-O-

Picturebook Romance

A Trolls fanfic

By Dreamsinger

Chapter Sixty-Three

Memory Lane 2:

A Little Trolling Named Acorn

Poppy and I strolled hand-in-hand down the shady, sun-dappled lane. After a while I noticed that my normally high-spirited girlfriend was unusually quiet, smiling lovingly at me whenever our eyes met, but not actually saying anything. She must have seen that I needed some time to process our unexpected, yet wonderful, chance encounter with two of the trolls who had meant so much to me when I was growing up.

I felt good. After so long, I'd finally managed to set things right between me and my foster parents. Even better, I'd learned that they were still just as much my dads as ever. They weren't angry, or upset with me. They weren't even disappointed in me - no, they were actually proud of me. They were proud of the troll I'd become.

Best of all, they still loved me. They loved me as their son, and they wanted me back in their lives. They even wanted me to meet Joykin, the troll I might have grown up with as a younger brother.

My steps slowed as the implications of that thought began to stir memories I hadn't allowed myself to think about in a long time. I could have a little brother again. I couldn't help but wonder about what that would be like. If Joykin and I became close, would it be like it was with Acorn and me? With him looking up to me and trusting me to take care of him, and me protecting and teaching him…

Teaching him… Uneasiness began to thread its way into my thoughts. Influencing him… Hurting him… My breathing began to quicken. Ruining his life… I clenched my teeth. I can't- I won't-

"No!" I blurted out. A rush of dread shot down my spine, making me stop short. I pulled my hand from Poppy's and wrapped my arms around my body, shuddering at the sudden ice in my veins.

"Branch, what's wrong?"

Gasping for air, I didn't answer. I was sweating, heart thumping inside my chest like a bongo drum. The world swirled with random, distorted shapes and colors and I whimpered at the mess. Or was the mess inside me?

"Branch, are you having an anxiety attack?" I felt familiar hands on my body, my face. The concern in her voice gave way to a calm, soothing tone. "You're okay, Branch. You just need to ground yourself, sweetie. Look at me." Her brilliant rose-colored eyes filled my field of view and I blinked, consciously focusing my eyes on hers. When Poppy realized I could see her she let go of my face, looking relieved. I realized that I'd been staring wildly at nothing like a crazy person.

"Good, Branch. Now, breathe with me." As I'd done for her last night, she took my hands in hers, pressing one hand to her belly, and the other against my own. Then she began to take deep, slow breaths, and I automatically breathed with her. "In through the nose…down to the belly…hold it…and slowly let it out through the mouth. And in…hold…out. In…hold…out…"

Breathing together with my girl, I let my mind empty of everything. All I was aware of, all I cared about right then, was Poppy. I could feel her heartbeat under my palm, and the warmth of her hand over mine. It felt good. Solid, like I could depend on that heartbeat to be by my side, getting me through times like these. Oh, she was such a comfort to me. If this had happened a year ago it would have messed my entire day up. Maybe my entire week. But now it only took a few minutes to calm down and start thinking rationally again. My breathing leveled out, and my racing heart slowed, matching the steady cadence under my hand.

Then I noticed that her forehead had those worry-lines again, and felt the need to reassure her. "It's okay, Poppy. I'm all right now."

"You sure?"

I nodded.

"Okay, then." We let go of each other and she gave me a compassionate look. "Do you want to tell me what happened, or is it too soon?"

I noticed that she didn't give me the option to not tell her at all, which made me smile wryly at her. "I was panicking at the idea of having a little brother again."

"Really?" She looked puzzled. "You mean, because of what happened between you and Acorn?"

"What do you know about me and Acorn?"

"Not much. Neither of you will tell me anything." She sounded frustrated.

I sighed. "Well, let's just say…" I leaned toward her, widening my eyes and waving my hands from side to side so she would see I was serious, "…that it's something I never, never want to go through again."

Poppy looked troubled. "It couldn't have been that bad."

"Oh, it was." I thought of the guilt, the shame, the cold loneliness. Like a giant ice cave inside me that would never be filled. I shuddered again, and my girlfriend pulled me into a close, reassuring hug.

"Oh, Branch…" she said lovingly, with a hint of a chuckle. I wrapped my arms around her and cuddled her against me, taking comfort in her sweet, familiar scent, and the feel of her warm body against mine. Her love was more than enough to fill the cavern of emptiness inside me.

