Shadgirl2: Okay, things should get more exciting after this chapter.
Midna: Yeah, this has been an awkward attempt at character development.
Shadgirl2: Hopefully it helped you gain a better understanding of Creek's situation, though. He does care, but he's a craven coward.
Disclaimer: We don't own Trolls. Simon belongs to Shadgirl2.
Creek spent the next several months trying to master the other tasks he would need for Branch to have indoor plumbing while also installing pipes in the tower. He dug down to the groundwater he'd found and built a well to draw the water, then he had to build his own pump, given that the size he'd need would raise some eyebrows if the villagers knew of it. He wanted it to be able to last a few weeks without needing to be refilled.
Installing pipes going up through the tower proved to be a difficult venture—the majority of the tower was solid brick, save the opening at the top. Creek had to dig through the walls, removing bricks and repairing the walls as he installed the pipes so he'd be able to get the water up to the top of the tower. He dug out a small room at the base of the tunnel, where he put a water heater (powered by a gas generator that he also had to custom build). Then, with the pipes installed in the walls, he built a shower, a sink, and a toilet. He cut a small alcove into the exterior wall to give the shower a bit more space. Once everything was installed and hooked up, the tower was looking a little crowded.
The entire back wall now had the bathroom Creek had built—a shower, a small sink and toilet both to the right of it, and a medicine cabinet over the sink. Creek had put these three things as close together as he could and still have them be accessible. He'd also installed a curtain since there was no way he could put up walls and build doors in this enclosed space. The rod hung from the ceiling, and the curtain could be pulled around the entire small bathroom for privacy.
Around the right side of the tower, Branch's desk now had the washbasin tucked under it, sticking out slightly. He'd be keeping that, shower or no shower, since it was how he did his laundry and dishes. The drawers contained notebooks Branch had been using for journals over the years, pencils (which Creek frequently had to replace), a pencil sharpener (also replaced from time to time), and the scissors Branch used to cut his hair. His family photo sat on the corner of the desk, and the hairbrush was also generally lying there. Next to the desk was the bookshelf. Above the desk, Branch had built a few shelves that lined the wall from the edge of the bookshelf all the way to the medicine cabinet. The dishware was staked on the bottom of the three shelves, pots, pans, and cups hanging from hooks attached to the top shelf. The second shelf contained two first aid kits so Creek didn't need to bring more supplies too often and the jars Branch had previously had filled with food, which now contained medicine and salves. One of these jars had a multi-purpose cleaning solution, so it also had a sponge and scrub brush beside it. On the third shelf, the lighter, a deck of cards, and the CD player and CDs sat. Everything in this tower, regardless of where it was, was neatly organized—Branch was still more of a neat freak than some trolls.
The bookshelf had books on two shelves, all the board games Creek had brought on another, and puzzles on the last. Some of the games and puzzles were also on top of the bookshelf. Everything was alphabetized. Next to the bookshelf was the wood for the fire, along with a couple of boxes stacked on top of each other that contained the kindling and timber. Then, of course, came the fireplace near the window.
The fireplace was safer these days—Branch had figured out how to make a spark guard and installed it in there. There was almost always a cooking pot hanging inside of the fireplace. Each of the items he used for cooking had its own modifications to make sure he could use them safely—some could be hung from the hook, but they'd put a longer handle on a skillet so he could safely put one of those in the fire and use it to cook, too.
To the left of the new bathroom were Branch's bed and closet, exactly where they had been before. The bucket meant for cleaning sat against that wall with the mop in it, along with the broom, and a dustpan was under the bed. On the bed, Croco sat in the corner next to Branch's pillow, and a thick comforter Creek had recently brought in covered the bed. Two other blankets, meant for the colder winter months, lay on top of that, and the orange blanket Branch treasured so much lay folded at the foot of the bed. For reasons neither of the two boys knew, Branch had chosen to hang that painting of Poppy over his bed—Creek left it here for decoration, but he hadn't really expected Branch to hang it right over his bed. Inside of the closet, Branch had a few days' worth of clothes he'd made for himself, his backpack full of weapons, and the toolkit. The sewing box and pincushion sat on the top of the closet, and some dishrags lay on top of the toolkit.
Really, the space around the window was about the only wall space that was virtually empty at this point. There was a torch hanging from its bracket off to the left of the window, but that was about it. Another torch hung from the wall next to the shower, just out of range of anything flammable. The heavy tarp Creek had brought to cover the window in winter lay folded up near the window, with some supplies to keep the torches burning.
In the center of the room, Branch had built a small round table just big enough for the two of them—it made playing games easier since they didn't have to sit on the cold floor—and the two chairs sat there now. Given the small size of the table, there was still enough space on the floor that they could walk, play, and dance—not that Branch ever did, but the room was there if he ever felt the urge.
All of this furniture and these other items made the tower feel a bit more homey, even if the main goal of bringing them had been to make Branch happy and help him escape. Ever since they had given up on that idea, though, Creek had felt terrible enough that he'd started bringing things to decorate the room to make it even more comfortable. He figured it was the least he could do since this was his fault.
So, as difficult as it might have been, Creek had started with something he knew Branch would want back—that bullseye his dad had given him. He'd had to sneak into the royal pod, where he'd been stunned to see that Peppy had preserved the room exactly as Branch had left it all these years later, then bring the large item with him and squeeze it through the window, but it had been worth it. Branch's face had lit up in much the same way it did when Creek brought fluffleberry cake. That now hung on the wall, along with some paintings of abstract art and natural scenery, which Creek knew were Branch's preferred pieces of art.
Above the bookshelf hung a mountain painting with a meadow filled with colorful blue, lavender, and teal flowers. Next to the closet was a geometric piece with red, yellow, and green shapes. A rippling creek with lush trees and bushes with yellow and pink flowers hung by the torch closest to the window, and the bullseye hung nearer to Branch's bed.
