The last village of the day is bigger than the other two put together. It’s also got a proper inn, whose owner immediately refuses me entry.
“Don’t care if it’s housetrained or whatever. No trolls in my inn!” The woman waves a cast iron pan at me threateningly.
Marianna sighs. “My dear lady, I’m a daughter of the Cross family. If you could just see clear to letting us—“
“Hah! Bugger off!”
Marianna deflates in a way that makes me wonder just how bad things are between her and her family. “Fine.” She steps out and joins me, where I’ve been standing on the road.
“My apologies, Ellie. We may have to rough it this evening. I’ve brought a bedroll for myself. Do you have what you need to sleep a night out of doors?”
“Actually, I don’t really sleep. Let’s go find somewhere to camp. I’ll take the watch so you can rest.”
An hour later we’re beside a stone wall in a field. Her tent is set up under a wide tree with a small fire going, and Marianna is heating some water. “Can you hunt us up something? Woods over there belong to my family. I give you permission to hunt there.” She waves towards the other side of the field, where a dark forest lies.
“Can do. How hungry are you? Rabbit? Deer?”
“Something small for me. Whatever you feel like eating for yourself.” Marianna pokes at the fire and I can see she’s angry. But I can also smell that she’s hurt. Why? I thought she knew where she stood with her family. I’ll leave her alone for a bit to settle, and then maybe she’ll want to talk.
It takes less than no time at all for me to hunt up some rabbit and a bird which I think is a pheasant. Being a troll is neat; my instincts tell me I belong here in the forest . I move so quietly that the animals I kill don’t suspect a thing. I can see why forest trolls would be a terror. I’m in and out of the woods in minutes and I leave no trail at all.
I also find the remains of a deer: a buck with a good size rack of antlers still on the skull. My Eyes of Alchemy remind me that deer antlers are good for making potions of alertness. so into the pouch they go.
Back at the camp, Marianna’s brooding. I can smell it on her and I wish I could help. What do I do? If only I had more experience with people. Instead of being the comforting, supportive troll I want to be, I sit in silence while she cooks. I do not feel like a good friend.
“How hard was it for you?” she says suddenly while we’re eating boiled bunny.
One nice thing about the dwarven speaking stone is that I can eat and talk at the same time. “How hard was what?”
“Becoming a troll. Changing so much.” Something in her voice tells me she’s got a genuine interest, and not just because I’m a freak.I decide not to worry about saying the wrong thing.
“Honestly? It was a shock. At first I thought I lost as much as I gained. But the other side of living was… well, it was awful. I was trapped in a body that I hated, that felt like a punishment that I didn’t deserve. I lost my family because of how I was. They kind of… put me aside when I became too much trouble to deal with. By the time Jinx got to me and made me what I am, I had nobody I could really connect with. Every bit of energy I had went into just trying to stay alive. Then…”
“Then?” Marianna stares at me. I’ve got her full attention.
“Then I died. I died and Jinx came to me and told me I could live again, if I chose. He asked me what I wanted and I said, to be healthy and strong and never ever get sick again. He—or she; it was hard to tell sometimes—laughed and gave me exactly what I asked for.” I waved my hands down the length of my body.
“Would you go back? If you could go back to your old body and be content with it somehow?”
“Not in a million years.” It comes out faster than I thought. “All the crap I’m dealing with in this body is more than worth it. I have friends. I’m strong. I have a talent I can use, even if the stupid guilds say no. When I was who I was before, I spent every moment wanting to be something else. I won’t say becoming a troll made all my problems disappear. But it’s so much better than being who I was before. Now I spend my time trying to be as much me as I can, and I would never, ever go back.”
Marianna nods. I smell satisfaction and something else on her. Vindication? I can’t quite put a finger on it. After a while, she unrolls a bundle of blankets, lays herself out, and goes to sleep without another word. I guess she trusts me to keep watch, so that’s what I do.
Next day finds her up at the crack of dawn. Breakfast is a fast meal of pickled veggies, salted meat and hardtack soaked in Marianna’s delicious low-alcohol drink, and leftover rabbit. Then we’re on the road.
This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“We made good time yesterday, so let’s take it slow. Can you move your words so I can read them? I want to talk about what to expect. No offence intended, but you clearly were not raised in any sort of noble house.”
I do as she asks, positioning my dwarven display behind me and walking ahead of her. “That’s for sure. Where I come from, we don’t really have nobles, and the ones we do have are kind of leftovers from another time.” I grimace. For a moment I forgot she doesn’t know my whole story, and that’s definitely going to raise her eyebrows a little.
Thankfully Marianna chooses not to ask anything about where I came from. “When we arrive, I can’t say with certainty how I will be received. Don’t… don’t be surprised if things are strange. I’ve been away for years. My parents’ seneschal will find us a place to stay during the tournament. We’ll have tomorrow all day to ourselves, and then the tournament starts the next day.”
“I feel like you’re glossing over a few things here.” I think a seneschal is like a head butler or a concierge or something. “Like, do I have to meet your family?”
