-O-
Taming Branch
By Dreamsinger
Chapter Four
Storm of Tears
Okay, here's the plan. Figure out some way to get close to Branch. Get him to trust me. Then hug him, sing with him, hug him, dance with him, hug him, bring back his colors, and make him happy for good! Then hug him some more!
For the next few weeks, Poppy met Branch every day in the empty field, sharing treats and recipes, exchanging small gifts, and having brief, sometimes awkward conversations. She also tried to get him interested in playing some of the games that were currently popular in the village, but he was decidedly unenthusiastic.
"Games aren't important," he told her. "They take time away from gathering the things I need, and maintaining my- I mean, from patrolling and surveillance. Threats won't go away just because you want to play games."
"Maybe they would, if you invited the threat to play along with you," Poppy said reasonably. She didn't understand why Branch looked at her as if he pitied her. In her experience, many of the creatures that had threatened the village in the past had stopped being threats once the trolls befriended them.
But Branch looked at her like she was missing something. Maybe he'd tried to befriend some creature that had threatened him and been unable to? He'd seen a lot more of the world than she had, after all. She'd hardly ever been beyond the borders of the village.
Fighting discouragement, Poppy changed tactics. "Branch, you can't possibly do nothing but work every hour of every day. Come on, don't you have any hobbies?"
He looked at her for a long time while she waited hopefully. A couple of times, he looked like he was starting to say something. Each time, she leaned forward in anticipation, her hands clasped in front of her. Whatever his hobby was, she'd offer to do it with him. Even if it was something super boring like watching paint dry. If it was something he did because he liked it, she'd participate willingly. Hey, maybe watching paint dry is what he does to relax. Yeah, kick back and chill; all quiet and peaceful, a little sleepy, maybe… Considering how uptight he is all the time, he could use a little paint-drying watching-time to loosen up...
But he thwarted her plan with a flat, "No."
Her next plan involved bringing dozens of scrapbooks for him to look at, featuring various trolls who were important in her own life. Hoping to get him interested in village life again, she told him stories about her dad and her closest friends.
"…So Biggie has this cute little clock shaped like a puffalo. Lately it's been running slow, and we can't figure out why. I gave him a new one, but later on he gave it back, saying that his mother gave him his puffalo clock when he was little and he just can't bear not to see it on his wall. I get that; I really do, but now the problem is, then he told everybody not to wait for him if he's late. Now everything is weird. We want to make him happy and do what he told us, but it doesn't feel right starting without him…"
She didn't realize it at first, but talking to the reclusive hermit could be oddly comforting. Branch listened quietly to her problems. He didn't say much, although occasionally he asked a useful question, or offered some advice that helped her figure things out. If nothing else, he let her get it all out, and that helped her feel better.
But when she tried to return the favor, he was frustratingly closemouthed about himself.
"So, what do you do all day?"
"I gather food. Sometimes other supplies."
"Anything I can help you with?"
"No. Thanks. I'm good."
"Um, okay… Hey, I know, tell me about your friends."
"I… I don't have any friends." He looked down and away, his ears drooping slightly.
That stunned her for a minute. She'd suspected it, but it still surprised her to hear someone actually say that out loud. Then she rallied. "Of course you do. You have me."
That got a smile out of him. A small one, anyway. "Thanks."
Aside from his grumbles about the bergens, the only thing she learned about him during those first few weeks was that he really, really didn't like glitter. He said it was messy and irritating, and that "One of these days you're going to attract the wrong type of attention, and then you'll be sorry. Anyone would think you wanted a bergen to eat you."
He often said rude things like that to her, and he still refused to let her hug him. Yet he continued to wear the leaf-vest she had given him, along with an old pair of brown shorts that had even more patches on them than his overalls had had, and he did come every single day, rain or shine. She took that as a sign that he really did want to be friends with her. So that was something.
As her Forest Troll scrapbook grew thicker, Poppy congratulated herself on every successful interaction with him. When she showed the scrapbook to her dad, he praised her warmly. But she wished she could share her victories with her friends, too.
Milton still believed she was trying to befriend a forest critter. Poppy had told her other friends that she was working on a special project as part of her training to be queen, and that it was important that she figure it out on her own. They respected her request, and didn't try to interfere. They even went out of their way to cover for her when other trolls needed help, especially Smidge, who often acted as Poppy's Chief Helper.
Technically, Poppy's explanation was true, since Branch was a troll and it was a (future) queen's duty to take care of her people. Also, her dad had left it all up to her. But it still felt like a lie. Poppy felt guilty about that, but Branch was more important. Once he was comfortable enough to meet (and be hugged by) her friends, they would understand. And she would make it up to them.
But, well, she was still working on making Branch comfortable with hugging.
