The Toll

by Jeanette Lynn

  Reaching out as if to touch me, chuffing heavily under his breath, I closed my eyes and waited, knowing this was going to happen. I couldn’t deny it, and if I was honest with myself, I wanted it, needed it.

  “Nugget,” he crooned softly, so sweetly I almost didn’t believe my ears. Tears pricked my eyes but I forced them back. There would be time for that later. There was always time for that later.

  Tentative, as if he feared I might break, his fingers touched grazingly, and pulled back, trembling hard, touching and pulling back several times before they finally made full contact. We both sighed at the first brush. Thick hands cupped my face and my eyes popped open wide.

  Before I knew what he was about, his lips brushed mine in a soft caress, before I could protest, and he growled at the taste, tongue darting out to lick across the seam.

  “Gersthart,” I whimpered, tugging at his wrist in an iron grip, though I didn’t fight him when he sought entry. Electricity fairly crackled through the air, like lightning about to strike, and I felt like I was drowning in him. “Gersthart,” I murmured, heart in my throat.

  The baby whimpered when he growled softly in answer. Grunting, startled, he glanced down, studying the look on the tiny infant’s face. Chuffing warm air over his son’s face, he started humming so loud my skin prickled. Crooning low, he placed a sweet kiss atop the babe’s head, and pulled back.

  Nodding, he slowly backed up, gaining his feet. Once he reached the door way, he stopped. Black eyes warming marginally, he grumbled, meeting my gaze head on, “Calder mine.”

  “Yes,” clearing my throat, I gave a half nod, “yes, the baby is yours.”

  “Calder.” The gruff bark had my eyes crinkling at the corners, some of our more playful bantering coming to mind. Not wanting to let on or give him the wrong impression, I averted my gaze.

  Always was a persistent bastard, and I didn’t mind, actually.

  Staring down at the babe, I tried the name out in my head. Calder. Hmmm. I rather liked it. Calder sort of suited him.

  “What does Calder mean?” I murmured quietly.

  Working his lips to form the words, Troll slowly growled out, “Rough waters.”

  A surprised barked of hysterical laughter burst out of me. Rough waters, indeed.

  “Alright,” I conceded, “Calder it is, but just remember, he may be yours, but he’s mine first.”

  Lips tipping up at just the corners, a small piece of the old Troll poked through. “Nugget’s. Troll’s.” He seemed to take perverse delight in the little protective growl that rumbled from my lips softly. “Nugget’s first, then Troll’s.”

  Forcing my shoulders to relax, I nodded slowly. I was surprised to hear him use my nickname for him, rolling off his tongue so easily. He used to hate it, I could tell in his tone and the strain around his mouth and eyes, even if he never said so aloud. Now, as I peeked at him surreptitiously, it was conspicuously absent.

  Eyes never leaving us, he tossed his head towards the small, thick grey infant, the spitting image of his curmudgeonly father, long arms and thick hide, squared body and face, thick fingers and toes, demanding, obstinate little personality, everything but for the orange fuzz and those bright blue eyes.

  “Perfect.”

  “Yes,” I could feel my eyes filling, a small lump forming in my throat, “he is perfect.”

  Thumping his chest with a balled fist, he snarled. “Protect. Mine.” Runes along his skin lit up and sparks shot from his shoulders, dusting the room. As the little specks rained down on us, landing on our skin, they melted into our flesh and disappeared, not pricks or harsh zaps, only a gentle tingling.

  Calder smiled a little in his sleep, fidgeting, a small coo escaping him before he squirmed closer. A small set of runes, matching Troll’s, sprinkling his shoulders, lit up dimly before they died out, a small sigh escaping his sweet little bowed grey lips.

  The grip I had on him loosened as I’d prepared for something horrible, sagging back against the bed when I eventually realized all was well. Crisis averted, at least for now, I couldn’t help but swell with relief.

  Troll left, or so I’d thought he had, but a small rumble at the door said otherwise. “Nugget?”

  Taking my eyes off of the sleeping babe, I murmured, “Hmm?”

  Fierce determination filled his gaze, swirling with inky black and glowing orange. Voice deepening possessively, he rumbled, “Nugget mine too.” And then he was gone.