While he knew none of this would really make up for the mess Branch was in, Creek still hoped that he could at least alleviate some of his friend's misery. In fact, if anything, hearing Branch say he didn't think he'd ever be happy had increased Creek's resolve to make this tower feel more like a home than a prison—Branch would never be able to leave here, after all. This was his new home.
So, now that the bathroom was finished, Creek checked the water to make sure Branch really did have running water now. He turned on the sink, which worked, then tried the shower. Feeling warm water stream out of the showerhead, Creek turned it and the sink off and wiped sweat from his brow, glad that was over with. "Whew! That should do it. Congratulations. You're now the proud owner of a brand new bathroom. Hope you enjoy it. Ugh." He flopped down on his back on the floor, tired from the difficult work.
Branch walked over and leaned over him, smirking. "What? Tired? Come on, it's not that hard single-handedly installing plumbing for a tower prison."
Creek lifted an arm to point at Branch, who he ended up poking in the nose because of how close they were to each other. "Oh, stuff it. You're not the one who's been up nearly nonstop as of late!"
"Eh, I guess that's fair," Branch said, sitting down beside Creek.
A moment of silence passed between the two before Creek said, "So, what kinds of combat skills did you pick up on? And are you sure you know what you're doing?" Silently, he added, Still not quite sure what good they did you, but...
"Yeah, Creek, I know what I'm doing," Branch answered. "There're all kinds of things in those books...things I wish I'd known 6 years ago."
"And what, exactly, do you even need them for? You said it yourself, you don't see yourself ever becoming happy. So what's the point in such a useless skill such as that? I mean, you clearly never felt that our plan was going to work, so what was the point in learning something you'd never need to begin with? I don't get it at all."
"Because, Creek, that window doesn't keep anything but me in, and it doesn't keep anything else out! With a trapped, easy meal readily available, plenty of things out there have tried to take advantage of it. If I didn't know how to defend myself, I'd have been dead years ago," Branch admitted.
Creek's eyes widened—that was a much more grim reason than he'd ever suspected. He sat up, now feeling like an idiot for not suspecting that. "Oh. Uh, well, would you like me to bring you some materials to build a door with so you can close and lock it whenever I'm not around?" he asked, looking rather awkward.
Of all the things for Branch not to tell him he needed, why that? Creek wondered if, had he been braver, Branch might have come clean about that one earlier.
"That'd help, yeah. But that's how I know these things work, Creek. It's not just book knowledge—I've had to use it."
He thought about the several birds that had tried to move in and the multiple tarantapuffs he'd seen over the years, and he couldn't help but be relieved that trying to teach himself how to fight had gone as well as it had.
"Oh. R-right. Silly me, huh?" Creek laughed awkwardly, playing with his fingers.
"Don't worry about it, Creek," Branch said with a slight smile. "At least I've been getting some exercise, right?"
"...Right..." Really, though, he should have thought about that earlier. A door would also have made it easy to keep the cold out in winter. Creek got up and headed toward the window, taking the now-unnecessary chamber pot with him. He planned on burning that wooden item before anyone saw it. That way, there was no risk that anyone would find it and grow suspicious. "I should—probably head back and see about rounding that stuff up for tomorrow, shouldn't I?"
"Probably. But you should also see about getting some sleep already. How long have you been up, anyway?"
"Oh, not too long. Just 20 hours." Creek said as he hopped onto his flyer bug, who had flown up to get him. "Poppy threw a real big one with her friends yesterday, and—"
Branch got up and walked over to the window, crossing his arms, and cut in, "Then, yeah, get some sleep. You know how Poppy can be, after all. If you don't sleep now, you might not get another chance until tomorrow night."
Creek's eyes widened in shock as he realized that Branch was right, especially since everyone viewed Creek as the most helpful troll in the village. Poppy sought him out for help with just about everything these days, so he barely had time for himself. Of course, that wasn't necessarily a bad thing—he loved spending hours with her, but spending 37 hours awake and running on only 5 hours of sleep? No matter how much he liked Poppy, he didn't want that. "Yes. Yes, that's true. See you tomorrow, my friend! Good night!" He flew off, fully in agreement that he needed to get some rest before Poppy woke up.
Now alone, Branch sighed and turned away from the window. As usual, after Creek left, his mood fell slightly. Ever since they'd given up on making him happy, Branch had expected Creek to worry less about making this place pleasant to live in. He'd actually been surprised when Creek started bringing decorations in, especially since the first one he'd brought had been the bullseye that Branch had gotten from his father. That was about the time Branch decided that, coward or not, Creek did actually care about him in his own way. This realization had changed his view of Creek some.
For six years, he'd thought of Creek as nothing but a cowardly traitor desperate to save his own skin. The plan to make Branch happy was Creek's cop-out to keep him from having to directly betray Chef while still giving him the chance to be liberated from her. Branch had been dependent on Creek for survival and for some kind of company, but he'd never really felt better having Creek around. Now, however, they'd given up on that idea, and Branch didn't need to be comfortable here to teach Creek how to fight.
The simple act of bringing things after giving up on having Branch become happy and spill Chef's plans had made Branch think that Creek might actually still be his friend. Ironically, he did feel better now that they'd given up—at least he now could tell that Creek actually cared, even if he did put himself first all the time.
Of course, that was a double-edged sword. Branch felt better when Creek was around, but that feeling immediately went away the moment he was left alone again. Creek's visits were a bright spot in his otherwise gloomy days, which helped him to keep going despite his situation. But he didn't like the dip his mood took every time Creek left again.
