Night had fallen by the time Dipper and company reached the campsite near the edge of the lake. After an entire evening of attempting to conjure a sword out of nothing, the closest Dipper had come was a full-size wooden practice sword. He had strapped it to his waist, because, as Grenda pointed out—"You can whack things real hard with that!"
"Ye two get some sleep," said Bacon, as he stoked up a small fire in a clearly well-used fire pit. "Fenris and I will take first watch, then wake ye when it's your turn."
Dipper had his pack off and blanket down almost before Bacon completed his thought. Within minutes both he and Grenda were gently snoring.
"Is it just me, or is the Mundane Realm breeding 'em softer and softer over time?" Bacon asked Fenris.
The dog gave his head a slight nod, letting out a soft "wuff" of agreement.
"Ah, well, there's nothin' to be done, I suppose, aside from helping 'em out however we can," said Bacon thoughtfully, combing his fingers through his beard. He glanced back at the sleeping youths. "Well, now that it's lights out for them, I'm going to go off in search of a drink or five. I know of a troll settlement nearby that I'm on good terms with. Their grog is better than nothin'."
Fenris growled, pawing at the dirt.
"Oh, don't act all high and mighty," grumbled Bacon. "Besides, it's only just a ways from here. I'll be back long before our watch is over."
Fenris sneezed and shook his head.
"Okay, fine, yourwatch then," conceded Bacon. He wiggled his fingers at Fenris, then trotted off along the lake shore.
Fenris watched Bacon until he was out of sight, then began to patrol the perimeter of the little camp. The night was proving uneventful. The moon was full and bright, illuminating the world around them in a soft, silver light. Every once in a while a splash from the lake would make Fenris perk up his ears, but it was just a couple of undine having fun.
After a few hours, however, Fenris' sensitive ears pricked. He heard footsteps—quick footsteps—running in their direction. His hackles rose, and he bared his teeth, preparing to face an unknown enemy.
"Fen-Fenris—don't attack—just me," wheezed Bacon, running towards the camp with a small cask tied to his back.
Fenris grumbled, and sat back in the dirt with a thump.
As Bacon entered the glow cast by the firelight, he gasped out "We need— to go—being—chased... Not on—as good—of terms—as I thought-with trolls."
Hearing the urgency in the clurichaun's voice, Fenris quickly began nudging Dipper and Grenda awake. Bacon was scooping dirt over the fire to extinguish it, still struggling to catch his breath. The cask on his back sloshed with his every move.
"Gah!" shouted Dipper as he shot up, having been rudely woken up by Fenris' cold, wet nose in his ear.
"SHHHHHHHut up!" whisper-cried Bacon, having regained some of his wind. "We're tryin' to avoid bein' captured, not advertise our bloody whereabouts!"
"Captured by who?" grunted Grenda, rubbing her eyes.
Bacon sighed. "The short story is I helped meself to some troll grog, thinkin' the trolls wouldn't mind... Turns out, they mind. And they're after me. Now hurry and pack up those blankets—they'll be gainin' ground."
Grenda began shoving the blankets in Dipper's pack, while he stared at the tiny, bearded man incredulously.
"You are-I can't—" Dipper sputtered, shaking angrily. "Really? Really?!You just had to go and steal from trolls—"
"Wait, Bacon, what clan?" interrupted Grenda. "If they're Oddlock I can probably talk them down. Maybe."
"How should I know, then?" said Bacon with a shrug. "They're trolls. I don't know from clans; they all look the same to me."
Hearing this, Fenris marched up to the little man, and growled down into his face.
"Well, yes, I said I was on good terms with them… ye can't really be on bad terms with someone ye've never met," Bacon said to the dog, smugly.
Fenris growled again, slowly walking forward, which made Bacon have to back up.
"No, I suppose getting 'em chased down by club-wielding trolls ispretty much the opposite of helping 'em however we can," muttered Bacon.
"Not that I don't totally want to see you get owned by a dog, Bacon," said Dipper quietly, "But shouldn't we, you know, be running?"
Grenda gulped. "Too late."
Dipper, Fenris, and Bacon had been ignoring the perimeter. They all looked up at once, shocked to see that they were completely surrounded. The moonlight glinted off six pairs of red eyes, glaring with malevolent intent, their owners closing in on the group.