"I know the idea of having a family scares you, but everything will be okay. It really will, my little Peach Fuzz." Her voice had that soft huskiness I liked, when the world was small and intimate and just for us. Hearing my grandma's favorite nickname for me made me smile. Grandma Rosiepuff had always told me things would be okay, too. It had taken a while, but in the end, she'd been right. There had been a lot of rough patches in between, but things had gotten better, just as she'd said they would.

"Thanks, Sunshine." I gave Poppy an appreciative squeeze and she squeezed me back. Sensing my craving for comfort, she wrapped her hair around the two of us. Snuggled together in our own warm, cozy cocoon, Poppy began to hum a soft, gentle tune. She stroked my hair and I closed my eyes, unable to stop a sigh from escaping. A sigh of pleasure, and gratitude, and solace. I would never get tired of the things that my girlfriend did for me, things she probably did without even thinking about them. But to someone who had gone without such comforts for so long, they were some of life's most precious treasures.

My mind began to wander. Doing this even a week ago would have seemed impossible. Letting go in front of someone, trusting them completely. I really was losing my fear of vulnerability, wasn't I? At least with Poppy, and those I considered my family, like our friends, and my dads. I could say things now that I never would have dared to say back then. I didn't need to censor myself, or hold back my thoughts, or hide the bad things from my past.

Poppy wanted to know me.

Even after everything that had happened in the last few days, it was still such a profound thought. The girl I loved wanted to know me. Truly, deeply know me. The good parts, and the bad parts. All of me.

"I had a little brother once," I whispered. "His name was Acorn, and I loved him very much. But I wasn't good for him, so I had to let him go."

Poppy's hands kept up their soothing rhythm. "Were you, though? It seemed to me that the two of you were good for each other. Being with him made you happier. And being with you was just what Acorn needed to recover after it happened. You helped him heal."

"I… Really? You think so? That's not how I remember it…" I hesitated, thinking back. Finally allowing myself examine the past I'd suppressed for so very long. My eyes lost focus as a rush of memories engulfed me. Good memories and bad. Some pleasant, some unpleasant, some wonderful, and some downright awful.

"I remember the two of you being inseparable," Poppy murmured nostalgically. "You were happy together for a long time, until one day…you weren't. I could never figure out what had changed between you." Her tone was wistful, and I knew she was wishing she could go back and help fix things. She never could stand the idea of disharmony in her village.

"Poppy, it's not your fault," I reminded her quietly. "But…if you really want to know what happened…"

"I do, but only if you're ready to tell me."

"Do we have time?"

"Yes," she said decisively. "We absolutely have time for this."

I sighed, partly in resignation - knowing that she would never be satisfied until she heard the whole story - but also partly out of relief. Like with my foster dads, this was a heavy burden I'd carried for a long, long time. It would feel good to lighten it. "Okay. If you're sure you want to listen, I'll tell you."

"Thanks, Branch! Mwah!" My perky girlfriend gave me a quick, affectionate smooch on the cheek and ruffled my hair before withdrawing her hair-cocoon from around us. She stepped back as I shook my head briskly to fix the mess she'd made, grinning wryly at her obvious attempt to lighten the mood. She was so cute.

She put her hands behind her back and rocked on her heels. "First, how did you two meet? In school?" she guessed, then scrunched up her face in concentration. "Were you still in school then?"

I nodded. "Yes, I was in my last year of pod schooling, but that wasn't how we got to know each other. We, uh, didn't exactly meet under happy circumstances. I was in the forest, hunting for healing herbs. It was just after the spring Frolic Festival ended. Leafe had spent it with Cherry Blossom, of course, while I stayed home alone." I smirked. "That turned out to be smart move, since half the village came down with Tickle Flu right after mating season that year."

"Oh, right. I remember that. I got the flu, too. I was helping out at the Frolic Festival and got tickled a bunch of times. I guess there are times when not being sociable is a good thing," she commented agreeably.

"You don't actually believe that," I declared with a wry smile, "but it happens to be true. At least in some circumstances. For example, I was fourteen that year, and in the middle of the ugly stage of puberty. My voice was changing, I had two pimples on my forehead that I was sure everyone was staring at, and I was in the middle of a growth spurt. I was bony and awkward and hungry all the time. Even more than usual, I didn't want to be around people."

Her forehead wrinkled. "But Branch, I remember you being super social that year. Well, social for you, anyway. You and Acorn were always together. You both played with the rest of us, and you even seemed to have fun. It was the happiest I'd ever seen you. Then one day, it was like you'd never been friends at all. What happened, Branch?"

I stared at the ground. "A lot of things happened. I did a lot of thinking that year; the year before I left the village for good."