There wasn't any point dwelling on that, though, so Branch went to check out the newly finished bathroom. Since he hadn't had a warm bath in years, he was actually looking forward to having a hot shower. Inside of the shower, Creek had put some bars of soap and a couple of shampoo bottles in the holes he'd cut into the tower wall. He'd also moved some washcloths and towels from the closet into the shower, with the towels hanging on a rack in the back of the shower. The shower had solid walls on either side of the original tower wall, and Branch could see the access door that Creek had put in to make sure he could fix the pipes when they inevitably froze or something. He'd left access points near the sink and toilet for the same reason, but he'd also told Branch that he'd done his best to insulate the pipes in an attempt to minimize the risk of them freezing. Beyond that, he'd told Branch that he should leave the water running at just a trickle during winter to help keep the pipes from freezing.
The sink had Branch's toothpaste and toothbrush, some deodorant (which Creek had needed to teach Branch about, along with literally everything about puberty), a new can of shaving cream, and a razor in the medicine cabinet. Next to the toilet was a plunger, and several rolls of toilet paper were under the sink.
Since there was a fire in the fireplace currently, Branch turned his attention to the shower and said, "Well, might as well see if this thing works."
The water was warm and refreshing for once as it rained down on him. Branch could honestly say that this was the best thing Creek had done for him so far, at least as far as sheer comfort went. Being able to wash himself without someone helping him out was also a positive, he thought as he washed off. And now he could actually bathe every day instead of just once a week.
"Oh, that feels good..." He closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of hot water for a change as it rinsed off the soap and shampoo. It's been a long time since I've had a decent shower. Cold baths just aren't the same. Course, this is just another thing to make me miss King Peppy's pod... No matter what, his thoughts always seemed to drift in this direction when he was alone—back to the mistakes he'd made that had landed him in this mess in the first place. I may not have wanted to be king, but I also didn't want to be completely alone. I'm just lucky Creek's still coming around. Not only can't I live without him visiting with food, but I'd go insane in here all alone.
Branch hated being alone with his thoughts. Even something positive, like a hot shower, could be soured by his negativity. He sighed again and turned the water off, then grabbed one of the towels to dry himself off. Finished with that, he put on the only set of pajamas he'd bothered making for himself and went to bed.
The next day, Creek brought what Branch would need to build himself a door. A few days later, however, he arrived to find that there was still no door on the window. Hopping inside, he looked back at the window, then looked at Branch and raised an eyebrow.
"Hey, hey, what's all this about, mate? I thought you knew how to make door hinges and locks by now."
"Well, yeah," Branch answered with a shrug, his arms crossed. "But there's a slight problem..." He paused, hesitant, then sighed. "...that I don't know how to solve."
Creek had been dealing with this more and more as of late. As Branch grew older, he grew more independent, which was complicated by the fact that he was stuck in this tower and completely dependent on Creek for his basic needs. As far as Creek could tell, being forced to count on someone else had made Branch cling rather desperately to those things he could take care of for himself, and building what he needed was generally his responsibility (the bathroom being an exception, given that Branch couldn't leave to install the necessary parts).
Still, Creek took it in stride. He could only imagine how frustrating this situation must have been for Branch, after all. "A problem, you say? What kind?"
"That window and the chimney are the only ways that fresh air gets in here. If there's a fire in the fireplace, that won't let any air in, and I'm worried that covering the window too securely will cut off air there, too."
The tower had no ventilation system. If he wasn't careful, Branch worried that he might cut off his air supply and suffocate or something.
Creek put a hand to his chin, thinking. "Hmm... Yes...that is a problem...and a traditional air source won't work because a window would still allow those trouble-makers easy access to you, and there's no way to create electricity out here for a ventilation system...besides that, it'd be far too much work..."
Creek didn't even want to imagine how many years it would take him to set this tower up with electricity, especially given the fact that it would need to have renewable energy sources that would reliably power the place all day.
He looked at Branch with determination and said, "I'll see what I can come up with. In the meanwhile, however, why not start on those defensive workout classes you seemed so eager in setting up? Will I be requiring any protective padding for this one, mate?"
Branch shrugged again and said, "Honestly, that's for you you to decide, but it's not like I'm planning on attacking you or anything."
Creek sighed, looking glum. He really didn't think this idea would work any better. Branch just didn't understand how bad Chef really was. Still, he'd agreed to give it a try, so he had to at least do that. "Well, alright, then. Let's get this over with..."
The next day, Biggie and Cooper went to the library in search of something fun to read.
"Ooh!" Cooper cried, running for a bookshelf. He looked at a thick book and read, "Harry Troller and the Goblet of Fireworks!"
"That's one of my favorites!" Biggie said with a huge smile. Then he asked, "But have you read the first three?"
"Nope!" Cooper said, but he pulled the book down anyway, intent on starting in the middle of the popular magical series, apparently.
Biggie wandered a bit more. As he did, he saw Creek. Where he saw Creek, however, was a strange place—the practical matters section of the library. The older troll had a thick book in his own hands that looked rather old, and he seemed intent on reading it.
"Creek? What are you reading?" Biggie asked curiously.
This wasn't the section of the library he'd expect to find the guru troll in.
Cooper looked, curious.
Creek, however, seemed too engrossed in his studies to hear Biggie. "Hmm, now, let's see... To build a more medieval ventilation system, you'd have to—" His eyes widened, and he raised an eyebrow. That didn't make any sense to him at all. "Hold on a second, what?" He read it again, concerned.
"Uh..." Cooper looked at Biggie and asked, "Who does he think he is, Branch?"
Biggie shrugged. Louder, he tried, "Creek? What are you reading?" as he approached their friend.
Creek gave a start, looking up. "Huh? Who said—" He looked around for the source of the noise, then stopped and stared, sweating. It was just his luck that two of his friends would catch him in this place. Given that he'd been to the practical matters section at least a few dozen times over the years, he should have been surprised it hadn't happened sooner.
Cooper looked at the book Creek had and raised an eyebrow at the title. "...Medieval Architecture? Dude, are you channeling him right now?"
"Why in the world would you want to learn medieval architecture? That...seems unnecessary," Biggie said. Is he channeling Branch!? H-he's been acting more like him these past years...
