by Lee Colgin
“What are you playing at, sneaky wolf?” he roared, but Toby could see he wasn’t mad. “Trying to scuttle past me with no tribute?”
Cowering, Toby feigned a shiver and plastered a look of terror worthy of Arlo the Troll on his face. “Oh please! Don’t hurt me. I would never try to sneak across your bridge. You’re far too scary and dangerous for anyone to attempt such a feat!”
Arlo puffed his chest and gave a stoic nod. “That’s what I thought.” His lips curled into a smile.
Toby returned it with one of his own. Arlo was as cute as he’d remembered, with those rounded cheeks and huge blue eyes. “Oh, Yes! Far more frightening than last time, Arlo. Well done.”
“Thank you, I’ve been practicing.” Arlo shuffled a step forward. “Where are you off to? It’s cold out.”
“To see my sister, but I left early, so I’ve some time if you’d like a visitor.”
Arlo’s copper brows curved to twin arches. “A visitor?”
“Sure. If you’d like.”
“I’ve never had a visitor. What do I do?”
Toby shrugged. “You could offer me tea, but you really don’t have to. I’ve been thinking of you and wondering how you’re getting along. We could chat.”
“I would like that. And I’ve already made tea. I’ll fetch it while you make yourself comfortable.” Arlo gestured to the wide wooden planks.
The entirety of the bridge had been cleared of snow, railings included. Bits of holly decorated both ends with bright red berries adding cheer. Toby plopped down in the middle and crossed his legs. It was a lovely morning to spend over the river with a new friend.
The cups appeared first, set neatly side by side on the deck, then the teapot followed by Arlo who shimmied up next to them. He poured the tea, picked up the cups, and delivered one to Toby.
“It’s mint,” said Arlo.
“Thank you.” Toby took a sip. The delightfully sweet concoction warmed his throat. “It’s very good.”
“My favorite.” Arlo sat next to him, long legs straight out and crossed at the ankles. Bulging thigh muscles strained the wool of his trousers.
Toby wondered if trolls had chairs, but he didn’t mind sitting on the deck. It reminded him of childhood games with his siblings. “My brothers and I used to play Fivestones on this bridge when we were kids. Have you heard of it?”
Arlo shook his head.
“We’d sit on the ground like this, but in a circle,” Toby explained. “You need five stones, of course. We made up loads of special rules and tosses, but at the most basic, you toss one stone up, and while it’s in the air, grab the four left on the ground. Then you must catch the stone you tossed before it falls.”
Arlo’s prominent forehead wrinkled as he listened. “But, why?”
Toby shrugged. “For something to do, I suppose. It’s rather fun. I used to be a decent player, though my older brother Timothy usually won.”
“I don’t know any games.” Arlo stared into his teacup.
Toby knew lots of games and thought that was quite sad. “When it’s warmer, I’ll teach you.”
Interest flashed in Arlo’s sky-blue eyes as he raised his gaze to Toby’s. “You will?”
“Sure.” Toby finished his tea and set his cup aside. “I bet you’ll be good at it. You have large hands, all the better for beating me at Fivestones. Perhaps you could give Timothy a challenge.”
Arlo’s cheeks flushed a dusky purple, and he averted his gaze. “Will your brother be crossing my bridge?”
“Well, it’s usually me who delivers messages from one pack to another. My siblings all have young children which makes traveling difficult. But everyone will be through for the summer solstice festival in June.”
“How many brothers and sisters do you have?”
“Seven.” Toby laughed at Arlo’s surprised expression. “I’m the youngest. You?”
“Two brothers. I’m also the youngest. They left to guard their own bridges when I turned ten.”
“Oh dear, so it was just you and your parents after that? No kids to play with?”
“Well,” Arlo muttered. “My father had already gone. He had a bridge of his own, you see? So my mother took care of us. Twice we had cousins come to live with us for a bit, but no one ever played with me.”
“Why not?”
“My brothers were much older and my cousins much younger, and none of us knew any games.”
Toby had trouble imagining children with no games. His youth had been full of them, and already his nieces and nephews were getting old enough to learn. One day he would play Fivestones with Timothy’s kids, and maybe then he could finally win a game.