Marianna snorts. “No. More like, you won’t be allowed to. You’ll see them at the tournament, watching from their seats, but you won’t meet them unless—until—you win and they have to speak to you. This isn’t because you’re a troll,” she adds in a rush. “It’s just how things are done. My parents’ seneschal will be handling all the invited competitors and any that show up late with recommendations, such as you. None of them will be meeting my family. Also, I promise you, you will not miss anything by not meeting them.”
“How many people are going to be competing?”
“Hmm. Hard to say, honestly. Shale’s a second child so his tournament should, by rights garner only a few candidates. Perhaps ten or fifteen? But on the other hand he is of age now and essentially guaranteed to inherit, so it might be that there are many. I don’t expect so, though, for… reasons. Let’s say a dozen at most.”
Okay. So I’d have to beat up a dozen people. No, that’s not right. Some of them would be eliminated early, so… “How are these tournaments arranged? How is the winner picked?”
“it will depend on how many entrants attend. With such a small pool, it will likely be a points style. All participants will fight each other once, and the winner of the most bouts will be declared victor.”
“Ah, like a round robin. That’s gonna be tiring.” Well, not for me. Hmm. There’s an advantage. But it does mean nobody will be eliminated before I fight them. “I assume forfeits count as losses.”
“Yes. Also… the tournament will likely last a week or more. I should have told you before we left.” Marianna sounds a little off, like she’s unsure how I’m gonna take what she says next. “I was afraid you’d say no if I listed too many details. Keyes presented this and I bit on it; I couldn’t let myself risk you not attending and I acted poorly. I am sorry.”
“Apology accepted. I’d like the truth going forward, though.”
“You shall have it.”
Marianna lapses into silence, so I think about the tournament. I have no idea what to expect, really. Will it be like a historical movie with striped tents and people blowing trumpets to announce everyone and stuff? Who am I going to have to fight? What are the odds another wildcard like me shows up?
We reach a crossroads. A sign tells us that this way takes us to The Manor Cross, and that way takes us to Town. Town apparently doesn’t rate a name. We head toward the manor. Marianna smells incredibly tense.
“So what do I do if someone takes a swing at you?” I try to sound like I’m joking, which of course doesn’t translate to text well.
“Should that happen, let them. Depending on their station I may demand a duel, or I may need to simply accept such behaviour.”
“So no eating the rude ones, then.”
Marianna stops her horse dead in his tracks. “No! Is that.. do you… have you…”
I turn slowly and stare directly into her eyes, then I grin. “Of course not! I was joking.” Probably. I’m not going to actually eat anyone. But I’m getting a vibe from Marianna that she’s not going to have a good time here, and I’m starting to take a liking to her so maybe a few broken bones are acceptable.
Her relief is palpable. “Thank you. I apologize; humour is poorly relayed through your magical writing.”
Hmm. “Colon closing parenthesis.”
There’s a long pause. “What… does that mean?”
Yes! It worked! “That’s an emoticon. A smiley. Imagine it turned on its side.”
A surprised giggle announces her understanding. “A smile! What a brilliant adaptation! Please, do continue using that. It will surely help us become better friends.”
Better friends. I like that. I spend the next little while doing various emoticons for practice. I need to find a way to shorthand them, though. Saying “semicolon closing parenthesis” is way too annoying when I just want to show a wink.
I’ve just about brought Marianna into the early 2000s as far as emoticons go when we finally see the manor. Or rather, the manor’s surrounding wall, which encloses not fields of wheat but a bunch of green grass. Apparently the plague of the front lawn has already touched this world. The wall opens at the road to permit us entry, and two tiny little shacks the size of outhouses bracket it. Each contains a man wearing a surcoat over chainmail, and the surcoat has a gold cross on it. The Crosses. How original.
“Halt and name yourself!” The left guard steps forward. He holds a crossbow. It’s not loaded. Apparently we don’t expect trouble at the gates of the Cross family.
The other guard is loading his crossbow as fast as he can. His eyes are fixed on me. A change in wind brings the scent of fear. I realize I like it. Down, troll! Down!
“I am Marianna Cross, daughter of Lord Michael Cross. I bring with me Ellie Dancer, of late from Cairn Glow, to challenge in the knight tournament of Shale Cross. I claim this right as daughter of the Lord.”
“Lord Cross has no daughters,” says the man who has just finished loading his crossbow. He aims it in my general direction. I dare you, buddy.
Marianna sighs. I smell a deep, abiding exhaustion in her, like this is something she’s fought against for a long time. “I’m not surprised to hear such things, given how I left. But you know who I am. Take me to Glenn, so I may announce myself and my companion.”
There’s a moment where I think they’re gonna argue. I can smell obstinacy on them, as well as something else: confusion maybe, or indecision. Then the one without the loaded weapon nods. “As you say, Lady Marianna. Come this way. Ellie Dancer, was it? You as well.”
We enter the grounds, and head off to see the seneschal.