Terrible Company - Chapter 8 - Part 2

Chapter 8 - Part 2

" 'alflings," Mathilda muttered under her breath. Her hands flexed and clenched at her side as they stood by the hitching post where their horses idled. "The whole lot of 'em are nutty as a constipated squirrel. Fuckin' 'ate 'alflings."

"Remind me again," Ayen mused, "where they fit into the heirarchy?"

She counted off on her fingers. "Worse than Southern Dwarves. Worse than 'arpies." Her scowl pinched for a moment in thought. "No' as bad as trees."

"Is anything? When you really think about it?"

Mathilda's scowl deepened, though she did her best not to show how annoyed she was at him. "Let's ge' to i', then."

Ivy balked. "Aren't we going to wait for the others?"

"They're no' comin', lass. No' righ' away, a' least."

"But they said they'd be right behind us."

" 'at was code for 'Get outta 'ere, we wanna fuck'."

"Huh." Ivy shrugged as they turned and headed down the street toward The Prancing Pig. "Why couldn't they just say that?"

"Some of us..." Ayen intoned, "possess a modicum of tact."

The healer was sure she heard him place just the slightest emphasis on the last part. Modi-cum. It was all part of his new subliminal strategy with Ivy who, for her part, seemed to be both oblivious and immune.

"Step right up!" boomed a sandy-haired halfling, as he stood in front of a large brown tent tucked between two ramshackle buildings. "Bear Boxing! One night only! Six silver for the experience of a lifetime!"

"Insane," Mathilda grumbled. "Ev'ry last one'f 'em."

Ivy nodded in surprise at the long line of halfling men. "You're selling a chance to fight a bear?" she asked, impressed.

"Fight?!" the promoter shrieked. "Are you crazy? Of course not! Six silver and you get to do a bear in her box."

Ivy blinked. "And by do, you mean-"

"Give her a right good humping," the halfling said excitedly, bouncing on his toes.

"Ev'ry last one'f 'em," Mathilda muttered.

The halfling promoter grinned, "How many people do you know who've gotten to make sweet love to a grizzly bear? Hmmm?"

Mathilda and Ivy both turned expectantly to Ayen, who at first was too busy staring at the tent flaps to notice. When he did, he looked horrified. "I... what? No! Just no! I can't believe you two would even... No! No," he added firmly, after a brief pause.

A bell sounded inside the tent. The announcer grinned as he reached back and pulled open the nearest flap, and a halfling walked out, covered in scratches, with a big grin on his face. "It's something to brag about!"

"It really, really isn't." Ayen replied.

The halfling announcer countered, "You can write home about it."

"Not in a million years," Ayen said, shaking his head.

"Ah come on," Mathilda said, grin blooming. "This'd be qui' a feather in yer cap! Weren't ye jus' tellin' us 'ow rough this dry spell 'as been?"

"Hey yeah," Ivy said, brow furrowed. "You talked about it the whole ride over."

"I-I meant between jobs!"

"Nah ye di'n't."

Ivy frowned, puzzled. "He didn't?"

" 'e di'n't."

"I did!"

"Come on," Mathilda laughed, as she rooted around in a side pocket of her leggings. "Ah'll even front ye th' silver."

Ayen shook his head as he elbowed past, continuing on down the street.

"Oh, don' be like tha'. We're jus' tryin' ta help!"

"We are?" Ivy asked, still puzzled.

Mathilda chuckled and started walking after him when it was clear he wasn't just faking an exit.

Ivy added, "I'm seriously asking."

The inside of the inn was exactly as awful as Mathilda expected it to be. Raucous, inane music exploded out of a connected room. Ayen had to step lightly not to be bowled over by two halflings who burst in right behind them, although he made it look graceful. The crowd at the bar was beyond unruly, even by dwarven standards. The only thing it needed, by Mathilda's reckoning, was a chandelier for one of them to be swinging from to reach maximum buffoonery.

Of course, there wasn't room for a chandelier; the ceiling was too low. Ayen and Ivy looked like giants in the halfing-height room. Val would have had to hunch, had she been present. Mathilda seriously considered stalling for as long as possible to try and force a situation where Val came looking for them just so she could have that mental image for the rest of her life. About the only thing good she could see was that she was taller than almost everyone else.

That included the two young men, smooth-cheeked and nearly child-like, approaching Ivy. One of them walked more confidently while his companion was clearly trying to dissuade him from a set course of action.

"Excuse me, miss?" said the first halfling. "Can you help us settle a bet?"

"I'd be happy to," Ivy said brightly, and then, after a brief pause, added, "do that," with a subtle nod of self-congratulation.

