-
UNSPOKEN
A Dreamworks Trolls Fanfic by C. Prince

Little Bug

"WHAT?!" The whole group of friends roared.

Suki closed her hair, tucking the egg back into protection and warmth. "Yeah, sorry I didn't say anything sooner. I was kinda nervous, y'know? I've been having such a great time with my niece it really made me want one of my own."

The flood of hugs, congratulations, offers to help, and questions began.

"Are you really going to be okay doing this on your own?" Guy asked.

"I totally got this. I have my sister, and I've been spending tons of time at Gia's nursery. I know it's gonna be a big time suck, but I'm cool with that. I just wanna apologize in advance for any mood swings or weird cravings. Or I guess, uh, lack of cravings. Not sure my usual ones can get any weirder."

"Suki, this is amazing. How long have you had it?" Poppy asked.

"Eh, only a few days. It'll be a while. If they're anything like me they'll take their sweet time."

Poppy felt Branch slip a hand over hers, which left her with only one to wildly gesticulate with. "We have to celebrate this! What kind of party do you want?"

"A loud one."

Judging from the volume of the cheers, that would be easy. Branch was silent. A rare display of not groaning aloud, for him.

"What about Ting?" He asked on the way home later, concerned a loud event might hurt the recovering troll.

"Don't worry, he'll be fine. The party's a personal one for Suki. It won't be the whole village kind of crazy."

The winged troll was still blowing her mind. It meant there were other trolls, and that brought up so many questions about where they were and what they were like, how amazing it would be to trade holidays, songs, and decorations.

Out of nowhere Branch thrust an arm in front of her, tense. "Did you hear that?"

She froze in sync with him. "What? No. I didn't hear anything." Poppy relaxed. Branch had been a little jumpy lately.

"Shhh. Listen."

Indistinct conversation from a group further down the tree sparkled with laughter. The sudden sizzle of roasted mushrooms added to a barbecue chased a savory scent. More talking. Hum of a passing flyer bug. Wind shuffled through leaves, carrying with it… something. Faded notes she didn't recognize split between all the other noises.

"What's that music?" she asked. Branch took a few cautious steps forward.

Certain that music couldn't hurt anybody, Poppy followed the sound down the tree, Branch tailing carefully behind. The notes became clear piano strokes. The closer they got, the more trolls had their heads turned to the source. Only two pianos existed, and this one came from the well-loved, carefully maintained grand behind the curtain on the village's performance stage.

Sadness and desperation dripped from the solitary instrument. Who in the world could be so sad it sank into their music? And why… why did it sound so familiar? She got the impression of a lonely thundercloud wandering lost with no other around. Poppy hurried to the forest floor. The song cut off abruptly but she knew where to go.

The curtain along the large circular stage remained closed. Poppy skirted to the side entrance. Behind the thick drapery Cooper stood alone on stage, upright with a keytar in his hands, the unoccupied piano in front of him. That couldn't have been his playing, couldn't have been.

"Cooper, what…" she cut off, rounding the piano.

Ting sat on the piano bench. Wings of pastel blue hair stretched to reach keys too large for a troll his stature. His eyes were closed, scrunched with another headache.

"He really wanted to see all my instruments," Cooper said in awe. "My keytar didn't have enough keys so we came here."

"Ting…?" Branch asked, coming to Poppy's side, attention flicking through the darker areas backstage.

Hearing their voices Ting turned to look and opened his eyes. His weary smile brightened with determination. Again, he focused on the piano and played. More complex chords than any troll would've been capable of came from the controlled hair strands. No matter the emotion, Ting still smiled and his colors held steady.

"He's like a teen prodigy," Branch whispered.

"Why is it so sad?" Poppy asked.

There was more to it than simple melancholy though. Wild, frantic notes called within the melody. Poppy's skin prickled. She felt like she was supposed to do something. But what? The song wanted her to act. Ting looked over his shoulder. She saw the smile but also beyond it to the concern within. He was trying to communicate. It was important.

She shook her head. "I don't understand. Oh, uh, how about paper! Writing, can you write?"

Ting stopped playing. He flitted over and took the paper and pencil she offered, scratched out five lines, and started writing. When he flipped the page back to her it contained barless music with no time signature. The gold troll made a sound like a sigh and dropped onto Cooper's back. His wings fell still. The concussion was getting to him again.

Poppy read the finely scribed sheet. It might've been a melody but there were artful shapes mixed in. Annotations of some kind? Accidentals she didn't know? Half tones?

"Poppy…" Branch said, peering over her shoulder. "What if Ting can't talk?"

"That's what Dr. Moonbloom said. He might have to learn again."

"No. I mean, what if he can't talk with words?"