Fenris couched down, hackles raised, a low rumble emanating from deep in his chest.
"They're so quiet—how are they so quiet?" Dipper whispered, panicking.
"Troll magic," answered Grenda, attempting to speak softly. "Trolls can hunt silently."
Bacon poked his head up between the two teens, and jabbed Grenda in the ribs. "If ye're keen on findin' out their clan, now'd be the time to ask."
"Ow! Okay," hissed Grenda. She unstrapped the maul from her back, and held it in front of her, the Oddlock crest facing outwards. She spun a slow circle on the spot, trying to make sure all the trolls saw the crest.
"I am Grenda of Clan Oddlock," she said, her voice shaking, yet oddly formal. "Which clan are you, and why do you disturb us this night?"
A single troll, bigger, and seemingly more misshapen than the rest, stepped forward. He grinned, but it was not a friendly grin. He dragged a crude wooden club, heavy enough to leave a small trench in the dirt behind him.
"We being Clan Marwolaeth," he said, his voice guttural. He glanced around at his kin. "We wanting back grog and killing tiny man." His smile grew wider, more sinister. "Now we getting bonus Oddlock hostage, and goat and dog for eating!" He roared loudly, at a decibel his brothers exceeded with enthusiasm.
"Dipper," Bacon shouted, covering his ears from the noise of the troll's roars, "Now would be a good time to use your magic… No pressure though!"
Everyone lurched to action at once. The troll who had spoken raised his club, intending to flatten Dipper. Before he could start its downward arc, however, Fenris leapt at the club, knocking the troll off balance. Fenris tried to go for the troll's throat, but was smacked aside with brutal force, yelping as he flew through the air.
Grenda, standing beside Dipper, screamed and swung her maul in a wild arc, attempting to force the trolls in front of her to keep their distance. Fenris limped over and took up a position on Dipper's other side. Bacon was nowhere to be seen. Dipper crouched low, squeezing his eyes shut, trying to concentrate on his magic.
"Armor, safety, deliverance," he muttered, while focusing on his friends.
"Uh, Dipper," shouted Grenda, still fending off multiple trolls, "Thanks, but not helpful!"
He opened his eyes and glanced up at her, then over at Fenris. They were both wearing full suits of armor—made entirely of bubble wrap.
Fenris threw himself once more at the largest troll, resulting in a dull plastic thud, accompanied by the poppoppop of the bubbles.
The troll picked Fenris up by the scruff of his neck, holding the flailing dog away from himself, and began laughing.
The other trolls heard their leader's laughter, and turned to see what was going on.
"Grenna, hit 'em!" Bacon's voice, slurring slightly, called from somewhere nearby. "Hit 'em nooow! In the kneecaps!"
Grenda didn't think twice, and swung her maul with all her force, which connected with the nearest troll's knee with a resounding CRACK!
The troll screamed, falling down and clutching his leg. The troll leader stopped laughing and looked for the source of the scream, allowing Fenris enough time to wriggle out of his grasp and clamp his powerful jaws around the leader's arm. The troll roared in pain and shook his arm wildly, but Fenris held fast.
"Dipperrr," came Bacon's voice again, "mooore magic! C'mon goat boy!"
It hit Dipper as suddenly as Grenda's maul had hit the troll's kneecap—he was using the wrong kind of magic for the situation. The bubble wrap armor had not helped protect Grenda or Fenris in a physical sense, but it had caused a distraction, which Dipper's friends were able to use to their advantage.
Glamoursthought Dipper. Illusion. Making people see stuff that isn't there… Bacon said gods have that power—I hope he's right.
Dipper opened his mind, and grasped the first idea that came to him. He furrowed his brow and held his fingers to his temples, concentrating intently on the leader of Clan Marwolaeth, and a video game he and Mabel had played as children.
Suddenly a high pitched scream rent the air, accompanied by the thud of Fenris dropping to the ground, having unclamped his jaws in shock.
The troll leader now appeared to be a beautiful blonde princess, wearing a fluffy pink dress and a gold crown. His clan-mates looked at each other, scratching their heads.
"She is stealing our leader!" one shouted, snarling. "We be getting him back from her!"
