“Ppp... please, stop,” I stuttered, “you’re... acting strange.”
“Ye goin’ ta fight me if I dinna?” He seemed loath to be disturbed while he explored my exposed shoulders, having rid me of my shirt with one firm tug and a loud rip moments later. He barely even lifted his head as he grudgingly acknowledged me, making sure he kept close to his prize.
“You’re...” I began, swallowing hard before I continued, “You’re f-f-f-f-frightening me.”
Stilling, he growled in frustration, making me jump, but his hands immediately fell away.
“Ye’re a damned curse,” he grumbled, reaching out to touch me, but then clenched his hand into a fist as my eyes widened, flexing it right in front of my face, to pull back. Cursing again, he dropped his hand to his side and turned his back to me.
Exhaling loudly, I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.
“I shoulda let ye drown, or choked ye when I had the chance.” Shoulders slumping, he got out of the water and trudged out of the room, leaving me standing in the middle of the pool, my shirt around my waist, lips swollen from his kisses, body trembling in both fear and want, mixing the two in a mangled mish mash, staring after him.
****
Steering clear of him, I stayed towards the back of the catacombs, air drying in nothing but my birthday suit, waiting until the sun must surely be out, ensuring Troll would be fast asleep by now.
At least, I hoped so.
As quietly as possible, I tip toed to my pallet on silent feet, digging through my bag and tossing my chemise over my head, quickly finishing dressing before I slipped into my bed.
Rolling over, I curled up into a little ball, tugging my blanket over me, covering my mouth with my hand so I wouldn’t be heard sobbing uncontrollably, unable to hold it in, but fearing I might wake him.
When did my life become a nightmare? I wondered, wishing this was all a dream.
****
I jerked and shot up, crying out, my hands reaching for my throat instinctively as my eyes scanned the room.
A hand came up and shoved me back down.
Crying out, I screamed and kicked at my captor.
Troll roared as my fist connected with his jaw, a jarring pain shooting up my arm as I pulled it back, prepared to swing again.
Effectively restraining me, he shoved my hands up high over my head, pinning them down on either side of me, before I’d gotten the chance.
“Dinna hit me again,” he snarled, and I froze at the sound of his voice.
His warm breath fanned over my face, nose almost touching mine as he studied me.
Swallowing hard, I closed my eyes, my lips trembling, biting back the curse I wanted to mutter, holding perfectly still, hoping a fissure would open up the cave floor, swallowing me up whole.
“I’ve killed men fer less.”
Feeling my face transform into a scowl, I opened my eyes, sick and tired of crying, tired of hurting. Tired of fighting. “Do it, then.”
Leaning in, he shook his head and nipped my chin. I jerked, shocked at the intimate gesture.
“No,” he said thoughtfully, placing a chaste kiss where he’d nipped. “No. I think I have a better idea.”
“Don’t.” My voice came out a soft whisper, just shy of a plea, as he leaned down, pressing himself into me, to kiss me.
With measured patience and tenderness, his hand came up and slowly caressed the side of my face.
Instinctively, I flushed and turned away.
“Come now, nugget, dinna be sore at me for so long,” he paused for a moment before he nuzzled me and his teeth worried my neck, “ye dinna know how sorry I am.”
I hated my body for responding to him so easily, catching fire at the merest touch, kiss, sweetly whispered words. I hated it and I loved it, swallowing past the lump in my throat as I found it in me to speak.
“You scared me today.”
“I’ll make it up ta ye,” he promised, his hands slowly sliding underneath my dress, shimmying up my legs to tug at my bloomers. “Tis only fair, yes?”
“I still don’t understand what you were...”
His lips met mine hungrily as he shut me up, cutting me off with a hurried, “It’ll make sense ta ye later, dafty. Not now. Later. Much later.”
“I don’t understand you at all,” I muttered as his ardor rose, taking me with him as he finally broke me down, licking and kissing his way, expertly, back into my loose knickers.
Ashes In My Mouth
Goose flesh dotting my skin, I woke up cold and shivering, my skin bumping up from the lack of heat. Confused and groggy, I sat up, clutching the tattered sheet that I found draped over me, pulled up to my chest.
I was back on my own pallet, but there were no furs and it felt damp in the air, almost musty.
There was a faint light coming from the mouth of the dwelling, the wind whistling through it howling, echoing hollowly through the dim space.
My eyes scanned around and I jumped up, finding my clothes from last night underneath me. At the sudden, unplanned movement, I winced, sore from Troll’s adamant attentions.
He’d been voracious last night, wild and untamed, as if he couldn’t get enough, more than before. I felt as if he was squeezing a lifetime of pent up sexual frustration, restrained carnal desires, into one single night.
My brow pulled down as I squinted around the room, dressing hurriedly when I realized the fire wasn’t lit.
My heart sped. Something’s happened. The fire is never out.
“Gersthar... uhm, Troll?” My voice echoed into the large, now mostly emptied space, met with utter silence.
Bare feet pricking, I walked to his sleeping quarters to find it empty, a small sack sitting in the middle of the room, right where his sleeping pallet should be.
There was a note underneath the small yet heavy bag tied with twine, I noticed, lifting it up gingerly as I carefully read over the missive.