  Upside Down

  Troll didn’t return the next day, or the next, though his presence, lingering close by, was felt keenly. Settling Calder, I’d tossed and turned, sleeping restlessly. At one point Quaz had poked his head in, not willing to enter the room just yet with Troll on edge, ducking back out quickly before he got another flying lesson. Brevin had taken off, but he’d fetched him, and all was well.

  Calder woke periodically, wishing to eat and go back to sleep, and every time I awoke there was a pitcher of fresh water, a cup, food, and a basin of water, what looked like a small pot one would use to relieve one’s self in, and soap and fresh sheets, along with small cloths.

  Too tired and worn to question any of it, I accepted the small offerings without comment, no one present to thank when I awoke, anyways.

  The small cloths worked well to diaper Calder, tying the corners off at the front to hold. The thick strips of cloth, I gathered, were for more feminine things, and I changed the sheets when needed. Balling the used linens and things up and setting it towards the end of the bed, along with the small pot, I tried not think too much on who, exactly, would dispose of all these things, finding it best left unknown.

  Birth is natural, I tried to reason. Bodily needs are natural. It is all a part of life, nothing gross or embarrassing about it. But tell that to my crimson face and the cringe whenever my gaze dipped towards the foot of the bed.

  ****

  Things went on like this for the better part of three weeks, mystery deliveries, no one else in sight, with the exception of Brevin’s sneak-ins early in the morning. They only lasted a few minutes, Brev fearing Troll might come storming in to roar him out, but it was enough to assure me he was being taken care of. Quaz, from what Brevin said in his short visits, had been seeing to his well-being.

  It was nice at first, a bit of a reprieve of all the madness that had become my existence, but by the end of the sixth, I was restless and beyond moody. Are we lepers? That no one would come pay a visit? Do I look that hideous? Does no one wish to see my baby?! Irrational and emotional, I was all narrowed eyes one moment, instant tears the next.

  Trading my oversized shirt for a clean one, the clean smell, mixed with something else, familiar but just out of my reach of comprehension, soothing my frazzled nerves.

  “Come on, little man,” I cooed, swaddling my little gurgling roly-poly, ready to do a little bit of exploring. It was so quiet today, I wondered if we’d been abandoned. Where is everyone?

  Bringing my hands to my hair, I grimaced. The frizzing mass had massive tangles, the soap I used to try and rinse it harsh, not a brush in sight. I must look a fright, I fretted. No matter, though, I can’t stay in here a moment longer.

  I truly had healed fast, much faster than I’d thought possible, or, erm, humanly possible, and the lack of ache in my body, the renewed energy I felt, little by little, more and more, day by day, had been proof enough. I’m not quite human anymore, I had to remind myself.

  Much like when I carried Calder, it was all whizzing by. I could barely believe it. My baby boy was thriving, a fat, gurgling little bundle of joy. Or, when he was hungry, a screaming mass of ‘now’. Troll, making himself distractingly scarce, hadn’t permanently maimed anyone yet.

  Where was the growly Ornthren, though? I wondered. Had he left us, left me again? His absence was truly bothering me, adding to the edgy restlessness already hounding me.

  Testing my weight as I stood, feet bare on the cool, cave floor, I muttered, wiggling my toes, “Only one way to find out.”

>   Satisfied with the idea of a small jaunt, I turned and picked up Calder, grinning when he made a little grunting noise, followed by a chuff, gurgling when I laughed and cradled him to my chest.

  “Let’s go find everybody, huh? See where everyone’s hidden off to.” Reaching the hall, I paused, looking one way, and then the other.

  Decisions, decisions...

  “Which way do you think, bug?”

  Calder’s nose wrinkled and he slapped at my chest, fisting the fabric.

  “Oh? You don’t know, either? Well,” my finger ran down his little nose, “in that case, left it is.”

  Taking my time, it wasn’t long before the sound of hushed voices, deep but trying to keep low, had me making another left, lights growing brighter, the farther I went.