"Are you Human, or a Dire Halfling?"

"Human," Ivy said confidently, but immediately afterwards furrowed her brow. "Wait..." Somewhere deep inside her brain, a very old and very underpowered fuse blew in spectacular fashion.

"She's human," Mathilda interjected.

"Am I?"

"You can't just come out and ask her something like that," the second halfling argued. "Even if she is, how would she know?"

"Well her parents would have been short," replied the first one.

"My parents were short," Ivy gasped, pressing a palm over her expansive bosom.

"Shorter than me?" asked Mathilda.

"Well no-"

"She's human," the dwarf repeated.

"-but I am the tallest in my family!" She then screamed, only slightly muffled by the presence of her hands hovering over her mouth. "What if all Humans are just Dire Halflings?!"

Mathilda threw up her hands and walked deeper into the common room. Their contact, whom they were supposed to meet, should have been waiting for them. She rolled up on her toes to peek around, and was surprised when Ayen stepped up next to her a moment later. Mathilda frowned and looked back; Ivy and the first halfling were still arguing emphatically with the second one.

"Even I have my limits," he said, shaking his head. "I don't see him."

"T'is th' righ' place, innit?" Ayen nodded. "D'ye remember wha' 'is name is?"

"No."

They both turned back to look at Ivy, who had the name of their contact written in her notepad, and shook their heads. "Pint?"

"Aye, pint."

---

"Thank you, beautiful." The pretty halfling serving girl blushed fiercely as Ayen dragged his fingertips over her palm. The copper coins clinked as they fell, but before she could grasp them, Ayen had her hand in both of his. "Your hands," he said softly, leaning closer. "They're so small compared to mine." The girl stared wide eyed, taking in the relative size difference. "I bet that, if you tried to hold mine, it would feel huge."

The serving girl's eyes darted down to the floor, to the left and to the right, as Ayen massaged her open hand. Her cheeks were so red they radiated, and contrasted sharply against her jet black hair. When she finally looked up, though, her eyes were directed at the other side of the table. "Wh-what ab-bout your hands, Ma'am?"

Mathilda covered a broad smile in the action of raising her mug to her lips, and held up her open left hand. "They're juuus' righ'."

The serving girl shuddered visibly and staggered away from the table in a giddy haze.

"Round five t' me," the Dwarf crowed.

"Gosh!" Ivy huffed, as she flopped down at their table next to Ayen. "That was the most incredible conversation I've ever had."

"Where did you land on the subject?"

"Which one?" the buxom redhead cried, arms extended. "My god, we moved from topic to topic so many times! There were at least a dozen of us at the end, debating the finer points of tax credits and welfare for the lowest class through the lens of the dietary needs of some races versus others, and all of that wrapped up in a stirring discussion on traditional and non-traditional gender roles!" She sat back, huffing like she'd just completed a marathon.

Mathilda frowned, wiggling a finger back and forth in the air as she did some quick calculations.. "So they wan'ed you t' buy them drinks."

"Pretty much," Ivy said brightly. "Fortunately, I had my Treasurer Hat with me." She tapped the green feathered cap nestled in her curly, red tresses, and beamed proudly. "So I couldn't justify the expense."

"Crisis averted," Ayen said smoothly, sliding a little closer to the bard. Or at least, he started to. He grinned broadly when something caught his eye. "Well, you may have won the round, but the game is mine."

Mathilda looked back over her shoulder; across the common room, the serving girl darted down a hallway, giggling, followed moments later by Ayen.

"Well, Ah'm glad ye made some friends," the dwarf said, trying her best not to transfer her disappointment. The serving girl had been very pretty. Especially for a halfling.

"Hopefully more than just friends!" Ivy responded to Mathilda's quirked eyebrow by pointing back toward the bar. Dozens of halflings were staring at tiny slips of uniform-sized paper. "I handed out some business cards."

"...Bus'ness wha'now?"

"Business cards!" Ivy said brightly, producing one from her generous cleavage and handing it to the healer.

Mathilda stared down at the very warm 2 x 3.5 inch piece of paper. The first side was completely blank, and there, alone in the middle of the other side, were the words Terrible Company.

"Wha's this?"

"That's bone. The lettering is something called Silian Rail." After a moment, Ivy added, "It's not a real bone. That's just what that color of off-white is called."

"Ah migh' 'ave guessed," Mathilda said, turning the card over and over in her hand. "Bu' wha's th' point of i'?"

"Well, as I told them, it's for when they have a problem that only Terrible Company can solve." Ivy bounced in her seat.