Biggie and Cooper had often theorized about why Creek suddenly had so many of Branch's old quirks, like the fear of just about everything, the desire to learn how to build, and a love of fluffleberry cake. Cooper had once jokingly suggested that maybe Creek had his spirit merged with Branch or something, but now both were wondering if there wasn't some supernatural situation they needed to know about.
"What!? No! I'm not channeling anyone! What do I look like? A medium?" Creek asked, apparently insulted. "It just so happens that one of my first clients challenged me to build them a medieval-style mushroom pod, and I'm reading up on exactly how to do that." He put the book up in his face, mildly annoyed, and muttered, "Downward dogs, you two. Thinking yoga meditations have anything to do with—Clearly they both have a lot to learn."
For Biggie, that was even more baffling than the idea that Branch was somewhere in the area. "You found a troll who wants a medieval home?"
Who would want to live in a place without plumbing or electricity?
"What kinda weirdo wants that?" Cooper asked, looking a bit disturbed.
Creek closed the book, smiling brightly at them both, and answered, "Oh, there's nothing weird about it at all, my friend! This troll just thinks it sounds like a cool and special place to live! Why, haven't you ever met a troll before that's fascinated with ancient troll history? We wouldn't know how far we've come if no one ever bothered to research it. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm extremely busy right now."
Busy digging himself into a hole. Now he was going to have to find someone he could convince of the perks of a medieval home.
Creek got up, tucking the book under his arm. This was going to take more time, so he'd need to take this book with him. Even worse, now he needed to learn more than just the ventilation question.
"See you around, friends," Creek said as he started walking past them. He stopped and looked back, his annoyance returning, and added, "Oh, but do me a tiny little favor, you two? Kindly take the time to study the differences between Hindu worship and psychics and mediums. It's extremely impolite to confuse the two, if you know what I mean."
"My bad, dude," Cooper apologized. "I just thought maybe Branch was hauntin' you or somethin'."
Biggie sweat. "Cooper...that was rather tasteless..." he said. Bringing up our deceased friend like that, of all things?
Even worse, he'd done that to Branch's best friend. Creek had to feel worse about what had happened than they did. Not only was he the one who'd always been closest to Branch, but he'd been under the same roof the night Branch ran away and got himself killed.
Creek looked down, apparently upset. Sure, he knew Branch was alive, but he had to act like the tactless mention of his supposedly dead friend hurt or these two would grow suspicious. It was easy enough, given how guilty he felt about what really happened. He wondered if he should find some way to get a large rug so Branch didn't have to keep walking on nothing but cold stone for the rest of his life.
And, with that thought, Creek truly felt guilty enough to pull off the "I'm upset because you carelessly mentioned my dead best friend" attitude with ease.
Cooper gave a start, realizing what he'd done. "Oops! Uh, sorry, dude..." he said, lowering his head and laying his ears down. "I should start thinkin' 'fore I talk, huh?"
Creek took a moment to answer, "I'll see you around, friend... Take care..." Then he left, still looking upset.
Now Cooper felt guilty. He'd thought, after all these years, it would be okay to talk about Branch again. Maybe it was the way he did it?
Biggie looked at him and gently said, "Cooper...you really do need to work on that..."
"Yeah..." Silently, Cooper decided, Maybe I should ask King Peppy for some fluffleberry cake to cheer Creek up.
That evening, after having Peppy bake a fluffleberry cake, Cooper found Creek and offered it up as an apology for being insensitive. Creek accepted the apology, and, because he had convinced everyone he actually liked this cake, he had no choice but to eat a piece of the cake to convince Cooper that he really meant it. Afterward, he washed the taste out with sparkle-melon frosting—apparently, that could overpower the atrocious taste sensation.
When he visited Branch that night, Creek had a travel bag full of supplies and a backpack slung over his shoulder. He handed over the rest of the fluffleberry cake, saying, "Here, Branch. A gift from Cooper for talking about your death tastelessly in front of me once again. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go drill a hole in your ceiling so a ventilation chimney can be installed." He pulled out the book he'd borrowed from the library and handed that to the gray troll as well, adding, "This can tell you how to help me do it." Then he headed over to the window, leaving his travel bag on the floor.
Branch set the cake down on the table and opened the book. His comment, however, was on Cooper. "Still hasn't learned not to say everything that runs through his head?" he asked.
"Not even! And I doubt he ever will," Creek answered. "It seems to be just in his blood, I'm afraid." He hopped out of the window and headed up to the roof to get started on that ventilation chimney.
Branch laughed slightly "Guess I'm not the only one who needlessly upsets people with his words, then."
He read a bit of the book, trying to get an idea of what Creek needed help with, then helped out with what he could from inside of the tower. Before long, they had everything set up so that fresh air would still be able to get in if Branch covered the window.
"And there you have it! Plenty of air to breathe in without the risk of an open door or window! You may now resume your attempts at adding in that security door you so desperately wanted now," Creek said, sitting down in his chair to rest. Another thing that made Creek grateful he'd built Branch a bathroom—that second chair didn't have anything related to oral hygiene sitting on it anymore.
"Thanks," Branch said, and he sat down, helping himself to a piece of fluffleberry cake. "Just curious, though, why did Cooper mention me this time? I'm not exactly a common subject, am I?"
Creek sweat, looking awkward. "Er...let's just say Biggie and Cooper think I'm building a new medieval pod for a history-loving troll soon... They caught me reading that book at the library, so..."
Branch started laughing. "S-seriously!? And how are you planning to find a 'history-loving troll' who'd let you build them a medieval pod to live in!?"
"Oh, I'll find one! I can't blow my cover until my training is done, or I'll be one dead troll. And you know it!" Creek answered, annoyed. So stop laughing at me. This isn't as easy as you seem to think it is.
Trying to stop his laughter, Branch said, "Sorry, I shouldn't be laughing, should I? Just—you couldn't have thought of a better excuse?"
