-O-
Taming Branch
By Dreamsinger
Chapter Six
A Delightful Laugh
Poppy didn't regret much in her life, but boy, she did regret mentioning that she hadn't paid attention the first time Branch led her to the meadow! It only took a few trips to learn the route, but Branch still insisted on leading her through the forest every day. Even though she knew being near the village made him nervous. It was almost as if he feared the other trolls more than he feared the bergens!
He wouldn't listen to her reassurances that she knew the route by heart, either. "Yeah, and if a predator chases you, you'll get lost. Or you'll eat something poisonous, or fall in the water and get swept downstream…"
"Branch, I'm nineteen. I'm a full-grown troll, for hair's sake."
"Good. Then as a full-grown troll, you should have the common sense to agree with me. And please don't say, 'What could go wrong'?"
She'd been just about to. Thwarted, Poppy dragged her hair down over her face and groaned dramatically. "Fiiine." Then she peeked out through her hair to see him standing there with his arms crossed. He was smiling.
The next day when Poppy arrived at the spot where Branch usually met her, he wasn't there. That was unusual – unlike some trolls, Branch was extremely prompt.
Oh, well. I guess even Branch runs a little late once in a while.
The longer she waited, the more she remembered the dire list the forest troll had quoted. Predators, poison, raging water. After five minutes, her growing concern made it harder to push those kinds of thoughts out of her mind. Puffalo stampede, bird attack. Or the bergens finally came. She caught herself listening hard for the tread of giant heavy feet and shook her head.
"Come on, Poppy. You're starting to think like Branch."Deliberately she switched mental gears to make a game out of it. Sure, the bergens are here - to apologize. And ask us to afternoon tea. Picturing that made her giggle.
After ten minutes, she dropped her pretense of nonchalance and headed out on her own. Okay, fine. I'm worried. Branch has never been even a minute late before. Obviously something is holding him up. Maybe it's something I can help with. She followed the route exactly, staying silent and moving as fast as she could. She kept an eye out for Branch in case he was just running late, but she did not see him.
The trip to the meadow usually took about fifteen minutes; Poppy made it in seven. The entire time, she worried about her grumpy friend. Branch is so safety-conscious – What could've happened? Is he sick? Hurt?
When she arrived at the meadow, Branch was nowhere in sight. She checked his little bolt-hole, but he wasn't there. Where could he be?
As she looked around, one of her ears flicked toward an odd, repetitive sound off in the distance. Thunk-thunk-thunk-crack! There was a pause, and then it started up again.
Following the sound into the nearby trees, she came upon the forest troll furiously chopping wood, slamming his razor-sharp ax so hard and fast that chips of wood went flying like darts. Then while he was still chopping, his hair would whip in and snag the ragged chunks of wood, flinging them violently to the side.
Poppy was genuinely afraid for him. That ax looks awfully sharp. It would be easy to slash his hair with it. She swallowed. Or to slash something more vital than just his hair.
"Hey, Branch? It's me, Poppy. Whatcha doin', buddy?" she asked carefully, trying to hide her anxiety.
"Anger!" he yelled in between blows. "Rage! Need – to – hit! Tree won't hurt."
She understood. "You mean, you're so angry you want to break something, so you're working out your anger on something you can't really hurt?" For the tree he had chosen was a mighty oak; not one of the self-aware trees that talked and sang. It would never miss the tiny amount of wood that a creature the size of a troll might cut.
He didn't answer, but his furious pace slowed a little. He was listening.
Her tight stomach unclenched. He didn't seem to be in danger of harming himself. From the chunks of wood scattered everywhere, he'd been at this awhile. Hopefully he'll be finished soon.
Resolving to be patient, Poppy noticed then that the tree had a lot of old scars. Sympathetically, she wondered how often he lost his temper. The pink troll was full of questions, but she knew that having someone validate his feelings and offer unquestioning support was what he needed most.
