The Troll's Toll

by Valerie Paradis

  The Troll’s Toll

  by Valerie Paradis

  Published by Valerie Paradis

  Copyright 2013 Valerie Paradis. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author.

  All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  The Troll’s Toll

  It was a beautiful midsummer morning and warm rays of sunshine were pouring in through the windows of Anaia Medlen's bed chambers, washing over the room and heating the normally cold stone walls to a pleasant enough temperature. Anaia was seated in the middle of the room looking rather uncomfortable while her chamber maid, Lupa, attempted to vigorously brush the knots and tangles out of her long chestnut brown hair. Lupa would stroke the brush over and over until she came across a kink, at which point she would focus her efforts on that spot, and Anaia would jerk her head defiantly in the opposite direction and make an audible protest.

  "Come now, Lady Anaia. The king and his party are expected to arrive this afternoon and your appearance is most unacceptable for a pretty young highborn lady such as yourself¸" Lupa said as she calmly pulled Anaia's hair back towards her and continued to brush.

  "I don't care about looking pretty," said Anaia. "I wanted to go riding this afternoon. Now I've got to spend the whole day standing around looking proper so that father can impress the king. Father may care what that nasty old man thinks of him, but I don't."

  "Nonsense, my lady. King Geras is highly respected throughout the realm and I do say that just about anyone in the kingdom would certainly feel quite fortunate to be able to earn his favor."

  "Well, not me."

  Lupa just shook her head and chuckled at the young lady's feigned impertinence. She had been Anaia's chamber maid since the young lady was just a small lass, and knew that she was a good girl. She had always had a bit of a rebellious streak in her, however. Lupa continued to brush as she talked, ignoring the young woman's struggling. "Alright then. So perhaps you fail to see the importance of such matters, but I have heard talk among the other servants that might be of more interest to a young lady. That handsome Prince Linden is supposed to be among the king's traveling party."

  Anaia stuck her tongue out in disgust. "The prince is just as rotten as his father. Except he still has his youth and good looks and the hardheaded confidence that comes with them. That makes him worse than the king, if you ask me."

  "Oh, there's just no pleasing you, is there, my lady?"

  "No. Not today, Lupa. I wanted to go riding."

  "Your father feared as much." She set the brush down on a wooden table. "Come. Stand up. We must get you fitted for the dress you will be wearing. Let's get you out of those garments."

  Anaia sighed and stood up. She raised her arms over her head and Lupa slipped the casual silken chamber attire off of her, leaving her smooth naked skin to eagerly drink the rays of sunlight coming into the room. She was just entering her eighteenth year and her body was healthy and firm. It exuded a youthful glow and her muscles were lean and taut, giving her form a trim and athletic appearance. There was no mistaking, however, that this was the body of a woman. Lupa stood back and examined her naked physique with a carefully critical eye. She placed a cold hand first underneath the right breast, at which Anaia winced slightly, and then the left, gently lifting them up and down and squeezing them as if she were testing fresh fruit at the market. She repeated this hands on evaluation with her similarly firm backside as well, then she nodded satisfactorily and stepped back again, addressing her mistress.

  "It's a shame you've no interest in the prince, my lady. The gods have gifted you with a body that could secure the courtship of any man in the realm. A prince, ahem... a future king... would be quite the catch indeed."

  Anaia didn't want to justify such an unappealing suggestion with a response, so she simply made a face to let her revulsion be known. In all of her years dealing with Lady Anaia, Lupa had grown comfortable in asserting her opinion around the young woman, despite the inappropriateness of such a thing due to the societal norms regarding interactions between highborn and lowborn folk, but she had also developed a keen sense for when to drop a subject before her young mistress became truly upset. She continued to fit Anaia for the elegant purple gown in silence, stopping here and there to mark down measurements where the dress could be taken in to further accentuate her agreeably shaped body, and they spoke no more on the matter of princes and courtship.

  *

  The great hall of Southmallow Keep, seat of House Medlen for generations past, was modest at best. It certainly didn't compare to the castles of some of the wealthier and more prominent families of the realm - and most definitely not to the king's own palatial keep in Silver Court, the capitol of the realm. On this day, however, it was made to appear as opulent as it possibly could. The high walls of the great hall were adorned with colorful banners and decorative wreaths, and it was illuminated with the shaky orange light of torches smoldering in finely crafted metal sconces that were adequately spaced along the walls.

  At the far end of the hall, Lord Halwyn Medlen stood expectantly, a grim and anxious look upon his face. His family was arranged around him, his eldest son Baris to his right and his younger son Fealde beyond him. To his left stood his beautiful daughter Anaia, adorned in her newly fitted purple dress and elegant silver jewelry. Her chamber maid Lupa had been able to make her look absolutely stunning in spite of the protests mounted by the young lady all morning. There were still residual signs of a resentful scowl upon her attractive face, though she was beginning to finally come to terms with the fact the rest of her afternoon would be spent putting on airs for her father's sake rather than feeling the cool summer breeze on her face as she raced across the countryside on horseback.