  An opening, wide with a high ceiling, sun filtering in from a series of holes at the top, opened up. A huge space, wide but rounded, spread out in front of me. There was a huge fire, lit with a roaring blue and red flames, worn rugs lining the floor and trunks of all shapes and sizes lining the walls. It was an Ornthren treasure trove, sparkling bits of gold and silver flickering from opened trunk lids, baubles spilling out of others, a thick table with wide, sturdy wooden chairs—sturdy enough to hold a troll’s massive weight—surrounding it.

  Quaz and Ketik were seated by the fire, short but wide stools pulled in front of it as they ate huge hunks of meat off the bone, sizzling with juices, thick mugs of frothy drink by their feet, and the warmth of the fire washing over them.

  Glancing around, I didn’t see Troll or Brevin anywhere in sight, but I was desperate for company.

  “May I join you?”

  At the sound of my voice, their heads whipped around. Ketik froze, meat and grizzle dangling from his lips, truly surprised to see me, but Quaz, the more laid back of the two, stood and smiled.

  There was something off about that expression as he approached, tossing his food onto a large trencher set on a third stool, something wrong with the tilt of his lips and the way it didn’t quite reach his eyes. It seemed forced.

  “Speakin’ of meself, I wouldna mind it, ye see, but yer bonded, ahh...”

  “He might?” Really? Then where was he? And why did he send me away in the first blasted place? “For someone that was ready to toss me off when he thought he might have the chance, he seems rather... attached.” Glancing away, shrugging nonchalantly, my fingers drifted along a beautifully woven tapestry admiringly as I watched him through the corner of my eye.

  I was testing him. Why? I wanted to know. Could he tell me? Why was I shut out? And why wish to reclaim me? Why now? Was it the babe? Gaze drifting to Calder, our blue eyes meeting, my heart warmed instantly at the sight of that sweet, innocent face.

  Others might see a baby troll and be repulsed or frightened, most were of the unknown, but when I gazed down at my babe, awe overwhelmingly me, I saw two little dents for dimples when he smiled, a nose that tipped like mine but was wide like his father’s, and a strong, healthy little body covered in thick, chubby baby rolls of fat. When he cooed or gurgled, it was unusually deep for an infant, but all I heard was the contentment that little sound represented. My son is happy and well cared for—he’s settled.

  When I look at Calder, I see Calder, my sweet little boy, sturdy and whole, healthy and breathing, and he’s all mine. If that was the case for my wayward bonded’s newfound attachment—the babe—I couldn’t blame Troll. Calder had proven a balm for my tattered soul.

  Was it that way for him too? Did Calder soothe him, give him some kind of inner peace? And if so, why wasn’t he around more often? Does he not want to see his son?

  “Did ye ask him, then?” Quaz spoke after a long pause, scratching at the back of his bald head as an uncomfortable look crossed his face.

  “How can I? He’s never here!”

  “An’ fer good reason,” Ketik muttered. “Bastard had been a right pisser, the blow hard, before. Now, he’s a bleedin’ arse an’ then some since we dragged yer useless hide here. Damned feral.”

  “Then maybe you should have just left me behind,” I snapped. So much for my good mood and need for company, but I wasn’t going to let that arrogant prick pin any of this on me, speaking to me as if this was all somehow my fault. I was done being a scapegoat.

  I didn’t do anything wrong. Hell, I didn’t do anything!

  “Never heard the dumb arse renounce ye,” Ketik called from the fire, still seated, munching on his meaty bone. “An’ if ye was so keen ta come back, why didn’t ye then, eh?”

  “Ketik,” Quaz growled warningly.

  Ketik’s face darkened and his lips pulled back, storming over as he tossed what’s left of his supper with a thick clatter. “I want ta hear.”

  “Fine,” Quaz snarled, backing off. “Yer burial. See if ye can come cryin’ ta me when ye piss off the bloody beast an’ he rips yer arms off! Pfft!” Turning on a thick, bare foot, he lurched and lumbered back to his food. Back stiff, shoulders tense, his eyes kept darting to a small crevice-like space with a narrow archway, muttering and grunting around a mouthful of food as he tried to ignore us; but if his eyes weren’t glancing at us, they were glued to that crudely done opening.

  What’s that for? I wondered.

  “Well,” Ketik sniped, jaw tight, huffing out a chuffing grunt.

  Pulling my gaze away from the mystery archway, I met Ketik’s head on, lips pursed, spine straight.

