-O-

Taming Branch

By Dreamsinger

Chapter 19

Finding His Voice

So I've just seen Trolls Band Together. Without getting too deep into spoiler territory, I'm happy to say that the creators did address the issues I most wanted to see. They confirmed that Branch and Poppy are dating, and finally gave us all the special moment we most wanted to see 😉 We got to see a little more of Branch's backstory, with a family he never told anyone about, and why he was especially hard on himself when his grandma got caught (due to one of the last things his brother Floyd says to him).

For me, the most important thing was how they FINALLY showed us the root of Branch's trust / abandonment issues, and that he did confront his brothers about it instead of avoiding the issue or hiding his feelings, helping to heal a lifelong wound. Best of all, Branch and Poppy became much closer, in terms of trust, emotional openness, physical affection, and of course, love. Poppy herself has some stuff happen that changes how she relates to her own family.

I loved the music in TBT movie much better than in Trolls World Tour. I'm much more of a Pop troll than a Rock troll, I guess. The only other thing that I would have liked to see in TBT is a love song between Branch and Poppy, but I'm honestly expecting Dreamworks to at least do another holiday special focusing on our favorite Broppy couple and their evolving relationship at some point. In any case, many of the songs we've seen them sing together ARE love songs, more or less.

I'll probably be writing some blog posts on this movie in a few weeks, to give people a chance to see it first. Lots of blog posts, actually. I literally spent 3 hours after I got home writing notes on everything I remembered and what I thought at the time, and I've been mulling things over since…

-O-

As Branch stared at the brush Poppy was offering him, his heart rate kicked up, and he swallowed. But he was determined to go through with this, even with the added pressure of having to somehow verbalize his feelings to her. Why my feelings, not hers? She's the one about to have something wonderful happen to her.

And oh, was it wonderful. Even better than he'd hoped it would be. Having her hands running through his hair had felt amazing. Exciting, yet soothing. Warm and tingly, too, like standing under a steamy hot shower. Best of all was when she began stroking his head, evoking a profound need he hadn't realized was there. For the first time since he was very young, Branch had felt…taken care of. Comforted. Nurtured, body and soul.

That this sweet girl wanted to do something like this for him had touched him deeply. He'd even given in to the impulse to lean back against her, wanting to be closer to her however he could.

Thankfully, Poppy seemed to feel the same way. She wanted to grow closer to him, even if it meant encouraging him to hum, using the voice that hadn't sung a note in eighteen years. It was bound to sound terrible. But even so, he was willing to do it. To please her, and to thank her for the beautiful experience she'd given him.

And maybe something more.

A certain scrapbook picture rose up in his mind's eye, of two trolls taking turns caring for one another. He wondered now if they had also been humming to one another. Maybe that was the key; the reason that picture had seemed so enticing despite it being nothing more than a collection of felt scraps glued to a page. That picture had promised more than he had dared to dream, and Poppy had delivered. Now it was his turn to lavish attention on the lovely locks of the sprightly sunshine spirit who had taken such a curious liking to the one troll in the world who didn't want to be hugged.

As he reached for the brush, he told himself, If I get this right, Poppy might…she might even… Do I dare to hope she might…

Did he dare to even think it?

If I can make this even half as wonderful for her as it was for me, she might look at me the way she did in that picture. His fingers touched the brush. As if I was the only troll in the world. She might even fall in-

"Whoops!" he blurted out as the brush slipped through jittery fingers. Nice start, butterfingers, he silently scolded himself, pulling his mind away from the uncharacteristically positive thoughts flitting blithely in the background. "Sorry, Poppy. I didn't hit you, did I?"

"Nope; I'm fine. Here you go, Branch," Poppy said cheerfully, picking up the brush and handing it back to him.

"Thanks," he muttered.

Her eyes widened a little. "Branch?" she asked uncertainly. "Is everything okay?"

That was when he realized that he was scowling down at her. "Oh, sure," he said quickly, and tried to smile at her. He wasn't sure how successful he was, but at least she seemed to realize he wasn't mad at her.

As she returned the smile, a bunker-load of pressure seemed to fall on him, cementing his feet to the floor. He didn't have the faintest idea where to start.