"What if he talks with music?" Cooper finished.

x x x

Each day Ting explored Troll Village a little further. He was overwhelmed but also extremely curious in a focused, inquisitive kind of way. He always flew unless a headache or a bout of dullness struck, in which case he'd lounge on Cooper's back against his long neck as if it were a tree. The two were together almost all the time.

Poppy had known Cooper forever, so it didn't even register in her mind how different he was. Seeing her fluffy friend alongside a set of wings, though, made the difference apparent. The pair turned heads wherever they went.

It was quickly obvious Ting knew nothing about life here. At all.

Suki raised her palm in the air. She held it there, waiting. Nothing happened. Branch couldn't stop laughing.

"He doesn't know what a high five is," Branch snickered. "This is amazing."

Poppy rolled her eyes. "Branch, show a little common decency. Please."

He ignored her, very much enjoying the fact there was a troll society with no high fives. Eventually Suki slapped her own palm. "Dang. I feel so rejected. Harsh, man. Though I don't think you mean it."

Ting smiled apologetically. He didn't understand. In fact, he couldn't understand anything any troll said. Nor could he read. And his drawings were, well...

Harper looked at the paper, its series of squiggles and shapes, and rubbed her chin. "I've got nothing. It's abstract. The best I could do is guess its meaning."

None of this was because of the concussion. Ting could talk. He spoke with instruments and wrote in scores of music. Laughter for him involved rapid wing flicking. He understood the tone of a troll's voice, what type of mood they were in, and the trolls understood the feeling of his music. Apart from that all words were lost. Ting's stay in Troll Village could be a long one.

On occasion he flew above the treetops, but whatever he saw wasn't enough to tell him where he was. He didn't try to point out home.

x x x

Poppy brought the stack of scrapbooks to Cooper's mushroom house. Even after two weeks Ting's head still bothered him, and he'd spent a fair number of those days gray.

Pieces of felt and paper piled neatly in rows on the wildly colored mushroom table where Ting crafted. Several scrapbooks spread open around him. He flipped pages back and forth for reference on how to cut and layer things.

Cooper said, "Every day it's a different craft with him. He really wants to talk to us, but I can't understand his music. I mean, I know a few words, like "fun," and "water," but that's about it. Our conversations are not complicated, haha!"

Due to headaches Ting could only focus for short bursts, and he put all of them towards studying the village and trying to say… something.

He was trying to say something.

Poppy paced in front of the fun dungeon while scrapbooking the mystery. One of Branch's birds brought Ting here. They'd been attacked on the way? No. The crow wasn't from this forest. It must've chased them from Ting's home. Hm. But the bird was so black, and Ting was so bright and colorful...

Branch's excited breathlessness lifted her from the thought stream. "Poppy! Poppy!" He had her hand, too. Where were they going? "I think you'll like this," he said.

He was right.

"Aww! They're so cute!" She fawned over the adorable baby flyer bugs. The leaf-looking shell on their backs was too big for their little round bodies, giving the impression of leaves scurrying in the sweetgrass. Bright, beady eyes and fluffy antennae examined the world. One of the babies tested a real leaf with a foot a few times, leaping back in astonishment when it crinkled.

Poppy sat and the little ones gathered around. It was rare to see them so small! They didn't stay this way long. One of the braver bugs let her pick it up when she wiggled a finger to get its attention. It peeped in delight when she brushed its shell and she put it in her lap.

"Of course you'd let her pick them up," Branch told the father. The zigzag bug was settled by the babies while her royal flyer stood further away on guard duty.

Poppy noticed one leaf shell quiet and unmoving at the father's side. "What's wrong with that one?" she asked, concerned.

"Can you keep the others distracted?"

Poppy entertained the bugs with her hair. Branch got down on his stomach and extended an arm along the grass to hold out the biggest honeyflower blossom she'd ever seen. For a while nothing happened. Then, slowly, the lonely leaf rose from the ground. Shiny eyes peeped out from beneath the shell and poofy antennae unfurled.

One cautious step at a time the baby made its way over to Branch. It felt the petals with antennae, placed a foot on the flower, and then, realizing it was safe, started to fully explore the blossom. It bumbled in and out like a bee, flipped the flower over, pressed it down, picked it up and fluffed it out. The bug was so invested in its new toy it didn't pay any attention when Branch shifted to a sitting position.

"Thanks," he said. "I couldn't get him to come out on my own."

Branch sat peacefully in the sweetgrass and watched the bug play with the honeyflower at his feet. That's all Poppy's world was as the moment. The man she loved, his gentle expression, and the little bug.

He said, "I know we talked about it before, but do you still want kids?"

So he was thinking about that? Poppy grinned. "Do you still 'maybe' want them?"

Branch didn't respond to the jab. Oh. He was being serious about this. He'd turned away so she couldn't read his face, too.

She said, "I do, eventually. We have to fix my heart first."

Never mind nothing they'd tried worked.

Never mind that.