“What did you bring as tribute?” asked Arlo, apparently done with this topic.
“Oh, I didn’t.” Toby frowned as Arlo’s brows drew tight. “But only because I couldn’t decide what you’d like. So instead I brought some money. I thought you could tell me what would make you happy, and I’ll pick it up in town.”
“Tobias—”
“Toby.”
Arlo huffed at the interruption. “I don’t want you to spend your money on me.”
“But I don’t have any other ideas.” Toby watched Arlo closely. He hadn’t thought Arlo would be mad at him for not bringing a tribute, but now he wasn’t so sure.
“Do you know any tricks?”
Did he? Toby gave that some thought. He had an uncle who could make a coin appear from your ear, but Toby had never learned how the move was done. An idea came to him. “I can walk on my hands! Will that do?”
With a tilt of his head, Arlo hummed in consideration. “I don’t think I believe you. No one can walk on their hands. That’s what feet are for.”
“I can though. If I show you, you’ll let me pass without being angry?”
Arlo stuck out his hand. “Deal, but if you’re lying, I won’t make you tea anymore.”
Toby shook it. “All right, and I wouldn’t lie to you.” He climbed to his feet. “My favorite tea is chamomile.”
Collecting their cups, Arlo rose and stood back as Toby stretched. Arms overhead, he leaned to one side, then the other. Arlo tracked him with a curious gaze, and Toby found he liked the attention. He bent over to stretch his legs, trusting Arlo to watch that as well.
“From one end to the other, and then I best be on my way. Ready?” Their eyes met. Toby winked.
“Be careful,” said Arlo.
Toby began on his side of the bridge, kicking into a handstand with practiced ease. He’d always been good at flips and spins. Walking on his hands had been tricky to learn, but he’d been desperate to be the best at something after so much failure.
Toby placed one hand in front of the other, keeping his weight forward to cover more ground. By the time he’d made it halfway across, he wished for a glimpse of Arlo’s face. Instead, he concentrated on the planks beneath his fingers, keeping his momentum until he reached the far side. Back on his feet, he glanced to Arlo, beaming.
Arlo tucked the cups against his hulking body in order to clap his hands. He looked genuinely delighted, if a little awkward. “That was even better than a tribute!”
“Really?” Toby’s hat had fallen off and his scarf had come loose, but he was thrilled to have pleased the handsome troll.
“Absolutely. I’ve never seen anything like that. You were fabulous.” Arlo swiped the cap from the ground and offered it to Toby.
“Thank you.” Toby took the blue knit cap and put it on his head.
Arlo stepped in closer. He reached forward, lifting the fallen end of Toby’s scarf and carefully winding it around his neck. Toby took the opportunity to admire the freckles scattered over Arlo’s nose and cheeks. They were so close the wispy puffs of their breath mingled in the crisp morning air.
“Wouldn’t want you to catch cold,” said Arlo, his voice low and husky.
“Right,” Toby murmured. He stood on tiptoes and leaned in just as Arlo stepped back. Catching himself before Arlo noticed the blunde
r, he made a show of tucking the scarf into his coat. He’d wanted to kiss Arlo, but the troll, oblivious to his desire, was fiddling with their cups. Probably he wasn’t interested in men, which was a pity for Toby but nothing he wasn’t used to.
“Well, then, you may pass,” Arlo declared. “Shall I expect you again this evening?”
“I’m going to stay the night with my sister’s family, but I will see you tomorrow. I won’t forget your tribute.”
“That’s more like it.” Arlo gave a growl Toby found anything but intimidating.
*
Arlo
Having spent the better part of yesterday and today attempting to walk on his hands, Arlo was about to give up when the worst happened. He kicked a little too hard, lost his balance, and crashed down sideways. He yelped as his ankle turned painfully.
On the ground, clutching his sore limb between both hands, Arlo curled in on himself. Carefully he wiggled his toes. He didn’t think his ankle was broken, but walking might prove difficult. He stayed where he’d landed and wallowed in misery, taking comfort in the fact that at least wallowing was a very ordinary thing for a troll to do.
