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abutterflyscribbles · 7 years

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Griselda and The Laughing King

A Changing of the Seasons Drabble

How Bog’s parents met

The party was in full swing. Drinks were circulating and no one had to send up a shouted demand for more, because there was always a fresh cup close to hand. The buffet table, groaning like a dying creature under the weight of the food, was being kept presentable no matter how many dishes were snatched off or how many dancers bumped into it, sending the centerpieces into disarray. Griselda and her troops of nieces and nephews pattered back and forth between the kitchen and the party, making sure the wedding feast ran smoothly.

Griselda had done some counting the night before and figured out that this was the twenty-third family wedding she had presided over as organizer. She had begun her career working under her uncle Horatio. He had been an old goblin with a cheery disposition and a love of seeing others happy. He had often said that he was so busy looking after all his relatives that he felt no need to find a wife and have children of his own.

“Everyone is kind enough to share their little ones.”

Griselda had been one such little one. She showed such a knack of minding other people's business for them that Horatio, his skin bleaching with age and hands growing too stiff to attend fine details, decided to make her a successor of sorts.

This was a decision that Griselda had been in perfect agreement with. The bustling life of organizing celebrations and bustling from one branch of the family to the other to help out when an extra set of claws was needed, it suited her right down to the ground. She was allowed to boss and mother anyone and everyone and enjoy the sight of blissful newly weds, whose big day had been made perfect thanks to Griselda's handiwork.

This wedding, the twenty-third, met a small hitch. Not that Griselda wasn't up to dealing with hitches, big or small. It was just an unusual sort of hitch. It was a pair of uninvited guests. Which was odd because these family weddings tended to extend invitations to the surrounding village. Or villages, if the hosts had deep enough purses and magnanimous temperaments.

The uninvited guests were not from anywhere nearby, that was certain. No one in the family had any connections to high goblins. And these were indeed high goblins, both in rank and stature. Both of them had to duck to enter the hall. Credit had to be given, they had entered dramatically, out of the darkness in a swirl of wings and cloaks, but they had not kicked up a fuss. Only those nearest the door had noticed them enter.

Griselda tossed her braid of wiry red hair back and marched forward to greet the guests. She had her head lowered to make her horns point at the intruders. There was food and cheer enough to share with a few strangers, but only so long as they weren't there to make trouble. She would let them know from the get go that disruption to the happy occasion would not be tolerated for a second.

“Now, what's this?”

She stood with her fists on her hips and head tilted back to get a good look at the faces far above her. She was well aware that her mouth was exceptionally wide for her face and she made good use of it, giving the strangers a pronounced and disapproving frown.

“Well . . .” the taller of the two, who had his arm around his friend as if keeping them up. Griselda wondered if they were already in their cups. The taller one rubbed the back of his neck and gave an embarrassed chuckle. “There's a bit of a story.”

“Isn't there always?”

The taller one laughed again.

He was one of those scaly, armored sort of high goblins. Wings, too, black curtains twitching nervously under Griselda's unwavering gaze. He had a pronounced burr rounding his words, an accent not heard anywhere nearby, so whoever he was he had come a long way. He didn't seem to be a young troublemaker. He looked to be more in his forties, face already creased with laugh-lines. But there was a sparkle of mischief in the goblin's eye that made her suspicious.

“Well, you see,” he laughed once more, “my friend and I sort of ran into a little trouble. There was a sort of snake and these were the first lights we saw.”

He paused to heft his friend back up, as they had been slowly sliding out of his grip while he talked to Griselda.

“Hey, hey,” he pulled his friend back up, “Hang on for another two minutes or I'll just nudge you under a table and grab a drink.”

“The tavern is closed,” Griselda said, folding her arms, “They've parked their kegs here for the night. How are you two already drunk? Have you been skimming off the barrels in the back?”

The taller, and at least less drunk of the two held up his hand when Griselda stabbed an accusatory finger at him, like he was trying to surrender before a battle even began. A genuine, cheerful grin was given as a peace offering.

“No, no! I would never be so rude! If I had known you lot were in the middle of a party I would never have . . . Ha! Actually, I would have anyway. But with possibly more discretion. I apologize . . . sorry, I didn't catch your name, miss . . .?”

