by Lee Colgin
Arlo threw a quick glance over his shoulder before he could stop himself.
Toby must have noticed. “Everything will be all right. We will have a wonderful time, and your bridge will be here when we return.”
“You’re right,” Arlo grumbled. “I know you are, but it still feels risky.” He forced himself to pick up his pace. He’d made a decision and would stick with it. “I’m looking forward to seeing everyone. And the pie, I’m looking forward to the pie.”
“That’s great. Focus on the good stuff.” Toby squeezed his hand. “We’ll be back before you know it. I’m awfully proud of you.”
The trip from his bridge to Toby’s village wasn’t long. Around the bend and through a dense copse of sweet-smelling fir trees. Beyond the meadow where Toby said deer could be found grazing at dawn and dusk. Along a splendid shallow creek for a mile or so, the waters of which flowed from the Elk River herself, then finally over it, and on the other side, to Red Elk Village.
Though the day was cold, the sun’s bright rays poked through scattered clouds to shine on the cluster of cottages scattered in a clearing. There hadn’t yet been snow, but the scent lingered in the air. Winter would settle in soon, and Arlo would enjoy evenings in his den drinking cider by the woodstove with Toby. The calming thought soothed his nerves as he scanned the village.
“We are headed to my grandmother’s,” said Toby, pointing ahead.
Most of the houses were small, but this one stood larger than the others in the center of the village. Built with sturdy logs, the home was both wider and taller than its neighbors. On the cheery yellow front door hung a wreath of pine with shining red berries and holly weaved into the middle. Arlo knew Toby’s grandfather had passed away last spring, and he wondered if his grandmother lived all alone in this massive house.
They climbed the porch steps just as the front door opened wide to reveal Timothy.
“Arlo,” he said with a welcoming smile. “You made it!”
Arlo gave a nod. “Thank you for having me.”
Timothy ushered them inside. Aroma’s wafted through the house, tempting his appetite—the savory scent of roasted turkey and vegetables along with the sweet sugary smell of baking. He hoped his stomach wouldn’t start growling and embarrass him before supper.
“We can leave our coats and things here,” said Toby, motioning to a line of hooks on the wall, many of them already filled. The chatter of people talking echoed from farther into the house. Arlo’s nerves tingled. He’d met almost the entire pack already, a few of them he was getting to know quite well. But he’d yet to meet Toby’s grandmother, and he’d only seen the big group of them all together once. It wasn’t much like a troll to be intimidated, so Arlo shook off the feeling along with his coat.
Toby hung their things and ushered him down the hall. “Come, you must meet Gran.”
Timothy clapped him on the back. “Don’t let her talk your ear off. Call out ‘uncle’ if you need help. I’m out to fetch more wood for the fires.”
Off the hallway, Arlo saw a small parlor in shades of cream and brown, then a room that stoked his curiosity for it contained shelves bursting with more books than he’d ever seen in one place, and finally a larger den area with furniture scattered loosely in a circle about the room. The family not currently occupied in the kitchen lounged there, laughing a talking happily.
Arlo entered to smiling faces all around. The scene warmed his heart. He made sure to return them with one of his own. Toby beamed at his side, hanging onto his right elbow.
“Welcome, Arlo.” Toby’s mother, Regina, stood to greet him, approaching to take his hands. “We’re so glad you could make it.”
“Thank you. It’s good to be here.” As he spoke, Arlo realized it was true. He’d rather be surrounded by Toby’s family than alone on his bridge.
“So this is Arlo,” a soft voice said from across the room. Everyone quieted for her when she spoke.
An elderly woman sat comfortably in a cushioned rocking chair, colorful quilt thrown over her lap. Her eyes, though sunken and wrinkled around the edges, were the same emerald green as Toby’s and Regina’s. Silver-grey hair hung in loose curls past her shoulders. She wore a lavender blouse with a cream shawl over her shoulders.
“Come here, lad,” she beckoned, one hand reaching forward. “Let me get a closer look at you.”
Arlo approached with Toby at his side. “Hello, ma’am. Pleasure to meet you.” He took her hand and pressed a quick kiss to her knuckles.