As she watched him, she began to recall past memories, finding it easier than she would have thought to empathize with him. "I like that you're doing something constructive, Branch. When I was little, I used to want to rip scrapbook paper or throw my stuffed toys when I was angry. I used to stomp my feet. Well, I still do that sometimes," she admitted with a sheepish smile. "My dad would tell me to go for a jog or a swim to cool off. I never thought about using the energy from my anger to do chores. That's a really smart idea, Branch. By all means, chop away. I'll wait until you feel like stopping."
His pace was definitely less driven now. The lines of anger on his face had eased, and it only took a few more minutes for him to slow down, then stop. Silently, she helped him gather up the bigger chunks of wood, placing them in a wooden wheelbarrow. He hoisted the handles up and began to head back toward the meadow. His skin was soaked in sweat, but his face was much calmer.
He never told her why he had been so angry, and she didn't ask. Likewise, he never scolded her for making the trip from the village without him.
From that point on, Branch told Poppy that she could come to the meadow whenever she liked. He wouldn't always be there, but she was welcome to enjoy one of the few relatively safe sanctuaries in the forest when she was in the mood to get away from the village for a little peace and quiet.
I feel like I won a prize! Poppy almost burst holding back her squeals of excitement. She didn't want him to forbid her from visiting, so that he could enjoy his peace and quiet. Even if the meadow isn't his home, it's still one of his safe "sanctuaries", right? Giving me the freedom to visit any time I want – that's a big deal. It means I'm making progress in earning his trust.
Poppy mostly went to the meadow around the same time as their usual visits. Late afternoon, after a long, fun-filled day in the village, before she went back to her dad's pod to eat dinner. Once in a while she would make an early-morning trip to share breakfast with Branch, and bring him his favorite coffee. She had finally gotten him to admit that he had a fondness for certain type of caramel-flavored coffee that only one troll in the village made.
It tickled her to see him first thing in the morning, in his cute terry-moss bathrobe and adorably messy bed-head. He was much more mellow and agreeable then, while he was still sleepy, before he'd had his coffee. Then one day it occurred to her that maybe too much coffee was part of the reason he was so jittery all the time. After that, sometimes she brought him an herbal tea instead. At first Branch complained that he needed the caffeine to be alert, but soon he grew to love the sweet, minty beverage as much as she did.
Maybe she was fooling herself, but he did seem a little more relaxed these days. Less vigilant. Maybe it was due to less caffeine. Or maybe…it's because he's getting used to my company. Maybe he trusts me now. Oh my gosh, if he does, then maybe it's finally time to take this relationship to the next level. The next step on the path to all things fun and trolly – singing, dancing, and most of all, hugs!
-O-
She decided to begin with something basic.
Branch never laughed. Not really. Sometimes he scoffed, shaking his head when he thought she was doing something silly, but that wasn't the same thing at all. But still, Branch was a troll. A member of the species known as the happiest creatures in the forest. There had to be something that made him laugh.
She decided to find out. The young princess made silly faces, wore wacky clothes, and told jokes that were considered hilarious back in the village, but Branch only stared at her with a deadpan expression on his face. Refusing to get discouraged, she tried harder. Pratfalls, fart jokes, even the classic slip-and-get-a-pie-in-her-face gag. Nothing. She even tried dad-jokes. Those almost worked. She got the distinct impression that he was working hard to keep a straight face, though he denied it.
After spending an entire afternoon trying to tickle Branch's funny bone, she was almost certain that he was holding out on her. Maybe even teasing her, in his own quiet way. Some of the stuff she'd tried had been known to cause literal hairballs when laughing trolls rolled on the ground together in careless glee. There's no way anyone could be that serious.
The next day she decided to try the direct approach. "Hey, Branch, what makes you laugh?"
"Nothing. I don't have time for all that silly stuff." He waved his hand in the air. "It's not important. Laughter isn't useful, and it costs time and energy you could be using for more important things."
"I see." Poppy took a moment to think about that. "So, you don't like to see energy wasted, right?"
"Right."