Griselda rethought her previous opinion. It was likely that the laughing one was just as drunk as his unconscious friend, just better at holding his liquor. He was very steady, but the constant stream of giggling pointed to him being not quiet in a sound state of mind. He was beaming. The heavy ridge of his brow did nothing to hide his amber colored eyes and their good-natured shine. Nor did it hide that persistent twinkle of mischief.

Really, his grin was sort of catching. Griselda was finding it hard to keep her frown in its proper downward curve. She was finding herself very near to ending the interrogation and giving him an official invitation into the party. A slumming noble might add even more life to the party and Griselda would really like to find out what the secret joke was, that made him laugh so much.

“Dan,” the unconscious one roused long enough to be heard, “Dan, if you don't stop giggling at her I'm going to bleed out.”

“What?” Griselda dropped out the half a dozen threads of thought that she had been weaving around introducing these two—or at least the conscious one—into the party.

“Oh,” the tall one blinked, “Oh! Yes! Yes, I mentioned the snake? Anyway, there was a snake and it was rather quarrelsome. There was a bit of a dust up and she—my friend, not the snake—got roughed up. A bit. A large bit.”

“Dan,” the injured one hissed.

“Yes. The snake is dealt with but she got bounced off a tree or two.”

Griselda was hustling them away before Dan finished talking. She shoved them both down the hallway that led to the bedrooms, cast a quick glance back to make sure there was no blood on the floor or witnesses goggling after them. There were neither and Griselda continued to shove until she had the two of them contained in a guest room and the door shut behind them.

“Put her on the bed, Danny,” Griselda ordered, stripping the bedding away and tossing a clean leaf over it.

“This is all your fault,” the injured one complained while Danny set her on the bed. A ruff of fuzz circled her neck and it was flattened with sweat and dirt. She clawed at it, itching no doubt, and growled when it pulled at her injuries.

“I didn't ask you to get bashed about!”

“We wouldn't have been in a position to get bashed about if you hadn't insisted--!”

Griselda cut her off by pinching her nose. The high goblin had an impressive nose and it made an easy target. “Pick your bones later. Lay back and keep a lid on it.”

“It's for your own good,” Danny said in an poor attempt at a serious tone.

His friend tried to kick him.

“I will tie you both up if you don't knock it off!” Griselda smacked Danny's hand. He smiled and backed away to sit out of the way. The patient bared her teeth in a mixture of pain and annoyance.

“Now,” Griselda peeled the leaves that had been put on the armor just below the patient's armpit. The hasty bandages were soaked with blood but it was already drying, “I'll see if I can handle this. If not I'll pry the good doctor Bones away from the buffet and roll him in.”

The patient looked skeptical.

“What does some backwoods housewife know about medical care?”

Griselda removed the last of the bandages and refrained from ripping it right off the wound. “I'll admit, my great lady, that I wouldn't be much help with a fancy disease or something going wrong with your insides, but you'd be hard-pressed to find anyone around here who doesn't know how to look after a few cuts.”

“Dan, if I die here, under the care of some self-taught old--”

“I am also not a housewife,” Griselda interrupted, “I'm a spinster. Also Griselda.”

The patient was considerably battered. The fine layer of velvet that covered her armor had been scraped off in large patches and would need to be trimmed before anymore peeled off. A number of fresh cracks had been opened up in her carapace—which was more like bone than Danny's brittle-looking armor--but thankfully nothing that couldn't be patched together and left to heal. One of the two blunt horns on her head had been snapped off, but aside from a possible wound to her vanity it would cause no lasting harm.

“The wound under your arm is nasty, but not dangerous. A good cleaning, a couple of stitches, you'll be fine. And unless the fine lady has any objections I'll do just that. Is that alright with you, miss . . .?”

“Spruce.” the patient growled. “Fine, get it done. I just need to be able to get home.”

“Your gratitude is unmatched,” Danny said, grinning in his corner, “Don't mind her, Griselda, she gets cross when she loses blood. Be careful with her, she's fragile.”

“Dan!”

“No, but really. Be careful with her. She's my best friend and I kind of like her in one piece.”

Griselda wasn't sure why her heart suddenly warmed at the revelation that the two strangers were not a couple. It didn't matter to her. It never mattered to her whether a fellow with pretty eyes and a cheerful grin was married or single, except to help him find a nice match if he were the latter. And just because he wasn't attached to this particular person didn't mean he was without a wife. If he was married you couldn't expect him to have his wife on hand at any given moment to prove he was taken.

