Winifred, the Queen and Gertrude left the armory and walked up the stairs leading to the residence above. As they entered the great hall, they were startled at what greeted them. The king and an elderly troll were sitting by the fire, having a cup of tea.
When Octavius saw the three enter, he stood up. “Please pull up a chair and sit with us. We are enjoying some tea. Would you care to join us?”
Emmaline was the first to meet the elderly troll. “My dear, are you going to introduce me to our guest?”
The troll stood up on his chair and bowed. “Oh, I am no guest, Your Highness. I am your husband’s prisoner.”
Emmaline looked at Octavius.” I see, Sir Troll. Should I be afraid of you, then?”
Octavius laughed. “Sir Gafton, this is my inquisitive wife, Queen Emmaline, Lady Winifred Tinker. And the young troll is her son and my friend, Gertrude Tinker. Everyone, this is Sir Gafton of High Mount.”
Gafton hopped down from the chair and over to Winifred and Gertrude. “By the light of Kern!” He looked at Winifred. “My dear lady, you look as beautiful as ever.” He turned to Gertrude. “So, you are the son of Sebastian of Tinker Hollow. Your father was a great leader - a troll that truly understood the world around him.” Gafton grabbed Gertrude and gave him a bear hug and butted his head with his.
“Ouch!” Gertrude peered at the old troll as if he had lost his mind. Winifred eyed the troll suspiciously, but said nothing.
“Oh, I’m sorry! I got carried away. Your father and I used to greet each other with a head butt. He darn near knocked me out one time.” Gafton chuckled. He turned and looked at Winifred, who was smiling pleasantly. “Sebastian was a good troll. I miss his humor and his friendship. Your Highness, may I have some more of that delicious drink you call ‘tea’?”
“Would you like anything in your tea, Sir Gafton?” Emmaline peered intently at the old troll.
“Well, if you wouldn’t mind putting a drop of whisky in it. My old bones could use some warming from the inside.” Gafton smiled broadly and hopped up into the chair that he had vacated earlier.
Octavius went over to an elaborately carved hutch and opened the center door. He withdrew a dark amber-looking bottle and pulled out the stopper, walked over and started pouring some of its contents into Gafton’s empty cup. The king was lifting the bottle away when the old troll put his hand upon Octavius’ hand to pour a little more. “My bones are mighty old and stiff.” Everyone laughed. Octavius set the bottle down across from his prisoner. “Gafton, why did you stay behind when all of the other trolls left?”
“I thought that I could be of more help here. My brother-in-law, Smirch, is a fat, obnoxious viper, and he was using my power for his betterment. I could not stomach what he was making me do any longer. If I am not there to help him convince the others, they will not do his bidding. I am sure right at this moment he is cursing my green hide to the fiery depths of what you humans call ‘Hell’.”
Gafton took a long sip of the whiskey. He wrinkled his brow. “Do you know that he had the gall to ask me to have my people haul all of the stolen stores through the tunnels to some recently discovered cavern in the tunnel system? I told him if he wanted it in the tunnels to do it himself. He threatened to harm my daughter. I laughed at him. He is such a coward that he would send children into battle before he lifted a sword.” Gafton took another drink. “This stuff is almost as good as boo-boo juice!”
“In what ways do you believe you can help us?” Octavius picked up the bottle and refilled Gafton’s cup.
“I can tell you the routes and tunnels that these scoundrels are taking. It would not be difficult to surround one of the tunnel’s main openings and capture the varmints that scamper in and out through its mazes.”
“What is Twiggs doing now?”
“How do you know of Twiggs? I do not recall me mentioning him to you.” Gafton took another swig from his cup. He wondered at the king’s knowing of this young troll.
“I shall not lie to you, Troll. Twiggs was captured when he was found snooping around the storehouses. We brought him here to question him. He told us of this ‘Smirch’ character and that he had abducted your daughter to control you. He gave us some valuable information.”
Gafton was quiet. A slight sneer flitted across his face. He lifted the cup to his lips to drink then lowered the cup. He shook his head and smiled. “My son is very smart. I am sure he will be able to inform you well. He is traveling around with Smirch, so I am sure he will glean a lot of information by just listening in on his conversations. Smirch is so full of hot air, it is a wonder he just doesn’t float away!”
