The Trouble with Trolls Page 3

  Harry was back in his cell by morning, though he noticed he was once again his lumbering and furry troll self. The only detail that had been the same as the last time he’d changed was Melinda. But she had said she hadn’t used magic to change him; he’d done it himself.

  A week later, Melinda volunteered to be eaten by the kingdom monster again. The moment he saw her, Harry instantly changed into a human again. He told her the correlation he’d noticed between her presence and his shifting shape.

  Melinda handed him a new set of clothes. “If that’s the case, you’ll know to change out of these clothes before you shift shape and leave their shreds trailing behind you.”

  Harry noticed the patchwork and repairs she’d done to the clothes that he must have shed when he’d left the party nights ago. He blushed.

  Melinda told him of her meeting with Cinderethylaide. “I did my duty and warned her, but she won’t leave the castle.” She threw up her hands in disgust. “She thinks she’s safe with the mercenary mice she’s hired to protect her. She says she has a plan of her own, using her slippers or some other such nonsense.”

  Melinda left the key with Harry and he was free to see her whenever he wished. But each week when it was time, Melinda dutifully volunteered herself to be eaten by the local monster. Harry turned into a human each time he saw her, and then he and Melinda escaped along the secret passageways to the forest. Sometimes Harry heard the cackle of the expert monster trainer in the corridors, but fortunately the man never caught them escaping.

  Curiously enough, it was only the fifth week of Melinda volunteering to be eaten that one of the guards noticed the maidens to be sacrificed always had black hair. Melinda used magic to change her hair color after that.

  Over the following months, Harry couldn’t deny the feelings he had for Melinda went beyond the hunger for her pies. One day when Harry went to visit Melinda, he couldn’t find her at her cottage. He went to the berry bushes and she wasn’t there either. Harry picked a few buckets of berries, hoping to surprise her, but when he’d finished, she still wasn’t home. He searched the forest for her, afraid he’d done something to displease her. He returned to the dungeon, wondering if she might be there, but she wasn’t. The next day he set out to look for her again, but she still couldn’t be found. After three more days of this, Harry’s stomach—or perhaps it was his heart—felt broken. The idea of not seeing Melinda again left him depressed. He sat in his cell, not even bothering to eat the pies they brought him. He wasn’t sure what he’d done: whether it had been his poor manners; his lack of patience; or Melinda had simply tired of him, he was quite sure it had been his fault.

  ***

  Hathgar’s pleasant dreams of being married to Snow-Wendelyn, the maiden rumored to be the fairest in the kingdom, were interrupted by the blare of a royal trumpet.

  A voice called out. “The king of Upper Valdor wages war on the king of Lower Valdor!”

  Hathgar flung aside his covers, ran to the window, and stumbled over a ratty pair of shoes. He almost fell out the window, but caught himself just in time. If there was one thing worse than tripping over his wife’s slippers, it was stumbling over one of his twelve daughters’ shoes. Not only were they always losing them like their mother, but they were always worn and shabby-looking.

  The king of Upper Valdor and his troops waited below. Tied to a tall birch tree was a maiden who looked part fairy. There was something vaguely familiar about her. Oddly, Hathgar didn’t recall there being any birch trees next to his castle the day before, and he hadn’t ordered his gardeners to plant any. Hathgar made a mental note to have a talk with Cinderethylaide about not allowing the gardeners to plant trees without his permission—before he fed her to his pet troll.

  “I demand battle. And bring your beast with your troops,” said King Eirril of the north.

  Hathgar groaned. It was too early for all this. On the bright side, this might be the day he’d been waiting for to rid himself of Cinderethylaide. If the monster was able to say her name, or even something that sounded close to her name, Hathgar could sacrifice her at last.

  Though, it was a bit odd that Hathgar’s enemy was challenging him. Most of the other kings had long ago stopped doing such silly things, as Hathgar’s invincible beast ensured his success in battle. Didn’t that idiot king know he was going to lose and be fed to Hathgar’s pet monster for this?

  Hathgar called his servants to ready his troops—which took about ten minutes. Meanwhile, Hathgar selected his finest robe for the occasion, tidied his hair and applied moisturizer and anti-wrinkle creams to his skin. This took over an hour.

  Many of Hathgar’s citizens gathered to watch from the castle walls, including his wife, his twelve daughters, and a rowdy group of mice. With luck, a stray arrow might at least hit one of his children. Also to his luck, there would be a crowd of witnesses when Hathgar’s monster said he wanted to eat Cinderethylaide.

  Hathgar was hardly able to contain his excitement as he mounted his horse and went out to meet Eirril, king of Northern Valdor. Oddly, Hathgar noticed his expert monster trainer standing on the side of his enemies’ lines next to King Eirril. The expert monster trainer tilted back his head and cackled. Hathgar’s eyes narrowed. He would feed that double-crosser to his monster, too.

  Hathgar bid his current general to release their invincible weapon.

  ***

  “Melinda!” Harry cried out as soon as he saw her.

  At once he understood why he hadn’t found her in the forest. She wasn’t vexed with him at all. He was simultaneously pleased she was all right—and not mad at him—and fearful what would happen to her next. He stepped forward, but his gait became smaller than normal, his legs shorter and he shivered from the cold of the air.

  Blast.… He was human again. Of all the times!

