. Grump could only imagine the armies that would crash over him if they discovered the girl he carried and who wanted her.

  "Look, there's a cave over there," Boil said, jabbing his finger between two tall boulders shaped a bit like rosebuds. Sure enough, the black scar of a crack appeared between the rocks.

  Grump sniffed the air for anything living. When he failed to detect a hint of sweat on the breeze, they made their way into the cave. "See anything in there, Boil?"

  "Not much. It's deep enough for a fire if you can move the rocks."

  Any night they could comfortably light a fire was a good night. They could roast some of the edible plants Grump collected on the slopes and enjoy a few hours of warmth before sunrise.

  So Grump pulled the boulders before the cave after they had dragged enough dead wood and tinder inside. Boil corralled a pile of fat grubs, centipedes, and other odd insects before the fire pit. He gazed at the bugs, the arrow of his tongue sliding sloppily over his lips.

  Boil tossed a bug into his mouth and swallowed it whole. "What was living in the blackwoods like? Supposedly their fog drains the strength of the elves and gives humans nightmares. That's why the fair folk were never able to wipe out your kind. They'd have to burn the swamps down, and elves love nature too much to do it."

  Sparks lit Boil's cheeks in alternating flares. Grump shrugged and struck again. "It's a swamp. There's mud, bugs, frogs, moss, snakes, and spiders. That's the long and the short of it."

  One of Grump's sparks finally took, and the tinder flared to life. He cupped the weak flame and blew gently over the fire. It curled and sprang higher, taking hold on the larger limbs. "The elves don't allow human armies in their woods and the fog keeps us safe from the elves. It hides the sun, too, so we can walk during the day without stoning."

  "Have you ever seen a troll stone? I bet it's fascinating."

  Grump snorted and poked the flames with a stick. "We never claim to be bright, but we're not so stupid as to be caught in the light. We're good at finding the dark places. The blackwoods rose so high and spread so far they hid the daylight. Our towns are in the open, not in caves and under bridges like we have to do beyond the swamp."

  "You know, you speak like it's still your home."

  Grump brushed his hand across his chest and sighed. He placed a flat rock on a few simmering embers. "A part of it always will be, even if I hated it. I lived the first part of my life there with my brothers and sisters. Mom died early on. Dad disappeared in the elven woods on a raid. I was secondborn in my family, which meant if my brother died, I would lead. The others hated me for it." Grump chuckled and threw a few bugs on the hot rock. "They were always trying to kill me."

  "What?" Boil looked up from the fire. "Your brothers and sisters tried to kill you?"

  "Only strong trolls deserve to rule. Weak ones deserve to die. It's hard to believe, but I'm not very big for a troll."

  "Well, at least your brothers and sisters cared enough to try and kill you. A life for a greenskin like me isn't worth much. They called us diggers. We dig. If we can't dig, then we die. If they don't like us, then we die. Basically, we live for a little—"

  "And then you die."

  Boil shrugged and swiped at hot grub from the rock. He crunched it in his mouth, milky globules dripping down his chin. He wiped them away and licked his sticky fingers. "I guess we're kinda alike, huh? Two runts who don't belong just trying to make it in a world that hates them."

  "We are nothing alike, Boil." Grump ripped out some goldenrod stalks stuffed in his pocket and chomped down on the bitter plant. He chewed, the stalk crunching between his wide, flat teeth.

  The goblin pouted, snatching up a writhing centipede and turning his back to Grump. "You're mean for no reason. It hurts my feelings, you know. I'm taking you to the wizard so you can get a wish granted, and all you do all day is insult me. I lived my life in the under mountain being treated like less than trash. Least you could do if you don't like me is keep it to yourself, or is that too much to ask a troll?"

  Grump swallowed the goldenrod. His gaze drifted to the crackling flames. He traced circles in the dusty ground, suddenly fighting an urge to snarl at the greenskin. Eventually, he swallowed his Hunger like he swallowed his meal and looked up. "I'm sorry. I'm not used to ... others. I'm not used to anyone at all, really. And my goats, they didn't talk back. It's just ... all I ever wanted was to garden in peace. Seems I can't even have that."

  Boil looked over his shoulder. "Why'd you leave the swamps? What makes a troll want to garden?"