But it really didn't matter.

“Now that her ladyship finally condescended to take her medicine she should sleep through the night.” Griselda was scrubbing her hands. Danny was helpfully pouring water from a pitcher. “All that's left is to put your somewhere and get back to work. I've left things in the hands of my nieces and nephews, but you can't expect them to have all the details in hand.”

“It is a wedding then?” Danny tipped his head, listening to the sounds of music and dancing coming from the hall, “Sounds a great deal more cheerful than they let mine be.”

Now Griselda's heart dropped all the way down to the floor with a hard bump. Which was uncalled for. Maybe she had been overworking herself. The last three weddings had come one after the other . . .

Danny continued, “The experience never made me keen to have another, though everyone else seemed to think I ought to.”

Griselda's heart wobbled uncertainly on the floor. “Your wife is . . .?”

“Died a long time ago, bless her.”

Griselda's heart returned to its rightful place in her chest but insisted on jumping up and down in an uncomfortable way.

“I wonder . . . would anyone object if a lofty noble too full of his own dignity joined in the party?”

The idea that Danny was even on speaking terms with dignity made Griselda laugh. “They'd forgive you your rank, whatever it is, but possibly not your lofty height. What would your friend Spruce say at the idea of you joining in on backwood festivities?”

“She'd say 'Dan, no'.”

“You don't know that for sure. But you can't exactly ask her now, can you? Guess you'd better just do what you think is best.”

Danny laughed. So far he had restrained himself to quiet chuckles and giggles, which Griselda has mistaken as a result of him having had one too many. Now he laughed out loud and the strength of it threw back his head while the sound of it boomed off the walls and ceiling. Griselda had never thought a high goblin would be able to laugh like that.

“What I think is best?” Danny repeated, “oh, Spruce and I would disagree about the definition of that! But, as you said, I can't just assume. I'll have to follow my instincts and inquire if I can join the party, have a drink, and maybe dance with a charming lady?”

“Oh, I'm sure I can find you a charming lady or two.”

“Don't put yourself out. I've taken care of that already.”

“Oh!” Griselda smacked his arm and hurried out of the room. Danny followed, laughing.

The next day the troops of helping sprouts were surprised and scared of Aunt Griselda's sharp orders and peevish mood. The clean up was less festive than she usually made it.

She was mad.

And she had no reason to be mad.

Danny was some high goblin who had stumbled across a quaint little scene of the peasantry and decided to have fun pretending to be one of them. So what if he danced with Griselda and her heart had been floating weightlessly in her chest all night. It didn't matter that he had lovely eyes, a blinding smile, and a wonderful laugh.

It's not like he had done anything but flirt a little. Griselda had seen hundreds of flirts. She knew their words were empty, like little puffs of spun sugar. Sweet, but nothing to them. She had even been flirted with, when she was younger, and done a fine job of flirting back. And it never meant a blessed thing.

Yet when she found out Danny and Spruced had hopped it sometime in the middle of the night Griselda had found herself . . . not devastated, that was too strong. Let down. She had thought there was something to it all. At least a friendship. Or the courtesy to thank her for her hospitality and say goodbye.

Nothing. Not even a note.

Griselda snorted. Maybe he didn't think the simple peasantry could read.

By midday Griselda had burned out most of her anger and decided she was being an idiot. She was thirty-seven and somehow had made the mistake of a credulous girl who read too much into every smile cast her way. Nothing had changed, it had all been a little hitch in the usual flow of her world.

She baked up some potato for the children who had suffered through her moodiness and was lavish in portioning out spices, butter, and cheese. The happy couple were off to look at their new home, as if they hadn't inspected every inch of it already. Griselda had already packed up leftovers from the party to take to them. She knew from previous experience that they would be too busy rearranging furniture and being in love to remember things like cooking.

After that she had to check up on all the victims of hangovers, fill them up with remedies, and resist smacking them one between the eyes. It was hard work, rolling huge goblins to bed—or at least out of the way of cleaning—and make sure they were comfortable. Many parties ended up with a hall full of unconscious guests that Griselda and her sprouts would cover in a comfortable nest of leaves.

She managed to get so involved in her work that she wasn't even thinking of Danny when he flitted out of the forest and perched over the door to the kitchen.

“What are you doing up there, you loon?”