Of course, she saw that right away. "What are you feeling, Branch?"

"N-nervous," he managed to say. "Never did this before."

Her worried expression cleared. "Oh, Well, then; you're in luck. I've been to tons of sleepovers. Doing each other's hair is a very popular activity." Her voice shifted to a patient, matter-of-fact tone. "Okay, then. Step One: Before you start brushing someone's hair, remove all hair ornamentation."

"Okay." He fumbled with the brush, shifting it from one hand to the other. Finally, not wanting to drop it again, he impatiently snatched the brush out of his hands with his hair and lifted it up out of the way. Then he focused on the profuse fluff of brilliant magenta hair in front of him.

"Um…"

What should I remove first? The hair tie? His hand hovered indecisively over the light yellow band. What if her hair gets tangled in her flower crown? Maybe I should-

Poppy solved his quandary by running her own hands up through her hair, sweeping off the accessories and setting them on the floor next to her. "Sorry, I should have been ready," she apologized, as if his lameness was her fault.

Before he could answer, her vivid magenta hair fluffed out into a typical trolly profile, distracting him. She looked different. More like the trolls he remembered from the village. She certainly had grown up in the years he'd been gone…

"Step Two: brush out any tangles," Poppy announced, startling a yelp out of him.

The brush held in his loosely coiled hair flew up and smacked against the low ceiling, shooting straight down at her unprotected head. Quick as a flash he snatched it out of the air right before it would have hit her.

Ducking after the fact, Poppy cautiously looked up to see his apologetic grimace. "Sorry, Poppy."

"That's okay, Branch. No harm done." She straightened up and chuckled. "Nice catch. My little foxfluff has the fastest reflexes in the forest."

He chuckled lamely, trying to hide the fact that his heart was about to pound through his chest.

Poppy noticed. She always did. "Branch, you really don't need to be nervous. You just need to- Oh. I – I'm sorry."

Surprised, he lifted his gaze from the floor to see her sitting there looking shamefaced. "Huh? Why are you sorry? I'm the one who nearly knocked you silly."

"I shouldn't invalidate your feelings. If you're nervous, you're nervous. I shouldn't be telling you how to feel."

"Well, I'm the one who needs to get his act together."

"No, no, I'm the one who-" She stopped, blinked at him, and began to laugh.

He did, too, and felt better. They were both being silly.

"Small steps, Branch. Okay? Let's not try to do too much all at once."

He nodded. "Okay."

She gave him a look of assessment. "Let's change things up a little. Why don't we start with the humming part first? After a little practice, everything else will just fall into place. After all, nothing's more natural to a troll than music," she said confidently. "It's only been eight years since you lived in the village, right? I'm sure it'll all come back to you."

He couldn't look her in the eye. "Actually…"

Her eyes widened as she took in his drooping shoulders and downcast gaze. "How… How long, Branch?" she said in a hushed tone.

He scrunched up his face, fighting off a rush of unsettling memories that tried to overwhelm him, but he wouldn't let them. Facts. Poppy just wanted a number. He knew the exact date his grandma was killed, which was… "Eighteen years, four months, and five days."

Now her mouth dropped open, matching her eyes. "You're not serious, are you? You've never sung even once in all that time?"

He closed his eyes and looked down, mutely shaking his head. He understood her astonishment. Growing up in Troll Village meant that music was everywhere. Most of the time he'd felt like a rock in a stream, stolidly unmoved by the melodious flow all around him. On the rare occasions when he did feel the temptation to indulge, he'd always resisted giving in. It just hadn't felt right. Denying himself music had been one of the few ways he knew of to make up for his past mistakes.

In another moment she would ask him why, and he would have to tell her his most shameful secret.

"Well, no wonder you're nervous," she said brightly. Surprised, he opened his eyes to see her stand up to face him. "Eighteen years, four months and five days is a long time, after all. It's only natural that you'd need a little help to get started. Why don't we begin with the most basic building block of music – the scale. I'll start humming, and you join in when you're ready, okay?"

She's not going to pry?

At his look of astonishment, Poppy merely smiled.