  Branching out from the familial members of House Medlen at the center were Lord Medlen's highest ranking guardsmen, including the Captain of the Guard, Sir Tennen Bristley, with his thick square jaw and cold blue eyes that missed nothing. There were also those assembled that were not adorned in armor and weaponry, such as Lord Medlen's advisor, Finneus Tarn, who was instead wrapped in fine silken attire. Lord Medlen trusted this graying old man more than just about anyone else at Southmallow, and in addition to being his closest advisor, he also acted as the coordinator of general affairs at Southmallow Keep, allowing the day to day business of the castle to carry on without interruption. He stood next to Fealde Medlen, with his hand perched on the young boy's shoulder, and managed to maintain a characteristically diplomatic air about himself as they nervously awaited the king's arrival. Beyond them, and mainly lining the walls at this point, were various servants and other staff of the keep who were generally inconsequential but lucky enough to be able to witness the arrival of the king nonetheless, as they were needed on hand in case need of them should arise.

  The king arrived in due time, his Royal Guard leading the way through the large entrance doors, filing in and spreading out uniformly and creating a sort of tunnel of armed guards for the king and the rest of his party to enter through. It was an impressive entrance if nothing else. King Geras came first, snapping off quick and long strides that carried his aging yet still powerful body past the lines of Royal Guardsmen and towards the awaiting Medlens, who at this point were on their knees with their heads respectfully bowed and eyes subserviently focused on the ground just in front of their feet. The kin
g was followed by Prince Linden, tall and handsome, with wavy blonde hair and fierce blue eyes, and then by the royal court magician Flavvo Kintos, the First Emissary Serion Blackwisp, and the king's personal attack dog, a fearsome beastly man from the Eastlands known only as Shar the Ironclad. There were dozens and dozens more that followed, no doubt all of them important members of the king's court, but Anaia couldn't place them.

  "Halwyn..." the king bellowed when the two parties were finally standing before each other. "Stand up, stand up." Lord Medlen rose to his feet and straightened up his attire. The king motioned with his hands. "The lot of you. Rise." The rest of the Medlen receiving party stood as well upon hearing the king's command.

  "Your grace," Halwyn spoke reverently. "We are honored beyond words to have you as our guest."

  "Yes, yes. I gather there shall be a feast tonight?"

  "Of course, your grace. It is not every day that the king of the realm pays us a visit. There shall be a feast." At this, the king appeared satisfied.

  The two of them continued to exchange formalities and speak of largely political matters concerning the realm, and it was everything Anaia could do to stay present. Their voices began to drone on, and her in her mind she was imagining the rolling hills of the countryside outside the castle and the sound of her horse's hooves rhythmically beating upon the soft earth. It was not until she heard her name being spoken that she snapped back to the present moment.

  "I see that young Anaia has grown into quite the beautiful young woman," the king said.

  "And your son as well has grown into an impressive young man," Halwyn responded, bowing respectfully towards the smirking Prince Linden.

  "Aye," the king said. "You know... they probably wouldn't make too bad of a pairing. You're a reliable enough vassal, but let's be honest, it certainly couldn't hurt me to have a stronger tie to such a vital part of the realm. The benefits to your own house go without saying, of course."

  Anaia was about to speak out in protest when she caught a brief but concerned glance from her father. She kept her lips shut and let her father speak instead. "That would be an unprecedented honor, your grace."

  "Very good then. We should arrange for them to get to know one another better tomorrow."

  "Anaia has been wanting to head into the forest to pick the freshly grown berries, but we've been having a few reports of some trouble with a troll in the area that we haven't quite been able to look into what with the preparations for your arrival, your grace. Perhaps the young prince would accompany her on such an excursion."

  "It's settled then," the king said. "My son had proven himself to be one of the best swordsmen in Silver Court. She'll have nothing to fear with him in escort."

  Anaia's heart sank into her stomach and then twisted itself into a tangled knot.

  *

  Anaia was in her bed chambers, wearing a sheer white dressing gown and readying herself for bed when she heard a soft rap on the door.

  "Who is it?" she called out, startled that someone would come knocking at this hour.

  "It is Linden, my lady," the prince's voice came muffled from behind the door. "May I enter?"

  "I should think not, my prince. The hour is quite late and I am afraid I am not properly attired for such an... esteemed visit."

  "Nonsense," the prince called out, and with that he pushed open the thick wooden door and let himself into the room. Anaia was appalled by the brashness of his entry and rigidly wrapped her arms across her chest and around herself. Her dressing gown was certainly not something that would have been worn outside the confines of this very room, and certain not in the presence of a creepy little snake like Prince Linden. Linden was aware of this as well, apparently, and his eyes grew wide with desire at the sight of her.

  "My lady, I apologize for the audaciousness of my presence here, but I simply could not stop thinking about you. I couldn't sleep. Your family's castle is dreadfully drafty, I'm afraid." There was a hint of superiority in this last remark. "I decided that I must lay my... eyes... on you once more."