“My, aren’t you tall? You may as well call me Gran like the rest of them since my Toby here is so taken with you.”
Arlo couldn’t believe the words. Call her Gran? As if she were his own grandmother? As if he was part of a real family? Arlo’s eyes began to water to his utter horror and embarrassment. Oh goodness…could he really call this woman Gran? From deep within his heart, he desperately wanted to.
Arlo tried the unfamiliar word out for himself. “You’ve such a lovely home, Gran. I’ve never seen another finer. Not that I’ve seen many homes, but this one is my favorite of all of them.”
“Thank you, dear, I’ve lived here nearly my whole life. Timothy and Surry’s family live here as well. She’ll be happy to see you when she’s done bossing the others around in the kitchen. And you? You live under a bridge, I hear. Hard to picture that. Pull up a chair and tell me about the charming home Toby is always talking about.”
A chair appeared from nowhere, and Arlo sat. Around them, the friendly chatter picked back up. Toby got his own seat and joined them as Arlo explained how to dig into a riverbank to construct a den. Gran listened patiently about how to reinforce walls, what worked to keep the damp at bay, and how he’d decorated with his collection of tributes.
“Well I’ll be moonbug bit!” said Gran, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “I had no idea such a thing was possible.” She glanced at Toby. “Your grandfather would have loved this. I must insist on seeing it for myself. That is, if it’s all right with you, Arlo.”
“Of course, I’d love to have you, but…er.” The thing was, Gran looked rather frail, and Arlo had yet to see her moving around. He wondered if she’d be able to navigate swinging beneath the bridge to the entrance.
“Spit it out, young man.” She had an amused expression on her face. Who was Arlo to question her wishes?
“Well, it’s only that climbing beneath the bridge is rather tricky. Could you do it?”
Gran let out a hearty laugh, but before Arlo could regret his words, she put him at ease. “Of course I can’t, you silly goat. I can hardly walk these days, but I don’t have fourteen grandchildren for nothing! If I want to go see your den under the bridge, then see it I shall. As to how, that’s for them to figure out.”
Arlo joined her in laughing.
Toby looked mildly baffled. “Maybe a sling?”
“I’m sure the lot of you will think of something,” said Gran cheerfully.
Chest warm with delight, Arlo leaned back in his seat and let his eyes roam the room. Conversations went on around him, Toby’s family chuckling and entertaining themselves as their feast cooked in the kitchen. A lifetime’s worth of treasures filled the room. A wooden spinning wheel in the corner, next to it, a basket with puffy clouds of wool to be carded, candles over the mantel along with paintings, one of which contained a landscape he recognized, his bridge over the Elk River. Out the window, a view of the forest sloping down to meet the creek that bisected the village. Arlo thought it would be nice to have tea in the mornings while gazing out that window.
Surry rounded the corner, calling out to all of them and stirring Arlo from his reverie. “Come and eat everybody; supper’s on the table.” She caught Arlo’s gaze. “Oh, hello, Arlo! So glad you made it.”
Arlo tipped his head, hoping no one would notice his purple cheeks. He hadn’t known it was possible to be filled with so much happiness. He wondered if there was room for food. But when he sat down at one of four tables that had been crammed in
to the dining room so they could all eat together, he found plenty of room after all.
The feast spread before him made his eyes bulge and his mouth water. Whole turkeys, roasted to perfection, piles of mashed potatoes, baskets of rolls, dishes of cranberries and candied sweet potatoes with cream on the top. Enough to feed a village of wolf shifters and one troll who found himself suddenly very hungry.
The pack’s children were sent to a kid’s table in the adjoining kitchen. Pleasant sounds of their giggles and chatter echoed louder and louder until Timothy was sent in to shush them. Arlo found he enjoyed the kid noises trickling among their conversation.
After everyone had eaten their fill and the adults were relaxed and chatting, Toby leaned into his side. “Timothy and I usually do the dishes. Want to give him the night off and help me?”
“I like the sound of that,” said Timothy, slouched comfortably in his chair, hand on his rounded tummy.
