by T K Foster
Grarrt....
By now Grarrt had had his fill of the intoxicating beetroot cider. Of course it was by no means comparative to the several steins each chugged down by the two guards who, after a magnificent time of drinking and laughing and laughing and drinking, could be seen sprawled out like a pair of giant slugs beside two upturned stools on opposite sides of a red stained barrel; where by chance, if anyone were to stick the boot in at all, those two lumps would be hard pressed even acknowledging an assault that may be taking place against them.
So Grarrt left his binge drinking companions in search of positive results arising from his earlier actions; needless to say what he did find was not quite what he had anticipated.
Through the semi-lit maze he wandered, contemplating what was to become of the rest of his night. Would he simply find somewhere to fall down and go to sleep, or should he just go back to the star lit fields outside? Maybe he might rejoin the guards and hoof into them a bit for the sake of hoofing into them.
When he reached the great hall for the second time that night it blatantly become clear that none of the above would come to fruition; instead he realised a task had been set for him and that task had yet to be completed.
Upon the dais yet again, shackled and stripped, chained and humiliated, sat three familiar characters all looking destitute. Billy, the one Grarrt had not met so far, seemed the most comfortable and at ease, like he’d been there before.... Briar and Barret on the other hand fidgeted and appeared troubled; yet still noble they fought against their incarceration.... Well, somewhat less noble than simply superfluous.
Firstly though, he needed to find the girl with the funny walk. There was no point in alerting the boys to his presence, they weren’t going anywhere; and that Barret fellow would most probably argue the point to free them all now, but that was not going to happen because Grarrt needed his key, which was more than likely in Barret’s clothes, which would be in a cell, and chances are that would be where Cetra was too.
Hmm.... a damsel in distress, ready to be indebted to him for rescuing her from the clutches of the horrible Humps. Oh how he hoped she was in distress. He was an alright sort, wasn’t he? Well, so he thought anyway. In the bachelors’ arena filled mostly with big, fat, ugly, sweaty Humps, Grarrt considered himself quite the catch, even quite the ladies Hump; just one of the reasons why he kept to himself and avoided too much interaction with his own kind, they were beneath him, and he was better, and kinder and funnier....
....And he’d better get on....
Again there were two more guards watching over the hall that he would have to deal with when he came back. No problem, he had a plan. Smart boy.
Cetra was in one of only four cells at the end of a dark corridor which descended to the lowest, or deepest pointed in the stronghold. It was the only cell emitting any light from underneath the door, and there were no guards around because, well, the door was locked....
Grarrt knocked on the heavy wood.
“Cetwa?”
There was a rustle and a shuffle and a sound of something sliding on the gritty stone floor. Then he heard her voice, soft and questioning, “Is that you Grarrt?”
“Yes,” he affirmed, “Awevwebodiescwothesinthew?”
“Everybody’s clothes are in here, Grarrt.”
“Good,” he said, “findthekey.”
“Alright.”
Grarrt waited. From within the cell he could hear Cetra shuffling around, heard the ting possibly of a belt buckle hitting the stone floor, heard the dull thud maybe of a boot being dropped, and heard Cetra profane in her own simple way following a strange whack.
“I have it,” she quietly squealed with excitement.
Grarrt liked Cetra, she was cute.
“IsWodstiwithyou?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Present young fellow,” Rod piped up from behind the thick wooden barrier.
“Good. Doyouthinkyoucanfitundewthedoow?”
“Will jolly well try.”
Two hands later Grarrt saw the shadow of Rod’s twitching nose poke out from underneath the door.
“Traversed a crack in the stones; quite thick that door isn’t it?” Rod said light hearted before greeting the small Hump in the dark. “Hello Grarrt.”
“HeyWod. Nowgobackandgetthekey.”
“Right you are then.”
Rod turned and disappeared back through the crack, with his little bottom wriggling as he pushed himself beneath the door again. A moment later he returned with the key as directed.
“Good job, key delivered as instructed,” he said.
Grarrt took it, unlocked the door, and retrieved it again to place within the folds of his belly. When the door swung open and the corridor was instantly illuminated he saw Cetra within the glow. Her immediate reaction to Grarrt was a joyous one, she squealed again and jumped into the air, melting his heart, but then after a moment’s reflection he figured she probably had that effect on all the boys. Damsel in distress...? Certainly not. This young thing was level headed; a little ditsy perhaps, but prudent all the same.
“Yippee,” she whispered and clapped her hands softly, “My knight in shining armour.”
Hmm, Grarrt thought.
“Wetsgetthewcwothesandgo,” he insisted, “Fowowme.”
Cetra took Rod from the floor and placed him back onto her shoulder; then she gathered all the clothes and boots together and carried them as a bundle in her arms.
They followed behind Grarrt as instructed; close enough to see his presence in the gloom of the corridors. To Cetra there was no familiarity, just dark tunnels made of earth and stone, all interconnecting like a Bartfool’s Interconnecting Jigsaw Sculpture. Just as the infamous toy maker, Art Bartfool, had blended a multitude of stolen wooden straws together into random forms, so too it seemed the Humps had been able to create a labyrinth of tunnels in the same manner.
Poor Art.... Cetra thought all of a sudden.
Poor Art had, over his eccentric final days, developed a rather questionable penchant for the burros’ ear. Spending his nights skulking around barns where the easy pickings were asleep in their stalls. He had developed a bad habit of hitting his targets more than once though, thus his final hit was once too often, and Art Bartfool became a legend. It was known as The night Art Bartfool got his ears chewed off by a barn full of burros; but they hadn’t stopped at his ears....