  Anaia simply wrapped her arms more snugly around herself, feeling rather exposed. It was like she couldn't escape his tactless and ever intruding eyes. The prince appeared to have no modesty when it came to where his eyes travelled. It wasn't even that she found him unattractive. Quite the opposite, in fact. He was a very handsome young man and Anaia could see and appreciate that as well as any young lady in the realm. She had heard some rather unsavory stories about him, however. Stories of him having his way with the young girls of Silver Court Castle's kitchen staff, and those girls almost always disappearing never to be heard from again. Those could just be rumors, of course. But she was there at a feast in Valenhall when he drank too much wine and felt up the young Lady Saeda Howle right in front of Lord Barnish Howle - her father and host of the feast to boot. Of course, nothing ever happened to him because the king would hear nothing of it.

  He took a step closer towards her and she backed away, the soft cheeks of her backside pressing against her armoire through the thin dressing gown now.

  "My prince, I don't think this is entirely appropriate..." she said calmly.

  "That's a bunch of rubbish. It is very likely that we will be betrothed, my sweet Anaia, and I am the prince. I can have whatever I want. You should be so honored, you know..."

  He took another step closer, and this time she was unable to back away any further. He placed a hand on her cheek, could feel the heat radiating from it as blood rushed to the soft skin and flushed it with a rosy warmth. He plucked at the shoulders of her dressing gown, raising it up and letting it fall again, settling back into the shape of her body, revealing the form of her breasts. Anaia found herself, surprisingly, allowing him this, because he was quite handsome after all. She was only human. His hand trailed down from her shoulder, tracing the shape of her neck, and then cupped one of her breasts through the thin gown. A chill ran through her body at this touch. She could never in a million years imagine that she would be actually responding to this despicable young man's advances, but then again she had also never noticed just how blue and beautiful his eyes were. She began to relax. She was starting to feel the slickness between her legs. She closed her eyes and he began to kiss at her neck and press his body against hers. When he did this, she could feel something hard pressing against her stomach. At this point, he had both of his hands roughly squeezing and rolling her breasts through the sheer gown as he slurped away at the nape of her neck. Anaia snaked her hand down to where she could feel the hardness pressing against her, rubbed on it a few good times, and then dove inside to retrieve it, to unearth it like some fleshy artifact buried away. When the stiff little thing was out in the open, she caressed it in her palm and realized just how small it was. The prince seemed to respond to her touching. His eyes were closed now and he was straddling her, humping clumsily at her leg while the hardened little prick amusingly poked and prodded at her thigh through her gown. She began to laugh uncontrollably at this. Any sort of arousal she had experienced vanished as if a window had just been opened and a gust had sucked it away into the sticky night air.

  The prince backed away, an embarrassed look creeping across his face. His eyes flashed and he raged with an indignation that only royalty could pull off. "What are you doing?"

  She tried to control her laughter but it still bubbled up here and there unexpectedly. "I'm sorry.. I'm.. hahaha... I'm sorry. It's just... haha.... so, ha... so small."

  "What!? You insolent little Medlen bitch! I won't stand for this! I am the prince and rightful of heir to the throne. How dare you! There will be no joining of our families, I can assure of that! I'll see to it that this ruins your family. House Medlen will dwindle and die out in obscurity because of this! Idiot! Fool! Bitch!"

  His tirade lasted well after this, but these were the last words that were spoken directly to her face, as he had turned abruptly and retreated from her chambers and into the darkened halls of the keep cursing and yelling to the stone wall
s about the unspeakable indignity that had just been done to him.

  Anaia shut the door behind him and threw herself upon the bed, slightly embarrassed that she had let him get that far with her. Her thoughts began to turn towards the next day. Prince Linden would surely be too ashamed to go straight to his father and denounce Anaia. She was positive that the merger of their two families was indeed ruined as the prince had promised, but he would have to go about it more subtly as the details would have been too embarrassing for someone as prideful as the prince. Because of this, she knew that their fathers would expect them to go out on their little excursion into the forest as was planned, and she wanted nothing to do with that. She slipped out of her dressing gown, blew out her candles, and crawled underneath the covers on her bed, fully expecting to arise a little earlier than usual and sneak out of the castle.

  *

  She woke and silently slipped out of her bed while it was still dark. She had estimated that the sun wouldn't begin to rise for at least another thirty minutes. She snuck down to the stables before even the stable boys were still asleep and saddled up her horse then, with her cloak drawn over her head so that the guards would not recognize her, she rode out the gates of the city.

  The sun slowly began to come up as her horse carried her swiftly across the country side and when the forest came into full view the sun was shining its light down on the land. Her horse was trotting along the road now, drawing near to the force and winding right through.

  As she began to penetrate the outermost edge of the forest, the trees became thicker and closer in proximity, choking out more of the sunlight. Eventually this road brought her upon a slightly dilapidated old wooden bridge that crossed over a wide creek. She pulled back on the reins and the horse's trot began to slow until he finally stopped and whinnied loudly. She sat silently atop the horse for a moment, her eyes scanning the bridge, the continuation of the dirt road beyond it, and the creek that cleanly dissected the area. This had to be the site of the recent problems with the troll, she thought. There didn't seem to be any sign of a troll guarding the bridge, however, but this certainly didn't stop her from feeling wary. After a brief examination, it was clear that she wouldn't be able to cross the creek on horseback. The bridge was her only option.