All it had written on it in was my name, in big sprawling script, absent of any natural flow, almost like chopped up block lettering. I flipped it over, noting a bit of much smaller script on the back.
“This doesn’t make sense,” I muttered. “This is just gibberish.”
Frowning, I tried again and repeated them out loud anyways, a sense of deja vu washing over me at the familiar rhythm and odd sounds they made.
It made me think of last night, to the last time we’d... well, you know. I refused to use the L word anymore, as far as he’s mentioned. Absolutely refused.
He’d been even more, uhm, exuberant than before, more tenacious, fervent in his efforts, chanting something under his breath as he took me roughly, over and over, mumbling something that sounded strangely like the funny words scribbled crookedly, hastily, on the page.
Trying one last time, I repeated them just like he had, singing them softly and slowly, as if they were a song.
A sharp, white hot pain shot through my shoulder blades as the last words slipped past my lips, bringing me to my knees.
Shrieking, I cried out and let it turn into a scream as my flesh burned as if it had caught fire, as if someone was trying to stab me with a hot poker, shooting up across my arms and down my back.
When the worst of it subsided, I crumpled and rolled over onto my side, touching my enflamed skin gingerly.
It didn’t hurt as I touched it, but the skin felt raised, welted.
In fact, as I pulled my sleeve down to examine my pale flesh, I found a series of intricate black scroll work, exactly like Troll’s, covering every inch. Mine was raised and red around the edges, fresh as if it had just been branded into me. I whimpered and carefully put my sleeve back in place, hauling myself up on shaky legs.
The paper, which had fluttered to the floor, looked different now.
Shuffling towards it, I picked it up and my chest cracked, everything inside of me suddenly growing cold, as if my heart had finally caved, inevitably turning to stone.
There were no tears as I
read over the bright red words, as if they were written in blood. I didn’t read it aloud this time, either.
Cursed is thee who gives too free.
Doubly cursed are ye who too freely take, yet never give.
Cross a troll—pay a toll
Cross him twice—pay a price
Sacrifice, a virgin’s given
Gift of the bonded, submit within
Take the source, claim it wise
Repercussions never bias
Do to ye as does to thee, never harm and never flee
Feel it ill, sicken still
The body lives, the mind divides
Heed the warning, claiming Ornthren
Distance weakens, minds do forth rend
Take the organ, keep it safe
Ignore the missive, reap the fate
No toll will save a bonded break.
“Gibberish!” I huffed, reading it over once more. “How is this supposed to explain anything?!” My thoughts had turned to Troll and all that hogwash about talking things over in the morning. “This,” I waved the paper around wildly, “is supposed to explain everything? This?”
Crumpling it, I stuffed it into my dress pocket and reached out for the bag, fingers trembling madly as I carefully untied the twine.
Reaching my hand in slowly, I came into contact with something cool and flat, a bag full of them, I discovered as my fingertips smoothed across several more. Pulling one out, I gasped, finding a gold coin, turning it over and over in my hands.
“What in the name of...” Reaching back inside, I pulled out another. Curling my fingers over it, my lips thinned and I thought of the note again, and the pain and subsequent burns the words had caused me.
He left me, cursed me or something, and gave me a sack of coins?
“None of this makes sense.” My voice came out shocked and choked, exactly how I was feeling at the moment—beyond mystified.
I searched around the empty compartments, trying to find clues, any sign of something, anything that might help me out here, something as to when he might possibly be back.
“You have a lot of explaining to do, Troll,” I growled, stomping about angrily.
What did I ever do to him?! Why now? Why me? I rallied, championing myself as I thought of all the horrible things I’d like to do to him when I got my hands on him.
It was growing chilly, the longer I stayed here, and it wasn’t until I went to fetch my cape that I noticed all of his trunks were gone.
My eyes scanned the room desperately, the gravity of it all completely sinking in, and I felt my breath leave me in a whoosh.
There were none. Not a single one.
“He left! I mean, left-left!” My stomach knotted with dread and I stepped out into the bright morning light, calling out for him frantically. He, of course, didn’t answer. The coward had really, truly deserted me. “That bastard!”
“Willna be findin’ ‘im here,” an equally deep but completely different voice boomed out from somewhere up above me.
I turned towards the sound, cupping my hands over my eyes to see a very wide, boxy looking dark grey troll, a head shorter than my troll, and about that much wider, watching me nonchalantly from his perch on the bridge.
His skin swirled with lighter black designs, tinted with blue, more tightly grouped and intricately woven, where mine were inky black and had more of a curl around the ends, more spread out swirl. Mine were exactly like Troll’s.
“Where is he?” I didn’t think for one minute he didn’t know. He’s obviously covering for him or something. Do trolls have other trolls watch over their bridges when they aren’t around? That train of thought only lasted for about a moment. I had more important things to stew on.
“Dunno,” he shrugged and tossed something at me, “but he asked me ta give a message.”
I caught the flying object before it hit me square in the face, cradling it protectively to my chest as I nodded and gestured for him to tell me.
