Hello, hiya, and how-dee-doo everybody. Yeesh, another long time in between updates. Sorry about that. It's been a busy few weeks with family vacation and...well, you don't care about the boring details, so I'll stop there. Anyway, this is just a little note to say that, unfortunately, the story will more or less have to be put on hold for a bit. No, it isn't over. It isn't even close to being over. Lots of fun actiony stuff lies ahead. However, I have a really busy school year starting soon, and have no idea how often I'll be able to update. (For another thing, I...er...well, I haven't written much of the second half and really need to work out some story details.) Anyway, consider this a hiatus. It may be a few months between chapters, but I will update as soon as feasibly possible. I'm telling you all this so you won't get cranky with me and think "Hey, dat joik abandoned us. Of all th' noive!" Or something like that. Thanks for sticking with me thus far, and please don't to forget to check back every once in a while and see if anything's been added. Stay cool, guys.
~The Management
Chessi: You know, you're right; it was pretty stinky of Buttercup to just stand there. I never really thought of that, but I'm glad you pointed it out. That's Helganna-1, Buttercup-0.
Eve4000: Thanks. I haven't heard that song in a long time, though. It's from the three little pigs, isn't it?
puppiescute: Yeah, I'm not too fond of rats either. I think there's one living above my bedroom ceiling, and that kinda gives me the willies. Specially at night...ick.
Mystik Spiral:Thanks, o third twin of mine. It's fun to rock!
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At last, just before sunset, the trees began to look sparser, and the ground began to feel firmer...and suddenly Arnold and Helganna were stumbling out of the Fire Swamp. They were exhausted beyond belief, and covered in slime and filth, and their wounds were in desperate need of attention--but they had made it.
They were free.
They were together.
They were...
...trapped.
(Trapped like rats, she thought unhappily.)
Directly in front of them were Prince Haroldink and his soldiers, sitting astride their horses and blocking the road towards Guilder. They had been waiting at the far end of the swamp for some time. Haroldink grinned, brandishing his sword. Of course the kidnapper and the princess would be caught. He'd known it all along. No one escaped the Crown Prince of Florin. "Surrender!" he said, a gleeful note of arrogance in his voice.
Despite the weight of hopelessness that had settled on his heart at this sight, Arnold stood as straight as he could, and grinned back. "You are surrendering to me? Very well; I accept! And may I congratulate Your Highness on the wisest decision he has ever made."
Haroldink furrowed his brow slightly and leaned closer to Phoebe. "Is he making fun of me?" he whispered.
"Weeelllll....in a way, he is insulting your perspicacity, Sir," Phoebe answered.
"My what?" He faced Arnold again. "DON'T CALL ME FAT!" said the prince. (Phoebe sighed, reminding herself to use simpler words.) "And I'll have you know I am not here to surrender. You, on the other hand, have no other choice if you want to leave this place alive."
"Oh, I'm not so sure about that. You wouldn't mind living in the Fire Swamp for a few years, now would you?" he said casually to Helganna.
"Surrender!"
"Over my dead body!"
"If you insist," said Haroldink. He motioned to the soldiers, who accordingly dismounted and stepped forward with their swords. Arnold drew his own sword, knowing he could never win against so many in such a weakened state, but not about to go without a fight. He drew a sharp breath and prepared himself for the inevitable.
"Will you promise not to hurt him?!"
Haroldink and Arnold turned towards Helganna, surprised.
"What was that?" said Haroldink.
"What was that?" said Arnold.
Helganna planted herself between them, glaring at Haroldink. "This man is a sailor, and a...a childhood friend of mine," she said, pointing to Arnold. "Promise not to hurt him, and promise to return him to his ship. If you do this, I will go back with you now, I will gladly marry you, and we will forget anything ever happened."
Haroldink shrugged, "Works for me," and sheathed his sword.
"Your Highness," whispered Count Rhonda, "We can't just let him go. He may be a spy sent to do away with you. He did kidnap your fiancee, after all. There's no telling what he may have planned next."
"Mm...good point," Haroldink whispered back. "Take him to the castle and put him in the Den of Pain until I can decide what to do with him."
