Overnight at Grandma Rosiepuff's quickly turned into a few days there. Dad visited as often as he could though, and he brought by toys, extra diapers, and John Dory's most favorite snacks in the whole world. So, it didn't seem too bad except for when the little boy missed his home, his mom, his dad, and his stuff. But that didn't happen too often, only whenever he remembered where he was, and by extension, where he wasn't.
He cried a lot.
But Grandma Rosiepuff was patient. Sometimes she just let him get it out. Other times she rubbed his back and listened to his sorrows and anxieties as he laid on the couch, offering him what comforts she had to give. Then there were the distractions; games, activities, trips to the park, and playing with baby Spruce that helped occupy his troubled mind, and expend some of his pent, nervous energy.
It was the third evening, while dinner simmered in a large pot on the stove that Grandma Rosiepuff taught him how to ball yarn. It was a task which mostly involved John Dory sitting still with his arms outstretched and covered in loose cords of yarn, while Grandma worked and regaled him with stories from her youth.
It was this quiet chore that gave the little boy pause to sit with his feelings, and really think as he watched, half mesmerized, as the ball of yarn in Grandma Rosiepuff's skilled hands steadily grew in size.
At first John Dory himself hadn't even been sure why he was crying as much as he was. It seemed almost silly, somehow, he thought then.
Grandma Rosiepuff was very nice, the child noted to himself. She was good with Spruce, and always seemed to have time for John Dory too no matter what she was in the middle of when he came to tug on her tail, or apron strings. Initially he believed that it was the being away from his parents part that had made him so sad, but, he realized in the moment that, that wasn't the whole of it.
Grandma Rosiepuff seemed to sense his internal questioning and deliberation, graciously saying that the story of learning to knit from her own grandmother could wait for another time.
He was scared, John Dory realized. Really scared.
He was scared, not only that he might never get to go home again, but of what awaited him there if he did. With a shudder he recalled the terrible hollow feeling the pod had as mama screamed and cried. It was like being given an empty birthday present. It looked beautiful and full of promise on the outside, but inside it was cold, lonely, and bereft of everything that had once filled it with joy.
He didn't want to go back to holding his breath, to waiting for something bad to happen, to hoping against hope that mom or dad would somehow be able to make everything alright again, just like they always had. Most of all however, he was afraid, afraid of mom, and the monster she seemed to have become thrashing and shrieking on the bed as she fought dad who did her best to hold, and calm her.
Sniffling back tears from eyes that felt sore and grainy from all the ones he'd already shed, John Dory chewed on his lower lip.
"You doing alright there, jellybean?" Grandma asked looking up from her work.
The little boy shook his head.
"Do you want to tell Grandma Rosiepuff what's wrong?" she gently prodded.
John Dory shook his head again, then, nodded it, then, the tears overwhelmed him completely.
Putting the yarn aside Grandma scooped him into her lap and held him there for a long while, long enough for his sobs to turn to sniffles and his eyes to feel thick and heavy. Spruce woke up shortly after John Dory's tears stopped. So, the little boy leaned dowsing against Grandma Rosiepuff's side as she changed his brother. He was trying to figure out how to put into words just how frightening that single glimpse of his mother had been for him.
"Mama didn't look like mama." he summarized.
"Because of the gray?" Grandma asked.
John Dory shook his head, "Mama gets gray, but she's still mama..." he paused unsure of himself, it felt like what he was going to say next might get him in trouble.
"This time she wasn't mama." he whispered.
Grandma Rosiepuff hummed thoughtfully to herself as she gathered up baby Spruce and carried him with her to throw the dirty diaper away. John Dory followed behind them. After tossing the diaper and washing her hands Grandma took the lid off the pot and gave the soup a stir, unleashing all the warm, comforting scents that had been slowly filling the pod as she did.
"Get some bowls, jellybean." she instructed.
With a growing familiarity and comfort John Dory pulled a stool over to a nearby counter where he retrieved a set of floral decorated dishes then climbed carefully back down.
"Do you think you can take Spruce for a minute?"