Idle curiosity would have been a better excuse than claiming somebody wanted that kind of pod. Really, just about anything would have been better.
Creek didn't answer that right away. In fact, he didn't think he'd ever answer that one. "...Ugh..." He flopped his head on the table, exhausted.
"Hey, relax," Branch said. "You could probably charm someone into wanting one, anyway. It's not like you aren't a smooth talker."
Creek didn't lift his head, but he did give Branch a thumbs up. Then he let his arm fall back to the table. Branch laughed again at this.
Creek spent the next day dodging his friends and looking for a history-loving troll he could build for. Unfortunately for him, Chef questioned his reason for lying to Biggie and Cooper, but he was ready with an excuse. He claimed he just really wanted to build a medieval pod and didn't want his friends making fun of him for it. Of course, this earned him a mild scolding for wasting time, but he told her that Poppy was rather busy becoming a good princess most of the day right now anyway. Fortunately, this abated her anger, but Creek decided he needed to be much more careful from now on—his master's wrath was the most terrifying thing in the world.
After asking around for hours, Creek finally found the only troll in the village who loved history enough that he might be convinced to live in a medieval home—Simon, a blue troll with white hair, who was always dressed like an archaeologist and wore black square glasses. Creek pitched his medieval mushroom idea, hoping for a yes.
"So, Simon! What do you think!?" Creek asked, putting all of the excitement he could muster into this idea.
If nobody agreed to this, he'd be found out for sure.
"What do I think?" Simon asked, and Creek wished he'd just answer already. Then the blue troll gave a huge smile and said, "I think that sounds great! Can you really build me a pod like that!?"
He was excited, which was good news for Creek.
"Of course, I can! I'm an expert, after all!" he answered, secretly relieved that Simon was so eager for something so odd. Oh, thank Brahma, that worked! Now I won't have to worry so much about being discovered! Ugh, Branch was right. I should have come up with a better excuse. Creek wrapped an arm around Simon's shoulders and walked him off, saying, "Alright, my friend, now, if we're going to build this, there's a few things we'll need to discuss."
Creek took Simon somewhere private and discussed the plans for this pod, which included some rather unusual rules that left Simon feeling confused. But he wanted this pod badly enough that he agreed to them.
Before long, Biggie and Cooper saw Creek leading a bunch of the fuzzlings in building the medieval mushroom pod he'd mentioned. It wasn't very far from where Cooper lived with his aunt and uncle.
"Careful with them bricks there, mate!" Creek said, walking over to help some of the fuzzlings. "We don't want any collapsing and making unnecessary holes, now, do we!?"
Simon watched excitedly as they constructed his new home.
"Oh...it seems Creek's working on that medieval mushroom pod he mentioned," Biggie commented.
"Yeah," Cooper agreed, stunned. "Dang, I didn't think anybody'd actually want one of those."
"I can't wait until it's finished! I'm so glad I thought of it!" Simon said. Silently, he added, I don't know why Creek wants me to claim I asked him for this, but I'm not complaining! If he's giving me my favorite dessert for it, then it's even better!
The unusual rules did, in fact, say that Simon had to take credit for this idea. They also said Creek would give him red velvet cupcakes after the job was all said and done as long as Simon did take credit.
"Keep it steady there, friends! That's it!" Creek guided the work on the roof.
Cooper and Biggie looked at each other and blinked. They hadn't thought Creek was serious about this.
A year later, Simon's new home was finished. He moved in, and Creek delivered the promised cupcakes as a gift. Time was growing short. In a few more years, Poppy would be old enough to start dating. Chef seemed to want Creek to hold off on marriage, though, until she was crowned queen—said it would be easier to hide the fact that he received instructions from a bergen at night that way. Given that Poppy would be crowned queen around the age of 22, per Troll Village tradition, Creek had a few years left before he needed to worry about marriage.
Branch built a door that opened inward so he'd be able to lock it and keep out anything dangerous. Creek also helped him make a new, warm bathrobe by bringing him the right materials. Since this was, officially, set to be Branch's permanent home, Creek let Branch choose the colors, so he ended up with a brown robe with a very natural look to it, like all of Branch's clothes.
Then, guilt winning out again by early winter, Creek asked the twins to make a large rug in the shape of a flower. They crafted a purple flower with a pink center out of plush material, and Creek brought that to the tower, where he helped Branch lay it out in the center of the floor. It was big enough that it covered most of the stone, giving Branch something soft and warm to walk on instead. To explain why he didn't have it, Creek told the twins he'd given it as an anonymous gift to a friend in Bergen Town. The bergen in question supposedly thought it was from Santa Claws, a strange bergen figure who, if you were good, left you gifts on their new holiday of Clawsmas, but he'd scratch you with his long, sharp claws if you'd been bad. That kept the twins from asking about it again, and, since he'd have been delivering this gift at night to hide it, Chef believed it, too.
With this warm and comfortable modification, Branch and Creek decided they'd done enough to improve the tower. It was fully livable now, as much as they both wished it didn't have to be.
Yet another year passed, and 13-year-old Guy Diamond threw his first all-night party. Sure, he was a bit young to be doing that, but his parents didn't really seem to care. His friends were even allowed to stay for most of it, or, in the case of the older three, all of it. Biggie and Cooper were 18 now, after all, and Creek was 19.
Guy's party wasn't normal, though—he called it the "Guy Dance Show Party" because it was all about him dancing on a stage. There were some party games, refreshments, and a dance floor, but there was also this rule that said at least five trolls had to be watching Guy dance at any given time. To encourage trolls to come, Guy made some Funsgiving recipes to serve at this event. Needless to say, many trolls showed up, including all of his friends from the Snack Pack.
For some reason, the twins had decided to sit and watch Guy dance the moment they arrived, and they were still there, much to Satin's annoyance. She couldn't help but notice his talent as the show went on, though.
"You have to admit, he's a good dancer," Satin finally said.