The princess' eyes went wide in fear, as she uttered a soft "No!" She slowly backed up, then suddenly turned on her heel and ran as fast as her petite slippered feet could carry her.
The trolls let forth an ear-piercing war cry, and ran after the princess, (the one Grenda had injured being carried over a clan-mate's shoulder).
Dipper, Grenda and Fenris watched, stunned, until the princess and her angry mob were out of sight.
Bacon popped his head out of Dipper's pack, where he and his cask of grog had sought refuge when the fighting began.
"Good—uuuuurp—job, kid," he said, belching. He wiped his lips. "Glamours tend to be temorarr—hic!—tempolary-erg—short-lived. We should proberly—prolbaby—hic!—we should go."
In the back of his mind, Dipper was still mad at Bacon for bringing trouble to them in the first place, but the anger was quickly overpowered by an intense giddiness. He had done magic! Magic that happened as he intended it to! And the chaos it caused was brilliant!
Dipper began to chuckle, as a mischievous, Puck-like grin brightened his features.
"Uh, you okay, man?" asked Grenda with concern. Fenris was staring at Dipper with his head cocked to the side.
"Oh, don' worry 'bout him, frens," said Bacon, flapping a hand at them. "He's jus finally channeling th' Puck part of his personalali—persimalety—self."
Dipper smirked. "This is starting to be fun."
/
The Mystery Shack was slightly busier than anticipated. Soos and Melody were both tied up with giving tours, leaving a stressed out Pacifica running the gift shop by herself, so Mabel and Arden decided to pitch in and help. Mabel and Pacifica took turns on the register, and Arden proved to actually be quite adept at persuading dimwitted tourists to buy useless souvenirs.
There was a lull at the register, and while Arden was busy helping a customer choose between a puma shirt and a panther shirt, Mabel pulled Pacifica aside for a quiet chat.
"Hey, Paz, just curious—have you noticed anything…differenty about Arden?" whispered Mabel.
"Uh, you mean besides the love affair she's been having with your pig, her horrid fashion sense, and her strangely formal way of speaking?" asked Pacifica, rolling her eyes.
"Well, yeah, actually," said Mabel. "She showed up here before dawnthis morning, for one. And when I asked her to just text me before she came over next time, she said she doesn't have a cell phone."
"Okay, that is a little weird," agreed Pacifica.
"Not only that," said Mabel, glancing over at Arden, still busy with the customers, "I asked her where she's from, and she said from all over Western Europe… something about a tribe? She got really flustered."
Pacifica tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Oh wait, I do remember something. When we left the shack at the same time last night? I thought we'd walk back to town together—but she said bye, then booked it into the woods, in the oppositedirection of town."
"Weird," said Mabel, glancing curiously at Arden once again. "I wonder if she's, like, in the witness protection program or something?"
"Who knows," said Pacifica, shrugging. "I mean, weirder things have happened around here."
"You have a point," Mabel said, smiling. "Much weirder. Wanna follow her when she leaves?"
Pacifica held out her hand, inspecting her fingernails. "I guess, if you really want to," she said absently. "I don't really have anything better to do."
"Admit it, you love a good mystery as much as I do," Mabel said, grinning as she nudged Pacifica lightly with her elbow.
Pacifica smiled. "Well, I guess you and your brother havegiven me a bit of a taste for detective work and weirdness." She sighed dreamily. "Speaking of your brother—"
"NOPE!" cried Mabel, covering her ears with her hands. "La la la, I can't hear you!"
Pacifica chuckled to herself as Mabel wandered off, still covering her ears.
That afternoon, Pacifica and Mabel cleaned the shop slowly, waiting for Arden to leave. Finally, their new friend glanced out the window and sighed.
"It is nearly dark. I must be going, I think," said Arden. "If it is okay, I might come over again tomorrow—just not quite so early," she continued, blushing.
"Oh yeah, no prob!" said Mabel, grinning. "We'll see you tomorrow."
Pacifica smiled and waved as Arden walked out the door, and then rushed to the window. "Yup, she's heading in the same direction as last night," she said.
"Time to be sneaky!" said Mabel happily, pulling on a tattered trench coat that Ford had left at the shack. It hung all the way to her feet.