"Mmhmm." the big brother nodded reaching to exchange the bowls for the baby.
Spruce wasn't particularly heavy. He, like all Troll babies, was mostly hair after all. But, it still took John Dory a bit of readjusting while Grandma played the part of a safety net, one hand out as a precautionary brace before he was holding Spruce comfortably.
"Hi." he smiled down at the tiny face he adored.
Spruce let out a shrill string of incoherent babbles as he kicked his feet with excitement. This earned a giggle from his big brother who snuggled him in close.
"I love you baby Spruce." John Dory breathed, drawing comfort from their nearness to one another.
"Grandma Rosiepuff," the young Troll said as abruptly as the thought that had just occurred to him. "How come you never put baby Spruce in your hair?"
"Because he's not my baby," she shrugged lightly while ladling out the soup. "And besides, I wouldn't ever want to do something that would make your parents uncomfortable."
"Why would that make them uncomfort-ble?" he asked.
"Well, our hair is special, jellybean, and so is that kind of bond, and I wouldn't want to take that away from either of your parents." she said carrying the bowls to the table. "You'll understand when you're older."
John Dory, though still confused took her word for it and climbed into the seat he now liked to think of as his. There, he stared down at his supper with sheer delight while Grandma fetched a few rolls, and a little tub of cream. The sweet-root had turned everything into a bright fuchsia, except the blued-abaga which was now a deep purple.
"What's that?" he asked after Grandma Rosiepuff took both her seat, and baby Spruce.
The old woman peered down into his bowl. "Glintils, they're a kind of shine-bean, they're very good for you."
They ate in comfortable silence for a while, until when her meal was about half finished Grandma Rosiepuff looked up and smiled softly to John Dory.
"I know what happened with your mom was very scary, but she'll never stop being your mom." she said, giving a sigh when the boy stopped eating and started toying with his soup instead.
"There was a time when I was just like your mom, you know." Grandma said into her spoon.
The little boy looked up with a pained interest.
"I lost my color, and I went gray." she explained, a distant look coming to her gaze. "But more than that, I let it make me mean and nasty"
John Dory couldn't picture either of those words ever applying to the kind old woman who'd shown up with a cake and a smile when the whole world felt like it was falling apart.
"Were you sick, like mom?" he asked, absent-mindedly crumbling up a roll, needing something to do with his hands.
Grandma Rosiepuff made a sour face, "Yes and no, jellybean."
John Dory groaned, she seemed to say that a lot.
"Well," she said fixing him with a look that then shot down to the pile of crumbs on the table. "From talking to your dad I gather that your mom has had gray times her whole life, even as a little one. My gray however, my gray came from heartache."
"Oh." he said, trying his best to pick the lace tablecloth clean. "What happened?"
Grandma Rosiepuff didn't say anything for a long minute. "How about I tell you after supper, and in exchange you tell me all about that game you were playing with the other children on the playground?"
John Dory thought about the offer for while, his lingering fear and sad sense of curiosity tempered by the still fresh and sun-filled memories of that afternoon, spent with friends.
"We were playing hug-a-slug!" he beamed recalling the game he and his friends had made up along the way.
"Oh, what are the rules?"
"Well someone has to be the hugger, and you hug the slugs, but slugs are sticky so they hold onto you. You have to get away, and hug all the slugs before time runs out though." he explained with enthusiasm and a renewed appetite.
After dinner, and Spruce's bottle John Dory had almost completely forgotten about their agreement, almost. He was in his pajamas, teeth brushed, and hair combed when he remembered.
"Wait, Grandma Rosiepuff, why were you gray?" he blurted out while heading to his bed on the sofa.
A bitter, grief stricken smile flashed across the woman's face as she tucked the baby in for the night. Straightening up she let out a sigh and turned down the hall.
John Dory's little heart started to beat out of his chest the moment Grandma left the room. He'd done it again, he thought dismally, he'd unintentionally hurt the feelings of someone he loved very deeply. He felt tears forming in his eyes, his chest was tight, and all of sudden he was holding his breath again, waiting as Grandma Rosiepuff went to her bedroom for the crying to start.