His tense shoulders began to relax. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all. "O- Okay."

He listened to her crystal clear soprano, slowly rising like a neat, orderly staircase through the eight basic notes that made up all music. It still seemed a little weird to hear music down here in his dead-silent bunker. Butif she was going to make noise, he would rather she did it here, where he could at least be sure that nothing bad would hear her.

When she finished, she began again. And then a third time. By then he was getting the feel of it; the focus. He joined in halfway through the third rendition, trying to match his voice with hers. After a few off notes, he began to get the hang of it. Now that he'd finally put his mind to it, it was surprisingly simple. Not easy – there was too much emotional baggage for that – but just copying her wasn't exactly the most difficult task in the world.

She began a fourth time, and he matched her, note for note. The fifth time around, she suddenly increased her speed. After one laggy note he picked up the pace, paying sharp attention to where each note started and ended so they wouldn't run together and sound sloppy. She caught his eye and nodded in approval, her mouth widening into a proud smile. It made him feel good. He could almost hear her saying warmly, "I knew you could do it, Branch."

Suddenly he was smiling back at her. This really wasn't so bad after all.

On the sixth run, her voice came out louder, surprising him. As he struggled to match her volume, she gave him a playful wink, her fuchsia eyes twinkling. Boldness flooded his body. Rising to the challenge, the gray troll threw his shoulders back and filled the air with sound. No wonder the other trolls sang all the time. It felt incredible.

On the next round, he tried to copy the fancy little tremble Poppy kept putting into her voice, and succeeded. Fascinated, he did it again and again, marveling at the way it made him sound so different. So sweet and tender. Who would have ever guessed he could sound like this?

The technical aspect of it was cool, too. Making his voice tumble nimbly along a string of notes without a mistake was a challenge, but a fun one. The better he got at it, the more accomplished he felt.

You know, I'm really not half bad.

Grandma had always said he had a beautiful voice, but he'd never actually heard his own singing voice as an adult. It sounded like a voice with a lot of feelings behind it; a voice with a story to tell. Intrigued, he reached for Poppy's hands and tried some alternate notes, instinctively trying to harmonize with her. To weave his own tune in and around the framework she made for him, figuring it out as he went along.

Throughout all of his experimenting, Poppy kept faithfully humming. Supporting him, as always. He had the distinct sense that they were building something together; something wonderful. On and on the two trolls hummed, building in intensity – higher and higher - until they reached a natural crescendo. He held the note with something akin to rapture, feeling it swell deep inside his belly, up his throat and out through his nose, like a long, satisfied sigh.

As he did so, a sense of power swept over him, along with a tingly shimmer of aqua-blue light that seemed to spread from the hands Poppy was holding up his arms and out to his body. Instead of being the one sung at; he was the one who had agency here. Was this what Poppy meant when she said music was how you expressed yourself? This marvelous feeling of control in an out-of-control world? It was appealing, to be sure. Satisfying. Exhilarating!

And yet, oddly enough, he recognized the feeling. It was the same feeling he got when he was deep into his work. Taking action. Making something good happen. Knowing that he was capable of creating something he wanted or needed. A heady feeling of confidence, like all was right with the world. Who knew something as unproductive as humming could make you feel the same way?

He eyed the girl holding his hands. Speaking of things I want… Caught up in their harmony, Poppy seemed to have forgotten what else they were supposed to be doing, but he hadn't. Maybe the troll in the scrapbook picture really had been humming to his adoring girl while he brushed her hair. And maybe, with this voice, he had a chance to get Poppy to look at him the same way.

Still humming, he glanced around and saw the brush on the floor. He must have dropped it when he took her hands in his. Now, as he let her go, he sent a stream of dark purple hair after the brush, bringing it to his muted blue-green hand.

Wait, what?

Surprised, he stopped humming. "Poppy, do you see what I see?"

She nodded, eyes wide. "Your colors… They're back! A little bit, anyway." She clasped her hands together and bounced excitedly. "I'm so happy for you! How do you feel?"

His eyes moved upward as he contemplated his answer before giving her a simple, "I feel…good."

"That's awesome! I knew you'd like humming. Hey, we should sing a song next!" she said eagerly.