"Was Acorn the reason you left?"

I looked up, surprised. "No. Or, not – not exactly. In fact, I think maybe Acorn was the reason I stayed as long as I did. You see, it felt really good to be needed…"

-O-

My herb basket was full, but I kept wandering around the forest anyway. I didn't want to go back to the village yet. I spent a lot of time these days feeling restless, resentful and rude. Despite the increased risk of encountering bergens or other hostile predators, I found it easier to breathe out here among the trees.

At fourteen, I should have been looking for a mentor to take over my education once I graduated from pod school, but I hadn't even started. Why bother? I didn't have much hope for the future. What sort of career could I have as the unsociable grump of Troll Village? Compared to the average troll, I had barely any friends, and the odds that I'd ever have more were pretty slim.

Or so I believed. But it turned out that for once, the odds were about to fall in my favor.

"Help! Help! Somebody, anybody, please! Come quick!"

I froze, swiveling my ears toward the desperate, high-pitched voice coming through the trees. I scanned my surroundings, but I didn't see or hear anything dangerous nearby. What's going on? That sounds like a trolling. What would a trolling be doing in the forest, so far away from the village? Is this a trick to lure me into a trap?

"Please, somebody help! My daddy's hurt!"

Jolted by the helpless terror in that voice, I shoved my basket of herbs into my hair and broke into a sprint before I realized what I was doing. If this was a trick, it was a really good one. I'd never heard another troll scream like that. Someone was in deadly peril!

"Hang oOn, I'm cOomiiing!" I called, my changing voice cracking and shifting octaves randomly.

"Hurry! Please!" the trolling shrieked frantically.

Pounding through the brush, I grabbed an overhanging branch with my hair and swooped over the wide gap between a pair of steep hills, then let go. I landed, rolled, and ran on with hardly a break in my stride. When I burst through the brush into a large clearing I stopped so short I made a gouge in the grass. The scene in front of me was out of my worst nightmares. A small mint-green trolling was kneeling over an adult male whose colors were so faded it could only mean one thing. He was dead.

"No," I gasped, utterly shocked.

The trolling was frantically shaking the older male by the shoulder, pleading, "Please wake up, Daddy. Wake up! We have to go home. Mommy's gonna worry about us if we're gone too long. You said we shouldn't do anything to make her worried. Please, Daddy? Please?"

He looked pleadingly up at me. "He won't wake up!"

Gingerly I began to move toward the two trolls, every hair on end. The bottoms of my feet were prickling as if I were walking on thistleweed. As I got closer I glanced around warily and noticed two big balls of rolled-up spider silk sitting nearby, each about the size of the trolling near me. Harvesting the silk, I assume. Spider silk was valuable for clothing, rope and dozens of other things, due to its strength and softness. But the bigger or more aggressive the spider, the more dangerous it was to harvest it.

Close up, I studied the troll on the ground. Surprisingly, it didn't look as if he'd been attacked. There was no blood, and the ground didn't look torn up. He lay on his back next to a troll-sized boulder, his head twisted sideways, his thickset neck bent at an unnatural angle. There was a good-sized knife near him, covered in the same thick strands of sticky, fuzzy spider silk that were wrapped around his entire body, including his hair. His face was partially covered, although it looked like the trolling had tugged the webbing away from his father's face, trying to help. But it was too late.

Broken neck, I decided. Maybe a broken skull, too. If the fall didn't kill him, he suffocated in minutes, by the look of it. The ground isn't disturbed, so he didn't thrash around. Probably hit his head and got knocked out. The thought brought a measure of relief. At least he didn't suffer.

I looked above me to see the remnants of a giant spiderweb strung through the branches of the tree high above us, its center a ragged mess. He must have fallen into that spiderweb and gotten tangled up. He managed to use his knife to free himself, but with his hair ensnared, he couldn't use it to break his fall before he hit that rock. I glanced around cautiously, but thankfully saw no enemy spiders descending, ready to feed. I guessed that the troll had created some kind of distraction to lure the spiders away. He was probably trying to hurry before they got back, and it made him careless.

"Where are the spiders?" I said in a low tone. I heard my voice wobble and squeak, and cleared my throat.

"I dunno," the trolling answered, his voice shaky. "I just got here. I dunno what happened," he repeated, his voice rising. "Why are you just standing there? Can't you help him?" From the despair in his voice, I suspected he knew the answer, but didn't want to say it out loud.

So I did, as compassionately as I could. "I'm afraid not, little one. I'm sorry. His – his colors are gone. And they're never coming back."