  "I guess you could say I sort of fell into it one day."

  "Was it your family that did it?"

  He laughed and shook his head. "They had a part in it, but no, it wasn't them. I had ... I had a teacher who taught me to grow things."

  "Musta' been a good one. That was one fine garden."

  "It was."

  Grump blinked at the fire. Memories of ripe vines, flowering plants, vegetables round and juicy flooded his thoughts. He worked so long, did so much to grow that garden. He risked his head to get his goats, and he cared for them like his children. And now everything was gone. Gone because of those cursed humans. Gone because of his carelessness. Gone because of the goblin and his tempting wishes.

  The tranquil atmosphere constricted like a snake around a mouse. Grump swiped the hot rock from the fire and tossed the insects into his mouth, swallowing the bunch with one gulp. "And now my garden's ash, and my goats are all dead. All dead. They were mine. Mine! Those humans took everything. I hate them."

  He twisted around and lurched onto his side. He curled his arm around Rose and pressed her tight against his chest.

  Firelight played with shadows along the cave wall. One of those shadows was a silhouette of a little goblin. "You can always grow another one after we get to the wizard, Grump."

  "I liked that one. Wake me at sunset."

  "But—"

  "I said wake me at sunset," Grump growled. Boil didn't protest. Grump watched the goblin's shadow on the wall until it melted onto the floor. Once it did, Grump snapped his eyes shut and waited for sleep.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  The Haunt

  Like most nights since he began the journey to the Grand Mountain, Grump struggled to wake once the sun set. Sleeping on unfamiliar ground disagreed with his body. His lower back ached, his muscles defied his commands, and he opened his eyes with sleep glomming to their corners. It all brought so much back, of those nights spent hiding in the plains, shivering in the cold winds, hoping and praying the humans wouldn't find him lurking under a bridge or in the depressions he dug beneath the enormous boulders dotting the hillsides. Those days were nearly the most terrifying of his life. Nearly.

  Boil tapped his shoulder. "Are you up?"

  Slowly, the goblin's face came in to focus. Grump groaned and managed a nod. His
eyes flicked to Rose. She was curled against his chest, tucked in the crook of his arm. "Did she cry? Move?"

  "No, she didn't cry. Didn't do anything, like all the other nights."

  "I suppose that's good."

  He asked Boil the same question each nightfall, and Boil always supplied the same answer. With all the care in the world, Grump slipped Rose into the reed satchel, her soft, wispy hair tickling his knuckles. He rubbed his finger down her jaw and smiled.

  "Why're you so attached to her?" Boil asked. "It's not like you like her personality. She's basically just an oversized grub that's half as exciting."

  "Don't talk about her like that. You make breakfast?"

  Boil rolled his eyes and handed him some roots. Grump shoved them in his mouth and chewed. "A little raw. I liked your soup better."

  "I don't really have a kitchen handy, and despite what you might think, goblins need sleep too. You ready? Get those boulders out of the way so we can get out of here." He danced closer with a sloppy grin on his face. "We cross into the West today! It's all old kingdoms on the other side. Magic. Danger. Adventure."

  "Sounds awful," Grump grumbled as he shoved the goblin aside. He slipped Rose's satchel over his chest and tucked her beneath an arm, then wobbled to the back of the cave. The room swayed with his dulled senses. He yawned and stretched his arms wide, rolling his neck.

  A golden stream splashed into the corner of the cave as he relieved himself with a satisfying grin. Droplets splattered his toes, forcing his feet back.

  "Seriously?" Boil groaned and shuffled toward the exit. "That stuff smells so foul."

  "Morning ritual," Grump chuckled. Once he finished, he muscled past the goblin and slid a boulder aside, leaving a deep scar of fresh earth in its wake. He glanced into the darkness as misty trails curled like ghostly pigs' tails into the grotto. "We've got a long night. Let's go."

  "You're not much for the evening, are you?" Boil asked.

  Grump shrugged and strolled from their shelter, breathing in the crisp mountain air. "I'm not used to this place. It's not comfortable like home. My cave was warm. I had a bed. I had warm breakfasts. What I wouldn't give for some nice onion stew right about now."