Mathilda's jaw hung slack as she held the card up beside her face and rotated it so the name was visible to Ivy. "Terrible Company?"

"Yeah, remember? Val approved it when she was in charge."

The dwarf blinked, trying to drudge up the memory of it. Her train of thought barreled through I-Can't-Believe-This-Is-Our-Name station and collided head-on with another train leaving the platforms at I-Get-To-Blame-Val-For-This station. " 'ow does it work?"

"What do you mean, how-does-it-work?"

"Well, okay. S'pose one o' those 'alflings there 'as a problem, like ye said, an' we're th' only ones who can 'andle i'... 'ow do they get 'old f'us?"

"It's funny you ask that," Ivy said, smiling confoundingly. "Quite a few of the halflings asked the same thing!"

Mathilda turned around. One of the less-intelligent and/or completely-inebriated barflies was chewing on the end of a card in confusion, and the rest of the cards seemed to have found their way to the floor. A dozen little white cards everywhere. "An'?"

"And what?"

"Wha' did ye tell 'em?"

"I said Thank you! Come again!"

"Not-" Mathilda squeezed her eyes shut and laughed.

"Repeat business is the key to building a brand," Ivy quoted knowingly. "And we're off to a great start on that front too. Some of them got back in line four or five times!"

The healer wiped a tear from the corner of her eye and tried to catch her breath. "There was a line?"

"Well sure," Ivy reasoned. "I had to incentivize them to take one in the first place."

"Lass," Mathilda said, struggling not to burst into full on laughter, " 'ow did ye incentivize 'em to take a piece of paper?"

"If they took a card, I showed them my breasts."

The snickering gwarf held up her mug and saluted Ivy.

Ivy beamed proudly as she picked up Ayen's mug. "Oh! And I found our client!"

"May yer term as presiden' be long an' prosperous."

"Thank you," Ivy replied brightly, as they clinked mugs.

---

Ayen squatted down with the others in the low brush and smiled. "So what's the plan?"

"Oooh!" Katsa hissed quietly. "His highness graces us with his presence! Thank you for finally prying yourself free from your pressing business!"

Ayen gave a dismissive raspberry, but Katsa was sure she saw something else in his reaction too.

Val turned and fixed them both with hard stares.

"Soo... 'ow was she?"

It took Ayen a few seconds to realize Mathilda had been talking to him. "Oh, the serving girl? Um... she was great, for a bit, but then her mother stormed in and started yelling. Something about elves being a bunch of perverts."

"Ah don' know abou' tha'. Ah've always found yer kin t' be mild. That'd make ye half-mild a' b... Wait!" Mathilda clapped her hands over her mouth and laughed. " 'er mother?!"

"Yeah, why?"

"Did they 'ave a resemblance t' e'chother?"

"Yeah," Ayen said guardedly.

"Remember how ye said th' girl looked abit fermiliar?"

"Yea-oh. ... oh... Oh wow. Wow. Wow, yeah." Ayen stared down, his widened eyes casting about. "It's been... whoa. How many years? Whoa. Whoa! Where are we? Like, what country are we in right now?"

Val whirled, fixing them both with hard stares. "Troll," she whispered.

"Seriously though, I only followed your tracks. Where are we? What are we doing?"

"Troll," Val repeated tersely, as she continued to stare ahead.

"We're doing a Troll?"

"Yes," Val huffed.

"Please tell me that doesn't mean we-"

"I' doesn't," Mathilda grumbled.

"Why do you sound disappointed?" he snickered. "Did you have your heart set on some troll loving tonight?"

Mathilda was shaking her head long before he finished. "When Ah was a wee li'l lass, we 'ad a spo' of trouble with trolls. For years, th' clan sent ou' raiding parties an' scou's. My Da went ou' with 'em. They'd come back with incredible tales o' 'eroics and bra'vry. Ah always wanted ta go, but my Da..." She shook her head as she trailed off. "And then 'e passed, an' tha' miserable bastard started givin' me visions, an' now Ah'm 'ere."

"What are they like?" Val asked.

"Well, they us'ally come in mah dreams-"

"Not the visions," Val spat. "Trolls!"

"Oh. Well," the dwarf said, building up steam quickly, "they always come back pretty sloshed, so Ah had t' read between th' lines abit, bu'... seven t' ten fee' tall. Strong. Tough as nails."

"Sounds about right," Val said. "I only saw it for second, but it was big. Tracked it just up there."

The arcanist leaned in close, until their shoulders were touching. "What kind of wounds did they have? When they came back."

"Bruises, mos'ly, bu' they always went out pretty well armored." Her eyes glazed over for a minute, as she sank into her memories, and her brow furrowed. "They went out , like, ev'ry couple months."