Tears gathered in the little one's eyes and he dropped down to his knees. Then he put his little hand on his father's still gray face, making me cringe. I'd been to funerals, but I'd never actually been so close to a deceased troll before.

The little trolling bent down and whispered something in his father's ear. I kept quiet, sensing that in his own way, he was saying goodbye. Not that I could have talked anyway, with the painful lump in my throat. I'd been just about the same age the day I lost my grandma.

I closed my eyes to shut out the painful scene in front of me, but nothing could block out the memories of the last time I'd seen my grandma alive. She was hanging laundry and smiling proudly at me as I danced around her, singing. I was holding a beautiful rose, pretending it was a microphone, giving my best performance ever for the person I loved most in the world. Such a normal, homey scene. Like the trolling in front of me now, I'd had no idea that my life was about to change forever.

Then, "Branch! Look out!" And her shriek of terror as I fell down, down, down, bouncing off the thick, heavy leaves to the ground far below.

I'd lost so much that day. My grandma. My colors. My voice.

My innocence.

When I opened my eyes the trolling was looking up at me. "Oh, no," I murmured in dismay. It was like looking into a mirror. His mint-green skin and bluish-lavender hair had muted into shades of charcoal. He'd gone gray, just like me. I felt my own eyes filling. I feel so bad for him. No one deserves to go through something like this, especially not a trolling.

When he saw the tears in my eyes his own overflowed and he launched himself at me, wailing. I caught him and held him close as he cried. I didn't know this trolling, but I understood exactly how it felt to have your world torn away from you, leaving you lost and alone.

-O-

Poppy put a hand on my arm. "Oh, Branch."

I gave her a sorrowful look. Immediately she threw her arms around me, wrapping me in soft comfort. I held her close for a while, soaking up her love. I wished I could tell my past self that he had this to look forward to. But then, until it went wrong, his life was actually about to get much better than he'd ever imagined.

-O-

As Acorn sobbed heartbrokenly in my arms, I shifted awkwardly in place. It had been years since I'd hugged anybody this much. After two years of living with Leafe, I'd gotten good at avoiding hugs from most trolls other than Poppy, Laurel, Cherry Blossom and Leafe himself. Thankfully, my scholarly roommate and his equally scholarly girlfriend weren't half as huggy as Poppy was. They only hugged me at Hug time, and they kept their hugs brief and friendly.

Laurel did, too. Being a fellow engineer, she often teased me about how I had an extraordinary low level of "affection tolerance", for a troll. I would answer with the dry sarcasm I was known for. "Yes, I am extraordinary. Thank you for noticing."

When I said things like that, most trolls thought I was serious and usually responded with a mannerly, "You're welcome." But Laurel would just laugh. It was nice to have at least a few trolls in the village who understood my sense of humor.

I didn't enjoy hugging, but in the face of this tragedy I couldn't deprive this poor little trolling of whatever comfort I could give him, however awkward. Then he began to shiver against me, and I realized he was probably in shock. Instinctively I tightened my hold and wrapped my hair around the both of us, hoping the extra warmth would help.

I glanced at the dead troll again, then averted my gaze back up into the giant tree above us. It was a white fur tree with black spots. Its long, shaggy hair was perfect for camouflaging the fuzzy white cords of a spider's webbing. Good spot for a trap. I'm surprised this hasn't happened before. What was he doing out here all alone? And where's his safety gear?

I looked around, then heaved a great sigh that lifted the trolling up and down. Of course not. Why use safety gear when you have your hair to protect you? As I gazed down at the troll who would never laugh or dance again, my frustration blended with growing sadness. Another victim of trolly optimism. Now he's dead, and he's left behind a family that's going to be devastated that he's gone. I looked down at the shivering trolling in my arms. Poor little guy. I know exactly what he's going through.

"You know, people say I'm a downer, but this - this is why I'm so passionate about safety practices," I told the trolling, and the universe in general. "Collecting sticky spider silk is dangerous. He should have hung a net beneath his work area. Or at least worn a helmet. It might have helped protect him."

Hearing my voice, the trolling's sobs quieted. Suddenly hearing myself, I winced in shame. He'd just lost his father. He didn't need to listen to me complaining on top of that.

"Um, what's your name, little one?"

"A-acorn."

"How old are you, Acorn?"

"Six."

"Where's your mother?"

"Home." He started to tear up again. "I want Mommy!"

"Okay, Acorn," I said gently. "Let's go find your mommy and tell everyone else what happened, okay?"

He was crying too hard to answer.

