Chapter 12: Bee and Knee Royal Jelly

It was late evening when Jellybee emerged into the garden. Granny Ethel had asked him to water the flowers and so he shall. With vigor!

In the tool-shed he found a watering can. Along with an old rag and had stuffed it within his rib-cage. Queenie promptly curled up within the rag, resting from her injuries caused by the fire. She had earned a good long micro nap. Lots of torpor would do her good.

He pumped water from the backyard well and set about watering the garden as sunlight began to slip away beyond the valley. He started to sing an old sailor shanty he heard Jimbo-no sing once. The tune was nice, even if he could only remember two or three words per line of lyric.

Jellybee was honestly grateful for the distraction. His heart felt heavy. Yet his chest felt so light when compared to before this mission. He had carried this colony for a while now. He had nurtured it. Protected it.

At least, until he had failed to do so.

That made his bones ache more than anything Granny could have dished out.

But on the other hand, he felt gratitude towards Granny for saving Queenie. Without her, the whole hive would have been wiped out. But Jellybee was also well aware that the hive might not survive regardless. Queen bees could not survive alone. Queenie needed not only a safe place to lay new eggs, but hive cells to help the eggs pupate and grow. She needed attendants to ensure that she would be fed, protected, and cared for. She needed a full colony.

Jellybee could not do all that. Jellybee was, after all, not a bee.

Jellybee was a minion to a Dungeon. One that could be attacked at any moment because he failed his mission and failed to kill the invaders. If Jellybee died, Queenie would certainly die.

Jellybee reached the end of the song. He sighed and scratched his mushroom hat, deep in thought.

With a start he realized he had poured all of the water in the can out on a small gravestone set before a blooming crab-apple tree.

Whoops. He hoped Tiptap, whoever that was, would enjoy their shower. They certainly had some lovely flowers around their grave marker.

He went back to the well for another ladle.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Then, he spotted it in the dying light. It was one little speck that flew by over his head.

It was a bee, covered in pollen. Either this bee was late to dinner or there was a hive within a short distance to the garden. Bees, being diurnal, wouldn’t risk a long flight home in the dark without enough guiding light. He watched its flight path carefully. It crawled into the cavity of a large oak tree.

Jellybee had an idea.

It was risky, stupid, and could cost him dearly. But what choice did he have?

Ten minutes later he was up in the tree, reaching directly into its hollowed trunk, to give the bee nest a new gift.

The gift, of course, was friendship.

Or death. Probably death.

He had scrounged up a glass bottle from the kitchen pantry. He also had found a half burnt cork and some burnt honey. Using a bit of mushroom (and elbow) grease, he fashioned a candy plug stopper for the bottleneck. The glass had cracked from the heat. Which was fine. It would work well enough. He hoped.

Softly and carefully, he set the corked "candy" bottle inside the hive. Thankfully, at this time of the day the hive would be at their lowest activity levels. Or else he would have been in trouble.

Inside the bottle, Queenie quietly buzzed. Drones from the tree trunk hive had already began to crawl over the glass, inspecting the occupant.

In several days, after Queenie’s pheromones had permeated the hive, he'd return to check to make sure the cork had been properly chewed through. The hardened candy plug would act as a natural timer– giving the colony, and her, time to adjust to each other– greatly increasing Queenie’s chances of survival.

Because a lot could go wrong when Queenie emerged from the bottle.

Odds were good that the hive wouldn’t accept her. The drones could decide to immediately kill her.

Even if the drones accepted her, if there were any other queen bees around at all, those queens might try to kill Queenie.

If there somehow weren’t other queens, nursery workers could still have recently fed royal jelly to new queens. In which case they would emerge from their cells, kill each other, and then try to kill Queenie.

She probably couldn’t fend off multiple queens or an entire hive. But Jellybee had faith in her. She was tougher than she looked. Compared to most honey bees in the wild, she was at a higher level. Mostly from having seen more combat alongside Jellybee, but also from being considered Royalty in the animal kingdom.

The odds weren’t in her favor with this new hive.

Her odds with only Jellybee were nonexistent. In a few days, he could be dead too. Killed by adventurers or angry townsfolk or undead supervisors.

Best case scenario, Queenie got to live happily in a new home nearby.

Regardless of the outcome, Jellybee would still have another hole in his chest where there once had been a family.

It made him sad.

He didn’t have time to be sad. He wasn’t even capable of tears anymore.

Jellybee was a minion to a Dungeon. He had important things to do! Like watering flowers!

He stepped away from the tree hollow. Then his foot slipped.

He landed upside down in a tree branch. One knee was all tangled up in the foliage, suspending above the ground.