  A shower of arrows fell down before him. Harry jerked back, aware how fragile this human skin was compared to his troll skin. If they shot and killed him, he wouldn’t be able to reach Melinda and free her.

  Harry tried something he’d never done before in battle.… He used manners. “Please, let me pass. I don’t wish to fight you. I simply want to save Melinda and be on my way.”

  King Eirril stroked his chin. “This pet monster looks curiously like a younger version of… you, Hathgar.”

  Hathgar flustered. “A younger version of me? I look very young, I look more like his slightly older brother than his father.”

  Melinda raised an eyebrow. “Harry is your son?”

  Harry stared speechless.

  “Harry, is my so—er, my pet’s name?—Um, no, I did not say he was my son. You are twisting my words, witch. Men, release your arrows upon that witch!”

  “No!” Harry roared, or the closest he could get to a roar in this human body.

  Some of the men stared at each other in confusion. Others frowned at their king, suspicion in their eyes. The spectators watching from the windows of the castle muttered amongst themselves. A few—no, more like twelve girls in fancy clothes and wearing crowns, waved at Harry. Harry squinted and recognized them. Ah, yes, Melinda’s dancing students. He waved back.

  One soldier said, “Your highness, we can’t shoot the witch from here because we might accidentally hit your pet troll—er, son.”

  Hathgar dabbed at his sweaty forehead with a handkerchief. “No, he’s not my son. He’s a monster.”

  “He doesn’t look like a monster to me,” said King Eirril.

  One of Hathgar’s soldiers gave Harry his cloak to cover himself with. Harry bowed his head in thanks.

  Harry at last found he was able to speak. “King Hathgar, you’re my father? And you let those horrible men stab me with spears, bait me with dogs, torture me, and treat me like a monster? You made me, your son, your weapon and pet, and treated me worse than your hounds?”

  “Um.…” Hathgar stepped back. He stumbled over something and realized it was another worn out shoe. He kicked it aside and
cast an annoyed look at his daughters. This day definitely wasn’t going as planned. Wrinkles started to form on his forehead and he touched his face, self-consciously aware of this.

  Harry turned to King Eillid. “Sir, I truly have no desire to fight you. I simply wish to take my true love from here and bring her someplace safe.”

  “True love?” Melinda smiled, her eyes swimming with tears.

  One of the twelve princesses sighed. “How romantic!”

  Eillid’s smile was smug as he glanced from Harry to Hathgar. “If you give us your word you will not fight us ever again, we’ll allow you to pass.”

  “Yes, of course. I promise.”

  Harry proceeded to the birch tree and untied Melinda.

  She threw her arms around him and kissed him so passionately it made him blush. “I’m so proud of you. You rescued me without eating anyone and your manners were quite gentlemanly.”

  Hathgar cleared his throat and made an obvious last attempt to save his failing reputation. “Well, it’s a miracle. My pet monster turned out to be my long lost son and his curse is broken. Um, pet—er—son, what do you wish to eat for dinner tonight?”

  Harry gazed coolly at his father. “Right about now, I would like to eat you.”

  A few people gasped. Others laughed and cheered.

  Harry continued. “But I won’t. I know you wish me to say that I’ll eat your wife, Cinderethylaide, as that is what you have been attempting to train me to say for the last few months. However, I really prefer the taste of blackberry pie over human flesh.”

  More gasps sounded from the people in the castle. Cinderethylaide threw a slipper at her husband.

  Hathgar wailed. “Wrinkles! I feel wrinkles and gray hairs coming on. Oh, woe is me!”

  Melinda glanced slyly at the birch tree. “Too bad we don’t have a Ridged-back Snookletree to take care of this problem.…”

  The tree immediately quivered and shook. It shrank into a dark, gray rock about the size of a curled up human. It had three ridges on its back and an angular, almost human face at its front.

  “Melinda, dear, how are you? Did I hear you say you are in need of a Ridged-back Snookletree?” He—or perhaps it was a she—asked in its deep and rumbling voice.

  Melinda’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, you see, King Hathgar is afraid of growing old and getting wrinkles.”

  Hathgar stepped backward, tripped over yet another of Cinderethylaide’s slippers, and fell to the ground.

  The Ridged-back Snookletree raised a lumpy finger at the king. “Stone statue or cupcake?”

  THE END

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  About the Author

  Sarina Dorie has sold over 150 short stories to markets like Analog, Daily Science Fiction, Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, Orson Scott Card’s IGMS, Cosmos, and Abyss and Apex. Her stories and published novels have won humor and Romance Writer of America awards. She has sold three novels to publishers. Her steampunk romance series, The Memory Thief and her collections, Fairies, Robots and Unicorns—Oh My! and Ghosts, Werewolves and Zombies—Oh My! are available on Amazon, along with a dozen other novels she has written. Recently she has released a series titled Womby’s School for Wayward Witches.

  A few of her favorite things include: gluten-free brownies (not necessarily glutton-free), Star Trek, steampunk aesthetics, fairies, Severus Snape, Captain Jack Sparrow and Mr. Darcy.

  By day, Sarina is a public school art teacher, artist, belly dance performer and instructor, copy editor, fashion designer, event organizer and probably a few other things. By night, she writes. As you might imagine, this leaves little time for sleep.

  You can find info about her short stories and novels on her website:

  www.sarinadorie.com