Chapter 1 #2
I had never experienced a trolgar connection, not even with Bryndala, who had feared it the way many modern trolls did.
Our orderly, sensible way of life had no place for such passions.
I had respected her decision and never told her how much I wanted it, but experiencing it now made me fear I’d been writing it completely wrong.
Because it was wonderful.
The little human was infusing me with something that filled my heart and mind with a bright, chaotic warmth.
That could have only come from him. There was curiosity and fear, bravado layered over vulnerability, and a complexity of emotion that I understood existed in all people but had not interacted with in such an intimate way before.
And beneath all of it, I knew at once that he was good. That he must be protected.
“Stop. Grabbing. My. Horns,” I said, which was difficult because my body was doing things that were deeply inappropriate for a public road in the middle of the afternoon.
I staggered. He clung, still producing a steady stream of sounds that I was beginning to suspect were profanity.
“MOERRVEN!” Grunnhild yelled. The ox cart had reached the bridge. I could hear Berta lowing. I could hear the wheels creaking. I could hear my entire life collapsing into a single, catastrophic moment.
I turned around, the human on my shoulders, his fingers still wrapped around my horns in the most intimate grip known to troll culture, and faced my sisters. The human went quiet.
Grunnhild’s mouth was open, and her face held the slow, dawning recognition of a woman whose fondest hope had just manifested. Her eyes tracked from my face to the human’s hands to the precise location of his fingers, and her expression transformed into a delighted grin.
Dagmarra dropped her knitting.
“Oh,” she said. Then: “Oh.” Then, softer, her eyes filling: “Oh, Moerrven. A trolgar bond?”
“This isn’t—” I started, and stopped, because I had no way to finish the sentence.
A denial would require me to explain why I had permitted a half-naked human to hold the most guarded part of my body.
Why I was still permitting it. “Who is that?” I asked, pointing to the woman, trying to distract them.
“Oh! This is Blarinda, don’t mind her, definitely not here for matchmaking purposes,” Grunnhild said, earning a confused glance from Blarinda.
“Are you really the famous writer, Moerrven Mossren?” Blarinda asked, and I couldn’t help but wonder if she looked a little disappointed.
“I am.”
The human shifted on my shoulders and Grunnhild’s eyes lit up, and I realized they had already drawn the only conclusion our culture offered them.
“So romantic,” Blarinda said, fanning herself. “A soulmate after such a great loss. Just like one of your books!”
The plan formed in my mind before I could stop it.
“This is, well, I shouldn’t say it in front of him, but I suppose he probably knows in his heart, so I might as well let the cat out of the bag. He is my… soulmate. And I plan to ask for his hand in marriage.”
Dagmarra burst into tears of joy.
“Your soulmate?” Dagmarra whispered, clasping her hands beneath her chin. “What’s that language he was speaking?”
“Yes, and, you see, he is a traveler from a far-off land, and has lost his aetherwoven bracelet, though I can understand him perfectly without it, especially with the, er, trolgar bond and all that.”
“Ah, it is like one of your stories!” Dagmarra swayed where she sat, dangerously close to a swoon.
“I suppose. In a way. We’ve only just met, um, last week, when I rescued him from highwaymen.”
“But we saw you last week! Why didn’t you mention it?” Grunnhild asked.
I waved a hand. “Oh, you know. Don’t want to spoil it before I know it’s certain! Anyway, we were just out for a lovely afternoon walk—”
“To repair Bryndala’s bridge, so romantic!” Dagmarra sighed.
“Right, to repair the bridge and then head into town to Thessaly’s shop for a new bracelet.”
The human on my shoulders started to struggle to get free, and I put a hand on his waist, holding him still, hoping it looked like I was petting him.
“How did you rescue him?” Blarinda asked.
“Oh, it’s a long story, you don’t need the details.” I regretted my lies immediately.
“Why does he wear so few clothes?” Blarinda asked.
“Oh! Well, this is the cultural dress of his land! Very alluring, of course, but we were just talking about going into town to get him something more sensible.”
“Before you lost the bracelet,” Blarinda said, eyes a bit sharper than either of my sisters.
“Yes, well, bridge repairs, you know how that goes!”
“How romantic. Perhaps you should make it into a novel? A human from a distant land falls for a sad widower troll.” Dagmarra sighed, clutching her hands to her chest.
The human from the far-off land leaned down and bit my ear.
I covered my yelp with a laugh. “Just a love nip, such a cheeky boy.”
“Well!” Grunnhild turned to the young troll woman with the smooth efficiency of a general redirecting troops. “Blarinda, dear, it seems my brother has sorted himself out. I’m so sorry for wasting your afternoon. Shall we take you home? Dagmarra, stop crying.”
“I can’t stop crying,” Dagmarra said, crying. “He said soulmate, Grunn. He said it.”
“Well, we are off,” I said quickly. “Can’t have him half-naked and unable to communicate. Goodbye, dear sisters!”
“Oh yes, you’d better get him to Thessaly’s shop. I hope she has something aetherwoven in stock!” Grunnhild said.
The man on my shoulders pinched my neck. I took off at a sprint toward Cavernmouth, kicking myself internally for every single one of my ridiculous lies as the human riding me like a pony struggled to get free.
It’s amazing how fast a troll can run when he’s found a way to get his matchmaking sisters off his back.