easy street haunt

(From Puzzle’s Curse by Jack L. Bryson)

The rogue elf sprinted across the open field with a sack full of gold coins as the bridge troll pursued him. It was an overcast day and the rain had finally let up, leaving a soggy ground. Marcus looked down at his brown leather boots, which sank a little into the mud with each stride he took. He stopped, turned around and drew his elven dagger from his belt, but seeing for the first time just how big the troll was he said to himself, “What are you stupid?” Marcus sheathed his dagger and took off again. It gave him a little hope to glimpse the troll struggling to run in the muddy terrain as well.  

Marcus wore brown wool breeches, a black linen tunic and a leather belt. He also wore a grey wool cape over the tunic. He felt the cape was slowing him down, so with his free hand he grabbed the metal clasp, which fixed the cape around his shoulders and ripped it off. The cape fell to the ground as he continued his sprint.  His shoulders felt a new chill, but he got a boost of speed from dropping the extra weight. It wasn’t long until Marcus realized he made a critical error in the direction he chose. 

Up ahead was the fairy bog. Marcus couldn’t see it, but he recognized the thin line of trees just in front, and there was the familiar sulfur fart smell in the wind, which told him the bog was near. He knew the fairies were dangerous and didn’t welcome strangers, so he couldn’t take the chase in that direction. On the other hand, turning around to face the troll was suicide. 

Running out of options, Marcus spotted a large ash tree on the outskirts of the fairies’ boundary.  It was nearly forty meters in height and easily scalable. When Marcus reached the base of the tree, he held the lip of the purse between his teeth to free up his hands for a climb. The rogue elf was agile and very quick. He scrambled up the tree as high as possible, perched on a large branch and surveyed his surroundings. He couldn’t go higher because all the branches above him became too small to sit on.  

As Marcus looked up, he saw dark clouds gather in little spaces between the thick foliage. There wasn’t enough light to turn the troll into stone. Marcus hoped rather than believed there was a chance the sun would come out. 

Having a little time before the troll caught up, Marcus assessed the cuts and scrapes he received from scaling the tree. As he brushed some leaves off his shoulder, he looked down and saw two new tears in his tunic. There was also a new tear in his breeches, which were already wearing out. He fingered the tear and winced when he came into contact with a small cut. Nothing too serious. He looked back down and waited. 

It wasn’t long until the troll reached the bottom of the ash tree, winded after his heavy pursuit.  His mass was impressive, like a Grizzly bear’s. His skin was a sickly grey and the only clothes he wore was a wool wrap around his waist like a kilt. The makeshift kilt was fixed together at the troll’s hip with a human dagger. The troll also wore gold rings on each tusk. The rings were gold arm bracelets that he pilfered from unsuspecting travelers who tried to cross his bridge. As he caught his breath he hocked a nasty loogie, the size of a baseball. A string of drool hung off his right tusk and lingered on his chin with a bit swinging freely in the breeze. 

The troll was furious with Marcus but felt triumphant for having cornered the elf, the thief in the ash tree.  He looked up at his prey.  “No where to go little elf.  Come down here.”

Marcus looked at the sack of gold coins he held. The idea of parting with them hurt; he had enough gold to keep him neck deep in whores and ale for a year. He imagined spending the gold on a long pub crawl across the continent, an adventure to satisfy his thirst and lust. He sighed and offered the loot back to the troll. “What if I give you back the gold?” 

“Hey, that’s a good idea. Come down here and give me the coins.”  

“Uh, how about I just drop the gold and you can pick it up and take it with you?”

“No, no, that won’t do at all. Come down little elf.” The troll wrapped his huge arms around the trunk of the ash tree and shook it.  Marcus held onto the branch and bore the violent tremors as best he could, gripping the branch with all his strength.  He hoped the troll would get tired and give up but he was afraid the monster might be strong enough to knock over the tree.  The troll stopped shaking and looked up at his prey, taking a break from trying to dislodge it from its precarious sanctuary.

“Hey there elf, whatcha doing?”