Queen Emmaline sat looking at and listening to Gafton, and could not contain the urge to ask Gafton a question. “Sir Gafton, how do we know that you were not sent here as a spy? You conveniently let us capture you. You tell us that you will help us, but are you a troll of your word?”
Gafton peered at the queen from over the rim of the cup. He looked at her intently as if he were trying to decide what to say.” I am not a spy, and yes, I am a troll of my word.” He quickly looked down into his cup as if to avoid looking directly at the queen.
Winifred was skeptical of this troll claiming to be ‘Gafton’. Smirch was not the only troll mentioned in this castle tonight who was full of hot air. She had heard enough. She was sure that this was not Gafton, or at least not the Gafton she knew. “Please excuse me, but the night has been long and tiring for this old troll. Please excuse me as I take my leave.” Winifred arose from her chair and walked to the door of the foyer and cleared her throat. “Gertrude, are you going to let me walk home alone?” Winifred seemed to be playing the helpless female role to her advantage.
Gertrude excused himself, too. He really wanted to stay and talk to Gafton some more. He had to admit, however, that his shoulder was screaming at him where the arrow had penetrated. “I will come with you, Mother.” He bid the king, queen, Norman and Gafton a good evening and walked over to the doorway where Winifred was standing.
“You still have a silver tongue when it comes to having your way with the ladies, Gafton.” She smiled wanly. Winifred turned and walked out into the foyer.
Gertrude looked at the four smiling his way, shrugged his shoulders, turned and followed his mother. He would ask Norman tomorrow what was said. He was about to open the door to leave when he heard Octavius behind him.
“Gertrude, I want to thank you for taking the arrow for me and saving me from injury or possibly worse. I did not want you to think that your act did not go unnoticed by me. I am indebted to you, my friend.” The king bowed to Gertrude.
Winifred walked in between her son and Octavius. She motioned for Octavius to bend over. Winifred cupped her hand to the side of her mouth. “Do not trust this pretender in your castle. I speak with utmost certainty that he is not who he says he is. Be careful, very careful.”
Octavius looked at Winifred with understanding. “Thank you, Lady Winifred, for your observation. I owe both of you my gratitude.”
Gertrude looked at his mother, shaking his head in wonder. How could she be so sure that the troll in the other room was not who he said he was? Gertrude opened the door and ushered his mother out into the cold, snowy night.
“Now I know that I should have kicked you harder when you left tonight. You are so much like your father. I know that you are an adult, but remember that a mother always thinks of their children as still being babies that need her protection. I bid you to be cautious in the future.”
Not another word was spoken on the way home. The snow had piled high since they had arrived at the castle. Gertrude aided his mother through some of the taller drifts in the roadway. They finally opened the door to their cold hovel and lit a nearby oil lamp.
“Gertrude, would you care for a hot cup of blog before going to bed?” Winifred went over to a large barrel and filled the kettle with water. She was tired even before the walk home. Now every bone in her body seemed to be saying ‘hello, I am here’. She groaned as she
made her way to a chair to sit down.
Gertrude walked out from his bedchamber to find his mother sleeping in the chair, snoring rhythmically. “Mother. Mother...” He nudged her on the shoulder.
Winifred slowly opened her eyes. “It can’t be morning already.”
“Come, Mother. I will walk you to your room. You will be far more comfortable in your bed.” Gertrude helped Winifred up.
“You are such a good son.” Winifred turned, gave the young troll a peck on the cheek, bid him a good night and closed the door.
Gertrude scuffled out to the kitchen and poured some water from the bubbling kettle into a mug, measured out the mix for the blog, sat down at the table to savor the flavor and feel the warmth of the drink thaw his cold body. He sighed and started thinking about the day’s events. His shoulder ached. He would have his mother check the wound tomorrow when she woke up.
Something about Gafton bothered him, but he could not find a good reason to mistrust what he had said. Perhaps he should listen to his mother who definitely did not trust the old troll. He shook his head in wonder. The blog was soothing and he sat through two steaming cups. His body and brain seemed to be telling him it was time for sleep. He blew out the candles and put the screen in front of the fireplace. Gertrude stumbled to bed. His last thought was of what tomorrow might bring.
Chapter Eight