Taming Branch

By Dreamsinger

Chapter Thirteen

Change is Coming

After their (latest) argument, Branch noticed that Poppy was trying hard to make it up to him. Every day now she made a point of asking him what he wanted to do. She also expressed more interest in the un-fun things he did, such as his daily chores. Since she ate the treats he made, he didn't mind letting her help him gather food and herbs from the nearby forest to replenish his supplies.

She seemed to enjoy the work, and afterward they would bring the things they gathered back to the meadow and put them "temporarily" in his bolt-hole until he could "take them home". He was careful not to mention where the supplies ultimately ended up. As far as he could tell, Poppy hadn't guessed that the meadow was actually his home, or that his little "bolt-hole" was far more extensive than it seemed.

Poppy even wanted to learn stuff about him that he hadn't realized she admired, such as his clandestine forest-traveling skills. "Hey, Branch? Can you teach me to move through the forest like you? Silent and stealthy, like…like secret agents?"

He couldn't help but be pleased and flattered by that.

-O-

Playing Secret Agents became a favorite game between the two friends, healing the hurt feelings between them and encouraging bonding, as Poppy knew it would. Shared fun always did.

She also made a point of helping him gather food, so he could get it done faster and then have more time for the fun stuff. Living alone sure takes a lot more work than I thought. Way more than living in the village, where there's more people to cover everyone's basic needs. Branch has to do every job all by himself. No wonder he thought playing was a waste of time.

Now that Branch was finally starting to get on board, Poppy changed up her schedule. She moved as many of her duties as possible to the mornings, leaving her afternoons free to enjoy the company of a certain grumpy gray troll, who was no longer quite so grumpy.

Or, if I do say so myself, quite so gray. I can see a little blue-green in his ears now, when the light shines through them just so. It was a tremendously encouraging sight that never failed to brighten her day. Things are changing. I can feel it!

Some days she was able to leave the village just before noon and bring a picnic lunch to share with Branch in his beautiful, peaceful meadow. Then the two friends would work on his touch-training exercises and many other fun activities as well.

Puzzles and strategy board games were some of his favorites, but he also seemed to really like roller skating. He would even hold her hand as they glided along the massive tree branches above his meadow, letting her go to weave around giant leaves and shoots and the occasional prickly vine that he had strewn like party streamers from tree to tree before coming back to her, his hand reaching for hers. As she'd thought, the more engaging an activity was, the less space he had in his mind for worrying.

He also seemed to enjoy working out with her. She went along with it willingly, but didn't find it quite as much fun as it usually was. It just wasn't the same without music.

Not every activity was successful, but even the failures were opportunities to bond.

-O-

One afternoon she asked him to help her make some decorations for an upcoming gala in the village, an idea which flopped, unfortunately. Branch had excellent manual dexterity when it came to weaving flower-garlands, but when it came to designing things like posters, his ideas were, to put it nicely, strongly function-over-form. It got the message across, but totally the wrong mood. He used waaay too much black, for one thing. The poster was for a birthday party, not a funeral!

Branch knew it was awful. "Sorry, Poppy."

"It's not that bad… Okay, it is pretty bad."

"Here, give it to me. I'll have an incinerator-flower burn it."

"No, no – I want to keep it." She clutched the poster to her chest.

He tilted his head to the side, scrunching his eyes in puzzlement. "Really? Why?"

Poppy told him she wanted to hang his work on the wall of her pod. Branch worried that someone might question where it came from. "No, they won't," she replied, "It looks like something one of the trollings I teach might have done."

His eyes widened, and then he visibly sagged in front of her, utterly crestfallen. "Oh."

Mortified, she waved her hands in front of her. "I'm sorry! That didn't come out right. I meant to say that it doesn't matter what it looks like. I want to keep it because I'm proud of you for trying. I really, really want it!"

"Thanks." He sighed, then straightened up and gave her a wry smile. "Well, if you're going to hang it in your pod, it's just as well that it looks like it was done by a trolling."

"That's the spirit, Branch! Look at you, finding the silver lining. Just remember, no one is perfect at everything."

He crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. "Not even you?" he asked slyly.

Poppy laughed, recognizing that he was teasing her, in his own subtle way. "Nope. Not even me."

-O-

Whether he realizes it or not, Branch is becoming more open to change, Poppy thought happily. Even when it doesn't work out. Especially when it doesn't work out. She gazed at the adorably ugly artwork she'd hung on the wall across from her bed, where she could see it every morning as soon as she woke up. It was the perfect thing to inspire her. He's beginning to grow. Oh, I can't wait to see who he becomes!