"Is that a lot?" Ivy asked.

"Di'nt question i' a' th' time, bu' yeah. They were always so 'appy when they go' back, bu' then a week la'er, a bit'f ore would go missing an' they'd start chompin' a' th' bit to 'ead back out again."

"How come you never went?"

"Dunno," Mathilda said distantly.

"Was it... because you're a woman?" Katsa carefully asked, but Mathilda shook her head.

"S'not 'ow it's done wit' dwarves, lass. Lots'f women went. Almost as many as th' men."

"But not you?" Ivy chimed in, quizzically.

"Da always said no. Must've been a lo' o' trolls."

An awkward silence set in. For a few minutes, they all just stared forward into the forest. Each of them sensed that they were deep in a quagmire of memories for their healer, and individually resigned themselves to a bit of silence while it was digested.

Eventually, though, it was Ayen who broke the quiet when he asked, pointing down, "Whose net is that?"

---

One minute later.

"-leaves without their scout?! I mean, that's-"

"-too far! Can you lift your leg a-"

"-in yer pants fer a week! This is your fault, ye sonnuva-"

"-can barely move, and who is grabbing my-"

"-never been in a net before! This is gr-"

"-more! More! Damnit, move your-"

"-orget about the broadsword! Who is grabbing my ass!?"

"-having a really great time, just so everyone kn-"

"-got it. I got it! I got i-"

A minor flash at the very bottom of the net started a chain reaction. First one cord snapped and, as the group's weight shifted and dropped, more and more weak points in the many ropes, vines, and twine gave way. Terrible Company landed hard on top of one another, and before they had time to untangle themselves another net sprung up beneath them, dragging them right back up into the air screaming and hollering the whole way. The first time, they'd all been more or less upright in the net. Now, with the exception of Ivy in the very middle, they were upside down.

"Was that net there the whole time too?" Ivy asked excitedly.

"Yes," Val grumbled, "and someone is about to lose a hand if they don't cut that out!"

"It's not me this time," Ayen argued from the far side of the net.

A small voice whispered psssssst! from nearby, but it went entirely unnoticed.

"We are really adventuring right now!"

"Oh, write a song about it," Katsa snapped.

Ivy gasped. "That is a great idea!"

"Pssssst!"

"Quiet," Val growled. "Who is there?!"

"Have you seen it?" whispered a small voice from the bushes.

"The Troll?"

"Yes."

"Yeah," Val hissed back. "I caught a glimpse of it earlier, but I think it's gone now."

The brush parted, bending at the base of a nearby tree, and out stepped a small girl. Taller than a halfling, with a vaguely-human build, she had a wide face and wild, green hair. Dark green, like the surrounding foliage. "Pretty scary, right?" Her knee-length dress might have started out white, but time and the elements had faded it to something closer to yellow.

"I... guess?" Val did her best to maintain her unimpressed expression, but the blood flow to her head was making that increasingly difficult. "Maybe."

The girl walked smoothly toward them, looking almost ethereal, and stopped near the edge of the disturbed grass where the nets had been.

"Careful," Val warned.

"I always am. I live here, so I've gotten used to avoiding the obvious traps."

"It wasn't obvious!" Katsa screeched, while still making a half-hearted attempt to be quiet.

"It was pretty obvious," the girl repeated patiently.

"How is it you live within the hunting grounds of a troll?" Ivy asked, her head quirked slightly.

"It's not as hard as you might think."

"Oh," the bard said. Bard Rule Number 212 ("You never know as much as you think you do.") rang in her ears. Although Rule 212 was most often invoked with regards to the shape and contour of The Maestro's penis. The location of various sensitive veins. She made a mental note to revisit her understanding of the danger of trolls at a later date and time. She was also excited to have a chance to put corollary Bard Rule Number 212a ("No amount of book learning can replace hands-on experience.") to the test.

"Can you please get us down?" Katsa whined.

The little girl nodded with a quirky smile, and paused while she looked up into the tree. Her eyes traced the rope as it wound over a branch and ran to a nearby sapling, to which it was anchored near the top. She scurried out of sight, and nothing was heard from her for a few minutes except the scuffling and grunting of tree-climbing and knot-untying.

The net dropped precipitously, without warning, and deposited all five members on the ground in a heap replete with netting.

"This way," the girl said, as she dropped nimbly from the lowest branches.

Mathilda was the slowest to get up, having landed fairly hard on her head, and within a minute they were all shambling after their unexpected rescuer.

Continued in Chapter 8 - Part 3

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