The Butcher of Gadobhra

"Your pardon, My Lord of Summer, but are all the roadways through the Fae Lands so quaint and distinctive."

Alwyn, Lord of Summer, looked to his right, where the human Courier kept pace with him as they escorted Prince Leporidon's carriage to the Court of King Oberon. "Please, I think it would be quicker and easier on all of us if I dispense with my disguise. I'm sure you now recognize me as your friend Bob."

There were gasps from the two mortals as the Fae Lord stood, revealed as someone they had talked to many times in the tavern. Suzette's eyes were large as she tried to speak, overcome for words.

Having handled situations such as this in his travels, Ben recovered faster. "A clever and useful disguise, M'lord... I mean, Bob. Let it be as you say. I'm sure it will make the travel quicker. But as to my question about the state of the roads?"

"Ah, yes. The roads. It is the nature of the Fae Realms that each Lord, Baron, Prince, or Countess may set the rules for their own realms. The stronger the person, the stronger the rules. Through the richer lands, the roads are broad and paved with gold. You can't go a half mile without finding a lovely place to stop for a meal or take in an opera. But here in the hinterlands where power is thin, the roads are...well, as you see."

Suzette was quite tired of splattered mud and low branches. "Crappy trails and roads to nowhere?"

Alwyn smiled at the description. "Exactly that. It is so easy to get lost out here and wander for weeks on end, wandering in the wilds and encountering the quaint, insane people that dwell here. There are many people who come here to experience exactly that. It shouldn't be too bad as long as we stick to the path and don't leave it. The advantage is a lack of traffic and thus a lack of people who might sense the princess's injuries and try to take advantage of the situation."

At that moment, they emerged from the forest into a small clearing where several dozen people were camped. Some were in tattered rags, others in soiled finery that had seen better days. Tattered tents and shacks made of twigs filled the areas nearest the forest, while the center, where the path ran through the clearing, was open except for a dozen people playing board games and cards using flat rocks and stumps as makeshift tables. To the side, three men with bandaged hands were rolling hedgehogs down a worn path that ended in a set of tenpins.

The group slowed as they went by and were then forced to stop as people moved into the road. One man was the spokesperson for the group. He wore a straw hat made from fresh grass that had yet to fade from green to brown. His sleeveless shirt that showed off tanned muscles was likewise woven from the plants growing about, including some vines that appeared to be poison ivy. His pants might have been silk once but were too tattered and patched to know for sure. Bare feet with more than five toes stuck out from beneath his ragged pants.

"Good day, travelers! We notice that you are traveling through our fine city but have not bothered to stop and greet us. Certainly, you have time for such courtesies."

Alwyn whispered to them. "Talk little, don't lie, and, whatever you do, don't give him your true name." He addressed the people blocking the road, speaking loudly, "Courtesy is important at all times, but we saw you concentrating on your games. It would have been rude to address you and perhaps break your concentration."

"Well said by a person of discernment and taste. Or so I assume you all to be, for without names, it is hard to know for sure! Perhaps you would be kind enough to introduce yourselves as a first step in beginning our acquaintance.

"I am Bob, a boring traveler of interest to no one."

"Indeed? And yet I find you interesting, Bob. Perhaps I am the No One you speak of?"

He turned and looked at Ben. The Courier looked at the horizon, thought for a moment, and then dramatically replied with deep regret in his voice, "An echo of a man who died and my name was passed down through the generations so many times that it came back to me. Call me King, for I have a kingdom that never was and that I will never find."

The green man bowed low, "Greetings, King of Nothing. Perhaps your land is just over the next hill? Stay, and we will help you look and bow to you each morning." Her turned his gaze on Suzette.

"Why name the dead? I am the shade of a woman who lies unmoving, entombed in ice in the bowels of the world, a shade dreaming of what might have been had the world been kinder."

The green man let out a long sigh. "I am disappointed, for while Bob told a half-truth and the Courier only a tad more, the lovely lass speaks the full truth, sad though it may be. My merry troupe is happy to bring liars and rogues into our community, but such sadness would drain the joy of our days. Begone, Shade of a girl now dead. Cross the bridge and begone from my lands by nightfall, else we will play this game again, and dead or not, I will take a portion of your name from each of you." He moved aside, as did the others, and the travelers moved on.

After they were a mile away and the curve of the road and dense forest hid the camp from view, Alwyn kicked his horse and yelled to the carriage to pick up their pace. "That was not an idle thread to be gone by nightfall. We'll never know the rules of the game he was playing, but he expected a prize. But the border to these lands is not far." Indeed, they emerged from the woods, and across a mile of open pasture was a deep ravine with a river flowing at the bottom. A narrow stone bridge arched over the chasm, just wide enough for two carriages to pass in the middle.

Ben breathed a sigh of relief while Alwyn seemed fearful.

"Oh no, don't tell me..."

With a fearsome roar, a huge and hairy hand gripped the side of the bridge, pulling the rest of the troll up. The creature thumped its barrel chest and yelled again, brandishing a large club. It was at least twenty-foot tall and filled the bridge completely, blocking passage across. The horses shied away and refused to step foot on the bridge.

The Summer Lord looked to his companions. "Now would be a wonderful time for either of you to pull out a hidden artifact given to you by your grandmother that will take us safely to the other side of the bridge."

Ben shook his head. "Sadly, I left it at home. It certainly would be handy, but traveling with her old bed is difficult when we don't have Ozzy with us."

Suzette approached the ravine and looked down. It was at least a thousand-foot drop, and no bridge or pathway was in sight. The sun was getting ominously low on the horizon. The troll scratched its armpits, picked its nose, and made rude gestures in their direction.

"I don't suppose we can forgo a fight and talk this over?"

The troll stared at her, scratched its head, and replied. "I'm sorry, miss, but are you addressing me with an offer for parley? I must say, I'm intrigued. I've always wanted to parley with the smaller races. There are theories that you have ample intelligence to engage in conversation about complex topics, but I've never seen evidence of it. Can you perhaps stomp your foot twice to indicate that you are truly talking to me and not parroting something you heard a goblin say?"

All three travelers stomped their feet twice. The troll beamed. "Oh, splendid! What would you like to talk about? The economics of running a successful bridge business? Cooking recipes? Or maybe the history and heraldry of the trollish court at the Hellfens? Please, take your pick, and we can begin."

Suzette thought momentarily and said, "I'd like to choose economics. I own a tavern and have often thought about the troubles of running my business. Perhaps there are things in common? If not, we can learn from each other and applaud the differences."

The troll bowed low. "Economics, it is them, but first, I have a request. I see that pack of ruffians from the forest rounding the corner, probably to do you great harm, which would cut short our discussion. Could you please accommodate an old troll and travel across my bridge to where you will be safe in the meadow on the other side? Then I will signal my family to bring snacks, and we can begin. I must admit, this is thrilling; I'm as giddy as a trolling with his first stream."

The carriage and horses ran across the bridge and not a moment too soon. Seven bedraggled elves astride various animals came riding up, blowing hunting horns, only to find a sign that said "Bridge Out" and a large troll protecting the entrance.

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