~

Chapter Thirty-four

~

Headin’ to my place together was somethin’ I might have considered before today as out of life’s possibilities, but I opened the door for her as though it was nothin’ for us to be together.

We sat there in the mudroom and I grabbed a towel, which I dampened at the sink to wipe up her feet. I’d never bathed a hen’s feet before. I recalled how Ma and Pa would make such a big event of it, when they’d come home. It was an important moment of togetherness that at the time of course, I didn’t understand or appreciate.

As I prepared for the experience for the first time, it made me feel as loopy as a skunk on rotten apples. She smiled down at me as she twisted on the bench to put her feet in my lap. Oh, lordy, the sensation involved the tinglin’ of every cell in my body. My head might pop. I caressed her one ankle for maybe too long, before realizin’ I had a couple of drippin’ feet in my lap.

“Feels nice,” she said. The luxury of her soft voice did somethin’ to me deep down, in a way I’d never experienced before.

I didn’t want it to end, but she grabbed the towel and motioned it was my turn. Oh, lordy. It was as though every cell demanded more attention and rioted to be heard over every other cell in my body. I found it impossible to breathe.

“Ya can open yar eyes now,” Zia said. Her smirk was the cutest thin’ on earth.

“Oh,” I rushed to put my feet on the floor. “Sorry, I—”

“Ya can shut up. I know.”

What did she know? Maybe, that me cleanin’ her feet felt good too?

“We gonna sit here in the mudroom all night?” She asked.

I leapt up. Probably twenty degrees in my cabin, had to make a fire. Offer to make her dinner. Do somethin’ romantic. Wine. Offer her wine. Not act like a fool. Except the furnace is always set to forty-six when I’m gone to keep the indoor pipes from freezin’, and while a fire would be nice for ambiance, the furnace would heat up the place in ten minutes. All I had to do is edge it up. Which I did.

I followed her to my little kitchen, as though this is her place. She checked the fridge, then gave me an accusin’ look. Maybe she could tell I don’t cook much, but in fairness, I’ve been at the Central Plain hamlet for months. She ignored the fridge freezer and walked to the chest freezer, which billowed cloudy as she studied the contents.

“Ya like ice cream, I see.”

I nodded.

“This elk venison?”

I nodded. Ike and I both got bucks that day.

“Take a while to defrost. I’ll leave this out for tomorrow.”

The “tomorrow” felt as though we stood in front of our clan leaders and she stated, “I do.” I choked a bit.

She was talkin’ about how she’d prepare it, what she’d add to it, I think, but I was enthralled watchin’ her beautiful tusks caressin’ the air with every word. How had I ever thought trolls weren’t that handsome a creature? Prettier than humans and goblins by a far sight, but just left wantin’ compared to ogres. But this hen is more beautiful than any other in the world.

“Yar starin’ at me,” she teased. “I might start thinkin’ ya like lookin’ at me.”

I should accept the fact that she’s gonna cause me to flash into flames pretty much every time she speaks.

She selected a couple other items from the freezer after ensurin’ I’m gonna be around for a few meals, which she placed in the fridge. Next she rummaged the pantry, and—well I watched her like that for an hour as she prepared a meal. Don’t think I budged the entire time except to show her where to find a couple thin’s. And to pour a couple glasses of wine.

The meal was tastier than anythin’ I ever ordered delivered. By far. I didn’t have a clue all the thin’s she collected together were in my kitchen. Must have been from one of my ma’s clandestine visits. Ike had told me his ma does the same thin’.

“There will come a day I’m gonna expect ya to hold up yar end of the conversation.”

I sat bolt upright. Had I been disappointin’ her? A pain riffed across my chest. I opened my mouth to apologize profusely, but she was smirkin’ at me again. I must have learned what that look meant early on, for her.

“Ya don’t have a lot of experience entertainin’ a hen, huh?”

If she wasn’t teasin’ now I would have to die. Shrivel up and disappear.

“That’s a bit of a blessin,” she said softly. I guess everythin’ she ever says is with a soft voice. Like an angel. “As ya get used to me, I hope ya don’t change one iota.”

Maybe my face scrunched up with confusion.

“There are bulls so full of ’emselves, makes a hen want to puke. Ya know what I mean?”

Nope. I didn’t have a clue.

“Of course,” her tone and little squint hinted she was gettin’ ready to tease. “Come a day ya can’t always just look at me with love in yar eyes.”

“I look like I’m in love?” I asked.

After only a tiny pause she nodded, smiled that sweet smile. “And it feels very special.”

Maybe my lungs emptied.

The next several hours as we cleaned up and moved to the livin’ room, I managed to make our conversation a tiny two-directional. And she’d bat those beautiful gold lashes at me when I was talkin’ as though she enjoyed hearin’ my lips flap.

We curled up together under a sheepskin on the couch watchin’ the orange and yellow dance in the fireplace, hands clasped, shoulders mashed together, until I think the sun began to lighten up the east.

~

Nuel

~

Bliar is an entertainin’ dinin’ partner, but I couldn’t help wish he’s Ike. Don’t think that would’ve struck Bliar as insultin’. The bull’s stories about his pa and grandpa were rivetin’. They’d lived very rich lives. First hand I knew Klow wasn’t slowin’ down.

Bliar’s personal stories were just as engagin’. Amazin’ his hen ever got to see him, he’d opened so many businesses over the decades, flew all over the world, been involved in so many clan goin’s on—how they managed to produce four younglings a bit of a shock. Four. Big family for ogres.

There was that whole, silly, fourth-born prophesy that tied Ike to his long ago namesake.

The human woman who worked in the kitchen, I think her name is Marge, plopped down at our table, and I realized the dinin’ room was empty and the staff was closin’ up.