She nodded. "Works for me."
"I'm sorry," Helganna was saying to Arnold. "But I lost you once; I couldn't bear to lose you again. At least this way, there's still hope." She placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. "I love you," she said softly. With that, she turned and walked over to Haroldink. The prince pulled her up to sit behind him and chucked the horse's reins.
Arnold refused to watch as they rode away. He very nearly did sink to his knees in desperation, then. Instead, he closed his eyes, shutting them tightly against the painful reality. So close. And now.....farther than ever.
"Sometimes, hope isn't enough," he mumbled sadly under his breath.
The soldiers tied his hands behind him and led him over to Count Rhonda. She raised one eyebrow, inspecting him under a disapproving gaze. "Tsk, tsk, tsk," she said flatly. "Black. How terribly drab. Honestly--what I wouldn't give to see one of you mercenaries exercising a little fashion sense once in a while."
Arnold did not say anything in response, although he did happen to glance at the right hand resting on her saddle. A rather interesting right hand, for that matter. He looked up at her and managed a weak smile. "I wouldn't call having five fingers very stylish, either," he said. "I know someone who'd like to meet you."
Rhonda gave a tiny gasp and she went pale. She hid her hand; then with an angry look on her face, motioned to the soldiers. One of them conked Arnold on the head. Without a sound, he collapsed into unconsciousness.
"Well, there you are, Short Man. Good night." Grandpa stood up and stretched, his bones creaking loudly in protest. "Whoo-wee! Feels like my back popped right out. Nothin' personal, Arnold, but next time I tell you a story, remind me not to sit on this conflabbed chair of yours for so long. 'Tain't good for my plastic hip. Any more cookies?" He took the last remaining cookie from the plate and began munching.
"Hold it, hold it, Grandpa!" said Arnold quickly. "You mean, that's it? You can't just end the story there."
"Why not?" his grandpa asked through a mouthful of oatmeal raisin.
"What about the three kidnappers who got away? And the five fingers? And she can't just run off and marry the prince like that. And what about me.....er, I mean, Arnold?" He let out a disgusted sigh. "Grandpa, that's gotta be the worst ending I've ever heard."
Arnold's grandpa swallowed the rest of his cookie. "Now hold on just a ding-blasted minute," he said. "I never said that was the end of the story, so don't get your pajamas all in a twist. There's a lot more to go."
The nine-year-old sat back, relieved. "Could you tell me some more, then?"
"Sure thing! But not now. It's very late and you're sick. I'll finish it tomorrow."
"I still can't get to sleep. Maybe if you kept telling it..."
"Oh...that's right.....you're one of those inquisitive, stubborn types, aren't you..." muttered Grandpa to himself. He put the empty dishes on the tray and carried them towards the door. "Sorry, Short Man. You'll just have to wait. Maybe you have insomnia, but I'm elderly and tired and falling apart (here, his knees popped in agreement) and I need my beauty rest." He chortled. "Besides, there's some very important business in need of my immediate and undivided attention."
"What's that?" asked Arnold.
Grandpa sighed. "Well...let me put it this way: Your grandma is a wonderful woman, Arnold. I love her to the very depths of my soul, and I always will. But she's also crazy as a loon and doesn't do things a normal person would. Now, a normal person would have made oatmeal raisin cookies. But it seems your grandma, for some unfathomable reason of her own, decided to make oatmeal prune cookies instead, and I've just eaten a whole plateful before coming to that realization." He patted his gurgling stomach. "And as any old geezer like myself could tell you--prunes are Nature's laxative. You know what 'laxative' means, don't you, boy?"
Arnold made a face.
"Glad to see they're teaching you something in that school. Gotta go!" He was out the door in a flash.
Arnold laughed slightly. "Grandma's not the only crazy one." But I wouldn't have it any other way, he thought with a yawn. He turned out the lights and snuggled under the covers. The stars shone brightly above him in the sky, and as he watched them sparkle, his eyelids began to feel heavy. Tomorrow. Tomorrow will be a good day.
Another yawn, then sleep and the boy found each other at last.