-O-

When we got to the village, everyone turned to stare as I passed. The sight of the gray teenager carrying a weeping gray trolling in his arms caused quite a stir. Full of concern, everyone asked what was wrong as I passed, but I didn't answer. I was almost as shaky as Acorn. I didn't have the energy to deal with a bunch of questions. Besides, Acorn's mother should hear it from me first.

I had to ask them where Acorn lived, though. Several helpful trolls pointed out his family's pod. I reached up with my hair, wrapped it around the thick, sturdy stem that attached it to the heavy tree branch and lifted both of us up to hang in front of the door. I shifted Acorn's tense little body into the crook of one arm so I could use the other hand to knock.

No one answered. I knocked again. Nothing. "What's your mom's name, Acorn?"

"Tulip."

I called out to her, but when there was still no response I decided this was urgent enough to be impolite and just walk in. The pod was cheery and bright, with books and toys and a few pieces of comfortable furniture scattered here and there, but there was no one else there.

"Acorn?" I set him down and then knelt on the fuzzy floor so I could be at eye-level with him. "Do you know where your mom might be?"

The boy seemed a little calmer now that he was in familiar surroundings. He nodded his short thatch of faded bluish-lavender hair and replied, "She's probly at her job."

"Okay. Where is her job? What does she do for work?"

"She's a chemiss."

"A chemist?"

"Yeah, a chemist." This time he made sure to pronounce the t. "She takes rocks and grinds 'em into powders and mixes 'em with different liquids in these big glass jars. She does it with plants, too, and sometimes other stuff. She lets me make stuff sometimes. It's fun."

"Really? Like what?" I asked, interested in spite of the situation. I was interested in all branches of science. We learned the basics in school, but it wasn't nearly enough to suit me.

"Like soap. And food, like ketchup, mustard, salad dressing, peana butter, sketti sauce…" He counted on his fingers. "Oh, yeah, and yesterday we made paint. Hey, did you know paint can come from all kinda places, like flowers, nuts, berries, old bug shells…even rocks and dirt!"

"Wow!" I said, although I'd known that already. He seemed proud of his knowledge, as he should be.

"We did ferty-lizer last week." He reached up and pinched his nose shut, saying in a nasal, cheerful tone, "It was super stinky!"

I found myself smiling. "Yeah," I agreed, glad to see him perk up a little. "It's stinky, but it's useful. It helps plants grow big and strong."

"I know. Mommy says you can use just about every plant for something. Like medicines. She showed me how to make salves to put on boo-boos. You can use yarrow, plantain leaves, marigold flowers…" He used his fingers again as he listed ingredients, some of which I knew, but some I didn't. "White pine sap makes a good bandage, or you can boil it with water and make a wet dressing. Not like a salad dressing; a bandage-dressing." I nodded to show I understood. "Um, then there's ar…ar-ni-ca flowers. Oh, and aloe vera. You can squeeze the juice from a aloe vera leaf right on a cut, or even a bee sting. Witch hazel works, too."

"That's really cool," I praised him, honestly impressed. "You're a smart boy."

He nodded proudly. "That's what Mommy and Daddy say. Me and Daddy collect stuff for Mommy sometimes. He-" He stopped, remembering, and his lip quivered. The little wash of color that had come back to his gray skin faded. "Daddy. My Daddy's gone…" he said mournfully.

I put a hand on his back. "I know, little one. I know it hurts. I…" I hesitated, then went on, "I lost my grandma when I was just about your age." It wasn't something I liked to talk about, but in this situation, maybe it could help. I didn't have to say anything about how she died, or who was at fault for her death.

"You did?" He blinked at me. "I didn't know that. Were you sad?"

I nodded. "Very sad."

"Yeah," he agreed quietly. It seemed to comfort him, though, to know that someone understood. Wanting to help him feel better, I rubbed my hand in circles on his back. The tears shimmering in his eyes overflowed, trailing big teardrops down his fuzzy cheeks, but he didn't seem inclined to start wailing again. Instead he leaned into me. Recalling how overwhelmed I'd felt as a trolling after my grandma died, I sat down, then held out my arms. Acorn crawled onto my lap and I held him snugly against me, waiting patiently.

Acorn let me soothe him for a couple of minutes. Finally he stirred. "Can we go find my mommy, Branch?"

"Yes." I let him go and we got to our feet. "Can you show me where she works, Acorn?"

"Yeah, I- Oh, wait. I forgot. She didn't go to work today cuz she got Tickle Flu this morning. That's why she sent me to go be with Daddy."