He was just as skittish about hugging now as when she'd first seen him. There was no way he could be around the other trolls just yet. It was hard enough stopping herself from trying to hug the unwilling forest troll. The first time her Hug Time watch went off, it took all her self-control not to throw her arms around him, but she managed not to. Barely. Every time, it was a struggle, and it never got any easier.
At first the gray troll jumped every time the watch went ting, giving her a wary glare if she took even a step toward him. Only her fear that he would bolt stopped her. She couldn't afford to scare off her little foxfluff. He had managed to hide somewhere in the forest for eight years without anyone seeing him; he could just as easily disappear on her again, forever.
Forever.
Not happening. If keeping Branch's friendship means not hugging him, then…I'll just have to hug something else, she told herself. You can do it, Poppy. For as long as it takes.
And she did it. But man, is it hard!
As the days passed, Branch's reaction changed. Now he would cross his arms and give her a smug look while she hugged herself, or the treat basket, or a passing bug or something. It was incredibly frustrating, until one day it occurred to her that Branch no longer flinched when her watch went off. Whether he realized it or not, he was becoming accustomed to normal troll things again. That made it much easier to bear with her situation.
Even better, she thought later as she scrapbooked herself hugging a tree while Branch looked on with amusement, is that I'm earning Branch's trust. He sees how hard it is for me, but I'm doing it. Because he asked me to. And once he trusts me completely, he'll want to hug me.
Earning Branch's trust was important, because Branch distrusted everything. According to him, the world was full of bad things waiting to happen. "You have to be on your guard at all times. One wrong move, and it's all over."
"Come on, Branch, don't you think that's a little pessimistic? Not everything is dangerous," she said persuasively. "What about dancing? It's so fun, and it's good exercise, too."
"It's also a good source of dehydration. Also, what if someone trips and breaks a leg?"
Poppy rolled her eyes. "Why do you always have to look on the dark side?"
"It's better than pretending the dark side doesn't exist. The world isn't all cupcakes and rainbows, no matter how much you wish it was. Believe me, I know."
The haunted look in his eyes prevented her from saying anything more. She was trying to make him happy, not bring him down.
More and more with every day that passed, Poppy longed to make Branch truly happy. She longed to see him laugh, and dance, and sing. His gray skin was a constant reminder that he lived under a shadow. What was worse, he seemed to find no fault with his life. That made her ever more determined to help him. He needed her to brighten his worldview, whether he wanted to admit it or not. She would get through to him, no matter what it took.
-O-
The field where they met was at the far edge of the village, close enough to hear occasional music and singing. One day they were playing a guessing game, using sticks to draw pictures in the dirt. Off in the distance a group of trolls was singing a popular old favorite, an incredibly catchy song that had been sung in the village as long as Poppy could remember.
It was her turn to draw. As her stick slid pleasantly through the soft earth, Branch began to tap his own stick on the ground. At first she thought he was getting impatient for her to finish. Then she realized that he was tapping in time with the tune. Poppy smiled. He must recognize this song.
A moment later Branch began to hum. Softly at first, but when the trolls in the distance hit the refrain, his voice gained strength and clarity.
Poppy was delighted. "So you do like to sing! I thought so. You are a troll, after all-"
"No! I – I wasn't singing." To her astonishment, Branch looked shocked. "I was – I was – just…" Lines of strain collected around his eyes, then he dropped his stick and hid his face in his hands. "I wasn't singing," he mumbled through his fingers.
Poppy didn't understand what was going on. Was he afraid? Embarrassed? Ohhh, because of that whole 'bad notes' thing? Is his voice really that awful? It didn't sound that bad to me.
Bad voice or no, Branch was almost acting like he'd done something wrong, something he was ashamed of. Ashamed to sing? Poppy felt protectiveness stirring within her. No troll should ever be ashamed to sing.
The pink princess decided it was one of those strange ideas Branch must have come up with during his long self-exile, like the way he obsessed over his belief that the bergens were still a threat to the village. She'd work on changing his mind. Eventually he would see that he was wrong and she was right; that there was no need to be so worried and afraid all the time.
But right now he was upset. He needed reassurance before anything else. Poppy would already be hugging any other troll, but for now, words would have to do. "Branch. It's okay. It's okay to admit you like to sing. You can do it," she encouraged him gently. "The world won't end if you do. I promise you it won't."
He was silent for a long moment before he spoke through his fingers in a dull, heavy tone, "You're wrong. It can."
It took her a moment to realize that his answer was not the one she expected. "Wait, what?"
I'm not wrong. What kind of answer is that? Perplexed, she paused to try to process his statement. The world won't stop existing just because someone sings!Irritation pricked the feel-good bubble she was trying to create around them. Ugh, he's not making any sense!