  “Why would I come back if he didn’t want me?!” I argued.

  “Dinna I just say-”

  “Oh, I heard what you said,” I rudely interrupted, eyes sparkling with snaps of electric blue, “but I fail to see how you’ve suddenly become an expert on the subject, particularly where I’m concerned.”

  So much for getting any answers out of these two, I realized, too little too late. Quaz was a dead end, and Ketik was a dead head. Ugh. How dare he presume to know me. Human, yes, I am, but just like Ornthren or any other, we aren’t all the same. Prejudice bled from him freely, though, like blood from a wound. I understood he carried deep hurts, and more than possibly why, but I refused to be his moving target. I’m no one’s punching back.

  How dare he lump me with the lot. I can think for myself!

  Ire filling me, I advanced on him. “You, sir, don’t know shit!” My index finger popped up, poking him square in his thick grey chest, right where his hard, walnut sized, wrinkled excuse for a heart was supposed to be.

  Jerking back as sparks shot from the pointed tip, zapping him, he hissed and slapped my hand away. Ignoring the sting as my fingers throbbed, his none too gentle smack leaving a red hand print behind, I brought it back to Calder, cradling him to my warmth a little tighter.

  Watching me warily, never taking his eyes away, which were now flashing a glowing lavender, swirling with plum, Ketik slowly backed up until he’d made his way back to his seat. Plopping down, he gave me one last look, lip curling up in a sneer, picked up his large mug of what I assumed was ale, and tossed it back in one long swig.

  “You really don’t know me at all,” I mumbled unnecessarily, wondering why I even felt the need.

  Because you want companionship—a friend—something. A connection. Because you’re desperate to belong, my inner self chimed in.

  “I know enough,” Ketik muttered with finality.

  Quaz watched on, eating quietly, never saying a word.

  Feeling summarily dismissed, and more than a bit rejected, firmly put in my place—obviously, I’m not welcome here, that much was perfectly clear—heart sinking, I turned to leave.

  Chest constricting, I told myself to shut up and suck it up, I’ve been through worse. And I had. What should it matter to me that two stubborn trolls don’t want to play nice with me? I don’t need them. I have Calder and Brevin.

  Speaking of... “Where is Brevin?” Talking more to myself than anything, my eyes darted around the room, searching him out. Walking back down the hall, ignoring the twin looks of consternation on the brothers Or
nthren’s faces, I went in search of my young ward.

  “Brevin? Brevin?” Walking to the room I’d been told Quaz had set my young friend up in, I frowned when I found it empty. Not even a small pallet or blanket was left behind. “Brevin?” Worry crept into my throat. Where is that boy? Where could he have gone off too? Walking much faster than my slow, shuffling pace, I paused when I heard a small scraping sound. “Brevin?” My voice came out much louder, just below a shout. The scraping, scratching noise stopped immediately. “Brev?”

  “Not here,” Ketik muttered from the end of the corridor.

  Turning, I watched as Quaz, only a few feet in front of his slightly smaller counterpart, stopped and nodded as well.

  “What?! What do you mean, he left?!” Eyes wide, I started charging down the hall. “Why... what? Why did you let him just leave?!”

  “The... lad,” Quaz’s face bunched up, like he’d just tasted something awful and was pushing the words past stiff lips, rumbled, “left. Havena seen him since.”

  “Well, then, what are you waiting for? Go find him!” Incensed, I couldn’t understand their hesitation, or reticence. He’s a little boy, out all on his own, what else was there to debate? He needs help! Now! When it looked like nether would move, I demanded, “Did you not say you would watch over him for me?” I directed my question to Quaz, who’d given me his word on the matter. Weren’t they all about their word, or something?

  “Mm, yes, but that was...” Quaz stopped when Ketik shoved him hard, sending him stumbling forward. Jaw clenching, working as he glanced over his shoulder irately, he muttered, “That was before.”

  “Before what?”

  “Before he decided we’d no’ be takin’ free loaders, an’ that’s what,” Ketik sniffed, pivoting to head back down the way he came. Or, hopefully, fall into a deep, dark, smelly pit and never come back.

  “Owe a boon, I ken.” Quaz’s oath did not soothe me at all.