"Okay, I get that," she said agreeably. "But has it ever occurred to you that you probably use a lot of energy in suppressing your sense of humor?"
The gray troll was silent for a long moment. "Wait, what?"
Poppy grinned. Branch wasn't the only one capable of using logic. It tickled her the way he always looked so surprised when she was able to see things that he couldn't. She knew that it was difficult to see the flaws in your own logic at the best of times. How much more difficult was it when you had no one else's point of view but your own?
"Suppressing the urge to laugh costs you energy. In fact, laughter itself tends to generate energy," she said persuasively.
"It does?"
Poppy wasn't quite sure of her facts on this point, but as she worked it out aloud, she explained, "That's how it feels to me, anyway. Laughter is energy. Life energy."
His brow furrowed as he asked her, "You really think so?"
She'd intrigued him, and she reveled in it. "Oh sure," she said breezily. "I mean, I get what you're saying, that trying to cause laughter deliberately can be time-consuming." After spending all afternoon yesterday trying to get Branch to even crack a smile, she understood that all too well. "But life is life. When something funny just happens, you laugh. There's no need to deny yourself the joy of laughter."
He gave her a wondering look. Sensing her opportunity, she leaned toward him, giving him a warm, teasing grin. "Come onn, Branchifer, don't you ever think anything is funny?"
A snort came out of him before he could stop it.
"What?" She pounced on it. "Don't leave me hanging. I can see you trying to hide it, but you do have a sense of humor. Come on, what was so funny?"
"You. When I surprised you in the forest and you fell on your-" He tried to keep it in, but snorted again.
"On my butt?" Poppy slapped on a surprised look, staggered backward and plopped to the ground. Her eyes bugged out, mouth hanging open.
That did it. A real, full laugh emerged from the gray troll's mouth. It changed his entire face. All the creases of worry and pain disappeared, leaving behind only laugh-lines. He looked so much younger; close to her own age, in fact. His summer-sky eyes were shining with warmth.
Her heart soared. Poppy started laughing herself, joy ringing through every note. She'd never enjoyed a laugh so much in her life. It was thrilling.
He had a nice voice, she noticed. She didn't know why he was self-conscious about it. For someone so serious, she would have expected a deeper voice, but no, his voice was light and beautiful, more of a giggle than a laugh. It was delightful. He was delightful.
As his laughter subsided, he held out a hand. Her heart fluttered as she looked up at him, the sun outlining his profile with its distinctive wide ear-span, like a butterfly in flight. Gladly she put her hand in his, using it to pull herself up.
She didn't let go. It was the first time he'd ever reached out to her. His big hand felt good around hers, warm and strong and caring somehow.
Later she would realize that that was the moment she fell for him. The first time he held his hand out for hers. The first time she heard his beautiful laugh.
She looked into his smiling face and surge of warmth flooded through her belly; a sudden rush of love for this bewildered, lonely stranger. How long had it been since he'd last laughed?
"There it is. I'm so proud of you, Branch. I knew you could do it," she said softly, her tone going husky with feeling.
Branch looked down, his cheeks flushing lavender. As his eyes fell on their joined hands, he went still, gazing down at her hand in a sort of wonder. "Warm," he murmured.
"Sorry, what did you say?"
His big hand moved against hers. "I forgot that another troll's hand would be so warm."
Caught between laughter and tears, Poppy had to swallow around the sudden lump in her throat. When he looked up at her, she gave him a wobbly smile, fighting back the urge to throw her arms around him. She didn't want to jeopardize her progress with him, but oh, she had never wanted to hug anyone so badly in her life!
He must have seen the flaming desire in her face. He let her go and stepped back, holding out a hand in front of him. "No way, Princess. Don't even think about it."
She couldn't help herself. "Aww, Braaanch…" She took a step toward him. "We're having a special moment here," she protested, then gave him a perky smile. "How about a side-hug? Just one arm?"
"No." His scowl came back, and again he looked like the troll she knew.
"A pat on the back?"
"Nope." He crossed his arms and lifted his chin.