“You notice Zia never returned,” she said, eyes glarin’ somethin’ awful at Bliar. But there was a knowin’ glint blendin’ upon her face.

Bliar opened his mouth to speak but she wasn’t havin’ none of what he had to say.

“That nephew of yours corrupting my best friend?” she asked, leanin’ forward like she wanted to smack him.

Bliar’s lips parted and closed a couple times.

“What will happen when rumor rises?” Marge asked. The tiny hint of a smile was gone now and her voice turned a bit conspiratorial. “You know lips flap more in the Hamlet than fish flash their fins. I know that Kriz impressed her. I thought it was just a little thing that would pass. But she hasn’t stopped talking about him. And now—”

“Now what?” I asked.

“Are they at his cabin doing something inappropriate?” She still glared at the poor bull.

“How would I know,” Bliar hissed. “And is it any of yar business?”

Her look turned steely. “She gets hurt I’ll show that Kriz pain like he didn’t know could come from a human woman. Mark my words.”

“Zia and Kriz?” I asked. The thought might make my mind explode. For a lot of reasons.

Marge leaned a bit more over the table and nodded.

It occurred to me Marge wasn’t shaken that Kriz might catch a hen’s eye. It was the racial thin’. Ogre. Troll. I’m pretty sure my mouth gaped and I took in a deep breath.

“You’re a bit slow on the uptake aren’t you, sweetie?” Marge asked me.

“We’re not discussin’ this any further,” Bliar hissed.

Marge pointed a dainty little human finger at him. “I want to know. What will happen around here? If it’s true. The two. You know. A hen a couple years ago was shamed because she merely dated a bull from an unaffiliated clan.” Meanin’ a clan that didn’t participate in the local council. “No florid romance, and he returned home without looking back. But the rumors crushed her.”

“Not gonna happen ya silly woman,” Bliar hissed. “If anyone’s startin’ a rumor it’s ya, and I won’t have none of it.”

“You aren’t really that naive are you, old bull?” Marge seethed a little like he did.

Old bull? She should just poke him in the eye. Ezra caught my notice, standin’ at the kitchen entrance. Were her eyes wellin’ up and red? She was upset. I could sense the two, hen and woman, had already been discussin’ this. My mind whirled. Not bein’ from this world, of the Range, the whole unaffiliated thin’ struck me absolutely silly. I’m no fool to think ogre-troll, didn’t align to a much bigger—scandal.

“She talk to ya about it?” I asked Marge.

“With Ezra,” she said. “I mean, Zia dropped his name ten thousand times in conversation with me. I thought her adoration a little misguided, but innocent enough. Almost cute.”

Adoration? Cute?

I grunted, and waved Ezra to come join us. She first opened her eyes wide, as though no way was she gettin’ in on this with her uncle. But I knew first hand she loved the stuffin’ out of both Ike and Kriz. It was a heck of a lot more her business than it’s mine. I waved again, and Ezra pushed away from the wall.

“Oh, lordy,” Bliar mumbled, watchin’ Ezra slowly drawin’ near.

What was the bull thinkin’? His mind had gone somewhere else when he looked at Ezra. Maybe. Could it be? There was a family history-thin’ I didn’t know about? Connected to her bein’ a spinster?

When she reached the table I stood and excused myself. “This is for family,” I said, and headed for my room. Good excuse to get away from the tension. Didn’t explain Marge’s interest. But then maybe Marge is almost family.

I was on my cell callin’ Ike as soon as I was sure I was out of their line of sight. I thought my call was gonna go to voicemail when he finally answered.

“What’s up?” he said.

“There’s a situation,” I said.

He laughed. Stopped and laughed again. “Ya don’t say? I’m tryin’ to avert a war that could kill a lot of folk.”

“And hurt OW?” I asked. That was unfair.

“That’s unfair,” he gushed.

“I know. Just wanted to get yar attention. This is about Kriz.”

“He get shot, or abducted, or somethin’?” His concern oozed over the call.

“What would happen, in the Range, if a troll hen and an ogre bull, ya know, consorted?”

He remained quiet for too long. But he finally kept me from pressin’ him. “Kriz? Really? He’s always lived in a little different world than us. What I enjoy about his company so much.”

“I asked, what would happen.”

“We talkin’ Zia? Ezra told me Kriz seemed a little befuddled around her.”

“Uh huh.”

“They’re both beautiful creatures. Wonder what their younglings would look like.”

“Is that even biologically possible?” I gushed.

He may have chuckled.

“Ezra, Marge, and yar pa are downstairs discussin’ the scandal possibilities.”

This time he truly laughed. “The Range needs a bit of shakin’ up.”

“That really yar take on this?” I asked.

“Meh. It isn’t all-out war. Ya ought to know by now I’m kinda Libertarian.”

“I’ve never heard of, ya know.”

“Folks worry too much about other folks when they ought to be worried about their own business. If Kriz and Zia care for each other, I’ll support ’em to the death.”

To the death? Certainly hoped this isn’t that big a deal. I had reached my room and flopped down on the too-soft bed, bounced a bit.

“But,” I mumbled.

“But nothin’. My Grandpa Klow told me a story when I was less than a half-pint, about an ogre warlock generations ago that went all soft for a human witch—woman. Tongues wagged. But she didn’t want anythin’ to do with an ogre. He eventually went off and fell in love with another ogre hen.”

“And?” I asked.

“Well, I suppose the possibility raised questions. Shame it didn’t get to be settled then. Maybe we and our cousins could live together with a little less stress if we didn’t see each other as so different.”

“Ya’re bein’ an idjit, on purpose, aren’t ya?” I asked.

He laughed, and hung up. The stinker.