"Why are you wearing that? You look ridiculous," sniffed Pacifica, as she pulled on a puffy, down-filled jacket that made her look like a purple marshmallow.
"Because it's a dectectiving coat, duh," Mabel said, rolling her eyes. She grabbed Pacifica's hand and yanked her out the door. "C'mon, we don't want to lose her!"
The pair waited until Arden had entered the forest, and then followed her in, quietly darting behind trees and peering around them, letting her walk a ways before they followed again.
The daylight was quickly fading into twilight, casting a soft periwinkle glow on the forest, and lengthening the already dark shadows cast by the tall trees. The only sound Mabel and Pacifica could hear was the hush of their shoes treading upon the dead pine needles littering the forest floor.
"Uh, Paz…" whispered Mabel uncertainly, as they paused behind a large tree trunk peering around it, "I think we lost her… it's been at least five minutes since I saw her ahead of us."
"What?!" hissed Pacifica. "I thought you had a bead on her. I haven't seen her for at least ten minutes. I've just been following you!"
"I believe it is me you are looking for?" came a familiar voice from behind them.
Mabel and Pacifica simultaneously whipped around, and yelped.
Before them stood Arden, but she looked a bit different than she had at the Mystery Shack. Her black tank-top and yellow flannel shirt had been traded in for a leather jerkin over a white linen blouse. Instead of jeans, she wore dark green wool trousers, tucked into knee-high leather boots. Her curly, raven locks were as untamed as ever, but out of them poked a small set of deer antlers. A silver, jeweled chain hung gracefully across her forehead. Most notable, however, were the longbow and quiver of arrows slung over her shoulder, and the spear, leveled directly at Mabel's face.
Arden's eyes flashed with fury as she said coldly, "It is loathsome to spy on one who would call you friend."
/
"Wow," Wendy whispered in awe, as she was escorted into the main court of the Green Man.
"It is grand, is it not?" Bork said softly, from his perch on her shoulder.
The walls and ceiling were made of living trees, growing twisted and woven together. In fact, all the furniture was formed of living wood. The tables and benches, which seated numerous dryads and other nature spirits, appeared to grow up out of the ground. The Green Man's throne was actually carved into the trunk of a giant oak tree, which was the centerpiece of the room. Lighting was provided by glass orbs hanging from the ceiling, each filled with a mass of fireflies. Their soft glow gave the court a hazy, dreamlike appearance.
As the Green Guardsmen escorted Wendy toward the throne, a nasal voice announced loudly: "Her royal highness, Wyn Dahlia Beithesdottir." The voice came from a rotund little dwarf, wearing an important looking hat, standing at the bottom of the steps leading up to the high board and throne.
"Beithesdottir?" Wendy muttered and cocked an eyebrow. As she approached the throne, she felt a sharp jab in her neck. "Curtsey!" hissed Bork.
Wendy held her skirts out and sank low, wobbling a bit.
"Rise, my child," said the Green Man. His voice was deep and rich, like freshly tilled earth.
Wendy stood, and looked—really looked—at her grandfather for the first time. His visage was that of a middle-aged man, but his deep green eyes had clearly seen centuries. His skin was tinged green, and instead of hair, he grew foliage. Long vines were wrapped all around his torso, arms, and legs.
The Green Man inspected Wendy as she stood staring at him, several of his smaller vines reaching out to touch her face. Wendy flinched, and had to strongly resist the urge to push the vines away.
Remember, Corduroy, you're being a good little princess now. Don't screw this up!She mustered up a friendly grin.
Bork suddenly slid sideways off Wendy's shoulder, and she had to twist quickly to catch him. He was trembling.
The Green Man laughed loudly. "It appears my vines startled your servant. You did not need to bring him with you, you know. There are plenty of servants in the court to see to your needs this evening."
Wendy settled Bork back onto her shoulder. He held on so tightly that his tiny fingers dug into her flesh. He clearly had not wanted to draw the attention of the Green Man.
"Please, may I keep him with me?" Wendy wheedled her grandfather. "Bork has been very kind to me, and he has been explaining things to me that I need to know to better fit in—in my new home."
"I am pleased to hear you say that," said the Green Man, smiling, as if indulging a child. "Further recalcitrance on your part would have proved…problematic. However, since you seem to have seen the error of your ways, you may keep your servant with you for now."