"Aw, come on, Branch, give me something," she groaned."I can't believe you don't feel bad about not getting a hug too, every time my watch goes off."
"I told you before; I don't need hugs. Not like you do," he replied, but he uncrossed his arms. Poppy sensed that she was getting through to him. His voice stuttered slightly as he protested, "Hugs are…a-a-a waste of valuable time."
Waste again. In his mind he'd managed to convince himself that everything good was a waste of one kind or another. She was going to enjoy proving him wrong.
"But hugs feel sooo good," she said persuasively. "And they're good for you. They make you feel better when you feel bad, or when you're lonely."
"I don't get lonely."
"You don't?" She blinked, truly astonished. "Seriously?"
"I…" He looked away. "Maybe I used to. A long time ago. Now I'm too busy to feel lonely."
You mean you find work to do whenever you feel lonely to help take your mind off your loneliness. That's not the same thing at all.
"Well, I'd be lonely," she said earnestly. "There's a lot of people I'd miss if I couldn't talk to them anymore. Is there anyone you m-"
"Shut up! I don't miss anyone!" he yelled, his voice cracking.
The harsh outburst shocked both of them. Staring into his anguished face, Poppy realized that she'd blithely touched a nerve. Oh, man. There is someone he misses. Whoever it is, he misses them an awful lot.
Immediately she backtracked. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel bad. Just forget I said anything."
He stared at her for a long moment, then squeezed his eyes closed. Weariness and old pain carved deep lines around his eyes. "I think you should leave. Now."
Her face fell. "Okay," she said in a small voice. She slowly turned to leave, her feet dragging in the grass. "I'm really sorry."
"Just go away, Poppy."
When she got to the edge of the meadow, she stopped to look back. Branch was facing away from her, looking slightly upward, his fists clenched. Upset, or angry? Glad she was leaving, no doubt. She couldn't blame him.
Was he banishing her forever? She didn't want to ask, or upset him any further, but she needed him to know something. "Hey, Branch?"
"What?" He didn't look at her.
"If I couldn't talk to you anymore, I'd miss you."
Now he turned around, looking confused. "Why?"
"Why?" Now it was her turn to be confused. "What do you mean, why?"
He opened his mouth, closed it, and looked away. "Never mind." He slipped off while she was still thinking about how to answer his question.
-O-
When she told her dad what had happened over dinner that evening, he gave her hugs and sympathy. But he also told her, "Look at this as a learning experience. You'll have to deal with managing conflicts between trolls when you are queen."
"I already do that, Dad."
"For other trolls, yes. This will be different." He stroked his bushy mustache. "We often don't know ourselves as well as we think we do. Sometimes we react in ways we wouldn't have expected. It can be humbling to see ourselves in, shall we say, less than ideal light."
"Oh." She thought about that. Poppy had always thought of herself as highly compassionate and understanding, but if that were really the case, she wouldn't keep saying things that upset Branch, would she? "Has that ever happened to you, Dad?"
"Oh, yes. Not so much now as when I was younger, but yes. There were times I was absolutely sure I was doing the right thing, only to have someone else have a completely different opinion. Often, it was your mother," he teased her, and Poppy giggled. "She was never shy about disagreeing with me. Oh, how we used to argue…" He chuckled fondly, gazing off into the distance. "Conflict can be quite useful, Poppy. I learned a lot about myself from her."
-O-
"Good morning, Poppy. How's your little friend?" Milton greeted her cheerfully as he used a special brush to gently stroke the purple fur of a flopper hopper. The two trolls had fallen into the habit of referring to Poppy's special project as her "little friend."
Poppy was still being careful not to mention that her "little friend" was actually a fellow troll. She wouldn't have minded if Milton knew, but the more trolls who knew about Branch, the more likely it was that her special project would soon become everyone's special project. Branch just wasn't ready to be inundated with dozens of happy, huggy trolls all looking for a new friend.
"Good morning, Milton." Poppy sighed and looked at her toes.