Marcus was startled by the new voice. He looked to his left and was shocked to see a bog fairy sharing his branch.  She had wasp like wings and wore what resembled a thin, tattered night gown with the hem barely reaching her thighs. She had long black hair and her legs were caked in mud. Marcus couldn’t help but notice she didn’t wear underwear, but he didn’t let himself get distracted, knowing how dangerous fairies were.  “Please don’t kill me, I’m not in your bog.”

“Straight to begging huh?” The fairy giggled and wrinkled her nose. “I hadn’t planned on killing you, I was just curious as to what you were doing in my favorite ash tree.” Marcus looked down at the troll; he didn’t really have time for small talk but he wasn’t going to ignore the fairy. 

“You see that troll down there?”  Marcus asked.  

“Yes, stinky thing isn’t he?”

“Yes. Well, he wants to kill me because I stole his gold. He’s about to knock down your favorite tree so he can snuff me out.”

“Oh, Well. I could just push you out of the tree and then, he won’t knock it down.” The fairy grinned mischievously.  

“Wait!  Please don’t do that. Look, you can have half the gold.” Marcus undid the knot that held the canvas purse closed. He showed the fairy sixty gold stags. (Each coin had the profile of a local monarch on one side and stag on the other)

“Ooooooh, that’s a lot of gold; you must have robbed a prince.” said the fairy.  

“No, I robbed the troll. The troll ate the prince. You can have half of this if you don’t push me out of the tree,” Marcus pleaded. “And maybe take care of that troll?” 

The fairy considered his proposal for a moment. “Ok, you got a deal.”  Another violent tremor rattled through the tree and the branch Marcus and the fairy sat on.  He hugged his branch tightly but the fairy wasn’t as easily jostled, quickly regaining her composure. She looked down at the troll who was grunting and shaking her tree.  

“Hey look up here,” the fairy called down. The troll looked up and she snapped her fingers. Marcus saw a spark between her snap and then an ember wafting down from it, which landed on the troll. The troll ignited into a brilliant ball of flame, and he screamed as he ran wildly from the tree for a couple yards before collapsing.  Marcus watched with this mouth gaping, in total shock by the combustive spectacle. “Shall we get out of this tree?” asked the fairy. 

Marcus nodded and forced himself to look away from the troll cinder as he carefully descended the tree. When he reached the bottom the fairy was already there.  After shaking some leaves out of his hair, Marcus told the fairy to cup her hands and hold them out. He demonstrated what he meant and she mimicked him.  Then, he deposited half his gold in her hands as promised. She closed her hands over the gold, making it vanish to Marcus’ amazement. 

“Thank you,” said the fairy. “My name is Puzzle. What’s yours?”

“Marcus,” he said warily.  

“Please to meet you Marcus.” Puzzle said, giving a slight bow. “Thank you for the gold.”

“Thank you for not pushing me out of the tree.”

“You’re quite welcome.” Marcus looked over at the troll and was baffled, seeing that he wasn’t burnt at all. He walked over and saw a paralyzed expression of fear on the troll’s face, but neither his skin nor kilt were scorched. He looked over at Puzzle.

“He wasn’t on fire.”

“Nope, but he thought he was.”

“But I saw fire too.”

“You both saw what I and your imagination wanted you to see.” Puzzle winked. “He thought he was on fire and then his heart stopped.”

Marcus got closer to the troll and began pulling the gold rings off his tusks. “Hey, help me out here. Get the one on the other tusk,” He told Puzzle. As Puzzle pulled on the gold ring she asked, “Where did he get these?”

“These are bracelets that wealthy travelers wore over their biceps. The troll took them after killing them.” 

“They’re too big for my arms,” Puzzle said as she tried on a gold ring. 

Another thought occurred to Marcus just then. “Hey, we should go to the troll’s bridge.”

“Why on earth would we do that?” Puzzle asked. 

“There’s more loot under there. And there’s no one else around to claim it,” Marcus grinned. They left the troll and made their way to the bridge. Along the way, Marcus picked up his wool cape and wrapped it around Puzzle’s shoulders, fearing she might be cold. She wasn’t but thanked him anyway. When they arrived, they climbed down the bank of the river and stood on the stub of shore under the bridge, amongst the remains of the troll’s victims. There, they gathered up all the leather and canvas purses in a pile and divvied up the loot.