She frowned thoughtfully at the enigma before her, idly tapping a finger to her chin. You know what, Branch? I'm gonna prove it to you. Poppy began to sing along with the distant song.
Immediately Branch took his face out of his hands and pressed his finger to her lips. "Shush!" His ears pressed back against the side of his head, reminding her even more strongly of a wary little foxfluff. Behind his finger her mouth widened into a smile at the sight, her frustration fading. It was a good thing he was so cute.
At the sight of her smile, his severe expression eased a little and his ears relaxed back to their normal position. As he released her lips, he pointed the same finger at her as if she were still the young trolling he remembered from eight years ago. "Now, I mean it. Shush."
Poppy put a fist on one hip, grinning at him in amused affection. "Oh, Branch, there's nothing wrong with singing. You were just humming yourself. So that means you want to sing, and-"
"No. I don't."
"Oh, yes you do!" she said cheerily. He couldn't keep denying it. He did want to sing. She'd never been so sure of anything in her life. "Come on, Branch, sing with me!"
"No! I won't sing!" He was starting to get agitated. "You can't make me! It's against the rules!"
"What rules?" This was news to Poppy. "I only promised not to hug you. I never promised I wouldn't sing."
"My rules! The rules I made to keep me safe. And alive."
"O…kay." Why is it that with you, everything is life or death? She took a deep, slow breath, trying to contain her frustration and see things from his perspective. Time to take this down a notch. "Branch. Listen to me," she said in a reasonable tone. "This field is part of the village grounds. We're perfectly safe here."
"No! Singing is not safe. Singing is never safe!"
Why was he being so stubborn about something he was clearly wrong about? "Oh, come on, Branch! That's not true. I sing all the time, and I'm still here. See?" To prove her point, Poppy opened herself to the feeling inside her, and a song of encouragement began to flow out of her. She would help him stop denying what he surely wanted most.
His ears went back against his skull again. "Stop."
Poppy kept singing; reveling in the glorious rush of feeling pouring forth from deep inside her and sharing it with the world. Branch would feel so much better once he gave in to the natural instinct to join her in song; the instinct that every troll was hatched with. She knew he would.
"Poppy, stop! Stop it!"
She tried harder, going for the sweetest, most breathtaking sounds her throat could produce. The kind that brought tears to one's eyes. And she succeeded, but not in the way she expected.
Branch took a step back. "I thought you wanted to be my friend. A friend wouldn't hurt me like this!" he cried out, his voice trembling. To her horror, his eyes were wet.
She was hurting him?
Her song shattered. As she stared at the tearful troll in front of her, her own eyes began to sting in sympathy. Remorse and confusion engulfed her. She wished her dad was here, or Milton. No troll she'd ever met, no matter how down, had ever reacted like this. Branch defied her instincts. What should have brought them closer together only pushed them further apart.
As if to prove it, the gray troll backed up another step, then turned away from her, heading toward the forest.
Oh, no! Poppy was stunned. Fear flashed down her spine, leaving her entire body fizzing with icy fire. If he makes it into the forest, I'll never be able to find him. I'll never see him again! She took a frantic step after him, holding out her hand. "No, Branch, wait!"
He ignored her. As he approached the tree line, something inside her tore free and she took off after him. "Please don't go!" she wailed. "Branch! Waiiit!"
Branch stiffened, then spun around, looking horrified. "Stop. Stop the noise! Danger!" he warned in a harsh whisper. His ears flicked sharply as he scanned their surroundings and the sky above. "They'll get you!"
As she caught up to him, it took everything she had not to throw her arms around him, to do whatever she could to make him stay with her. Again and again, she had to block the overpowering instinct to reach for him. She wanted to hug him. She needed to hug him!
Suddenly it was all too much. The young princess burst into tears. "I'm sorry," she wailed. "I'm so, so sorry, Branch! Please don't stop being my friend!"
"Quiet!" His hushed voice cracked with panic. "Please!"
Still crying, Poppy scrubbed her eyes hard with the back of her hands, catching a glimpse of his terrified expression. He was as distraught as she was. Why was it that she could never do the right thing with Branch? He was freaking out and it was all her fault! What should she do? She needed help. They both did. They needed-
A Time Out.
Instinctively craving a quiet place where they could both calm down, Poppy brought her hair down to form a tight, nearly-soundproof bubble around them both. Automatically she changed its shape and color to match a nearby bush.
"Ah!" Branch jumped, staring around him with wide eyes.
"Don't be scared. It's camouflage. Blocks sound, too." She went back to trying to get her eyes to stop leaking water, but she was so miserable they wouldn't stop. A wail of pure misery pushed at the back of her teeth, building and building until finally she couldn't hold it any more. Giving up, she covered her face with her hands and wept.