“Of course.” Arlo stood and helped Toby from his seat.
Regina piped up, “Hey, wait. When did we start roping our guests in to do the dirty work?”
What Gran said next warmed Arlo to the bone.
“Arlo isn’t a guest. He’s family,” Gran declared with an air of finality.
“And family,” said Timothy with a grin, “does the dishes!”
Chapter Ten
DECEMBER
Toby
Hammering in the last nail of what surely had been thousands of nails, Toby felt a bead of sweat trickle down his neck despite the winter’s cold. Building was harder work than Toby’d realized before this, but thankfully he’d had Timothy’s help the whole way. Reed warblers serenaded in the background as they put the finishing touches on their project.
“Good job, Toby.” Timothy’s hand came down on his shoulder in a friendly pat. “Arlo is going to love it.”
Toby sat on his heels and admired their work, though he didn’t have Timothy’s confidence. “How can you be certain?”
Timothy knelt next to him and gentled his voice. “Of course he’ll love the gift, brother. Because you made it for him. And this is a fine bridge too. Well designed, built with care, and serving its purpose in the way a troll must admire.”
Scanning the little bridge they’d constructed over the creek that passed by his cottage, Toby had to admit, it had a certain charm. The walkway was nothing compared to Arlo’s massive bridge over Elk River, but hopefully the troll would like it anyway. The arch curved elegantly at the middle, the freshly chopped wood had a lovely scent to it, and the handrails were sanded to smooth perfection.
Beside the creek, they’d added a swinging chair. It hung from a sturdy branch of an old sycamore that shaded the whole yard in springtime. Arlo could rest comfortably, swinging in this chair and dipping his toes in the water if he liked while he guarded this bridge right next to Toby’s cottage.
Toby sighed. “I hope it works.”
Timothy let out a bright chuckle. “Arlo wants to be here, that much is obvious to everyone but Arlo.” He gestured to their finished project. “Don’t worry, this is all he needs to make the change.”
“It is a lovely bridge,” agreed Toby. Before this he’d used a fallen tree to cross the creek. This was a huge improvement, but would it be enough to satisfy a troll as grand as Arlo?
Toby cleaned up the supplies, swept the bridge of sawdust, and stood back to consider his pitch.
He didn’t want Arlo to give up Elk River Bridge entirely, only to spend part of his time at Toby’s cottage guarding this new little bridge instead. By dividing their time between the two, they’d get to be part of the pack life Toby had always loved, and they’d still have time alone together at Arlo’s den. He’d only to convince the troll, and hopefully on Christmas Eve, as he desperately wanted Arlo to be a part of his family’s traditions this year. It would be so nice to wake up together in Toby’s cottage on Christmas morning.
Arlo had this completely un-charming way of charming absolutely everyone he met. That he didn’t seem to realize he possessed this skill only made him all the more endearing. The whole pack had warmed to Arlo and accepted his presence at their feast of thanks. Toby had worried needlessly his family wouldn’t approve, or they would think Toby strange for choosing a partner from another species. To his relief, they’d taken the addition in stride.
Of course they did, they loved him after all. Sometimes it was easy to forget that sort of thing.
“I’m headed home,” said Timothy, stirring Toby from his thoughts. “Bring Arlo by the big house tomorrow once you’re done here, all right? Gran has a favor to ask.”
That sparked Toby’s curiosity. “I will, brother. Thanks for all the help.”
“My pleasure.” Timothy waved goodbye and headed on home.
With the holidays beginning tomorrow, there was much to be done. Normally Toby would be helping, but they’d all let him off the hook to work on his construction project. Whether or not Arlo took the bait, he was proud of the bridge. He’d never done anything like this before and wondered what else he could build, now that he knew the basics. Perhaps a treehouse for the pack’s children. Maybe Arlo would want to help.
Toby put the tools away and went inside to wash up. His fickle mood bordered on giddy excitement one minute and nervous tension the next. In his eagerness to visit Arlo, drag him back here, and show him his surprise, he nearly decided to forgo his plan of waiting until Christmas Eve.
How was he going to spend the evening with Arlo without letting his secret slip?