I frowned. "Oh. I see." I put a hand to my chin, debating our next move.

After a minute Acorn asked, "So what do we do now, Branch?"

"We need to find King Peppy," I said. "Hopefully, he's still well."

Thankfully, he was. When I knocked on his pod door, it was opened by a short, powerfully-built orange male troll. As always, he intimidated me. From the crown of white flowers encircling his huge mane of vibrant magenta hair to his thickset legs and feet, Poppy's dad looked every inch a king. He even had chest hair. "Why, Branch, what a nice surprise. And is that little Acorn? What brings you two here?" he asked jovially.

I hadn't seen much of the king since my last move, when he'd chosen Leafe as my new roommate. I'd lived a fairly quiet life for the last two years, doing my best to avoid conflicts so he wouldn't feel the need to move me yet again. If he didn't decide to kick me out of the village altogether. I was nearly an adult, after all. But at least this time when disaster struck, it hadn't been my fault.

The king's smile of welcome faded as I said soberly, "King Peppy, I have some bad news. There's been an accident."

After I explained what had happened, Acorn added his own version, which was good. Not that I believed anyone would blame me for Acorn's father's death, exactly – I was the only troll in the village who was actively suspicious about, well, everything. But I did have a reputation for starting conflicts. This way, no one would get the wrong idea.

When we were done talking, Peppy said, "Thank you for letting me know. I'll send some trolls to go get Cardigan and bring him home. We need to get him prepared, and make arrangement for the funeral party." He ran a hand through his hair, knocking his crown crooked. "Oh, what a time for Poppy to be sick. Half the village is down with Tickle Flu…" he murmured, half to himself.

I nodded sympathetically. Tickle Flu was a typical flu except for the bizarre way it was spread. The victim would sneeze, and then be seized by an overpowering compulsion to tickle everyone around them. If no one else was nearby, they would tickle anything that moved, including dangerous things like raging river water, zooming caterbuses, or even forest predators. So the victims had to wear blindfolds for the three days it took to pass the contagious stage. Of course, being trolls, that just meant they told a lot of stories and invented games where sight wasn't a requirement.

As one might expect, it was a highly contagious illness. I'd had it once, and once was more than enough. Avoiding the flu was half the reason I'd been outside the village in the first place.

The king muttered, "I need to tell Tulip what happened to her husband, and express my condolences… How awful that she has the flu, too…" Still mumbling to himself, the king started to walk away.

Acorn and I looked at each other. "What about Acorn?" I called after the king. "With his mom sick, who's going to look after him?"

King Peppy paused, then turned around and gave me a thoughtful look. "Actually, Branchkin, I was hoping I could prevail upon you to look after him."

"Me?" I was taken aback. "Are you joking?"

"Not at all." He took a step toward me, lowering his voice and placing a hand on my arm. "What Acorn needs right now is someone who understands what he's going through."

I stared at the man for a long moment, recognizing the emotional blackmail. Oh, he's good.

I had to admit it was a good plan, except for the fact that I didn't have any experience with looking after young trollings and didn't really care to, either. I had enough things to worry about.

But King Peppy wasn't Poppy; I couldn't just refuse outright. So I drew on my rusty social skills and said in a reasonable tone, "Okay. I get that. And I feel sorry for the little guy, I really do…"

The king was silent, and I felt the burden of social responsibility weighing down on me. Resentment and apprehension rose up inside me to fight it off. I avoided looking at the trolling as I added, "But literallyany other troll would have to be a better companion for him than me."

"And why is that, Branchkin?"

It felt like his big amber-brown eyes could see right through me. Suddenly I had so much to say that words literally clogged my throat. Why do you think?

The past two years since my devastating Incident had definitely not been all cupcakes and rainbows. My physical injuries might have healed, but I'd never really recovered from the mental and emotional trauma. Unfortunately, the other trolls didn't understand my inner scars. "It was just a pod," they said. "Pods are replaceable."

But my losses went far beyond the physical. Never again could I be the energetic, purposeful, almost-happy trolling I'd been then. At fourteen, I was socially awkward and uncomfortable around people, yet lonely and fearful alone. I suffered from a lack of confidence, according to Leafe.

Thinking of Leafe made me feel worse. My kind, thoughtful roommate and his smart, pretty girlfriend Cherry Blossom put up with my grumpy, complaining self with good grace. If I went too far, they'd say something, but they seemed to understand that the more caustic I was, the more anxious I felt. Thankfully, like Poppy and my fellow engineering friend, Laurel, it was hard to truly offend either of them. But that didn't meant I didn't feel guilty for not being a better friend. I knew I made life harder for those trolls who were close to me.