Branch still wouldn't look at her. His fingers curled up. "What if we can't fix it?"

"It'll work out. We're not in a rush. There must be lots of different ways to grow a heart flower we haven't thought of yet. I… there has to be a way... to…" she trailed off. She knew. She knew they might be short a rainbow and a cupcake here.

She asked quietly, "Do you think I should give up?" and dreaded the response. She didn't want to hear it, but this was one of those things only Branch would be willing to say aloud. If he said it maybe she could accept the reality.

"That's not what I mean," he said. "I'm trying to make a backup plan. I know you want to see the bright side here, but it's getting difficult for me. So please. What if the only heart we have to wish on is mine?"

That.

She hadn't thought about that, honestly.

Or any of this, because she wasn't ready. She figured it'd happen when it happened. But now it was happening. Branch was asking her to think about it now. And the longer she took the more he wilted.

She blurted her immediate thought. "Then I feel left out."

Branch's spirit died. His ears tilted down and the fluffy ends of his hair drooped.

She was on her feet, the sudden motion sending all the baby bugs skittering back to dad, who stood up abruptly at her unexpected movement. All the magic was gone.

"Nononono Branch," she said. "Urgh, just give me a second to think, okay? I didn't expect to discuss specifics so soon."

"It wasn't specific," he grumbled dejectedly. "I hoped… never mind."

He wanted her to say yes, unconditionally they'd have a family, but she'd always, ALWAYS pictured being a part of that equation. She did feel left out. No couple did this. Not being able to join your heart with your partner's and wish for a child together? That was so lonely. And they'd never see their family colors combine. And just, well, just, everything! Would the trolling even feel like hers? Wait.

Wait.

Facts. Facts were going to help her figure this out. The situation was very simple.

She loved Branch. They wanted a family together. That was it.

She loved all the kids in the village, loved the trolls, loved her people, so even if it was purely Branch's child, that feeling would be the same. Duh, Poppy.

And she pictured it.

She pictured her and Branch, collecting the egg from its blossom, keeping it warm, trading off who cared for it each day. Cuddling up at night with their hair intertwined. Feeling the first movements when the egg responded to music or song. Finding out whether the trolling was going to shatter the shell or carefully crack their way out. What color the tiny, strong hands were when they wrapped around her finger. The look on Branch's face when he held life itself. Her and Branch at home raising their little one, realizing they'd gotten themselves into another adventure.

How silly.

How silly of her to think it mattered at all whose egg it was.

They could ask any troll in the village to wish on their heart for a child she and Branch could raise. It would still be their trolling together, the one they put to bed every night and woke up to every morning. The one they taught everything they could. The memories they made would be no different. She was still going to bury her head under a pillow and laugh the first time their kid tried to play an instrument and it sounded like a strangled duck, and Branch would have this worried look as the "music" happened, thinking it might sound so bad forever, they were terrible parents, this was a terrible idea, etc.

She was sitting beside Branch in the sweetgrass, leaning against him. She wasn't going to deprive him of physical affection while she considered his tough but important question, especially when her initial reaction emotionally crushed him. He could be sensitive about the most surprising things. Who would've guessed he'd want kids? He'd been so solitary and temperamental before.

"Sorry, you surprised me," she said. "I honestly hadn't thought about it. I'm not ready yet and want to spend time with you, but if it comes down to it, we'll go with your backup plan. We can use your heart. It's okay if we don't have mine too."

A breeze ruffled the grass. The newborn flyer bugs were back out, everything having settled down while she thought. Her royal bug brought over a petal with a big drop of nectar on it. The babies gathered around to eat.

Branch hadn't moved.

He took a shaky breath.

"Branch, what's wrong? Oh… oh no…"

His eyes were squeezed shut, tears welling at the corners. One rolled down his cheek. Her heart wrenched at the dark trails of those already shed in silence. Deep creases and pinched eyebrows, a wobbly mouth struggling to hold it all in. She'd never seen Branch cry before, not like this.

His voice was weak, a strained whisper under shuddering breaths. "I didn't think you'd say yes."

Her heart throbbed. She wrapped her arms around him and then looped her hair over their bodies. She held him, feeling the unsteady hitch of his breathing. "I love you," she said. "All I want is for us to have a happy life together. I've wanted that from the beginning, even when we were friends; you know that. And it's also true for any kids."

Branch buried his face in her, and for a while, he just quietly cried. She held him and thought about how much she loved him.

After some time his breathing evened out. His voice was still strained with raw emotion. "I should've guessed you'd do that: not think about it. But really, with Legsly and Suki and Ting and you coming home one night talking about bergen babies, and Zigs and Lifesaver here, and it never even crossed your mind about us?"

She smiled. "Well excuse me if I've been a little distracted by what 'us' has been doing every night."

She waited for the snappy comeback.