“I assumed you'd be angry with me for vanishing into the night and thought I should open the conversation at a safe distance.”

“Why should it matter to me what you do?”

For some reason Danny was carrying a staff. A very nice staff of metal, and a great chunk of amber at the head. Griselda wondered if it could possibly be real, but threw away the thought. Many lesser nobles adorned themselves with baubles of yellow glass to make themselves look more important than they were. There was no way that anyone would be carrying around a piece of amber that large.

“Oh.” Danny scratched the back of his neck. The plates of his shoulders flipped up and down in a nervous way. “I was hoping it might.”

“Even if it had mattered, why should it now? You sweet talk a girl all night and then run off without so much as a kiss. I know your type. Honey-coated nonsense.”

“Hey, now!”

“I was quite willing to be kissed, you know. But that was last night.”

“I was quite willing to do the kissing.”

“Yes, but that was last night.”

“I missed my chance?”

“As if you had one.”

“Look,” Danny dropped down off the roof and onto his knees, letting his staff drop so he could take Griselda's hands, “Kissing you was on my mind last night. Excessively so. It's just that it would have been under false pretenses.”

“If you think I haven't noticed that you're some sort of noble doing a bad job at going incognito--”

“Look, my full name is Aidan.”

“That supposed to mean something to me?”

“Give me a chance, love!”

Being called 'love' encouraged her to give him that chance. She raised her eyebrows, waiting for him to continue.

“I think you're adorable. I want to pick you up, carry you around, and show everyone how fantastic you are. I want to see you meet . . . um, the people I know and watch you boss them all around like they were children. Nothing phases you, not even an idiot and his half-dead friend. It's just that . . .”

“Go on!”

“I'm . . . I'm sort of . . .” Danny was turning very red in the face, “. . . called Aidan the Laughing King.”

He offered a nervous giggle to back up this declaration.

Griselda looked at the discarded staff. On closer inspection it was definitely decorated with amber and not with mere glass.

“That . . . that actually makes sense.”

Both of them giggled.

Griselda's head was in a whirl. A noble was one thing, a king was another. The Autumn King had just . . . fallen into her life. They'd both taken a shine to each other, but that would be the end of it. He was a king. She was a nobody.

“That makes it kind of complicated,” Aidan went on, “because I'm already absolutely head-over-heels for you and want to marry you this second, but a king is kind of a lot to take on when you weren't expecting it--”

“Say that again.”

“Which part? I've said a lot of stuff and I've lost track.”

“The marrying part. Were you serious?”

“Strangely enough, I was. And I've been told I'm not serious about anything. And I know that it's all or nothing with this. I can't ask you to put up with me and all of the court unless I were really serious, otherwise I wouldn't have brought it up so soon.”

She had meet him just last night. This was ridiculous. She couldn't be falling so easily for the last person she was suited for. The discussion should have been over. Danny—the Laughing King should have been the one to end it! A king was supposed to be responsible and there was no way that having anything to do with her was anything but irresponsible. This wasn't supposed to be her choice!

“I'm nobody, though.”

“You've got enough personality and lung power to be three somebodies. And I think your family would disagree with you. Hey, hey, kid!” Danny waved at a little sprout wandering by with an armload of plates. “Do you think this lady is amazing and wonderful and important?”

“Uh, yes?”

“Elaborate!”

“She helped my mom after we lost my sister and she made my mom smile again. And Aunt Griselda is really fun. I like her.”

“Thank you! See? All night long all I heard about was how glorious Aunt Griselda was. I know that the court would write you off as nobody, but you wouldn't let that stand. Not you. If you wanted to you could rule this whole kingdom better than I could.”

“No thanks! Idiot. Get up.”

“Nope. Gotta look you in the eye. And if I'm standing up I won't be able to help myself. I'll pick you up and make unwanted advances, like playing with your hair.”

Griselda was really afraid she was going to kiss him soon.

“I'll need a month.” she said.

“For what?”

“To make sure my niece Fang is ready to step into my place. I can't just get swept off my feet by some lunatic king and leave everyone here without--”

Aidan kissed her. Which wasn't fair. If he had let her finish talking she would have kissed him.

#strange magic #spread the lofe #changing of the seasons #griselda #aidan #the laughing king #spruce #my ocs #my fanfic #bog's dad #meet cute #drabble

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