Even though I was trying to keep a low profile, I was Branchkin. The village grump. I hated singing, dancing, Hug Time, and glitter. Basic courtesy seemed to slip through my fingers like gladnut butter. When people spoke to me, I often ignored them, not wanting to get involved. If I did answer, it was usually short and to the point, if not outright sarcastic. I could barely tolerate the company of most trolls for an hour, let alone for an indeterminate length of time.

But the real reason I didn't want to look after Acorn, as the king must have known, was that I didn't like myself very much. When you didn't like yourself, it was hard to want to take care of your own needs, much less someone else's.

My self-esteem sucked, and because of that, so did my personal hygiene. I often went for days without bathing, until someone complained loudly enough about how bad I smelled. I had greasy hair and pimply skin and an oversized nose that was still waiting for the rest of my face to catch up. Thanks to my newest growth spurt, I felt nearly as scrawny as I'd been as a trolling. All in all, I felt like a failure of a troll.

Why do I not want some little trolling hanging around? Because I'm Branchkin. I'm lame. I'm ugly. I reek. Literally. I haven't taken a shower in three days.

But I wasn't about to go into all that with the king. I looked up into his smiling face and my shoulders sagged. "Never mind."

"It's just for a few days, Branchkin."

"But I don't know anything about trollings," I protested, against my better judgement.

"Branchkin, you used to be one not long ago. I'm sure you haven't forgotten everything."

As I opened my mouth to deliver a scathing reminder that I hadn't exactly been a typical trolling, he added quickly, "Besides, who could keep him safer than you?"

Oh, that was a low blow. After all, no one in the village was more dedicated to keeping things safe and orderly than I was. Truly desperate now, I resorted to my own dirty tactic. "But I'm no fun. Everyone knows that. He won't like me," I said weakly, hating both the truth of that fact and how whiny I sounded.

"Oh, nonsense, Branchkin. Acorn will like you if you give him a fair chance to. You will, won't you?"

He glanced at to the side, and as I followed his gaze I saw Acorn watching us uneasily. As I looked at him he took a step backward, and I felt an unexpected pang of sympathy for him. Poor little guy. None of this was his fault.

Most trollings were loud and had no concept of personal space – in fact, that described most adult trolls, too – but something about this uncertain little trolling struck a sympathetic chord in me. I sighed, defeated by a pair of big, sad eyes.

"All right, King Peppy. I'll look after him."

"Oh, thank you, Branchkin!" King Peppy gave me an energetic pat on the back, using his hand to push me toward my unfortunate charge. "I know you two will get along just fine. And while I know this will be a difficult time for him, do try to help your new friend have a little fun, if you can."

New friend, huh? As I walked toward the boy, I tried to remember what they'd taught us in school about making friends. It hadn't been my best class, not by a long shot, but I did recall something about finding common ground. But what could the two of us possibly have in common? Other than both of us being gray, at least for now.

What if he stayed gray, as I did after my grandma died? What if there were two gray trolls in Troll Village from now on? For just a moment, the idea was appealing. It would be nice to have someone around who understood me.

But if Acorn stayed gray, that meant he would be unhappy. I recalled how enthusiastic he'd been while describing his mother's work, and then pictured him grumpily turning down invitations to parties. Refusing to sing. Having nightmares. No one deserves to be gray like me, especially when they didn't do anything wrong.

Just then a strong gust of wind passed through, blowing our hair to the side. I heard a thump behind me and turned to see an acorn bouncing and rolling on the grass. I looked past the acorn, up and up and up at the majestic oak tree above us, its strong, thick branches like a protective canopy overhead. When I looked back at the acorn, I noticed an oak leaf still attached to its stem.

Well. Besides being gray, we do have one other thing in common. I knelt in front of the trolling. "Guess what, Acorn?"

He looked at me with a dull flicker of curiosity, but didn't answer.

"Did you notice our names are both tree names?"

"Huh?" He seemed dazed, as if the morning's shock was finally overwhelming him. He probably needed some food, and a nice, long nap. He needed someone to make him feel safe, especially since he couldn't be with his mom.

I moved to sit on the ground next to him. "Your name is Acorn, and my name is Branch," I said patiently, pointing first at the acorn on the ground, then upward at the oak tree. "See? They're both names about trees. We match."