Sing?

The bottom dropped out of his stomach in a sick rush of uneasiness as she continued, "You can-"

"No!"

At her shocked expression, he stammered, "Sorry, I just- I mean, I – I – I- I'm just…not ready."

As he dithered, his colors faded back to normal. Poppy's smile faded, too. "Oh, Branch, I'm sorry. I'm pushing again."

He held up a hand. "No, no, it's okay."

He watched unhappiness try to take hold of her, but she wouldn't let it. Instead she said brightly, "Well, at least now we know you have an ear for music. You sounded so good,Branch. I was really impressed at how quickly you improved."

He couldn't help but perk up a little at that. "You were?"

"Ohhh, yeah." She gave him an admiring smile. "I could listen to a voice like yours all day."

"Really?" He raised an eyebrow, intrigued at her reaction. Maybe music did have its uses after all. The vague feeling of failure faded, replaced by hope, and a little of the boldness from earlier. He tried to sound casual. "So, did you still want me to brush your hair?"

"Oh, right! I got so excited I forgot, but yeah, sure. We can totally do that if you want."

With an exuberant shake, the neat head of hair before him suddenly deconstructed into a veritable explosion of magenta wisps, each one going in a different direction. "Whoa!" He stepped backward, taken aback by the sheer chaos facing him.

"What do you think, Branch? I'll bet your hands are just itching to organize a mess like this," Poppy said gleefully.

He couldn't help but chuckle. "You know me too well." He gestured grandly at the floor. "Have a seat, if you please."

With a gleeful grin, she did just that. Smiling, Branch moved toward her. Faced with a challenge like this, he took a moment to study her riotous hair, thoughtfully tapping a finger against his lips. Maybe I should use my hair to divide hers into sections…

While he was debating hair-brushing strategies, part of her hair drifted down to cover one eye. Without thinking he reached down to stroke it aside. Her hair felt very nice; the fine strands gliding like silk through his fingers. He did it again, just for the pleasure of it. It felt even softer than his own. Curious, he leaned down to see it up close. I wonder if the color affects the texture?

Suddenly Poppy blinked. As he shifted his gaze to meet hers, he froze. Their noses were a mere inch apart. And she was blushing so deeply her glitter freckles stood out like stars.

For a split second, his eyes flicked down, then back up to meet her gaze. Heat rushed to his own cheeks. Quickly he straightened up and pulled his hand out of her hair. Then he cleared his throat and moved around behind her, escaping the embarrassment, and the strange, not-unpleasant pull he'd felt just then. Toward her. More specifically, toward an oddly enticing sight just below her cute little nose…

"You have really nice hair, Poppy," he forced himself to say to break the silence.

Thankfully, she chose to go along with it. "Thank you, Branch. I wash it with a special shampoo and conditioner that Maddie makes…"

He had never been so grateful for small talk.

After a deep breath, he wrapped his hair around the feathery magenta cloud in front of him and tugged gently, gathering it into a more compact shape. Then he brushed it, a section at a time. Poppy talked the entire time, sharing the latest news about the village. Other than an occasional "Hm," or "Uh-huh," he was mostly quiet.

Her hair felt good in his hands, soft and thick and silky. He found himself inhaling its scent deeply. It smelled so nice; of strawberries, cupcakes, and…rainbows? How she managed that, he didn't know. Must be some very special shampoo indeed…

After a while, Poppy seemed to relax. Her chatter ceased, aside from the small sounds of pleasure she made every so often, letting him know he was doing a good job.

He slowed, too. Every sweep of the brush seemed go on forever. Gradually he moved around her, feeling a warm rush of tenderness when he saw the sublime smile on her face. Her eyes were closed, her face upturned toward him, waiting for his touch. The rest of the world ceased to exist. Here, in this sheltered little space, it was just the two of them. It felt…right.

When her hair was smooth and free of tangles, he set the brush aside and placed a gentle hand on her head. The magenta strands moved under his touch, opening up around his hand and then pressing close, as if to welcome him.

Something inside him trembled, in anticipation and joy. He placed his other hand on her cheek, and she opened her eyes, gazing softly up at him.