Branch wasn't the only thing that was changing. Things had begun to change between them, too. Both of them knew it, although neither young troll could say exactly how, yet. Neither knew for sure what their relationship would become.

It was true, though, that for the rest of their lives the sight of a paintbrush would inspire a dreamy sense of nostalgia, and intimacy…

-O-

Things were good between Poppy and Branch, but unfortunately, not all of her friendships were going so smoothly.

One morning Smidge approached her. "Can I talk to you, Poppy?"

"Of course, Smidge. Anything wrong?" she asked, as the rest of her friends joined them.

"We're a teensy bit concerned," Biggie said.

"About what?"

"About that fact that we hardly see you these days."

"I'm sorry, guys, it's just… You know that project I'm working on? For a long time I wasn't making much headway, but recently I've had a series of breakthroughs. I've been making so much progress," she said excitedly, waving her hands to emphasize her point. "It's super encouraging, and I guess I just want to keep up the momentum. Have you ever felt like that?"

They admitted that they had. "But Poppy, are you suUuUre we can't help you?" Guy Diamond asked, trilling his voice in concern. "Whatever it is, it sounds reEeEally haAaAard."

"Yeah, and we trolls always help one another, right?" asked DJ.

"I appreciate your concern, guys. Really. And I'd love your help, but… It's really not up to me. It all depends on how fast my progress is." Or more specifically, Branch's progress.

Her friends looked disappointed but resigned.

"I see."

"It's okay, Poppy."

"We get it."

"Thanks for understanding. It won't be like this for much longer, I hope. See, this is only the first phase of my plan. In fact, I'm hoping to have you all help me with it soon. So I hope you can be patient a little longer, okay?"

-O-

As their three-month Friendship Anniversary approached, Poppy wondered how she and Branch should celebrate it.

Branch had definitely made progress, but there were a few areas that still needed work. He still had no interest in singing, music, visiting the village, or making friends with other trolls. He was still convinced that the bergens would be here any day now. And he was still frustratingly reticent about himself.

Branch never spoke about his home, for example, even when she gave very obvious hints to let him know how curious she was. He would talk all day about practical things like food, safety concerns, traps, or building stuff. He was willing to explain in meticulous, yawn-inducing detail how to build what he called a "bergen blind", a makeshift shelter used to conceal yourself while watching out for bergens, but when it came to Branch himself, he seemed content to keep his personal life personal.

Poppy longed to break through his reticence, but whenever she tried to ask him about himself or get him reminiscing about their trollhood, he usually wouldn't answer except to say, "The past is the past. Leave it alone, Poppy." Once when she pushed him too hard, he shut down and walked away from her.

"Why, Branch?" she'd asked him after he'd spent twenty minutes walking aimlessly around the meadow while solidly ignoring her. "All I did was ask if you learned how to bake such delicious desserts from Butterscotch and Aurora. They're the best bakers in the entire village. I remember they looked after you for the first few years after we established Troll Village, right up until you moved into a pod of your own. It's not like it's some big secret. I don't understand why you're so upset."

He'd been standing with his back to her, staring upward with his fists clenched until finally he'd spun around to glare at her. She could see a tirade building inside him and braced herself. He started breathing hard. Indignation, anger, and sheer outrage chased each other across his face and began to spill over. This was it! She leaned toward him, hands clasped and ears quivering. If he had to shout, so be it. Anything was preferable to dead silence. He had to start talking, to tell her what was bothering him if he was ever going to make peace with his past. Even if he had to yell at her to do it.

But he couldn't seem to get the words out, as if the feelings behind them were so big they were choking off his words. And then -

Oh, no! No, Branch, please don't…

His face crumpled. She saw the will to fight drain out of him, leaving behind grief, betrayal, helpless hurt. His eyes filled, and his lower lip trembled. She heard again his plaintive wail in her head: Why are you hurting me like this?

"Oh, Branch, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you – Hey! Hey, don't leave! Branch, I'm sorry…"

She tried to follow him through the forest, but he went behind a giant tree and disappeared. She called for him, but he did not come. Finally she went home, calling out a goodbye and a promise to see him the next day. She worried that he wouldn't come, and yet…

The gentle sweep of a paintbrush on her skin.

His blue, blue eyes, looking into hers.

A delicate spread of shimmering, rainbow-colored strands connecting them.

