A Savage Code Ch. 01

She made herself small as the figure drew closer, and she could smell the coppery stench of blood mixed heavily with the earthy aroma of musk and sweat that permeated his presence. He stopped short of touching her and made no move forward, only staring down at her, completely transfixed by her beauty. Swallowing her fear she demanded angrily "Are you here to kill me, monster? Did you want that honor yourself, so much that you'd kill your allies? Here's your chance creature!" She was ready for almost any response but the one she got, as the figure immediately blanched and drew back as if struck a blow. Tense moments passed before the silence was interrupted by a loud, low rumbling from the trolls aching stomach.

Twigülv didn't understand what the goddess had said, but he knew a rebuke when he heard one and didn't dare to cross this otherworldly beauty. Though he hated to pull his eyes away from her, he could feel himself getting dizzy and knew he must feed or risk perishing from his wounds. Drawing away from her he returned to his fallen employer, squatting down with his back to the maiden to take his meal. Though the thought sickened her, she felt an odd satisfaction hearing the snap and crunch of the grisly feast, a fitting end for traitors, she mused.

He had consumed the mangled corpse completely by the time reinforcements appeared, massing in the doorway with spears bristling. Twigülv felt a chill of terror run down his spine when he saw the weapons they held were enchanted with magical flames. Letting out a low keen of fear he shuffled away from the retinue as they pushed forward, two of their number breaking away to stand guard over the maiden as the column backed the subdued beast into the corner.

She watched his eyes darting around the room, and for the first time could see the whites of panic. His eyes met hers briefly, and she could see the unmistakable message of fear and pleading they held before he focused on a flaming spearpoint that jabbed at him, sending him cowering in a defensive ball.

"HALT!" her commanding but gentle voice rang out, and all eyes fell on her naked figure as she stood with the help of her guards, clutching a potion-soaked cloth to staunch her wound. "I order you not to destroy this creature. I want him taken alive, and as unhurt as you can manage." Her tone and gaze held a finality that broached no question. The soldiers fanned out to surround the trembling hairy figure, unsure of their next move to carry out their orders. "My lady, I'm not sure this thing is intelligent, and it may be too dangerous to capture..." the guards nearest her advised.

She paused a moment, considering her options before deciding on her actions. Quietly, gracefully, she drew close to the troll, her poise and demeanor calm and in complete control. The small, strange eyes turned up to look into her own, and there passed between them a moment of shared recognition, and hope. Kneeling down within arms length she extended her delicate hand, and Twigülv shook with nerves when this elicited murmurs of disapproval and the guards briefly started forward to protect their lady before her harsh rebuke caused them draw to back.

Still holding himself low to the ground in an animalistic stance of submission and helplessness, he half crawled half scooted towards the maiden, his hairy, paw-like hand tentatively reaching out to brush against her smooth skin. She grabbed his hand, which was a little smaller than her own but thick with muscle and hair, and felt him tense momentarily before calming. Keeping her wide, violet eyes locked on his, she slowly stood, drawing him up with her. Though he resisted at first, and she could feel the unmistakable weight of heavy muscles that she couldn't move by force it she tried, he slowly rose with her.

Once on his feet she got a closer look, having never seen such a thing before. He was shorter than she, even if he stood fully upright, which he seemed perpetually disinclined to do. Almost every inch of him was covered in a gore-slick pelt of shaggy, ruddy fur, coiling and waving in bands ranging from ashen grey to a coppery red. His bestial face was wide, with a prominent nose that almost became a muzzle. Beneath his long, wild mop of hair were barely visible a pair of curling, ram like horns, and across his forehead and cheeks and the few places his fur was thin enough for the pale flesh beneath to be seen, there were odd spiral patterns tattooed onto every available inch of skin.

It took her a moment to realize the beast was as naked as she, though his genitals were partially concealed by matted fur. Her heart skipped a beat as she spied his sex, not as long as her own, but a small thick mushroom like knob resting over an impossibly weighty pair of hairy testicles. She blushed briefly when she realized she was staring, and ordered her guards fetch her and her rescuer robes, which he quickly and insistently shrugged off.