By the time Tobias approached, the sun had begun to set, and Arlo’s mood had darkened along with the sky. He’d crawled back to his bridge to pout. When Tobias rounded the corner and noticed him sitting there, the wolf shifter picked up speed.
“Arlo!” Tobias called, his voice ringing like silver bells in the early evening’s breeze.
The sound alone made Arlo feel better. “Over here,” he answered needlessly, as Tobias was almost there already.
“What’s the matter?” Tobias crouched next to him. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine,” Arlo lied with a grimace. His ankle throbbed with every beat of his heart.
“You clearly aren’t. Tell me what happened.”
“I may have hurt my ankle a bit.”
“Let me see.”
With some reluctance, Arlo removed his hands and extended his leg.
Tobias bent over him, reaching forward to pull Arlo’s pant leg out of the way. A lock of his hair fell into his eyes, and Arlo tucked the soft strands behind his ear. Tobias didn’t seem to notice, his gaze full of concern.
“Arlo, your ankle is purple and swollen.” Tobias’s fingers gently skimmed his calf. “This must be very sore.”
“It’s not broken.”
“But it’s not healthy either. Have you put ice on it?”
Arlo nodded.
“And willow bark?”
All Arlo could think about was the warm spot where Tobias’s hand rested on his knee. He didn’t know anything about willow bark, but the tingles that sparked from Tobias’s touch made his pain fade away.
“Willow bark, Arlo. Do you have any?”
He shook his head.
“Then I will get you some, but first, can you walk? Do you need help getting…” Tobias glanced at the bridge’s railing, “It occurs to me I don’t know where you sleep. Is there a house under your bridge?”
“My den, yes. I think I can make it.”
“Let me help.” Tobias stood and offered his hands.
Arlo clasped them and let Tobias pull him up. He tried to put weight on his injured side, but the pain flared, causing him to limp. “It’s no good. I’ll sleep here.”
“Don’t be absurd.” Wrapping an arm around Arlo’s waist, Tobias moved in close. “Put your arm over my shoulder and give me some of your weight. Come on.”
Arlo did as he was told, leaning on the smaller man. Tobias felt sturdy beneath him, muscles flexing under his winter layers. This close, he smelled of snow and baking. Arlo took a deep breath as they hobbled to the railing he usually used to swing to the framework below.
“I can manage this part on my own. Mostly, I use my arms to get below deck.”
Tobias cast a skeptical glance but released him to make the attempt. “If you’re sure.”
Arlo took hold of the rail, hopped his legs over and levered himself down. He dropped carefully to one foot and used the joists to haul himself into his den.
“I’ve made it,” Arlo called out.
Tobias’s head appeared from above, upside down. He must have been on his stomach looking over the edge. “You’ll be all right until I get back? I won’t be long.”
Arlo grunted, his puffy ankle protesting all this movement. He would sit down and prop it up. “Fine.”
“Boil some water,” said Tobias before disappearing again.
Arlo heard the thump-thumpity-thump of his footsteps as Tobias left. Putting the kettle on, Arlo fought a wave of anxiety. He’d never had a guest in his den before. He glanced around. What would Tobias think of the space he’d carved out for himself beneath the Elk River Bridge?
One cozy room, not unlike a cave, with earthen walls and floor made stable with cut tree trunks and mud. Thick muslin fabric draped from the entryway, pinned back for now, but when allowed to hang, the curtain blocked the draft perfectly. Pine needles covered the ground and kept everything dry. His bed was made from them too. Their scent hung heavy in the air, sharp and spicy.
A small wood stove he’d built himself dominated the little room. His kitchen utensils hung neatly behind it. On the far wall a set of shelves held his tributes, including the card Tobias had made for him and even the plate the cookies had been on. He only had one chair and suddenly wished for two.
Surely Tobias has a nice house with proper furniture, tables for dining and windows for stargazing, but Arlo had none of those things. Perhaps he should crawl back up to the deck rather than wait to be embarrassed.
His throbbing ankle rejected the notion. Arlo flopped onto his bed and stuffed pillows beneath his foot; then he lay back to rest. Whatever Tobias thought of the den would be fine. Arlo didn’t care. He liked his cave, and that was all that mattered.