"True, but why would he throw a party where someone always has to be watching him?" Chenille asked, genuinely confused.
"Don't know. Maybe he learned a whole new dance routine and wanted to show it to everyone?" Smidge suggested from beside Satin.
The only thing about Smidge's suggestion was that she hadn't been there mere seconds ago—she'd been with a different group of trolls on the other end of the party site, playing charades. Both twins looked at her, slightly stunned.
"Where did you come from?" Satin asked with a raised eyebrow.
Meanwhile, on the dance floor, Poppy and Creek were enjoying each other's company, much to Creek's delight.
"Ah, this is such a great party, ain't it, Creek?" Poppy asked, dancing with him happily.
At 13, Poppy no longer felt that it was so weird to fall in love with a friend, so she was starting to explore her feelings for the older troll. Of course, being a gentletroll, Creek wasn't pushing anything on her and was just letting her make her own decisions. As such, they weren't really a couple yet.
"Always is when you can spend it with friends," Creek answered with a caring smile.
Cooper, meanwhile, laughed, unaware that he was getting more out of control as he danced with Biggie. Biggie saw the potential for disaster—Cooper could either kick someone or go sliding across the floor if he kept going the way he was, since he'd eaten enough cupcakes that the amount of sugar could give an elephant a sugar rush. So Biggie put a hand on the giraffe's shoulder and said, "Cooper, I could use some punch. You?"
"Oh! Yeah, sure!" Cooper answered with a huge smile, and the two headed for the refreshments.
About then, Creek glanced at his watch, and his eyes widened. "Oh, hair..." he said. Oh, come on! Now!? But Poppy and I were right in the middle of—
Poppy stopped dancing, seeing the distress in Creek's eyes. "Creek?" She looked at the time as well and sweat. "It's uh...time, isn't it?"
Creek sighed sadly. The hardest part about taking care of Branch was the fact that he could never stay at parties very late—he had to drop off supplies and train with the other troll, and he'd still have to leave early even if they weren't teaching him to fight. Branch spent all day completely alone, and Creek fully remembered the look on his friend's face when he'd said he didn't want to be alone. The purple troll knew too well how that felt.
So, knowing he had responsibilities to attend to, Creek answered, "Afraid it is, love. But I've had such a wonderful time tonight. And I'm especially glad I got to spend most of it with a special troll like you." He gave a caring look, flirting slightly.
Poppy laughed, amused. "Yeah...me, too..." she said, her tone caring and a very affectionate look in her eyes.
Before this moment could go any farther, Cooper careened out of control across the dance floor, zigzagging through the trolls out there. Biggie and, for some reason, Fuzzbert were holding onto him for dear life. It looked like he'd had too much sugar at this party.
"Oh, my! Cooper, what are you doing!?" Biggie panicked.
Fuzzbert beeped out something about how he should slow down before he hurt someone, but Cooper just laughed, having way too much fun.
Poppy and Creek both looked, cringing with concern.
"Oh, dear me... That looks like trouble," Creek admitted. He looked at Poppy and said, "Perhaps you should go try to settle things down while I head home for the night? It does appear as though those three could use your crowd control expertise or something."
"Yyeah... No kidding," she answered slowly. "It looks like a stampede over there!" She started toward them, looking anxious, as she added, "See ya tomorrow, Creek! Have a good session!"
"Will do, love! Good luck!" Creek called after her, and he left the party.
Creek's sudden departure didn't go unnoticed as one of the twins decided she'd had enough of watching Guy dance.
"...Okay, I think it's time to find some trolls to tag out," Chenille said, looking for someone who might be willing to take their place.
Satin looked around, too, and spotted Creek. "Why does Creek always leave parties so early?" she asked, wondering why their oldest friend left before even they had to. "I know he has that three-hour Hindu thing he does every day, but...can't he afford to miss it just once to spend more time with someone he likes?"
Chenille didn't bother looking as she flagged down a couple of trolls standing near the refreshments. "How should I know? I'm not him."
Looking suspicious, Smidge crossed her arms. "Hmm... Maybe it's because he isn't interested in spending time with her," she said, her tone ominous.
Satin looked at her curiously, but Chenille waved it off. "Don't be ridiculous! He's been doing these weird things since before we even met him! I'm sure it's nothing to do with Poppy."
"Exactly," Smidge said.
Satin put a finger to her chin, looking at Smidge with confusion. "I'm not sure I follow."
"Come on. Isn't it obvious? He's so much older than us that he has to be interested in someone by now. Maybe he's got a secret girlfriend he's been seeing instead! Ya know, since playing with younger trolls can get real old sometimes."
The twins both looked at Smidge at this revelation and said, "Ooh..."
"Then...he's not doing meditation stuff?" Satin asked worriedly.
"He's visiting his girlfriend every night!" Chenille declared, hoping that Poppy wouldn't find this out the hard way.
"I wish he'd introduce us to her...but I guess it makes sense that he wouldn't. We are much younger than him, after all."
Six years was quite an age difference, and they knew that.
Smidge just nodded, her eyes still closed.
About then, Poppy brought Biggie, Fuzzbert, and Cooper over. Two of the three boys felt they'd rather sit and watch Guy dance for a while, given how much calmer that would be than the chaos that just happened. "What was that, you guys?" Poppy asked the girls as she approached.
Fuzzbert asked who was much younger than who.
Satin and Chenille both gave a start. They didn't want Poppy finding out this way, especially since they didn't even have any proof yet. It was just a rumor at this point.
"Oh! Uh, nothing!" Satin said nervously. "Nobody! Uh..."
"We were just discussing matters of the heart, that's all," Chenille said calmly.
Fuzzbert and Poppy looked between Biggie and Cooper, all seemingly lost. "Uh...kay..." Cooper said.
"Whose heart?" Biggie asked.
"Nobody!" the twins cried in unison.
DJ came over, concerned about the apparent distress. "Hey, ya guys. What's all the shoutin' about? Everythin' cool?"