Only, it didn't.
As she sat on the couch next to him Grandma Rosiepuff reached out to give his hand a little squeeze when she saw the worry in his eyes. "I only went to get something. You don't ever have to worry about me."
Still holding onto his hand as she clutched a picture frame to her chest with other, Grandma's eyes fluttered briefly at tears of her own.
"Take a few good, deep breaths, and a drink of water." the woman directed, nodding towards the glass on the coffee table. John Dory obeyed.
He felt a little better and smiling, apologized.
"You've done nothing wrong John Dory, I should have explained myself." she said returning the gesture before taking a steadying breath. "Here." she handed him the silver frame.
Looking at it John Dory saw two Trolls dressed in their formal best, a lock of each other's hair binding them together in a marriage braid, an intricate blending of soft green and vibrant yellow. The couple held hands, their tails intertwined, as they gazed deeply into one another's eyes. This photo was a snapshot of true happiness.
"Is that pretty lady you?" he asked in surprise. The girl in the picture had a lavender complexion, and mint green hair piled in soft ringlets atop her head, all save for the braid.
"It ain't that hard to believe, now, is it?" Grandma raised an eyebrow at him sharply.
"You look pretty." he giggled, hiding his face with the frame, bashful at having been caught in his disbelief.
Grandma Rosiepuff chuckled and rolled her eyes.
The little boy took another look at the photograph, then, and the yellow Troll in the suit. He looked just as happy as Grandma had, if not more so, but he also looked tired, and thin. The suit which might have once fit him seemed overly large for his figure and could do nothing to hide what looked to John Dory like... what was the word? Frailty.
"Who's that?"
"Goldenrod Moonbow, my husband." Grandma Rosiepuff said in a whisper as she reached to take the frame back.
"You look so happy."
"We were jellybean, we were." she nodded.
"Where is he?" John Dory asked swinging his legs as he began to fidget with the tassels at the end of his blanket.
"He died." Grandma told him.
John Dory felt himself sinking lower into his seat. He had only a vague understanding of what death truly meant, but he knew enough. He knew it was like going to sleep and never waking up again. He knew it was never seeing your family again. And he knew it was forever. The thought sent a shiver down his spine.
"I'm sorry." he muttered unable to look Grandma in the face.
"Me too." she sighed. "Me too."
"What, um... what happened?" he nervously ventured to ask.
"He was sick, but not like your mama. I don't think Rod had ever known a gray day in his life!" Grandma laughed with sudden fondness and warmth, trailing her finger along the photo as she spoke. "We'd known he was sick before we married, and we knew we probably wouldn't have long, but what we had was two years, two good years."
The little boy smiled at that.
"But, even knowing what I knew, knowing that I was going to lose him, didn't make actually losing him any easier." Grandma went on as she set the photo on the coffee table across from them.
"I lost my color and cried for a long time afterwards, like your mom. Then, when I finally did get out of bed I was a real beast." Grandma Rosiepuff shook her head. "I was so sad, and so angry that I couldn't stand seeing other people happy; seeing other people enjoying everything that I had lost. I hurt people. I drove them away. I shut them out."
"Oh."
"Yeah," Grandma Rosiepuff smiled in spite of herself. "But eventually I realized that that's not what Rod would have wanted for me. So, slowly, I put the pieces of what I thought was my broken life back together, into my best life. At least, as best as it can be."
"Like a puzzle?"
"Like a puzzle." she smiled in agreement. "Now, I'm surrounded by Trolls who truly love and care about me, and I'm happy. So, when I recognized the gray, and the sadness in your mama, and saw how it was affecting your family, I thought maybe, just maybe, I could help, because I could understand. I hope I'm right."
John Dory didn't say anything for a long while as he stared at the photograph. Grandma Rosiepuff had given him plenty to think about, and he spent the next few minutes just as lost in thought as Grandma Rosiepuff was herself.
Finally the woman seemed to shake herself from her reminiscing and got up. "There now, it's getting late and time for all little Trolls to get some sleep." she said tidying his bedding.