Footsteps signaled Tobias’s return and caused Arlo’s heart to race. He swallowed the lump in his throat. Before he could haul himself out of bed, feet appeared, dangling from the rafter above, then the rest of Tobias as he dropped gracefully to the entrance of Arlo’s den.
“May I come in?”
“You might as well.” Arlo sat up and leaned against the wall.
Tobias’s eyes darted over the contents of Arlo’s sanctuary. “Oh this is lovely! I had no idea you had such a nice place below the bridge. Did you build this yourself?”
Arlo let out the breath he’d been holding and stuck out his chin. “I did.”
“Well done.” Tobias approached. He pulled a handful of bits and shavings from his pocket, chose one, and handed it to Arlo. “Chew this, but don’t swallow. I’ll use the rest to make tea. Willow bark will help with the pain.”
Arlo put the small wooden stalk into his mouth and bit down. He cringed. “It’s bitter.”
“Oh, right, yes. The bark tastes awful.” Tobias dumped the rest into the pot of boiling water. “Sorry, I should have warned you.”
“Is it any better in tea?”
Tobias chuckled. “Worse, I’m afraid.”
Arlo snorted. “I can hardly wait.”
“The bad flavor is worth it for the pain relief. Willow bark is especially good for swelling. You’ll feel better in no time.” Tobias brought the chair next to the bed and sat. “Now, are you going to tell me what happened?”
Heat creeped along Arlo’s cheeks. “I wasn’t planning on it.”
Tobias opened his mouth, shut it, and leaned back. “I’m being nosy, aren’t I? I’m sorry. I suppose it’s none of my business.”
Arlo didn’t like to see Tobias’s steady grin fade to an expression of doubt, and he certainly didn’t like being the cause of that switch. With a sigh, he mumbled, “I tried your trick. I wanted to walk on my hands.”
“Oh no. But you shouldn’t practice by yourself. I had helpers when I learned.”
Arlo shrugged. “Nobody here but me.”
“I’m sorry you got hurt.”
“It’s not broken.” Arlo repeate
d. He didn’t know what else to say.
“That isn’t much comfort when one cannot walk.” Tobias scooted to the edge of the chair and reached for Arlo’s hand where it lay on his quilt. Cool fingers, still chilled from the outside air, wrapped around Arlo’s warmer ones. “You must stay off your feet. I’ll come back to check on you tomorrow. Will you be all right until then?”
Arlo stared at their joined hands, Tobias’s flushed pink from the cold, his a light grey, like stone. He gave a little squeeze, and Tobias returned the gesture. “I’ll be fine.”
“Do you need anything before I leave?”
Arlo shook his head.
Tobias released his hand and stood. “Only small sips of tea at a time. Too much will give you a stomach ache.” He took the pot from the fire and set it aside. Ladling a few mouthfuls into Arlo’s cup, he blew on the boiling, bitter liquid before placing it next to the bed. “Pretend it’s hot chocolate.”
Arlo’s lips curled at the edges. “Impossible.” The drink would be as awful as the bark, but his pain had already begun to fade, so the trade-off might be worth it after all.
“Is there a trick to hurling myself over the railing and onto the bridge?”
“Not really. It’s much easier to do than walking on your hands. You’ll manage.”
“Shall I close the curtain on my way out?”
Arlo wanted to say no, so he could watch as Tobias disappeared over his bridge’s rafters, but he also wanted to sleep. “Please.”
“Goodnight, Arlo. Feel better soon.”
“Goodnight…Toby.” The nickname felt nice rolling off his lips.
Toby rewarded him with a wide smile, his gleaming white teeth on display. His whole face lit up when he grinned like that, eyes sparkling with joy. It was the last thing Arlo saw before the muslin drape obscured his view, so he closed his eyes and committed the pretty picture to memory.
Chapter Three
APRIL
Arlo
Sweeping pollen from his bridge had become Arlo’s least favorite chore, mostly because the task never ended. Yellow dust swirled in the spring breeze; a thick layer covered everything in sight. He scrubbed the stuff from nooks and crannies only to have it reappear before he could say Achoo! His nose itched as another sneeze formed at the thought.