Something pushed outward through her hair. Frantically her burning eyes swept through the dark dome around her to find her worst fears confirmed. Branch was gone. She would never see her wild foxfluff again.
"Nooo!" With a howl, Poppy buried her face in her hands. She had never cried so hard in her life.
A minute later, something pushed against her hair! Her head jerked up, Branch's panicky warnings ringing in her ears. A predator? Frantically she backed away, keeping the hair dome between herself and whatever it was as she desperately wiped her swollen eyes with faded pink fingers. She separated the dome to glance behind her, ready to escape into the forest.
On the verge of running, Poppy froze as she suddenly heard a very distinct sniff. It almost sounded like…
Slowly she thinned the hair in front of her, and saw the last thing she would have expected.
The gray troll was standing there with tears rolling down his cheeks. His shoulders shook with suppressed sobs, and lines of anguish twisted his face, but he didn't make a sound. Even so, his head turned this way and that, still watching out for her safety.
Something in her chest shattered and healed all at once, and her colors came back with a pulse of pink light. "Oh, Braaanch…" Her voice was a thick, hoarse, nasty mess. "Y-you stayed."
Wordlessly he held out what looked like a big, tan-colored leaf. Curious, she took it. It felt papery. She looked up to see him wiping his face with a second one. Oh. She touched it to her face, and then felt a fresh surge of hot tears flow as it hit her. Despite his fear, he'd left the relative safety of the camouflaged hair dome just to get something to make her feel better. Aww, that's so sweet…
She sniffled into the leaf for another minute or two before her tears subsided to the occasional hiccup. He's still here. Despite all my mistakes, Branch is still here. But I nearly lost him this time. She had to be more responsible. She'd broken his trust, and now she would probably have to start all over again.
She would start with a truly sincere apology. Wishing more than anything that she could hug him, she settled for clasping her hands in front of her. His blue eyes were full of emotion as he looked back at her, but she couldn't tell if it was good or bad. "I'm sorry, Branch. I am your friend. At least, I want to be. I really, really do."
Branch blew his nose and stared at her for a long moment while she held her breath. Then he relented, grumbling, "Silly Princess Pinkie – Poppy – Why 'Poppy'? Poppies are red. – Makes no sense at all. Just like you. Why would you want to be my friend?" It sounded like an accusation.
Gladly she babbled, "I don't need a reason, do I? I just do. I want to be your friend, Branch. I like you. I like you a lot. Don't… Don't you like me?" She looked down at the ground, shuffling a foot through the grass, suddenly afraid of his answer. She'd never needed to worry about whether someone liked her before.
She listened to the catch in his breathing as she waited, wondering if he was debating whether to give up on her for good. Maybe he'd decided she wasn't worth the trouble. I don't mean to cause trouble for him. It's not easy for me, either. Nobody else is so touchy!
When he did answer, he didn't address her question exactly. "…Okay, Poppy. I'll still come to see you, but you have to promise me you'll be quiet. Don't sing. Ever. You don't know what can happen. There are animals that can come out of nowhere and just snap you up – gulp – and you're gone. I see it happen to other creatures our size all the time."
She definitely felt a worry-wrinkle between her eyes as she pictured that. "Oh." And yet he stayed with me. Her heart nearly burst with the rush of love she felt for her friend. She wanted to throw her arms around him, but the most she could do was apologize again. "I'm really, really sorry, Branch. I never meant to hurt you, or scare you. I promise, I won't sing around you unless you want me to."
Surprisingly, one corner of his mouth tipped up in a sarcastic smirk. "Ha. We'll see about that."
Still feeling uncertain, she asked him, "D-does that mean you still want to see me?"
He hesitated, then nodded and shuffled his feet. "I'm sorry, too."
Her heart soared and she smiled for the first time in what felt like hours. Branch still liked her! Everything was going to be okay after all.
"I didn't mean to make you feel so bad," he continued. "I cry like that sometimes. I didn't know other trolls cried like me."
Cried…like you? Oh, Branch… Her lower lip trembled. She closed her sore eyes, trying to get a grip on herself as yet another storm of tears threatened, at the thought of Branch sobbing his heartbreak all alone. For years. Years!
"I'll still see you…" he said again, "But I don't like it here. It's too exposed." He hesitated. "I know a place that's safer."
Author's Note:
Haha, he's not referring to the place you're all thinking… Well, it is but it isn't. You'll see.
There are actually pink poppy flowers, but I always think of poppies as red, or red-orange. Probably due to the field of red poppy flowers from the movie The Wizard of Oz, lol. Poppies actually come in many colors, including pale blue. Now I'm picturing two poppies, one pink and the other blue, for you-know-who 😉