As she laid him down, and gave a final tuck-in to both of her young charges however, John Dory reached out to cup the side of Grandma's face. The woman paused, holding his gaze as her hand reached up to rest atop of his.
Suddenly the little boy wasn't sure of what it was that he'd wanted to say anymore. He was sad for Grandma Rosiepuff and Grandpa Goldenrod. He was glad that she'd gotten better, and he was grateful for her big heart with room enough for his whole family. John Dory felt a sharp sense of distress, then. There was so much he wanted to say, wanted her to know, but as always, when he needed the right words he just couldn't seem to find them.
Finally, he found ones that he thought might work.
"I love you Grandma." he whispered.
Grandma's eyes wrinkled deeply as she smiled with the warmth of the sun. "I love you too jellybean." she said bringing his hand to her lips and kissing him gently on the palm. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight."
A few days more and John Dory and Spruce returned home at last.
Even though he'd been nervous as he walked back home, holding dad's hand he couldn't help but feel that the pod itself looked fresher and brighter than ever before. Everything had been cleaned and tidied, and all would be well now, dad had assured as they walked up towards the front door. The little boy wanted to believe him, but somewhere in the pit of his stomach flutter-flies were doing cartwheels, and he squeezed dad's hand just a little bit tighter.
The scent of baked goods filled the air, and as they crossed the threshold to enter John Dory saw mom. His breath stilled nervously as the image of a monster half veiled in shadow and thrashing out at dad with dangerous claws conjured itself to life in his mind.
John Dory took a half step back when she turned to look at him. Only, she wasn't gray. She was vibrant with color despite the tears misting her eyes, but more than that she bore no darkness, no gnashing fangs or ripping claws. She was soft and gentle, and more than that, she was mom.
Forgetting everything else John Dory ran to her, crying as relief washed over him, and muscles he hadn't even realized were bound tight with anticipation relaxed as he sagged into the embrace.
"My baby, oh my sweet baby boy. I'm sorry." she whispered, rocking them slightly as they knelt, hugging on the floor. "I'm so, so sorry! I love you, mommy always, always loves you." she repeated several times.
Crying as he hugged her back all the turmoil he'd been feeling for nearly a week drained from John Dory's body one grateful tear at a time. Squeezing her as tightly as he could and enveloped in the soft scent of her perfume the little boy knew that he was home, and now everything would, at last, be okay.
Getting up after a minute mom smoothed out her dress and took Spruce. Cradling her youngest she lavished him with the same love and regret filled affections that she had John Dory. He watched the bittersweet reunion between mother and baby, a part of him wishing she hadn't let go so soon.
"I, I don't even know how to begin to thank you- or, or apologize- I'm so-" mom started to say when she turned towards Grandma Rosiepuff, her cheeks deepening with shame and embarrassment.
"You don't have to say anything, and there's nothing to apologize for." the older woman said giving mom's shoulder a squeeze. "You have two lovely and very well behaved little boys. You're doing a great job, and should feel pride in yourself as a mother."
Mom stifled a sob, turning from Grandma, to dad, and back again. Shaking mom pulled Grandma Rosiepuff into a hug of her own.
"There, there sweetheart, it's alright. You're doing great!" Grandma Rosiepuff smiled rubbing her on the back as they hugged.
Pulling away mom blinked back her tears before laughing at herself and motioning to the table. "Would you like to stay for brunch?" she asked with tentative hope. "I made fresh cones."
"I'd be delighted." Grandma nodded at the invitation.
John Dory having forgotten so much of his worry in such a short time since he'd been home stood on his chair, tail swishing with excitement as he vied eagerly for each of the adults attention, while he told one energetic story after the next. His audience was entirely enraptured by his enthusiasm and clever use of, occasionally made-up words.
After a while however, conversations started to break off and the grownups began talking about, well, grownup stuff. Disinterested in such topics of conversation John Dory wandered away to play nearby with some of the toys he had missed.