So this time Grarrt didn’t run... there was no need to run. Where he needed to go was a storeroom; a very particular storeroom in fact, where all the herbs and spices were kept.... and the fruit. Yum yum.
“So young Grarrt,” Rod said in their travels, “am I to assume that the fellows have all come to the same humiliating end already once suffered by Billy?”
Without turning around Grarrt answered the question positively.
“How unfortunate,” Rod reflected close to Cetra’s ear.
“Do you have a plan Grarrt?” Cetra asked.
Again he answered positively.
“Not big on the details, huh?” Rod whispered for Cetra only.
“Shush,” she shushed.
They carried on in silence for a time, alone in the shadowy corridors. Once they came across a guard stationed at the entrance to a galley; he was thick and smelly and snored like a topey under pressure, although nobody could say whether a topey actually snored or not, or whether it made anything but a cracking sound under pressure.
Anyway, the guard failed to wake up; even when Rod lost his grip on Cetra’s shirt as she followed Grarrt through the doorway. Where he landed on the guard’s stomach was positively icky, in fact, for a brief moment he was comically suspended head-down-bum-up with his nose embedded in a sickly white fatty deposit deep inside the Hump’s belly button. When he pulled himself free, very quickly indeed, he winced, gagged, and then threw up.
Cetra grinned. Initially she feared the Hump might wake up, but that didn’t happen. After Rod had preened his face and pleaded with her to take him away, Cetra picked hi
m up and placed him back onto her shoulder; then they continued after Grarrt.
At the far end of the galley, past wooden benches with pots and pans, there was another door. Grarrt had already opened it and entered the room beyond.
It was a storeroom, and unlike the rest of the stronghold, it was very cool inside. Around the stone and wooden shelves were wooden boxes; pushed against the walls on the cold stone floor were wooden crates. The room was lit up by a single hand sized mass of phosphorescent moss stuck to the ceiling just inside the door arch.
Grarrt took in a deep breath through his nose and quietly giggled when the intoxicating mixture of smells flooded his senses.
Ah the smells....
Smells of herb and smells of spice, smells of fruit and all things nice. It was a delectable, irresistible, unforgettable feast of aroma, instantly seducing them and causing them to feel giddy with delight.
Grarrt spied a bushel of rapples on top of a crate and grabbed for them, he moved them to a bench near the door and left them there. On the farthest away and darkest wall there were many smaller boxes, all roughly the same size and all smelling wonderful. Grarrt knew what he was looking for, it took him several sniffs, four to get the spices he needed, and a few more just because....
From the same shelf the spices were on he grabbed a mortar and pestle; it was heavy and chiselled from a single block of stone.
The first spice he put into the mortar was shaped like a nut, it was small and round and when it was smashed from above by the blunt end of the stone pestle it shattered and became an overwhelmingly sweet smelling powder.
Nearby, Cetra almost swooned. She sought out a stool she’d seen beside a wooden crate and sat herself down; so euphoric was she felling, so utterly abandoned were her senses, so much so that she could taste the spice in the air around her.
The second smash was incredible, it released a scent not unlike that made when raspberries were candied with the sugars of Llasa – Llasa being a well hidden town suspended in the upper canopy of the Llasa Forest hidden away somewhere in the East. Most considered the town a fable, but Cetra knew better. It was said that the sugars were distilled and crystallised from the newest buds formed at the very apex of the Llasa trees, and this Cetra knew to be true.... because she had been there....
When Grarrt had finished grinding the four spices together he set the mortar aside on the bench and grabbed a large wooden bucket from underneath and placed it next to the bushel of rapples. Again from the darker side of the room he produced several gourds, all of which were hollowed, dried and now filled with beetroot cider; these he emptied into the bucket. Next to go in were the spices. He took hold of the mortar with both hands and stuck his nose into it one last time; he sniffed hard, drew up powder and sneezed, then he dumped the mixture into the bucket. It fizzed for just a moment before Grarrt grabbed a nearby wooden ladle and casually stirred the broth together.
Again the smell was.... well.... hmmm.
Indeed, Cetra was speechless, and Rod.... Rod was almost asleep, with a toothy grin on his face and a little pink tongue lolling lazily from the side of his mouth.
Next Grarrt ladled the rapples into the bucket one by one; they bobbed in the liquid and floated on top, a lovely coating of cool cider broth now shimmering on their smooth red skins. He left them there to soak for several hands whilst he went in search of a bowl and a basket.
“Howawyoutwodoing?” he casually asked his guests as his glance passed in their direction.
“We are good, Grarrt,” Cetra answered, taking another deep sniff of the air and closing her eyes. “But what is it that you are doing?”
Grarrt found a bowl and basket easily; one fitted into the other so that it could be used as a colander.
“Thiswiwputtheguawdstosweepinnotime.”
“Oh?” she said.
There was a look in Cetra’s eyes that told Grarrt she might be hungry, and to this he picked out a dry rapple and tossed it her way. She caught it well and ate it, then asked for another. The second one she shared with Rod.
One by one Grarrt now ladled the rapples from the bucket into the basket. When he was done with that he lifted the basket from the bowl, poured the excess liquid back into the bucket and transferred the rapples from the basket to the bowl. Job done.
Before they left the storeroom Grarrt took a leather satchel from a hook on the wall and filled it with fruit, crusty bread and smoked meat; to this he also added a couple of fresh herb bundles which would help to preserve the food a little longer. He gave the satchel to Cetra who threw it over her shoulder and again picked up all the clothes ready to go.
Ready to go....
So now with bowl in hands, Grarrt led the way back to the main hall, hopefully for the last time that night.
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE