Chapter 7 – Hearsay
For Marianne, the next morning started on a good, normal note, albeit under an aggressive rain a little bit later.
And then, the tomatoes happened. They caught her by surprise while she was dressing.
She stared at the mess, freezing over the fact that there were four watery tomatoes on the floor, and actively trying to remember whether they had been there the day before. The pink sprite, who most often wiped the floors, let out an outraged squeak.
Marianne put on the first pieces that she could find and went straight to the edge of the window. Immediately, another tomato graced her unit, though this time, it splattered on the wall next to her. The probable cause: the five elves standing under a hydrangea leaf, on a protrusion in the rock and surrounding a small basket.
"Good morning," she snarled. "May I ask what the honour is?"
"Oh, nothing, we just felt generous!"
She got ready to punch the next one back at them, but it hit the wall again. It looked like they had thrown them all because an elf lifted the basket and they all started to head down for the village.
"Seriously, though, what the fuck?" she pleaded, shocked.
"We thought you'd be hungry, what with the market closed and everything," a woman yelled lazily over her shoulder.
Then, it all clicked into place.
The army. Campfires, angry looks, silence. The market was closed—they were shutting the fairies away.
She changed her clothes as fast as she could while her sprites tried to work on her makeup. Sensing their mistress's agitation, they stayed in her room when she ran into the corridor.
Marianne opened her father's chamber doors in a bang. Not there. Unable to close them softly, she hurried to the family dining room.
Not there either.
She gave a few tentative flutters of her wings to make sure they had dried, then resumed her pace to his library. On her way, she crossed paths with one of the fairy cooks. The slender man froze when he saw her and shyly lifted a finger upward, hoping to get her attention but not daring to address her first. Recognizing the effort, Marianne stopped. "Yes?"
"Uh… Your Highness, are you, by any chance, looking for the king?"
"Yes. Is he there?" She pointed to the corner.
"You… may not be able to see him right away. He has locked himself up this morning."
"Oh, don't worry, he will see me."
"He said he didn't—"
"He will see me. Trust me." She smiled wickedly. "Thank you for your concern, though."
"There's also the possibility that he flew out the window and is not there anymore, because there was no answer when I knocked."
"We'll find out soon enough, then. Good day."
"Uh, yes. Good day, Princess."
Heading to the library, she couldn't help the crooked smile on her face. "Oh yes, the happy creator of this situation is going to talk." She slammed both hands on the horizontal knobs but they stayed in place.
Locked.
Instead, she knocked aggressively. "Dad! Are you in there? If you are, let me in right now."
There was no answer. She pressed her ear to the door. The shuffling of clothes. Silly man…
"I said now."
Still no answer. She waited for a long minute, then walked away, making as much noise as she could so it sounded like she was stomping away angrily. When she was far enough, she lifted herself in the air and glided back without a sound.
Sure enough, there was a click and one door opened slowly. Silly, silly man.
Her father's face peaked between them. She greeted it with crossed arms and an unimpressed frown.
"Good morning, Dad."
"Ah—G—Good morning, Marianne. It's—It's good to see you're doing well, but right now, I need some time, so… please, if you'll excuse me."
He closed the door before she could throw herself at them. He locked it immediately; she didn't believe his audacity.
"Dad, no! What are you doing? Open up!" She knocked again. "We need to talk now! We don't have time to… to… lock ourselves from the world and drown in misery, we need to think and act!" When he ignored her, she took a deep breath and added: "I'm here to help, not to make you feel guilty, I promise. We're in this together. Let me in."
There was only silence at first, but eventually, the door clicked open and the king let her in, avoiding her gaze. "I'm not drowning in misery. I'm just… perturbed."
She waited until he had closed them again behind her to speak. "At least you're aware how serious this has become."
He went to sit behind his office, four opened books lying on the table. He was holding his head with his hand over them. "I'm trying to find food, but there's no data about the land and I don't understand how we've never drawn a detailed, precise map of the kingdom before."
"Yeah, that's probably something we should do. For now, if you want food, I had some tomatoes thrown inside my room earlier."
He chuckled lightly. "The elves, I assume?"
"Yep. They said they were feeling generous. So, the market is closed? Fairies can't access elven food anymore?"
The man grinded his teeth. "The nerve of them, I swear… Don't worry, my dear, we'll get them later, for the tomatoes."
"Nah, best to forget about it. I don't think antagonizing them would help anything." She stood by the window, looking down on the village. There seemed to be more activity than usual in the small streets. "So? They closed us off, eh?"
"Yes. The cooks were met with scorn and mockery when they went to get fruits this morning. Of course, they came back empty-handed."
"Probably a little bit traumatized, too. Hehe. Those elves, uncensored…"
"Yeah. Anyway, we're on our own, now. If only I knew where the crops are…"
She turned to him. "No, no, we can't venture on their crops. That'll make everything worse."
"Who cares? This is all our territory, and we let them stay here and we protect them at a price. We can still go anywhere we want."
"Oh, really? And we can push them away from our land if they stop paying rent, or if they decide they want a rebellion?"
"Yes, we can."
"You, me… and what army?"
Defeated, he sighed. "Right. There is only a third of the army standing right now…"
She returned to staring down at the village. "You can't blame them for being angry, Dad. They trusted us and we failed them."
He suddenly lifted his head at her, like something had slapped him. "By the way, what happened, yesterday? Into the Dark Forest? How were you able to bring those two soldiers home? They were in a horrible state. We don't know if they'll fly again."
"Yeah, I did my best to protect their wings, but they had to cross the border somehow, before someone saw them. And it's difficult to carry a leaf when you're riding a wild dragonfly…"
He didn't seem to understand what she was saying. "Oh well, it was a small sacrifice to make."
She met his gaze, feeling indignant. "What do you mean, a small sacrifice? We don't even know if they'll ever fly again, isn't that what you said. How is that small? I wasn't able to fly for a few hours because I was wet, and I hated every minute of it."
"If someone knew of our condition, it'd be disastrous. We have never been so vulnerable. It's a matter of protecting the rest of the fairies."
"Well, I don't think anyone knows. Don't worry, Dad, nobody saw us." She turned back to the window. She never lied to her father (not since becoming a responsible adult, that is), but this time only, she decided to forgive herself. He didn't need to be anymore stressed than he already was… and she had the situation under control.
"That's good. That's… really good. It'd be so bad, so bad…"
"It's okay, we're safe. Really, as far as I know, and as far as they know, nobody saw them."
Unless there was someone who spotted them while they were flying a wide circle, she thought. But no, even then, it didn't matter; the dragonfly was so fast they wouldn't have time to notice something was aloof with their wings. And the King of the Dark Forest had believed her when she'd said her "companion" had left… which was odd, now that she thought about it. Also, what was his name again?
"What do we do now?" Her father asked before she could.
Marianne took a deep breath to energize herself. "First of all, I think we have to talk to the elves. We have to convince them, somehow, that we can still protect them, regardless of whether we can or not in reality, because we need them on our side. Remember: until now, they've depended on us for their protection, so they have no weapons and they can't fight. As long as they provide us with food, we'll have more time to spend nursing the sick back to health, and they need to understand that it's in their advantage that we do."
A loud knock both made them jump. The king tiptoed to the door uncertainly. As soon as he peeked outside, he opened them wide and greeted the person with spread arms. "Roland! What excellent timing!"
Marianne gasped.
"Your Majesty," he bowed dramatically, "you know what they say: great minds think alike. I heard your call, now here I am, at your service."
"We don't need you, or your help, Roland. Go aw—"
"You should let me talk to the elves, your Majesty," he continued, entering the room and ignoring her. "They respect both you and me as authority figures."
The king closed the door behind him. "Yes. They do."
"Well, they respect you especially, of course," he added with a chuckle, "but right now, they don't know who to turn to. And since I'm a… neutral giver of commands, they'll probably listen to me more—once again, Sir, no offence. How about it?"
"Wait a minute," Marianne protested. "Were you eavesdropping—"
"Excellent idea, Roland," her father interrupted. "I'm counting on you. Let me know how it goes."
"What?! Dad, you're not going to let him sort through this mess in our name, are you?" she pleaded. "He's only going to cause us more trouble, we can't—"
"Yes, my dear, he is going to help us, and I don't want to hear a single word about it." She wanted to object but he didn't let her speak. "You are my daughter; you are associated with me. They won't listen to you anymore than they'll listen to me, and anything you'll do will turn against you, no matter how hard you try. Roland is the only one they truly look up to besides us. Let us trust this matter into his hands. If, like you say, nobody in the Dark Forest knows about our soldiers, then, like you say, we have nothing else to worry about."
Marianne felt herself reach the point of no return. "Seriously, manterrupting and bropropriating?" They both stared at her like she had spoken a different language. She threw her arms in the air. "Fine! Listen to him over listening to me. Suit yourself!" She headed for the doors.
"Wait, Marianne," her father said. "You know this isn't anything personal. I'm just trying to be strategic."
"None of his strategies have led us very far until now, or am I mistaken?" She turned around, her face hot. "Well, Roland, what's your plan?"
"I'm going to convince them that we can still protect them. That giving us food is an investment for their safety."
She felt ready to physically grab his collar and toss him out the window, but the king cut the idea short. "See, Marianne? He's already thought this through. He'll do just fine."
"Pfff, that's nonsense. We need someone reliable. The choice he made on my wedding day is proof enough that he isn't."
Roland winced. "Oh, sweet plum, we both know that was just a misunderstanding. Don't make a big deal out of it."
"Not make a big deal?!" She pointed her finger menacingly at his chest. "You have a lot of nerves—"
"Now, Marianne," the king said on a scolding tone, "this is why Roland has to be the one to take care of this. He's neutral; he has nothing to lose and, therefore, has a clearer mind. Listen to yourself; you're saying that because you have a grudge. You're not being objective."
She turned to him, feeling betrayed. "Excuse me? What does that have to do with the elves? Are you saying I'm unable to keep my calm when I need to?" She held his gaze, defiant. "Are you saying I let my emotions guide my every decision?"
"No, I'm saying your emotionscould influence your ideas in a way that we will regret later... like what we saw at the wedding."
She was astounded, speechless. Once again, she raised both her hands in defeat and went back to the exit. "Fine. Well, what can I do about it? Go ahead, listen to him. Good luck, Dad."
On the other side, a hand on the handle, she stopped. "Also, I'd like you to ask yourself a question tonight, in your head. Ask yourself: if I had been a man, would you have talked over me so much, and would you have doubted me so? I don't want to know the answer, but I want you to be very honest with yourself. And if the answer is 'yes' to one or both these questions, then you know what aspect of yourself you have to work on next."
She closed the door softly and left, rage boiling but successfully contained, as if making a point.
So, the fairy army had been targeted by someone, and now they were sick and defenseless.
That was a good explanation for her friendliness. Not wanting him to look for her companions, which had probably been affected soldiers, she had occupied his time with pleasantries. Clever girl.
And… after careful consideration, he found that he absolutely understood. She had been in a position of extreme weakness, both for herself (wings wet, unable to fly) and for the security of her kingdom. She had played him, and it was all in good game. (Her offer to see him again had most likely been part of the act, then.) In fact, it made him respect her even more. She had found the way to be polite and almost flirtatious with the monster he knew he looked like. She had summoned that kind of courage for her kingdom. That meant she was probably a soldier herself, or at least a warrior–her armour suggested so.
At the same time, his very slim hope for a refreshing new relationship was out the window. And that was a bit more difficult to accept.
Bog stopped removing the dirt out of his staff. There were voices coming from beyond the bridge. More than usual; and louder. He rubbed his hands in a quick motion and flew ahead, weapon in front of himself.