"It's fine!" Satin answered with a smile.
"Absolutely!" Chenille said. "But, uh...I think I've had enough of Guy dancing for a while." She got up, ready to go do something else.
Fuzzbert leaped up, thinking that was perfect because he'd had enough of Cooper's sugar rush. He shoved Chenille out of her seat and onto the floor as he eagerly sat down to watch the show.
"Oop!" Chenille cried, startled. She looked up at her former seat and sweat. "Uh, okay."
"I guess...we should go do something else?" Satin said.
"I think I'm fine here, thank you," Biggie said, taking a seat.
"I don't wanna watch the dance! What's everybody else doin'?" Cooper asked, looking around at the rest of his friends.
"Um...probably should take you and go for a quick run around Troll Village first," Poppy answered him. Then, smiling, she said, "Race ya to the lagoon, Cooper! Last one there has to eat a slice of fluffleberry cake!" She ran off, knowing full well that would be her.
"Dang! No way I'm eating that!" Cooper said, and he ran after her.
Meanwhile, Creek was putting some meditation exercises that he'd created himself to the test. they were a combination of Branch's calming techniques and his own yoga meditations. Since Branch had challenged him to remain calm when under "attack," Creek decided to try combining the two methods. The technique seemed to be working. However, Branch was still the stronger of the two. As he tried to get Creek to defend himself, he rammed his head into the guy's stomach. Creek wasn't able to block it due to the sheer force, but he did manage to hit Branch's cheek at the same time, at least.
"AHH, ow, ow, ow, ow!" Creek complained, holding his sore stomach. "You never told me you had such a hard head, mate! What is it made of, anyway?"
Branch smiled wryly and answered, "I imagine the same thing as yours. Not my fault you're such a wuss."
"Hey, I landed one good blow, didn't I?" he protested, getting to his feet.
"Yeah, you did. I guess you're not entirely horrible at this," Branch teased with a smirk.
Creek just crossed his arms, annoyed. "Hmph!"
Over the next few years, Creek worked hard to get closer to Poppy. By this point, it wasn't just for the sake of Chef's plan—he genuinely loved her unmatched positivity. It was a constant breath of fresh air that helped him temporarily forget the reality of his own situation. At the same time, he continued his training. Given his growing feelings for Poppy, he was determined to find a way to save everyone from Chef. Branch not only taught him a variety of fighting methods but also some strategies to help him conquer fear. Most of these, Creek found relatively easy to learn because many of these fighting techniques had a spiritual side to them. Of course, the guru troll pointed this out to Branch teasingly on more than one occasion, much to the gray troll's annoyance.
Then, when Poppy was 16 and officially mature enough to date, she felt confident enough in her feelings for Creek that she sought him out one day. She'd passed the "hormones raging out of control" stage of puberty a couple of years ago, after all.
She found him after his daily yoga class and eagerly said, "Hey, Creek! How was your yoga class?"
"Oh, it went alright, love. How about your princess party prep practices?" he asked in return, giving her a caring smile.
"Aw, they went well. Say, Creek? Can I ask you something super personal, if it's alright with you?" she asked, hands behind her back, as she rocked on her heels and gave a playful and mischievous smile.
"Why, of course, love. What is it?" Creek asked her curiously. Although, from the look she was giving him, he had a good idea what it was, and he couldn't wait to hear it.
"Well...the truth is I think you're a super cool troll, and I was wondering if you'd like to be my boyfriend!? What do you say!?" she asked, beaming with excitement. She was sure he'd say yes.
Creek's eyes lit up. He knew that was her question. "Why, Poppy! I'm so glad you asked, love. I've been thinking the same thing about you for some time now! What do you say we discuss this more over dinner tomorrow night? Uh, that is, if your dad doesn't mind."
"That sounds great! I'm sure he won't mind, so I'll see you then!" Poppy answered, then she excitedly hurried off to tell her dad that she had a date. For her, this was a dream come true. Creek was literally perfect, in her mind, and he felt the same way she did about him. It was just like those fairy tales she read, where the couple would get married and live happily ever after, and she couldn't wait to have her own fairy tale ending. "Bye, Creek! Take care!"
"Yes. I certainly will, love...Poppet." Creek smiled happily as he uttered that new pet name. He'd been debating one since he'd first fallen for her himself, and this was the one he liked best. Now he just hoped she liked it, too.
Even though he had to become her king one day or face Chef's fury, Creek was truly glad that Poppy wanted him as her boyfriend. She was the best thing in his life these days, a light in the darkness. Her endless joy and confidence were encouraging, too. When he was with her, Creek felt alive, as if nothing could ever go wrong.
That night, Creek couldn't concentrate on his lesson. Not only were his thoughts consumed with daydreams of their first date, but he couldn't stop recounting the event in detail for his teacher and friend. The worst part about this was the fact that they were supposed to be having a practice fight to gauge how well Creek was doing.
Branch, for his part, really wanted Creek to stop talking. As far as he could tell, Creek dating Poppy wasn't a good thing. It put him one step closer to finishing Chef's plot, and it wasn't like those feelings were genuine, anyway.
"I can't believe how happy she was to hear that!" Creek said as their practice fight continued. "And when she told me she wanted me as her boyfriend... Why, my heart nearly skipped a—Oof!"
Branch hit Creek in the chest, knocking him to the ground. The gray troll had two reasons. The first was that Creek was distracted, making him an easy target. The second was that, thrilled though Creek might be, this news was highly upsetting for Branch. It wasn't like he'd ever wanted to marry that girl, but Creek marrying her would lead to nothing but pain for everyone if he still decided to turn on them.
"Focus, Creek! You're making yourself way too easy of a target," Branch said.
Creek got up, looking awkward. "R-right...I'm not focusing my chi enough again, am I?"
Branch rolled his eyes and answered, "You're not focusing your anything enough when you're yammering on about your fake love life."