Mom throughout all of it seemed anxious, and embarrassed, the boy noticed as he played. Grandma Rosiepuff, however was relaxed, friendly, and didn't seem to mind mom's nervous overfeeding as she kept plying her with more and more food and tea.
Dad did a lot of the talking at first. He explained about the part of the forest they were from, and what it was like growing up in Laugh-odil Grove. He explained how he and mom had been "childhood sweethearts," and how mama's gray times made it difficult for them as a young couple after their wedding. He used the word "ostracized." It was a good sounding word and caught the boy's attention immediately.
John Dory almost blurted out a demand for its definition when he stopped himself short. After accidentally hurting dad's feelings, by being a big brother, he was afraid to ask. This sudden bout of unrest the boy felt made him draw his tail in tight, but, his parents laughed at something and everything was right in the world again.
By the end of brunch everyone seemed to be very good friends, hugging, and making plans for later times and dates. It felt odd. After it had been just John Dory, his parents, and now Spruce for so long, and mostly staying home at that, for them to invite and be invited by someone else into one another's lives, and to events outside the pod felt... strange. But, if it had to be someone the boy was glad that it was Grandma Rosiepuff.
Things were better after that, much better.
They started getting out more, and often did things together, including celebrating both boys birthdays. Mom was colorful again, dad was relaxed, and Grandma had even held a pod-sale, clearing out one of her craft rooms, and turning it into a bedroom for John Dory and Spruce when they had their sleepovers.
This time, John Dory thought as he sat rolling fresh, doughy clay between his hands, things were entirely perfect.
"What are you making, love?" mom asked as she used a rolling pin to flatten out her portion of clay.
John Dory shrugged, he wasn't sure yet. Besides, he was enjoying the slightly grainy feel of the dough as it narrowed out into a long thin cord between his palms. Then he squeezed, grinning mischievously as it oozed out from between his fingers, and began the process all over again.
"I'm making a cup to hold all of my pens." Dad announced cheerily from where he sat, Spruce in his lap molding and mashing wads of dough with the chaotic vigor of a well rested toddler.
"Oh, there's an idea!" Grandma smiled as she shaped a bowl with a swirl cut into the side, for holding her yarn balls as she worked, she'd explained.
"What are you making mama?" John Dory asked as he watched her etching words, and poking holes into the flat surface she'd created.
"Something I want to hang on the wall after it dries." she said thoughtfully as she worked. "But I need everyone's help to finish it."
The little boy's brow furrowed slightly with a blend of interest and confusion. Standing in his seat he craned his neck, and cocked his head to the side trying to make out the words she'd written.
"Fam-i-ly fur- fur-"
"Sound it out." mom encouraged.
"And remember what sounds 'O' makes." Dad added.
"For, for, ever. For, ever. Forever. Fam-i-ly Forever. Family Forever!" John Dory exploded with excitement at his accomplishment, all around him the grownups clapped.
"Soon you'll be reading books as often as I do!" Dad winked, but of course this was impossible, no one read as much as dad did.
John Dory beamed with pride nonetheless.
"See, and I made smaller circles for our handprints that we hang from the sign!" mom glowed, displaying smaller flat disks of clay too, each with a tiny hole in the top for yarn to be threaded through them.
"Can I go first?" the five year old asked almost immediately.
"Sure can!" Mom exclaimed, reaching out to pick him up and bring him to her side of the table.
John Dory pressed his hand deeply into the dough, then marveled at all the intricate lines and creases his hand had left behind in the clay. Spruce, naturally, went next.
It was after all of their projects were finished and drying that John Dory went to look at them with an appraising eye. He was proud of the heart and hug-slug he'd made, and whatever Spruce had smashed together. Dad's cup was a little wonky, but he'd appeared happy with it, and Grandma's bowl was practically flawless. As he surveyed the table the boy realized that mom had accidentally made one too many holes at the base of her plaque.
"Mama," he said, recounting just to be sure. "There's too many holes. Me, Spruce, mom, dad, grandma... but you made," he had to pause and count again. "Six holes!"
Mom blushed as she and dad exchanged warm, knowing looks.
