Expiring Covenant (Black Lake Book 1)

Chapter 15
Birs
~

A groan snuck out as I stood up straight and leaned on the handle of the sickle I was usin’ to cut my rye.

“Ogres aren’t built for this kind of work,” I mumbled.

I looked down at my thick, callused hand, wonderin’ what ogrekind is made for. The lesser races claimed we’re only good for raidin’ and pillagin’.

If that’s true, I couldn’t remember when an ogre last did such a thin’. Best I could figger, we embraced the farmin’ and critter raisin’ lifestyle we watched the humans thrive in, a long time ago. Our stature, namely piles of muscles, just haven’t adapted to the new livelihood. Go figger. How many centuries will it take?

“With yar shoulders, ya should try partnerin’ with a woodcuttin’ dwarf, or a granite cuttin’ troll,” I said, speakin’ only to myself. “An axe, or sledge and chisel, couldn’t be any harder on a back than a sickle. At least use the muscle the gods gave us.”

I pulled the whetstone from my pocket and spat on it, before drawin’ it across the blade of my sickle. Good way to take a break. Sweat poured down the side of my face. I wrinkled my snout as an odor other than a rich, earthen one, caught my attention. I lifted my face and tested the breeze. The smell wasn’t flowin’ with it, but came from behind me. I grimaced.

“Another curse of the ogre, havin’ such a talented snout.” Why’s that the ogre’s singular grand skill? I turned and watched the troll lumberin’ toward me.

“Good day, Master Birs,” the troll called out to me.

“Stop there! Let me hide my worldly possessions, ya thief.”

The troll laughed. It sounded like a child shakin’ a wooden box filled with stones. “I didn’t make ya wager on that last game,” Yoso said.

“Ya as much as twisted my arm behind my back, challengin’ me in front of those humans, and an elf. What ogre pride would I have shown if I didn’t accept?”

“Ogre pride?” Yoso said. “I’ve never heard of such a thin’. That emotion sounds as fanciful as orckin’ humor.”

“Take a step closer and I’ll show ya ogre pride,” I said, ballin’ my hand into a fist and shakin’ it at my neighbor.

“Do all ogres blather so? I’d hate to have to put ya in yar place,” the troll said. “I didn’t see any humans fearin’ yar darin’ feats last night. They might have edged away from yar aroma, but they didn’t seem too afraid of the skill ya showed with a checkerboard.”

“Now yar sayin’ I reek. Ya have some nerve walkin’ onto my property and insultin’ me, troll.” I hefted the sickle as though to suggest I could think of another use for it. “As I remember, ya did more watchin’ than playin’, yarself.”

“Threaten me with that—” Yoso chuckled, pointin’ at the sickle. “Only if ya can run fast enough to keep up with me.”

“Ya didn’t show such lightnin’-fast wit last evenin’,” I said.

“I had a run of bad luck.” The troll shook his head. His dreadlocks fell across his shoulders.

“More like ignernt strategy. Now ya makin’ excuses. Female folk and babes use excuses.”

“I see how ya have to question the strategy of a troll, when a troll whipped ya so soundly.”

“I let my guard down with that coot,” I said. “Who would’a guessed that ancient troll could be so sly.”

“I’d describe Jear as methodical.” Yoso smiled tightly, lips pullin’ against his tusks. “But even I was surprised he put away Master Braes as efficiently as he did.”

“Elves are a surprisin’ly impatient lot. He was too willin’ to sacrifice for too little.” I shook my head, maybe as though the memory sickened me.

“And yet ya were foolish enough to bet on Jear in the end,” Yoso said.

I growled, the sound echoin’ from deep in my chest. Yoso grinned. I know, I’m too easily gotten to. “And ya had so little faith for yar kind ya had to go and put yar wager on a human.”

“I didn’t wager against my kind,” Yoso said. “I wagered on the one with concentration in his eye.” Yoso dipped his chin and his head shook back and forth as he reveled in a deep-throated giggle, which sounded wrong for the long-limbed creature.

I jammed the end of the sickle into the soft loam in irritation. I’m not goin’ to win this battle. I lost the wager.

“Nothin’ more in yar defense, ogre?” Yoso asked.

“Come along,” Birs said. “Get the pain over with and select the kid that pleases ya.”

I waved my arm at the goats that wandered about in five or six different small tribes. The troll lumbered toward the nearest, rubbin’ his chin as though in deep thought. A billy came to stand between us and his harem, challengin’ us with a lowered head. The troll growled, and the field-tough feigned a charge.

We both shared a laugh.

“Ya should teach yar stock proper manners,” the troll teased.

“I have better thin’s to do,” I said.

“If they aren’t civil, I should get two for the one,” Yoso said.

“I’ll give ya two.” I shook my fist at him again. “Of these.”

“Again with the threats. Too bad ya ogres can’t rely on yar wit.”

“I’ve got plenty of wit. It’s patience for rude trolls I’m lackin’.”

“I’ll give ya a chance to prove that wit. The checkerboards are gettin’ set up on the east side of the inn’s veranda.”

“I suppose the human ladies will be on the opposite side doin’ their knittin’ and sippin’ their tea,” I quipped. Maybe that wasn’t my sharpest wit either.