Their bond beckoned. He would be back. She was sure of it.

She just hoped he would have time to cool off by then. Poppy had never met anyone so moody in her life. What was causing it? Why wouldn't he explain himself?

Despite what you believe, walking away isn't the only thing you can do when you have a conflict with someone, Branch! she argued with him in her head. It really isn't! I was ready to listen. All you had to do was tell me what was on your mind. Even if you just told me what you were feeling in that moment, and why. I didn't mean to hurt you, but… I can tell that something's really wrong. Of course I'm going to keep asking about your past.

She knew he'd gone through something bad, but as far as she knew, he was safe now. Didn't he want to heal?She wanted him to. She wanted him to laugh and sing and dance and hug… I just want you to be happy, Branch. That's all I want. And I don't think that ignoring your past will ever get you there.

She was hurt, too. Hurt and disappointed that even after nearly a quarter of a year of friendship, he still didn't trust her? Was she his friend, or wasn't she? She was neglecting her other relationships in the hopes that soon she'd be able to bring him back home and they could all be happy together. What more did she have to do?

The forest troll was in the meadow the next day. She apologized and he accepted, but things were awkward between them for a while until finally he sighed and said, "Listen, Poppy. I know you mean well, but… I told you, I just wasn't happy in the village. I didn't fit in there. You know I didn't. So I moved here to start over, that's all. End of story."

She felt her shoulders sag. Just for a moment she'd hoped he was about to relent and let her in.

-O-

Branch saw her wilt in disappointment. Then the pink princess took a deep breath and stepped toward him. He stepped back, expecting her to scold him. Or try to hug him. If she did, he was feeling guilty enough to let her. He deserved to be punished for hurting her yet again.

"Branch, you are my precious friend. I care about you very much," she said sincerely.

His eyes widened. He was still surprised on some level whenever she said things like that.

"And I know you care about me, too. We have fun together. Mostly we talk about stuff like games, or food, or ways to keep safe from the bergens-" she held up a finger, acknowledging, "-which is important."

Branch raised an eyebrow. He wasn't fooled; she'd only said that to placate him. Although he appreciated her politeness.

She put a hand over her heart. "But friends also talk about deeper, more meaningful things, too. Friends let each other in. Friends share things about their lives with one another. I want to understand you, Branch. I want to feel closer to you, but I can't do that if you never talk about yourself."

Of all the things she could have said to him, that made him sweat the most. He would rather she got angry with him, rather than besieging him with this – this sweet sincerity.

As she stood there looking at him hopefully, tension coiled within him. It was one thing to consider letting her in, and another for her to go poking around, looking for a way through his defenses. He glared at her, his blue eyes like chips of ice as he instinctively diverted yet another attack to his psyche. "Well, maybe I just don't feel like talking right now, okay? I'm not a chatterbox like you." He heard the sheer hostility in his tone and winced internally.

His burden of guilt increased as he saw her wince, too. He hesitated, debating whether to apologize, but before he could she added wistfully, "Sorry. I guess I'm still too pushy, huh?"

His heart twinged. Now he'd gone and made her feel bad about herself. He held up his hands and tried to put some gentleness in his tone. "No, no, you're not really doing anything wrong, Poppy. I know you keep asking because you care, and I appreciate that. I really do."

Branch felt sorry for her. Poppy was a good friend. As annoying as she could be sometimes, he couldn't deny how much he appreciated the attention she gave him. He liked feeling as if he was important to someone. He couldn't remember feeling like that since he was very little. Except for Fluffy, of course.

He liked the way Poppy sought him out, even though she could easily be doing fun stuff in the village with the other trolls. But she wanted to be with him instead.

More and more, conversations like this reminded him of when they'd become friends as trollings…

-O-

Ten-year-old Branch had come upon the little pink trolling crying with pain after skinning her knees. After he'd taken care of her, the six-year-old princess had followed him around for weeks. She'd seemed happy to spend time with him, talking to him and playing with him. Just the two of them. He had never felt so content before or since, until now.

Of course, it hadn't worked out in the end. Little Poppy hadn't been satisfied playing alone with him in shady, secluded glades; she'd wanted to be in the thick of things. She'd wanted him to party and stuff like the other trolls, and that was just not him.

She also made a mess every time she visited his home, which annoyed and upset him. Branch had found an unexpected source of pride in having his own place. Somewhere quiet and peaceful; somewhere just for him, and him alone. He wanted to take good care of his pod so that no one would take it away from him. He'd only had it for a few months; ever since King Peppy had asked him how he was doing one day and "I feel like I'm in the way," came unexpectedly tumbling out of his mouth.