"No, that's the right number." mom said.
John Dory was confused, but Grandma Rosiepuff's hands had already flown over her mouth in elation. Mom and dad looked at each other again before Mom knelt down and parted her hair. There, wrapped safely in her tresses was a precious egg, a little tuft of lemon yellow hair poking out from the top of it.
John Dory looked at mom, too overjoyed to say anything at first.
"I get to be a big brother again?" he asked in delighted disbelief.
"Yep!" Mom grinned.
"Double brother!" John Dory smiled before hugging each of his parents. "Double brother!" he chanted racing around the pod as the grownups laughed, then began talking excitedly amongst themselves.
This time when the big day came John Dory was just as unable to keep still, but this time he was also ready, especially with the additions Spruce made to the present song.
Sitting in the dimly lit bedroom, Spruce in his lap, John Dory got to meet his new little, little brother. Peering down at the baby's narrow little face, and crown of sunshine yellow hair John Dory felt love and joy bubbling within like a geyser. After several long moments of pure contentment he at last gave Spruce, who while impressed with the new addition to their family was still a toddler and had begun to fidget, the signal.
"Happy birthday baby!" they sang softly, John Dory keeping beat with a hand patting on Spruce's knee. "Happy birthday, yeah! We can to see you baby. We can to see you, wow! We are your big brothers, we want to hold you now!"
"Happy birthday baby, I will take care of you I vow." John Dory broke off into a high note.
"Because you the cutest baby, anyhow!" Spruce added, giddy that he got his part right, even if he didn't quite.
"Happy birthday, yeah! Happy birthday, wow! We love you so much baby, and want to hold you now!" they concluded, much to mom's approval.
"That was incredible boys. How long did it take for you two to finish it?" she asked bopping each on the nose in turn.
John Dory shrugged with sudden embarrassment.
"What's his name?" he asked, changing the subject to one he felt was much, much more important.
"Clay." Dad said, his warm voice coming from behind them.
It was a fitting name John Dory felt as he reflected upon it.
"I love you baby Clay." John Dory said leaning forward to kiss the baby on the forehead.
Watching baby Clay squirm slightly, and give a yawn, the eldest brother nearly melted with love and joy. Laying down the family cuddled up together and talked quietly about the baby, their love for one another, and their plans for the future.
It was going to be wonderful, John Dory just knew it!
A/N
Grandma Rosiepuff's Sweet-root and Blued-abaga Soup, with Glintils
(Recipe adapted for Human consumption)
Ingredients
2-3 large sweet-roots, stem and leaves included (beetroots)
2-3 blued-abaga (rutabaga)
1 funion (onion)
2-3 savor bulbs (cloves of garlic)
1 cup glintils (brown lentils)
1-2 flavor leaves (Bay leaves)
Whole spice balls to taste (black pepper corns, ground if preferred)
Whole aromatic sprigs to taste (cloves)
Enough water or vegetable stock to cover ingredients well, up to 2 cm over the top (2 inches)
Mince bulbs (garlic) fine, and dice funion (onion) well. Sautée in large stockpot until softened and lightly golden brown in color.
To this add your diced sweet-roots, and blued-abaga (beets and rutabaga) ensuring that they are well washed, and that the leaves and stems of the sweet-root (beetroot) do not go to waste. Shred or chop finely for a fresh and vibrant addition to the soup.
Cook the root vegetables with the sautéed aromatics for a few minutes.
Next add in your Glintils (lentils), washed, and picked over for stones ahead of time.
To this add your water/stock, and spices.
Bring to boil.
Reduce heat after boiling, cover with lid, and cook on low heat until vegetables are fork tender and legumes are done.
Serve as is, or with the addition of plant-based sour cream, or other alternative.
Transcriber's Notes: Trolls live close to nature and this simple meal can be made with almost any root vegetables as substitute. This coupled with the vicarious nature of Trolls leaves much left to the cook's palate and imagination, feel free to spice as your heart sees fit!
Hope y'all enjoyed this one! Thank you for reading, love y'all! ?