Indeed, there were about two dozen goblins of all races, walking in a crowd from the heart of the forest toward the castle. He landed in front of them, past the badger's jaw, and waited for them to speak. Stuff and Thang hurried to his side–they had heard as well.
He stood there, and the goblins stood in front of him, but their loud voices and laughs were impervious to their monarch's threatening stare. It was as if they hadn't noticed him yet.
"Excuse me," Bog thundered, "do you know where you are?" Silence fell on the crowd at once.
"Your Majesty," an elf-bird started, distancing himself from the others, "it's that time of the year again. The western Squash plant has given a fruit. We require your authorization to collect a part of it."
"Squash? Since when do any of you like squash?"
"Oh, we like them, your Majesty. We just never had a seed. Don't worry, we'll offer something else to the fairies in exchange!"
Bog paused, then rubbed his eyes to fake tiredness. If a single goblin knew of the fairy army and ventured into their territory, they'd probably abuse the situation to bring home more food. It was entirely too likely and he couldn't let that happen.
"So you want to know if I can call on more goblins to bring squash chunks from the Fairy Kingdom," he concluded.
Thinking that their king understood their wish, the goblins whispered excitedly to each other, feet shuffling.
"Well, you are all a bunch of idiots for asking," Bog replied in a powerful snarl that brought them all back to a stunned silence.
He planted his staff next to him and deployed his wings sharply. They followed his movements with wide eyes. "The fairies aren't going to share anything with us. In fact, they're going to be cruel to you. Do you remember what happened to the squirrel?"
They exchanged confused stares. He thought they would change their mind, but a few voices rose above just audibly. "Why is he lying?" "Doesn't he know?" "What kind of king says no to free food?" They grew restless and whispered together more and more.
A dragon-toad was daring enough to step forward, their round throat bobbing nervously. "Sir… The fairies can't do anything right now." Bog froze. "And we haven't had new flavours in forever. It's now or never. Don't you know?"
He pivoted his head to that goblin and slowly approached him. "Are you accusing me of something?"
The dragon-toad quivered. The voice of a troll rose: "It's because he's in love with one."
Most of the crowd turned toward the guilty creature, in the far back, who visibly tried to make himself smaller.
Bog couldn't believe it. Not only were they aware of the situation, the gossip about him and the woman had also travelled to the centre of the forest.
"What you have heard are false rumours," he stated between his teeth, and they turned back to him with a terrorized look on their faces. "All of them. By crossing the border, you're putting the other goblins and trolls in danger of retaliation. Do I have to remind you what happened to the poor squirrel and her baby that lived in the Old Maple tree? If I hear a single one of you has entered the Fairy Kingdom, I will fetch them myself. Am I being clear?" He stepped closer to them, so they backed away slightly. "And that person will not be going home to their family—rather, they'll be going straight to the dungeon." They didn't react. "Understood?"
They exchanged confused stares.
"And if someone doesn't agree with me," he roared, "I can give them a private tour of their future chambers right away!"
They ran around in a chaotic mass of bodies. Most went back to the centre of the forest, shooting an eye at him over their shoulders.
He waited until they had all disappeared before he stared down at Thang. "So? Feeling talkative, are we?" Thang jumped and met his eyes, quivering as well.
The monarch turned to Stuff, who firmly stood their position. "Unless it was you?"
"Err… Some of them must have heard the mushrooms, Sire," they responded, almost stuttering but not quite.
It was just past sunrise; the light over him was turning a light grey and it reminded him of how sleepy he was. He pinched the space between his eyes.
"I swear: if anything complicated happens, I'm holding you two responsible for all of it, and I will not be happy."
~The phrase "Excuse me, do you know where you are?" is a reference to the 1976 French movie "The Twelve Tasks of Asterix" (Les 12 travaux d'Astérix), when Cesar asks the overly enthusiastic Gauls to be quiet so he can make his self-important speech («Dites, vous savez où vous êtes?»). The movie – and the comic book series – is a classic in French Canadian culture, but I have no idea how well-known it is outside of France, Canada and Belgium. If you haven't heard of it, I suggest you take a look: it's really entertaining!