"Best not get too close, my lady. That's a troll, first one I've seen in decades, and the only one I've seen outside their homeland." Her battered but breathing captain-at-arms warned her as they passed through the hall where her retinue was receiving aid after their battle with the barbarian. "A troll? How did such a creature come to be in the City, Mesthyr?" she asked, still leading the bandy-legged creature by the hand. "I couldn't say, Princess. They've been known to wander from their homelands, but I haven't the faintest idea how it crossed the sea to get here. Besides fire, water is there best troll killer. They're too dense to swim, and their regeneration doesn't ward them from drowning. It's safe to say he didn't come here without help."

She nodded pensively as she looked the beast over. Minutes ago it was a ferocious killing machine that spent little effort tearing her attackers limb from limb, and now he had the docile demeanor of a confused and frightened animal. She almost pitied the thing, but could guess he likely had no need of it. Though he was calm and willing to follow her cajoling, they're was no doubt he could cause terrible injury if his mood turned. "Mesthyr, tell me, are trolls intelligent? Do they speak? Do they have culture, are they civilized?"

The captain considered how to answer, and though his head still rang from his recent tangle with the cur, he couldn't bring himself to despise it entirely. After all, he was alive and so was his charge. The troll could have easily killed them when it took his squad down. And he'd been told of the carnage wrought by the creature on the Princess' would be assassins, a favor he appreciated dearly. "Intelligent, yes. Civilized, no. They wander the vast mountains high up in the Northern Continent. To give some perspective, the barbarians there avoid places where trolls are known to roam, as even those degenerates won't pick a fight with the beasts. I've heard tales of trolls speaking the Tribal tongue of their human neighbors, but I've never seen it myself. It's probably a myth, likely based on an individual that has learned to parrot what it's heard."

The Princess frowned, tugging gently at the hairy hand that squeezed desperately to her own as they left the bathhouse, the masses outside gathering to rubberneck and gawk at the unusual procession. Such crowds clearly did little to abate the creatures nervousness, and he issued a low, rumbling growl of anxiety. When she pulled him a bit closer, he grasped at her waist and squeezed tight, his gory head smearing her fine silken robe with blood. Her sneer of disgust soon melted away as it became clear he was only searching desperately for reassurance, and she could feel the tremor of his fearful trembling.

Thinking quickly she ordered her column of guards to rush ahead and clear the streets, telling them she didn't want the citizenry seeing her injured and half naked, but in truth she wanted to put the strange beast in her company at ease. The ploy worked, and the last few blocks between the bathhouse and the Inner Gates of the Grand Palace were passed much more quickly, with Twigülv becoming visibly calmer as the crowds dwindled away. Once behind the gilded doors of the palace, they were set upon by all manner of Elven courtier and nobility, all clamoring to inspect their princess and ensure she was all right.

All who came close were shocked and appalled by her strange company, but knew their King's daughter well enough not to raise such concerns directly. More than once they rushed in too quickly and had to scurry back when the agitated troll let out an ear splitting roar of warning. When it came time to lure him into one of the laundry rooms deemed suitable to wash the remains of his bloody work from his thick fur, they quickly realized he wasn't willing to part ways with the woman he clung to. No amount of gentle chiding or promises of cooked meats and fresh pastries seemed adequate to dissuade him from her side, and eventually she gave in and ordered her handmaid's join her in the laundry to see to the task while she supervised.

Twigülv gave no complaint as the hot water poured over his matted fur, though the sudsy, scented lather they worked into his pelt with coarse brushes brought up from the Elephant Stables caused him sneezing fits, which quickly had all the women in tears with laughter as he inhaled and expelled soap bubbles from his nostrils. To their shock and amusement, he began to join in the laughter with a guttural barking they took to be a chuckle. They also couldn't help but notice that the further down his body they worked with hands and brushes, the more visibly aroused he became.