"Hey, come on, mate. It's not entirely faked. Or have you forgotten the true, intensive feelings the two of us share for each other? And wasn't that the whole point of this training session, mate? To make it possible for us to live in harmony at the defeat of Chef and her wretched plans for us all?" Creek asked, resuming his fighting stance as he tried to ready his mind.
That was the plan—have Creek rat out Chef so he could save the village. Then nobody would be eaten. Of course, that wouldn't do anything to help Branch, but he'd long since accepted that he wasn't getting out of here until the day he died. If he could just save someone, though, that would be good enough for him.
"Yeah," Branch answered. "So try concentrating on that instead of your feelings for Poppy."
"Yes. Of course, Master. My apologies," Creek said, and then they resumed their training fight.
For his first date with Poppy, Creek took her to a nearby meadow the trolls called Flowery Field. There were so many different kinds of flowers there that the whole meadow looked like a rainbow, with different patches of color all over the place. They had the time of their lives and were inseparable from then on. They did everything together, even attending each other's classes or watching the other one study. They made plans to meet and spend time alone together every week on a day they called "Date Night," and neither of them could be any happier. In fact, both Creek and Chef were happy in that regard.
As for the situation with Branch, things could have been better. Despite Branch's instruction, Creek still couldn't muster up the courage to stand up to Chef. His cowardice was about as bad as Branch's unhappiness. He gave it a fair shot—it took 7 years before he finished his training and finally realized that he couldn't do it. At 24, he realized he needed to stop kidding himself and just tell Branch the truth. This plan was as doomed as his own had been.
"I-I just can't do it, mate!" Creek stammered as he finally confessed. "Y-you don't u-understand! Chef isn't—"
Needless to say, Branch wasn't happy to hear this. He'd already decided that he was doomed. Now, Creek was telling him that everyone was. "Creek, the whole point of teaching you any of that was so that you could actually take care of yourself and the people you care about!" Branch yelled.
"Hey, I defeated that tarantapuff who went after DJ and Fuzzbert, didn't I!?" Creek countered, bringing up an incident he'd told Branch about just a week before.
DJ and Fuzzbert had gone into the woods to pick apples but hadn't returned. The others went looking for them and found them in a web with a tarantapuff closing in fast. Creek had put his training to the test and actually saved them, earning a kiss from his girlfriend, hugs from the others, and some fluffleberry cake that he'd brought to Branch. When Branch heard the story, he'd been proud. Now, however...
Branch took a deep breath so he wouldn't say something that he'd regret. When he was sure he wasn't going to call Creek out on being a selfish coward, he said, "Chef wants to feed everyone to the bergens in Crumsville. If we don't find some way to stop her, then everyone is going to hate you. You'll probably be trapped with them, and Smidge will maim you, from what you've told me about her. I"m pretty sure she'll break every bone in your body."
Given that Creek only cared about himself, Branch hoped that might give him some incentive to stop Chef.
Creek sighed, looking down. "I know, but..." He rubbed an arm, looking away. Branch was right, but Chef still managed to be worse.
Branch just stared as the last hope he had died. It figures. He's still too selfish to care about anyone but himself! Maybe he should have known better than to expect something different from the troll who lured him into a trap with false concern. "So what do we do now?"
"I...don't know. Chef is far too dangerous to even consider going against her, and you can't seem to find your inner happiness. All things considered, the situation truly does seem hopeless, doesn't it?"
That wasn't the answer Branch had been hoping for.
"...So, what? We give up? Because if that's what we're going for, you might as well stop delaying the inevitable and just leave me here to die already."
That was how this story would end, after all. Branch would be trapped her while all of Troll Village was lured to Crumsville, where they'd be eaten. Creek wouldn't be able to come back, and, since no one else knew Branch was here, his days would be numbered at that point, just like everyone else.
Creek looked at Branch in concern. "Hey, just because all seems lost doesn't mean we should throw away what precious time we still have left, my friend. It's best to make the best of it and cherish each and every moment we still have upon this earth. It's better than feeling sorry for ourselves, and besides," he said with a sad smile, a glimmer of hope in his eyes, "maybe something will change someday and this will all come to an end. In our favor, that is."
That seemed unlikely. Yeah, and maybe my family will come waltzing in here tomorrow afternoon, Branch thought sarcastically. "Whatever."
Creek noticed the hour then and couldn't help but think time had a horrible habit of forcing him to leave here at the worst possible moment. After a statement like that, Branch probably shouldn't have been left alone, but Creek couldn't stay all day. Chef would find out that Creek had gone against her wishes and kept Branch alive.
He headed for the window, saying, "Well, I'd best be going so I can enjoy my friends a bit longer, mate. See you tomorrow." He looked back solemnly to see Branch looking more depressed than Creek had seen him since that last Trollstice. The gray troll had his arms folded, and he closed his eyes, turning his head away, when Creek looked at him.
This was horrible timing. Creek stared for a moment, wishing there was something he could do. Finally, he sighed, eyes closed, and left.
Branch waited until the sounds of Creek's flyer bug had faded. When he was truly alone, he said, "So that's it. Guess I should've known that would be a dead-end... Like the guy who sold out his supposed best friend would understand loyalty or care enough to put anybody ahead of himself! He'd sell out his own mother if she was still alive!"
He decided to forget everything he'd ever said about Creek caring. Creek's feelings for anyone ended abruptly at the point where showing concern for them and their needs could cause him harm. Branch shut and locked the window, then headed to his desk and got out his journal. Partly, he needed to deal with these awful feelings churning inside of him, but partly he wanted to see if he could come up with anything else they could try to at least save the village. He was pretty sure by this time that he and Creek couldn't be saved, and he'd honestly rather that he die and Creek suffer his bergen master's wrath than the entire village be betrayed by the popular troll. Biggie, Cooper, and the rest of the Snack Pack deserved a better friend than that traitor.