*
Arlo
Fretting over the Christmas gifts he’d chosen for Toby, Arlo stuffed the last of them into his new giant rucksack. He’d bartered tributes left and right with bridge goers to acquire everything he needed to make the idea work. He couldn’t decide if his plan would make Toby happy, or if it would completely flop.
Arlo was a troll, after all, and trolls were accustomed to receiving gifts, not giving them. What if he was no good at it? Picking out the perfect gift had turned out to be a lot of pressure. Did Toby feel this way each time he selected a new tribute?
With a sigh, he tied off the bag to hide the surprises inside. Toby would be there any minute, and Arlo didn’t want him to get an early glimpse. Shoving the bag into a corner, he covered it with a quilt. It made for a lumpy pile, but hopefully not too noticeable.
From outside, Liosa’s singsong teasing rang over the river rapids.
“Troll, troll,
Living in a hole,
Come out before I steal your soul!”
For all Arlo knew, she could do such a thing. He gave the quilt-covered-present a final pat then hurried from his den and onto the riverbank to greet her.
“Hello, Liosa.” Arlo trundled to the river’s edge. “Passing through?”
“Well I’m certainly not staying here.” She glanced around with distaste.
Arlo shrugged. “Suit yourself, but you’re always welcome.”
A glowing gold ring of surprise shimmered in her eyes, which she quickly hid. “I haven’t brought you anything.”
“That’s all right. Don’t need anything.” As the words spilled from Arlo’s lips he realized how very un-troll-like they sounded, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He was happier these days than he’d ever been.
Liosa crossed her arms over her chest. “You seem awfully plucky today.”
“Thank you?”
Her nostrils flared. “Oh! Wolf shifters are coming. Perhaps I’ll get to meet your Toby.”
Arlo wasn’t sure that was a good idea, but he also couldn’t risk saying such a thing and offending Liosa. Who knew what she’d do? Toby and whoever he’d brought along with him would have to hold their own with the water nymph.
“Be nice,” he warned. “No cursing.”
Liosa mocked a pout and rolled her eyes. “Cross my heart and hope to get eaten alive.”
Cringing, Arlo headed up the bank to greet Toby. To his surprise, the pair of them had only just round
ed the bend. Liosa’s sense of smell must rival a hound dog’s to have picked them out at such a distance. All the better, for it gave Arlo a chance to warn them. He met them halfway. Toby had his cousin Ellis in tow.
“Arlo!” said the two wolf shifters in unison, Toby’s voice laced with affection, Ellis’s with excitement. The boy was younger than Toby by five or six years, with shaggy blonde hair and a lithe build. He carried a huge pack over his shoulder. His cheeks flushed pink from the cold
“Hello fellas,” said Arlo. He greeted Toby with a hug. “What brings you by, Ellis?”
“Someone has to make the trip to Fern Pack with the Christmas gifts, and since Toby insists on spending his whole day fawning over you, I volunteered.” Ellis grinned. Though his playful tone teased Toby, the younger shifter was clearly thrilled to be making the journey. Hopefully his good mood would rub off on Liosa.
“Well, travel safe,” said Arlo. “You know, the last time Toby came through on Christmas Eve’s Eve, he brought back freshly baked cookies. Just thought you should know.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Ellis reached forward, fist clenched around something. “I didn’t forget my tribute though. This is for you.”
Arlo’s tummy did a little flip. Something about an offered tribute never failed to excite him. He put out his hand, and Ellis dropped a perfectly rounded, tawny snail’s shell into his palm.
“Ooh. Lovely!” said Arlo, admiring the shiny little house. “Thank you, Ellis. You may cross, but first, I have a guest who wants to meet you both. Be polite, she’s rather terrifying.”
“A guest?” asked Toby. “I’ve never known you to have guests before. Other than me, that is.”
“She’s just a lass passing through.” Arlo motioned to the riverbank. “Come say hello.”
They trundled down the riverbank to find Liosa perched on a moss-covered mound, her posture tall and elegant, colorful tentacles stretched long beside her golden tail.
“Whoa,” said Ellis, a bit too loud.