The ladies in waiting smirked and made bawdy jokes about their Princess' peculiar new pet, and she laughed and leaned into the jokes with them. Though the soaking wet troll stood with his manhood jutting from his body like an angry red sausage, he didn't reach out or grab at any of the elf maidens, and they remarked on his good behavior. Though he couldn't understand a word of what they said, their caresses and eye contact made him feel welcome, and he was content to stand still with a wide sharp-toothed grin on his hairy face and allow the elves to scrub him head to toe, even shyly allowing them to wash his sensitive tail that he'd kept wrapped flush to one leg.

Now cleaned, they tried their best to clothe him but could get no farther than a billowing robe draped over his shoulders that he shrugged off several times before the Princess intervened to place it upon him, gently but firmly. "I don't suppose my father will be pleased to hear about this when he returns from pilgrimage," the Princess said, "but he'll at least be grateful that he isn't returning to his child's funeral. The kingdom owes this creature it's thanks, and he'll be treated as an honored guest while he stays." She ordered her father's scholars and sages to convene and puzzle out a way to communicate with their odd guest, and informing them that the days excitement had left her tired she dismissed them all at her chamber door and shut it, with Twigülv inside.

Though the barbarian had spent more years amongst the 'civilized' folk than he could now recount, he'd never before seen such splendor. The far wall was open to the city below, it's high, painted celling held up by ornate pillars of gilded pink marble. Flowing silk curtains stretched from the ceiling to the floor, danced slowly on the cool evening breeze and gave the huge chamber a dreamlike quality. A fountain dominated the far wall opposite a huge, pillow laden platform he wouldn't have guessed to be a bed, and upon a long table nearby was prepared a bountiful lunch of cheese, fruits, pitchers of fine wine and candied nuts all arrayed on fine silver platters.

The Princess watched him closely as he took in the room, his mouth slightly open in gobsmacked wonderment. He seemed content to drink in the details, to let his eyes feast on the beauty around him, and she wondered if his gruesome appetite had been sated by his foes flesh, or if he simply didn't understand that the food had been put out for them both to partake of. To test her theory, she gently touched his shoulder. Unlike previous contact that elicited a flinch or shudder from the shaggy creature, she felt him relax and lean into her touch, his sparkling, mismatched eyes locking onto hers with a peculiar warmth that made her heart quicken. Taking his rough hand in one of hers she led him to the banquet table, and he watched as she took a few things, sampling each slowly, one at a time, showing him that the food was good and vocally proclaiming as much in the hopes he'd catch on.

He seemed happy enough to watch her eat, his honest face beaming with fascination and puzzlement. Growing impatient, she held and apple up and pressed it to his lips, where he held it in his mouth like a roast pig. She couldn't help but laugh at his confused but mirthful stare, and her sweet laughter only doubled when she heard the familiar lowing grunts of his own strange laughter. She stared for a moment, considering her options, when pique overcame her, and she leaned down to take a bite from the apple held between his teeth. His eyes widened in amazement and she smiled as she chewed and swallowed the sweet fruit.

Finally taking the cue, he opened his mouth wide, wider than the elf thought his jaws should open, and the apple disappeared between his double rows of short, sharp teeth. With two pensive chews and a laborious swallow he grinned at her, the apple gone down his gullet, seeds, stem and all. He shuddered momentarily and let out a cavernous belch, and they laughed together until she saw a look of distress flash across his face and he clutched his stomach.

Suddenly all laughter drained from their eyes as they regarded one another. "Oh, fuck!" she declared, cursing herself for her presumptions. He hadn't eaten anything on the table willingly, she'd pushed the apple on him. Were apples poisonous to trolls? Dates were poisonous to dogs, it wasn't beyond possibility. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please, please don't die!" she urged him as he began to falter, his face growing paler by the second.

Taking his hairy arm over her broad shoulders she led him to the bed, struggling the last few steps as his legs dragged and began to give out beneath him. She barely managed to maneuver him into the massive bed, which groaned and nearly folded under his weight. Pulling a nearby braided cord to alert her retainers she screamed at the guards who arrived to summon the apothecary without delay before rushing back to the figure on the bed, his breathing shallow and his eyes rolling listlessly.