Wendy smiled prettily, throwing in another curtsey for good measure. "Thank you, grandfather!"
The Green Man beckoned to an empty seat at his right hand. "As you are now behaving in a manner much more suitable to your station, (and as long as you continue to do so), you will join me in my court for meals. Come, sit."
Wendy took her seat at the high board—a fancy table at the head of the room, which sat perpendicular to the rest of the tables below. Besides herself and the Green Man, there were a handful of other important looking gods or magical creatures sitting in seats of honor at the Green Man's table.
As Wendy sat down, brownies began scurrying around, serving food and drink to the courtiers. The Green Man tucked into his meal with gusto. It appeared he wasn't one for polite conversation at the dinner table. Wendy eyed the food on her plate suspiciously. She had eaten the bread and cheese that had been brought to her chamber while she was under "house arrest," and it had all been fine, but there was a large cut of meat on her plate that she couldn't identify. She poked it with her fork.
"There's nothing wrong with the meat, I assure you," said a friendly voice on Wendy's right. "I slew the beast myself." She turned and was staring into the face of a shirtless man, who appeared to be in his early twenties. His hair was a jumble of brown curls, out of which jutted two large stag antlers, decorated with golden bands at their bases. His deep brown eyes were warm and kind. With a pang, Wendy realized that the man reminded her of an older version of Dipper.
"Hi," said the young man, grinning. "I'm Cernunnos, the devastatingly handsome Lord of the Hunt… among other things. And you are the beautiful and infamous Wyn Dahlia, who dared defy the Green Man, and lived to tell the tale."
From her left, Wendy heard the Green Man snort derisively.
"Actually, I'd prefer to be called Wendy," she said. "This little dude is Bork. Say hi Bork!"
Bork waved, and then flicked Wendy hard in the earlobe.
"Ow! Sorry, Bork would prefer I not call attention to him," said Wendy, rubbing her ear. "So what's this about 'slaying the beast'? I mean, what kind of beast are we talking about? I'm not being served like, ogre bits, or something, am I?"
Cernunnos laughed loudly, slapping his knee. "Certainly not! No, the beast I slew was a large wild boar." He held a hand next to his mouth, and leaned over to Wendy, mock whispering. "Just don't tell my sister—they're her favorite beast. She'd have my head!"
"Don't worry, seeing as I don't know your sister, or really anyone else here for that matter." Wendy looked back at her plate. "Boar…so, pork?"
Cernunnos rolled his eyes. "Well, yes… but that just makes it sound so agricultural."
Wendy laughed. "Well we certainlycan't have that, now can we?"
As the courses of the meal progressed, Wendy and Cernunnos continued to laugh and joke. The Lord of the Hunt had quick wit and a friendly nature that put Wendy at ease. Although she allowed herself to enjoy the evening, she never forgot that she was there against her will, and that her kidnapper was sitting to her left. The good behavior and pretty manners were all a show—she simply needed to fool the Green Man into trusting her enough to let her roam the palace grounds. Then she would find a way to escape.
With thoughts of freedom, her friends, and Dipper firmly in the back of her mind, Wendy approached the Green Man at the end of the meal.
"Grandfather, if this is to be my home now, I would like to become more familiar with it," Wendy said, batting her eyelashes at him. "Would you permit me to walk the grounds tomorrow, instead of staying locked in my chambers?"
"Why, of course, my dear," said the Green Man, reaching out and patting Wendy's hand. "If fact, since you seem to be getting along with Cernunnos so well, I was going to suggest that myself."
"Thank you, grandfather!" said Wendy, her smile genuine. "But… what does Cernunnos have to do with anything?"
"A long while ago, Cernunnos performed a favor for me, in return for which, I promised him a boon—one of my dryad maidens, to be his bride," explained the Green Man. "He has taken his time in choosing. I have never before seen him show as much interest in another maiden as he has shown in you this night. I will allow you free reign of my palace and grounds tomorrow, as long as the Lord of the Hunt accompanies you." He winked at her. "If all goes well, and it had better, we will likely have a betrothal to celebrate tomorrow evening!"
A small voice next to Wendy's ear whispered "Uh-oh…"
Wendy gulped. This was going to complicate things.