Not that his foster parents, Butterscotch and Aurora, ever said that. They were very kind, he reassured the older troll, but as the best bakers in a village of pastry-lovers, they were also very, very busy. Too busy to give him much attention. It had been better when he was younger, when it was thought that he would take over the bakery when he grew up. But he realized one day that he didn't want to. Branch liked to cook, but baking pastries wouldn't stop the bergens from catching and baking trolls, would it?

The king had been sympathetic, and asked the young trolling what he could do to help. Young Branch had wistfully wondered aloud what it would be like to live somewhere where he could do the things that interested him without worrying that he was disappointing anybody. Since Branch was a conscientious boy who had no trouble with cooking or cleaning, Peppy had thought to offer the young trolling a pod of his own.

He would be responsible for taking care of both the pod and himself, Peppy told him, and he would be regularly checked on. As long as he kept up his end of the bargain, Peppy would see what he could do about finding the young trolling a place of his own.

His foster parents had been genuinely sad to see him go. He'd been sad, too, but he told himself he was lightening their burdens. He'd visited them a lot at first, whenever he missed them, but it hadn't taken long for him to get used to his new life. Then their concern for him became more of a guilty burden, and he began to avoid them when he could. When he did see them, they seemed happy enough. Super busy and fleetingly affectionate to him, as always.

Keeping busy is a good way to deal with your bad feelings, the boy decided as he trudged back home to his pod after yet another unsatisfying visit. Even if they don't miss me anymore, I don't have to care. I can just keep working on my projects and taking care of my pod. It appreciates me, and it'll always be there for me, so I'll be fine. Feelings aren't important, anyway. They just get in the way. I don't care. I don't. I don't care…

He and Poppy began to have a lot of arguments. The little princess kept bringing up his former foster parents and trying to make him talk about them. That made him feel bad, so he said mean things to her to try to make her stop, and that hurt her feelings. Then he felt bad anyway, and had to apologize. It made him tired to keep doing the same thing over and over, but Poppy had a frustrating tendency to want to talk about people.

He tried to talk about the things that interested him, but she was not interested in talking about things that she thought were scary, like storms, or bad dreams, or monsters like the bergens. She even thought living alone like he did was scary. How did she ever expect to be a good queen when she didn't even want to plan ahead for disasters?

Also, her friends didn't like him.

Of course, he didn't like them, either. Too loud. Except for the annoying orchid-colored one, Creek, but his fake-friendly-but-actually-making-fun-of-the-village-grump act was even more infuriating.

Branch stopped spending time with Poppy after he overheard her arguing with her friends about him and getting all upset at their reluctance to hang with him. Well, fine. Then he didn't want to hang with them either. Playing with them cost him valuable time, anyway. In fact, playing was probably a waste of time, period.

So Branch began to reject her invitations, and use mean, sarcastic comments to make her leave him alone. She'd seemed hurt and confused by that at first, but eventually she'd seemed to accept things, and stopped reaching out to him. She and her friends were happy again, and that was better.

The gray troll faded into the background again, contenting himself with watching over the little princess from a distance.

-O-

…and more and more he was reminded of how he'd lost her friendship. And a lot of other things he didn't want to remember. But he knew Poppy wouldn't understand. It was too complicated.

Lamely he explained, "It's not you; it's me. I - I've always been a very private troll. I keep to myself; you know that. I've always been this way."

"I know, but…" She rolled a hand in the air, trying to figure out a different way to put what she sensed into words. "Okay. You keep saying I'm nosy, and you're right, but I have good reason for being that way. You see, Branch, I know every troll in the village. Even though some are quieter than others, none of them feel such a strong need to keep everything inside like you do." Her voice grew a little husky. "So I can't help but think there must be a reason for that."

She said it kindly, almost apologetically, but it was clear to Branch that she wasn't going to let it go. Somehow, she knew. She knew he was holding back. She knew there was more to his reticence beyond not feeling chatty.

The gray troll looked off into the distance, thinking about losing his grandma, and his innocence. Thinking about his troubled life in the village, and why he'd left. No matter what Poppy believes, the world is not all cupcakes and rainbows.

In some ways, the worst threats weren't physical. The worst threats, the most painful ones, came from the things you cared about. When you let someone get close, you set yourself up for disappointment. Rejection. Devastation. Sooner or later, the things you loved always hurt you, if only by leaving you after you'd grown to depend on them being there. It only made sense to keep some part of yourself separate, so that when something bad happened, it wouldn't devastate you completely. So you could keep going, and survive.