He stared up at the blinding sunlight for a moment, as if the day time light truly bothered him, and then scratched at his chin, as if in thought. His muscles were much more bunched, I noted as I stared up at him and waited, the ridges on his spine much bonier and more pronounced. They looked like little blunt spikes popping in a neat row.
“He says he was sorry, alright, sorry he ever laid eyes on ya, an’ I can say the second part, seein’ as how ye were screamin’ an’ all that.” Grunting, he motioned towards my arms. “Gave ye away.”
My lips pursed, unimpressed with his lovely deduction.
“Bektam, he says, ye’re even.”
“Bektam? That’s not his-”
“It is, an’ that’s all I’ll be sayin’.” His words were harsh as he cut me off. “Ye know otherwise, best no’ be repeatin’ it, little orange. Ye just go on an’ forget now, an’ all’s well tha’ ends, an’ all tha’. Name’s a powerful thing, it is. Woulda killed ye fer less.” He shook his head in disgust, muttering under his breath, “Dinna know what the blighter was thinkin’. Tuppin’ wit’ humans... He deserved it, he did. Outwitted by a bit of orange fluff.” Snorting, his eyes traveled up and down my length, as if I was filth, full, dark lower lip curling up at the corner. “Dinna be gettin’ any ideas now, thinkin’ ye’ll be safe. All’s will happen is paintin’ targets on yer back fer blabbin’. Then ye’ll have ta worry ‘bout me too, no’ just yer slobberin’ bonded.”
“Bonded? I don’t...”
“I’ve said me piece, an’ we’re done here. Dinna fancy a bit more. Never could abide the likes of ye. Sniveling little pissers.” He sniffed disdainfully and snorted, “Git on wit’ ya, now. Got better things ta do than toil wit’ the likes of ye.”
I clenched the bag he’d tossed at me, my fingers digging in, the tell-tale clink of coins causing me to plop down on the ground and rip open the purple pouch, dumping it out to find even more coins.
“Oh,” the troll went on, gesturing at the small fortune before me, “he also says ta tell ye tha’ ye earned it.” With a leering snicker, he gave a mean chuckle and eyed me one more time. “Every bleedin’ piece.”
The tears I thought I didn’t have, came back, full force.
Earned every piece...
As if I was a whore.
My scream, as I hopped up and tossed the pouch, startled the troll straddling the bridge so badly he jerked, breaking the old rotting wood and tumbling him, head over his overlarge feet, right into the river.
I screamed again, because it felt good, tossing the coins in my hand at the shocked, now wet troll, cursing him and all others of the male genital containing variety to hell and back.
Shrieking like a banshee, I ran inside and grabbed the bag I’d forgotten, running back out to toss that at him too.
He bellowed at me as he tried to dodge my well-aimed coins, clinking and clacking as they slapped against him. Done with my tantrum, he roared out and made to charge me as one hit him directly between the eyes, but the river rocks were quite slippery and he tripped and fell back in.
Charging back into the space I’d shared with that insufferable wretch for six miserable months, I hurriedly snatched my things up.
Snarling under my breath, I ranted and raved as I wrapped everything in one of my dresses, tying it in a sturdy knot, my fuse properly lit, stomping out with my sack of belongings slung over my back.
“You tell that mangy, no good, sorry excuse for a male that I hope he rots! He can take his hush money and shove it up his lumpy, dimpled grey ass!! Call me a whore! Gives me a rash! Acting crazy! Burn me!” My voice choked on a gut wrenching sob, but I forced it back, letting my anger take the lead. “Why, I’ll...”
The troll squinted up at me as he resurfaced, wiping the water off of his face with a quick swipe of his oversized hand.
“Milady!” he shouted, and I turned back around to face him, pausing in my little diatribe.
I’m milady now? How nice, I thought snidely. Maybe if I bludgeon him he’ll call me your m
ajesty.
“What?” I called back.
“A toll! Ye have ta... bloody! Bleedin’! OW!”
My locket hit him right in the eye as I tore it off and threw it at him, giving it all I had. I hope it took out one of those oversized, purple excuses for eyeballs, I thought angrily, glad as he splashed and cursed noisily from somewhere off behind me. I didn’t care, and I didn’t turn back to look.
“Oh,” I shouted over my shoulder, “and you can tell your friend I said to go fuck himself!! He wasn’t worth a six pence!” Flinging my arm about wildly, I smirked as he made a choking noise, never looking back once I’d made it over the first hill.
No Place Like...
I wasn’t looking forward to it at all as I walked the familiar path, headed back towards home. If it’s even proper to call it that.
As I got closer, it really started to sink in, everything that’s gone on in such a short period of time. It left me feeling more worn and weary than I’d ever thought possible, more than anything, or anytime, in my entire life.
I dawdled, dreading an unwanted reunion, but I had nowhere else to go.
So, I stalled, letting the day drag on, hiding out into the fields by the little cottage my folks called home.
Papa spotted me first as I slowly made my way up the walk, the sun just about ready to set, greeting me hesitantly, happily, his arms outstretching and then falling at his sides, as if he wanted to embrace me but knew better.
“I’m glad you came back,” he said eventually, when I didn’t speak first.
“He’s gone,” I replied.
The Toll Page 16