"Branch-"

Just then her Hug Time watch flowered. At the loud ting and flash of vivid pink light, they both jumped. A clock across the room began to moo like a miniature puffalo. Automatically, they both counted. One moo, two moos. Three, four, five moos.

"Oh my gosh. It's five o'clock already?" Poppy shared a surprised look with him. "We… We must have been in a hair trance."

He frowned in confusion. "Both of us? Can that happen to the person doing the brushing?"

"I guess so," she said uncertainly. "Being in a hair trance really just means you're in a state of mind where time doesn't matter."

"…I see." Was that really all it had been? He wasn't so sure.

If it was just a hair trance, he hadn't realized he'd be so vulnerable, or he would have been more on guard. Not that there was anything to fear in his bunker, but now he'd wasted what little time he had left with her.

"Sorry, Branch, but I've got to head home now." Poppy looked contrite. "I know it's our Friendship Anniversary, but after covering for me all day, it just didn't feel right to ask Dad to cover my evening duties, too."

He tried to hide his disappointment. "I understand." Branch held his hand out, and she used it to lift herself to her feet.

As they walked down the short tunnel to the lift, Poppy didn't let his hand go. "I wish I could stay longer," she said wistfully. "We were going to- Oh!" Her other hand covered her mouth.

"What?" he asked, slightly alarmed.

"We forgot to have you hum while you were brushing my hair."

He hadn't forgotten, but it really hadn't seemed important in the moment. "That's okay," he found himself saying. "I got to hum earlier."

"True," she said, regaining her usual cheerfulness. "And we even found out you've got a real talent for vibrato."

"Vibrato?"

"That little shiver in your voice. Like this." She trilled a quicksilver tune to demonstrate. "A lot of trolls don't use it, but I've always loved the effect."

Branch found himself nodding in agreement. "I like the way it sounds, too."

"You're a natural, Branch. I'm really looking forward to seeing what you can do with it." Her eyes were shining with admiration, making him feel warm inside all over again.

To be honest, he was, too. After so very, very long, he had music again. He couldn't help but smile in wonder as he recalled how amazing it had felt to set his voice free after nearly two decades of containment, wielding it as skillfully as any of his other tools. Poppy was right. Music had come naturally to him. He'd impressed himself.

Even better, it seemed that he'd impressed her, too.

Author's Note:

Branch / Justin Timberlake has a very distinct style of singing that I highly admire. Quick and clean, sharp and precise. Every single note is carefully chosen. Every word is well-enunciated to the point of laser focus, especially during those gorgeous vibratos that simultaneously call forth my admiration for his technical skill while also calling poignantly to my heart. Sweet and tender when the occasion calls for it, and yet possessed of such incredible energy; a vibrant call to live life to the fullest. This is a singer who wants to deliver the best performance he can give. Branch could not have had a better voice actor. I could tell from the start that the Branch who scolded Poppy in the first movie used such a sharp tone not because he was just a jerk, but because he had anxiety issues, which kept him as tense and vibrating inside as a violin string. I could literally hear it. And of course, when the time came to be understanding, reassuring, and loving, that's exactly what we heard in True Colors. I'm seriously hoping for some beautiful love songs between Branch and Poppy in the future.

Poppy thinks Branch was able to relax so deeply because they were in his bunker. While that was part of it, the main reason was that he's made a conscious decision to try to let himself be more vulnerable around her. Emotionally, and physically. If someone else was in his bunker and wanted to brush his hair, he'd be all "No way!" lol.

Branch doesn't realize it yet, but between the flow state / hair trance, and feeling more comfortable with Poppy, his inner poet is beginning to emerge. "Sprightly sunshine spirit" indeed! XD

The thing is, even though common sense tells him otherwise, he's totally getting the "I'm into you" vibes that Poppy is unconsciously sending his way. He can't help but return that interest, and that makes him want to reciprocate however he can. Even if it means doing things that would have been unthinkable before she came along, like smiling, or laughing. Playing with her, talking about painful memories, and yes, even making music. As long as he feels he can trust her, he'll respond. Just as if he really were a cute, wild little foxfluff 😉