Yoso smiled. “That’s exactly where they be, and what they do.”

“How quaint. Havin’ them humans about will steal the spine of all the other races,” I mumbled.

“I’ll be meetin’ Wilbur to have at a quick game after lunch. Join us and we can double or nothin’,” Yoso offered.

“Ya greedy troll. Ya wantin’ to take food from my younglin's’ mouths.”

“They got too much meat on their bones anyway,” Yoso said. The rocks rattled.

“Yar kind is an evil one,” I said, pointin’ a thick finger at him. Maybe I do that too much.

Our banter continued, even after I returned to cuttin’ my winter fodder. It sounded even meaner in spirit, but I enjoyed myself more than I’d admit. Not that I’m embracin’ conversation like a troll. That race can blather. Care to chat more than breathin’. We’ve been neighbors for decades, but had done nothin’ but look at each other suspiciously across our fields for most of that time. It took a knee-high elf and a set of checkerboards for us to manage a proper introduction.

I figgered before the sun slipped much further west, my mate Tiff would be a-visitin’ Yoso’s mate, sharin’ recipes and swappin’ stories too. Tiff had even befriended that human, Gladys, who acted the queen of the elf’s kitchen. So, I could escape my own responsibilities for a bit to play a game of checkers. Tiff might as well hide from the four younglin’s too. She deserves a little fellowship, other than what she gets durin’ council gatherin’s. But I wouldn’t let her believe I approved.

Yoso stamped away, feignin’ some insult or another. I watched the troll, amazed at what I always consider his ungainly gait, those limbs that look twice as long as they ought. A few moments later Yoso returned with his own sickle. Without a word, he bent into cuttin’ grass beside me.

Ogre and troll workin’ side by side.

Never would have believed it if I wasn’t experiencin’ it. Maybe I’m dreamin’. Wish I could dream about fishin’ instead.

Tiff brought us a pail of frigid well water and sandwiches as the sun passed its zenith. We loped off together to sit in the shade of the barn. Sat listenin’ to the younglin’s’ chatter comin’ from the cabin, takin’ a break from practicin’ their numbers and letters. Yoso tilted his head and smiled, as he overly chewed a bite. I imagined the troll thought of similar sounds from his past, when he had a brood at home.

“If ya have to live above ground,” Yoso mumbled, in a distracted sort of way, “ya should consider buildin’ livin’ quarters of stone, to better keep the breeze out in the winter.” He paused. “Might be a project I’d be willin’ to take on.”

I looked over at the mostly gray-haired troll, not sure if I heard his words right.

“With only the two of us, me and Eina,” Yoso continued, “doesn’t take as much of my time to keep food on the table. Most of my effort results in fine dinin’ in the Inn. Besides, my silly mate is bringin’ home silver Master Braes gives her for keepin’ his kitchen, with Miss Gladys. Which is funny, ’cause she’d do it for nothin’, to spend time with her. To be busy agin’.”

When we finished our simple meals, Yoso stood and took a long draw of water from the pail’s ladle, before headin’ for our cabin. I followed him quietly. The troll studied the slope of the ground. Asked what set on the western wall, inside the cabin. I invited him in to see for himself.

Tiff and the younglin’s sat in silence and stared. First time a troll stood in our home, maybe. Even after all these years. The baby let out a loud, excited, “Toy!”

The eldest hen younglin’, Ren, said, “No toy.”

Yoso turned from his study of the far wall and bowed to Tiff respectfully, before turnin’ and liftin’ the tyke from his highchair. Ike grabbed and pulled at one of the long braids of Yoso’s hair, but the old troll smiled and put his finger on the baby’s snout. Ike lunged to bite it, and Yoso barely managed to pull his finger away. Ike made a successful grab for his bulbous nose. The baby had to have squeezed tightly, because the white of Yoso’s eyes turned red, but he didn’t complain. He nuzzled into the tyke’s tummy. Ike lost interest with Yoso’s nose and he grabbed for more hair.

Tiff and Ren leapt up and wrenched at Ike’s fingers to get our guest free. As Yoso pulled away, Ike shrieked, “Toy!”

Ren said, “No toy.”

“I’ll have to be borrowin’ yar mate for a bit,” Yoso said to Tiff. “We have a chore over at the inn.”

“I’ll miss him proper,” Tiff said with the gentlest smile. As the two of us walked out, Tiff added, “Ya enjoy yar checker game.”

I gave her a smile back before I exited, followin’ the troll.

~

The veranda was full of humans, trolls, and ogres in serious competition as the early afternoon heat—a relative term for the Range—tapered. Over one checkerboard, Jear challenged Wilbur with Trollish expressions I assumed were rather crass if he had to shroud them in his own language. Yoso reached over and grasped the apple core I had set on the table and tossed it with a brisk snap of his wrist. It splattered against the side of the ancient troll’s head.

Jear shrieked—a cross between a wolf howl and an eagle’s screech, and flashed sharp canines at the younger troll. The humans along the veranda jerked and looked at the cranky troll, eyes wide.

“Speak Standish! We’re among polite company,” Yoso snapped at Jear.

The ancient-one gave Yoso another low growl, before he wiped the side of his face.

“King me,” Wilbur told the troll.

~