"Glad to hear it's good for you too," he said dryly.

There it was.

She let go of him and rolled in the grass, looking up at the clouds. Branch lay down and rested his head on her stomach. She idly played with his hair.

"Alright," she said. "You asked your big question. Now I get one."

"Why not," he sighed.

"Thoughts on marriage?"

She heard him snort. "Do you really need to ask at this point?"

"You bet."

"One day of altogether too much glitter for a lifetime of happiness. Yeah, let me get back to you on that one."

She rolled her eyes. "Hey, I was serious for your question."

"I'd marry you."

Soft tresses of cerulean hair slid through her fingers while she daydreamed about how to propose. They watched white puffs swim through blue skies and listened to ruffles of critters tumbling in the grass. Poppy had a scrapbook club meeting and Branch was supposed to be helping Smidge clear some deadfall, yet here they were.

At length he said, "What do you want for dinner tonight?"

"Triple carbonara pasta with minced mushrooms and greens, toasted rosemary garlic bread, crushed redberry salad, and a selection of fine cheeses."

Branch froze solid. Poppy managed to hold her breath for two seconds before she started snickering and then couldn't control the outburst of laughter at his expense.

"I regret ever introducing you to sarcasm," he said.

"There's yesterday's leftovers. How about we eat those and relax?"

But Branch was getting up and he had that horrible salty spark in his eyes.

"Wait, you're not actually going to make that, are you? Branch, where are you going? Branch!"

x x x

He hadn't made a huge mistake.

He hadn't screwed up royally.

He was going to need this after all.

The deep green plant sprouted long leaves at the base like a tulip. Its thick stem curved under the weight of the red, heart-shaped bud on the end. When it bloomed the petals would split and curl upward, and the heart inside would be his.

Awesome. Fantastic. Wonderful. He went up the troll tree.

She'd scared the sprinkles off him with that first remark about feeling left out. Wow that was a sting he did not see coming. He'd planned for rejection of course, but the moment of vaulting insecurity had been unbearable anyway. All his hopes for the future killed in an instant.

"I don't know what you're cooking in there Branch, but it smells amazing!" Smidge's shout carried through the window.

Everything going on and she hadn't been thinking about what might happen if they only had one heart between them. Why? Because she was enjoying spending time with him that much. And then she'd said yes after, what, fifteen minutes? Yes to doing things the less fun, not normal troll way. She ripped his dream from the grave and shoved it back into his soul. Then she'd asked about getting married. The nerve of her, really. How infuriatingly Poppy.

Scaring him like that.

Branch dumped pasta into boiling water and raged at the bowl of eggs with a whisk. A chopped storm of vegetables heaped over a cutting board on the counter.

Did she have any idea how much he loved her?

He slapped butter over the bread and coated it in a mixture of fresh pressed garlic, cheese, and rosemary.

Seriously.

He crushed the redberries, squeezing their juices and skins into a thick, tangy salad dressing. Swirls of red spiraled over succulent mixed greens.

Leftovers. Please.

The cheeses were already sliced and plated in a neat arrangement. Candles. Flowers. Light music in the background. This was the most beautifully passive aggressive thing he'd ever done.

He relished every minute of it.

Branch put on the pinecone hair flair and the new occasion clothes he'd been saving: long navy pants, blue vest dipped in green. He slipped suede ties into the vest's openings and closed it up. Poppy could take it off for him later. He couldn't be expected to do everything around here.

He waited for the sound of the door. Yes, the door. One of his greatest accomplishments was the door the queen asked him to install on her pod. It even had a lock. All he had to do was lean here and wait for it to open.

"Welcome home," he said to the deliciously shocked freckled face.

"You didn't."

"I did," he said smoothly, crossing the room, "exactly what you asked for. Word. For. Word." His hands ran down her arms, a caress.

Poppy shifted. He heard the lock click.

Well, then.

x x x

Poppy was curled around him. Normally she didn't fall asleep like this, but last night had been. Ah. Enthusiastic.

He enjoyed the fact she hadn't rolled over to the other side of the bed after nighttime cuddles. She was warm, and her arm draped over his chest. Definitely going to fall asleep again. Mmm.

Somewhere in the indeterminate haze of dream and consciousness a knock sounded on the door. Branch ignored it.

Knock.

Seriously, who knocked like that? Only once? Too weak to be Smidge and too strong to be Milton. That left every other troll in the village.

Knock.

The annoying sound was interrupting snuggle time. Branch growled, untangling himself from Poppy. He blearily dug out a robe from the closet and went to take care of this so he could go back to bed. He rubbed his eyes, opened the door, and suddenly felt more awake.

"Creek?"

"Good morning Branch. Is Poppy up yet? We have a bit of a situation."

"And what might that be?"

"All of the money in Trollberg went missing. And, ah, a lot of the food too."