Poppy saw the melancholy on his face and hesitated, biting her lip. "Maybe you think it's none of my business, but I guess I keep hoping that if I find out what it is, I can do something to fix it," she said in a small voice.

The cold wall inside him melted a little. "That's sweet," he said with fond regret. "Thank you."

After a minute, he said admiringly, "When did you get so smart?"

Rather than acting pleased at his rare compliment, as he expected, Poppy said seriously, "I'm the same troll I always was, Branch. A little more patient lately, true, but I've always been very perceptive when it comes to people. Enough to know that, whether you realize it or not, it's you who's changed the way you think of me."

He tilted his head, curious. "What do you mean?"

"You think I'm smart now, but you didn't think very much of me when we were growing up, did you, Branch?" she asked quietly.

"What are you talking about? I cared about you, Poppy. You were pretty much my only friend."

"No, I meant; in terms of respect. You didn't think I was going to make a very good queen."

"Oh."

Branch stared at the ground between them, unable to meet her gaze.

True to her assertion, she read him accurately. "Sorry, I didn't mean to make things awkward. I just meant that getting to know you all over again is a good thing. I got a second chance to make a first impression. A better one, I hope?" She tipped her face down and to the side, smiling at him from beneath her bangs.

Branch smiled warmly, won over by her cuteness. "Oh, I think a troll as 'perceptive' as you should be able to tell," he said in a light, teasing manner.

This time she did react the way he intended. "Wow. Thank you, Branch," she said almost bashfully, looking down and swaying from side to side in pleasure.

They sat in companionable silence for a little while, watching the breeze make the grassfronds dance and sway. When the time came for her to leave, Poppy had one thing to add. "There's something else I hope will happen someday."

"What's that?"

"That since you see me differently now, it's my hope that the other trolls might surprise you, too. Wouldn't it be nice to have more friends than just me? People who care about you as much as I do?"

After she left, he thought about that conversation for a long time.

Author's Note:

Branch's idea that he "deserves" punishment is a common response to feeling guilt. A better solution is to communicate. To work through his issues, especially since he now has a sympathetic ear to listen. Self-punishment is an unhealthy response that leads to a cycle of doing something perceived as "bad" guilt, anger and/or depression self-hate self-punishment rebellion bad actions…

Basically, it's a self-destructive pattern that many people don't even realize they do until someone else points it out. A good way to break the cycle is to notice the pattern in the first place. To question whether it's needed. Is there another, less self-destructive way to handle your issues?

Here we see the beginnings of Branch learning how to bury his feelings under work and pretend he doesn't care about being lonely when he very much does. He's choosing to lavish all his love and attention on his home, his place of solace and security.

I decided that this version of Branch would be less attached to other trolls due to having grown up in a busy bakery where he didn't get much attention. He learned many valuable homemaking skills, but in comparison to my other main fic, Picturebook Romance, these foster parents were way less engaged with him.

In PBR Branch's main caretakers were coaches and teachers who literally had careers revolving around kids, but the bakers in Taming Branch were essentially well-meaning business people. They loved him, but couldn't devote as much time to him as he, a traumatized orphan, needed. And so, like many kids do, (orphans or not) he began to learn to be responsible and self-sufficient early in life.

That's not a bad thing, but when it means kids like Branch don't feel as if they have anyone they can rely on or confide in, you end up with a highly independent, closed-off adult who is often afraid to trust. It can be hard for them to ever develop relationships with others unless others like Poppy reach out first. Then, as Poppy will learn, once their trust is earned they will be fiercely loyal and protective of those they love.

I wrote this chapter months before the trailer to the third movie, Trolls: Band Together, came out, but I'm pleased to see that the makers seem to agree with me about Branch's trust and abandonment issues. He's healed to the point that part of him can welcome Poppy into his heart, but at the same time, I think he probably still worries about her commitment to him and expects to lose her at some point.

It's not a bad thing to be able to go on after you lose someone, because loss happens in life. But once you've had time to grieve the loss, staying isolated from other relationships means you stay in that same mental headspace, never moving on or fully recovering. I'm guessing Band Together is meant at least in part to address Branch's issues and help him heal even more. Actually, Poppy also seemed to be wary at the idea of marriage. Maybe she has abandonment issues too, because she doesn't have a mother?