The critternarian was good at reading body language. "Did something happen?"
"I made some progress yesterday, and then really messed up. I guess I'm just a little discouraged."
"I'm sorry you feel bad," Milton said softly. "I'll admit that I thought you would have earned his trust by now."
"Me, too. Sometimes I wonder if he even likes me. He's friendly one minute and cold the next." She stamped a foot in frustration. "Plus, I've been visiting him for a long time now, and he still won't let me hug him!" She hadn't slept well the night before, and it showed.
"Something must have happened to him to make him want to avoid hugs," Milton guessed. "Will he let you touch him at all?"
"Yes…" she replied slowly, thinking about yesterday. Feeling Branch's warm hand wrapped around hers. "I think so."
"Then you might try starting small and working up to full hugs. In the language of touch, even small gestures of affection count. Or maybe…" Milton turned and offered her the brush he was holding. "Maybe he would let you brush his hair. All of my critters love to be groomed."
Poppy pictured Branch on all fours, bowing his head to her with a happy grin, his tongue hanging out of his mouth like a cuddle pup's. She laughed and accepted the brush. "I've been wanting to brush his hair, actually. Maybe he'll let me. Thanks, Milton."
-O-
Poppy tucked the brush into the basket of treats she was bringing for Branch. When he finds it, I'll offer to brush his hair, to apologize for hurting his feelings yesterday.
If he lets me in.
As the pink princess approached the meadow, conflicting feelings piled up inside her. Anticipation. Hope and nervousness. Irritation at his rudeness – he'd actually said "shut up" to her! When all she'd been trying to do was make him happy. Guilt over the pain she'd caused him, to make him act out like that. Resentment. No one else had ever made her feel such uncomfortable self-doubt.
Helping Branch be a happy troll again was the right thing to do, wasn't it? Her dad had approved of her plan. But then, he hasn't actually seen Branch himself, has he? Her father was relying on her reports, which could be biased to reflect what she wanted to see.
Maybe she was wrong about Branch. Maybe he was doing just fine, even if he wasn't living life the way other trolls did. Maybe she was being too pushy, as Branch often called her. Maybe she should…
Poppy shook her head impatiently. Her dad had implied that Branch was helping her see sides of herself she didn't know about. That had sounded nice at the time, but in reality it was…less nice than she had imagined. Would associating with Branch make her second-guess every decision she ever made?
Maybe I shouldn't even be going there now. Branch told me to go away. Maybe I should accept his choice, and leave him alone, permanently. What if all I'm doing is disturbing the peace he values so highly?
Almost, she turned back. But she couldn't part ways with him without making up with him first. All last night, sad blue eyes had haunted her dreams. Conflict might be useful, but not at the expense of someone's feelings. She wanted to make Branch happy, not cause him pain.
Besides, although it had been overshadowed by their fight, yesterday she'd passed a milestone. Or rather, Branch had. She stopped walking and closed her eyes, letting the memory of Branch's beautiful laugh wash over her, and a shiver ran down her spine. That laugh had felt so right. So good. His first happy laugh in who knew how long. And it won't be his last. Not as long as I'm around.
Author's Note:
I figure the phrase "Shut up" is probably massively unacceptable in the trolls' world; the equivalent of a swear word.
I debated whether I should have Poppy ask Branch what got him so angry he needed to go chop wood to cool off, but at this point in the story, she's still focused more on getting Branch out of his world and into hers, so she doesn't really want him to dwell on bad stuff. As she gets more involved with Branch, she will find herself pulled more into his world later on.
Poor Poppy, unknowingly reminding Branch of his grandma. Boy, she's running headfirst into all his boundaries, isn't she? And poor Branch, who still feels so much pain and loss.
But our Poppy has already managed to wake up the sense of playfulness from where it's been slumbering inside him all these years. Her efforts are clumsy but sincere, and he already loves her for that. Whether either of them realizes it or not. And it only took one genuinely heartfelt laugh for our girl to fall hair over heels for her little foxfluff 😉