He blinked, then let out a little giggle and clapped his hands as if I'd performed a magic trick. Above our heads, the king chuckled indulgently. I tried to smile in as friendly a manner as I could manage. "What do you say, Acorn? Would you like to come stay with me for a while?" I raised my eyebrows entreatingly and held out my hand.

Acorn studied me with his big blue eyes, then put his little hand in mine. "Okay."

The king said goodbye and left us sitting there for a long, awkward moment before I finally I said, "So, Acorn. Um, are you hungry?"

"No." He pulled his hand from mine and wrapped his arms around his stomach. "My belly hurts."

No appetite. I know how that feels. I'd often been too upset or worried to eat when I was younger, which was why I'd been so painfully thin as a trolling. It wasn't until Jaunty and Courtley had started taking care of me that I'd been able to unwind enough to eat and sleep properly, and finally start growing. But I wasn't going to push food on him right now, the way many of my foster parents had.

"That's okay. I understand, Acorn."

"You do?"

I nodded. "Yeah. It's happened to me before. Don't worry about it. We can eat later."

Acorn nodded, yawned, and blinked heavy lids.

"You look tired," I commented.

He started to shake his head, then paused. "Kinda. Can I take a nap in your hair, Branch?"

I blinked, surprised. I knew parents and other trolls who looked after little ones often carried them in their hair, but I'd never carried anyone before. It ought to seem weird, but oddly enough, I was flattered. No one had ever wanted me to carry them before. "I… Sure. If you want to."

I bent my head toward him and he gave a practiced leap and disappeared neatly into my hair. I sat there for a minute before I stood up slowly. I turned my eyes upward, but I couldn't really feel him. Troll hair had a number of odd, useful quirks like that, such as its tendency to be bigger on the inside than the outside. It was also useful for camouflage, since everyone but me could also change its color.

Thinking about my hair made me realize how greasy and gross it was, so I decided to head home and take a quick shower. I wondered if Acorn would get wet if I showered while he was in there. I couldn't remember it happening to me when I was little, but then, I couldn't really remember being carried in anyone's hair. Still, the stuff I carried in my hair never got wet, so I assumed he'd be okay.

I wondered what Leafe would think of our new houseguest. It was fortunate that Leafe and Cherry Blossom had already had the Tickle Flu, nearly a month ago, right at the start of mating season. Being teachers, they were usually among the first to catch whatever was going around. Unfortunately, since I lived with Leafe, that meant I did, too. Unless I took countermeasures, like temporarily camping out in the forest.

That reminds me. I really ought to build myself a better shelter out there. It would come in handy to have a permanent place to go to when I need to get out of the village for a bit.

I'd been toying with the idea for a while now. Ever since my Incident, I'd felt like a failure. I felt most at ease when I was by myself, even though it was lonelier. Most trolls seemed to feel sorry for me, or else uneasy around me. I didn't know how to change that, but I knew I didn't like it.

Of course, it's my own fault. I messed up big time. I'm so lame; I'm surprised the king chose me to look after Acorn. I'm sure if there had been anyone else available, he wouldn't have picked me.

Thinking about the trolling I carried brought up mixed feelings. Resentment and exasperation, sympathy, discomfort. I didn't know if I could handle going through something so similar to what I'd experienced myself.

Yet underneath, there was a flicker of curiosity, and even liking for the little trolling. I was used to feeling useless and pathetic, but Acorn hadn't even hesitated before asking me to carry him, as if I were a close, trusted friend. Someone he could count on.

Like, say, a big brother.

Author's Note:

So here we meet little Acorn, who's not so mature as the older version we know. Introducing a new-ish character this late in the game is hard. I'm hoping everyone will find him as endearing as Branch does 😊

I've been wondering if people think I'm having Branch have too many anxiety attacks, since we don't really see him have them in the movies (except for a series of panic attacks right at the beginning of the first movie, but presumably those happen over a period of years). He does have the occasional freak-out in the series, but only a couple of them seemed really bad.

Still, I decide that in this fic it would be more likely for Branch to begin reacting strongly to events. There's a lot of changes going on in his life now that he's dating someone (someone he cares for very much) for the first time. He's also been reliving some of his most traumatic events as he relates them to Poppy, which is bound to stir up old anxieties. And finally, he's literally coming face-to-face with his past. People who hurt him, and those he has hurt. People he's been avoiding, though he misses them. Now he can't avoid them any more. Even though he's been considering contacting them, it still seems to me like it would stir up a lot of turbulent feelings inside, which would then come out as anxiety and/or panic attacks. It's a good thing he has Poppy to help him through it all, especially now that she's had a bit of experience with anxiety herself now 😊