"You saved my life, I cannot repay you like this! You cannot die!" she ordered, feeling the hot sting of tears threatening at the edges of her big, violet eyes. His eyes met hers and he calmed momentarily before they rolled back into his head and he began to shiver and convulse. The apothecary came rushing in at that moment, stopping short in shock at the scene before him before the Princess' bellowed orders sent him rushing to the bedside. "What...um, what is it, your highness? The patient, I mean? Ah, rather, the symptoms, not 'what' is it I mean..."

One baleful look from his enraged liege lady was enough to focus the kindly old sage, who to his credit had no earthly idea what the situation before him presented. Explaining as best she could the diet she's witnessed this far, and the nearly instant effects of the apple, the apothecary nodded gravely. "Oh yes, very possible it's poisoning, very possible indeed.." he was interrupted by a violent spasm from the incapacitated beast, and without a moments hesitation reached in to part the thickly muscled jaws, staring in closely at his patients toothy maw. Risking his hand he reached down and pressed into the creatures throat, eliciting a terrible and pungent belch that reeked of carrion.

"Summon the guards, he's going to vomit and he'll drown if we don't flip him over!" He ordered, and without a moment to spare he began to exert what strength he could muster to shift the bulky figure into it's side. The Princess put her strength into the task with him, and with the help of a guard who came running to her screams for help they managed to gracelessly roll the troll off the bed and face first onto the floor. "I-is it.. dead?" queried the guard nervously, before another beastly belch echoed though the chamber. True to the apothecaries prediction, this was followed by a red slurry of meat hunks, bone chips, and a mostly intact apple.

"Is there anything you can give him Mellek? Even just to ease his pain?" the Princess begged as more guards arrived to help shift the heavy guest upright, where he proceeded to undo the handmaid's hard work with another wretched stream of undigested elf flesh, this time down his chest and stomach. The fact of what the sticky red substance was wasn't lost on some of those present, whose own bile threatened to rise at the thought they were standing in the remains of one of their kin, traitor or not.

"I have never even heard of a 'troll', let alone treated one, your highness, but for young babes who've swallowedb toxic alchemical mixtures, I've had much success with either chalk or charcoal, depending on the poison. Apple poisoning...is a new one for me." A look was all out took from the Princess to send him scurrying to his lab to fetch the concoctions. The guards did their best to mop up the ghoulish slurry off the ground as their lady cradled her new friend's shaggy head in her lap. His whimpers were pained and pathetic, but it meant he was still breathing.

When the apothecary returned he tried to breathlessly explain the two parcels being carried by guards, one a heavy node of chalk that he used to scrape off needed amounts, and the other a basket of freshly kilned charcoal. None present were sure what to expect, or even what they hoped for, but as soon as the Princess held out a handful of each substance to the anguished creature an immediate reaction occurred. Sniffing at the chalk and charcoal his eyes shot open, and he weakly held open his mouth, letting a long dripping tongue loll out as he whimpered desperately.

Placing both handfulls in his mouth, the Princess was glad that enough of his senses were intact that he waited for her to get clear before those powerful jaws closed and began to greedily chew up the minerals. After each laborious swallow he'd open wide for more, until the basket was empty and more than half of the 15lb block of chalk had vanished into his maw. Between swallows he'd mutter and groan, and it was one of the handmaids who'd crept in closer to spy on the odd scene who realized "He's saying something! I think he's asking for something! He keeps saying wgarr'd or w'charr, I swear he's trying to speak!"

It was then the Princess noted that he was in fact uttering recognizable words, though what the words meant was anyone's guess, until she saw that each time he spoke he weakly gestured towards the fountain. A guard quickly rushed to and from the fountain, offering his helmet as a vessel to slake the trolls thirst. With the help of two more guards and a dozen deep quaffs from their helmets, Twigülv drank his fill before falling into a deep and peaceful sleep, curling up into an immovable ball at the foot of the Princess' bed.

With the excitement now over and the sun beginning to set on the horizon, the crowd in the royal bedchamber began to disperse, with only the apothecary and a handmaid staying to keep vigil with the distraught Princess. When they all finally drifted to sleep, the first pink hours of the sun were beginning to emerge in the east.