Terrible Company Ch. 08

That included the two young men, smooth-cheeked and nearly child-like, approaching Ivy. One of them walked more confidently while his companion was clearly trying to dissuade him from a set course of action.

"Excuse me, miss?" said the first Halfling. "Can you help us settle a bet?"

"I'd be happy to," Ivy said brightly, and then, after a brief pause, added, "do that," with a subtle nod of self-congratulation.

"Are you Human, or a Dire Halfling?"

"Human," Ivy said confidently, but immediately afterwards furrowed her brow. "Wait..." Somewhere deep inside her brain, a very old and very underpowered fuse blew in spectacular fashion.

"She's Human," Mathilda interjected.

"Am I?"

"You can't just come out and ask her something like that," the second Halfling argued. "Even if she is a Dire Halfling, how would she know?"

"Well her parents would have been short," replied the first one.

"My parents were short," Ivy gasped, pressing a palm over her expansive bosom.

"Shorter than me?" asked Mathilda.

"Well no..."

"She's Human," the Dwarf repeated.

"...but I am the tallest in my family!" She then screamed, only slightly muffled by the presence of her hands hovering over her mouth. "What if all Humans are just Dire Halflings?!"

Mathilda threw up her hands and walked deeper into the common room. Their contact, whom they were supposed to meet, should have been waiting for them. She rolled up on her toes to peek around, and was surprised when Ayen stepped up next to her a moment later. Mathilda frowned and looked back; Ivy and the first Halfling were still arguing emphatically with the second one.

"Even I have my limits," he said, shaking his head. "I don't see him."

"This is the righ' place, innit?"

Ayen nodded.

"D'ye remember wha' 'is name is?"

"No." They both turned back to look at Ivy, who had the name of their contact written in her notepad, and shook their heads. "Pint?"

"Pint."

***

"Thank you, beautiful."

The pretty Halfling serving girl blushed fiercely as Ayen dragged his fingertips over her palm. The copper coins clinked as they fell, but before she could grasp them, Ayen had her hand in both of his.

"Your hands," he said softly, leaning closer. "They're so small compared to mine." The girl stared wide eyed, taking in the relative size difference. "I bet that, if you tried to hold mine, it would feel huge."

The serving girl's eyes darted down to the floor, to the left and to the right, as Ayen massaged her open hand. Her cheeks were so red they radiated, and contrasted sharply against her jet black hair. When she finally looked up, though, her eyes were directed at the other side of the table.

"Wh-what ab-bout your hands, Ma'am?"

Mathilda covered a broad smile in the action of raising her mug to her lips, and held up her open left hand. "They're juuus' righ'."

The serving girl shuddered visibly and staggered away from the table in a giddy haze.

"Round five to me," the Dwarf crowed.

"Gosh!" Ivy huffed, as she flopped down at their table next to Ayen. "That was the most incredible conversation I've ever had."

"Where did you land on the subject?"

"Which one?" the buxom redhead cried, arms extended. "My god, we moved from topic to topic so many times! There were at least a dozen of us at the end, debating the finer points of tax credits and welfare for the lowest class through the lens of the dietary needs of some races versus others, and all of that wrapped up in a stirring discussion on traditional and non-traditional gender roles!" She sat back, huffing like she'd just completed a marathon.

Mathilda frowned, wiggling a finger back and forth in the air as she did some quick calculations. "So they wanted you to buy them drinks."

"Pretty much," Ivy said brightly. "Fortunately, I had my treasurer hat with me." She tapped the Blue feathered cap nestled in her curly, red tresses, and beamed proudly. "Couldn't justify the expense."

"Crisis averted," Ayen said smoothly, sliding a little closer to the Bard. Or at least, he started to. He grinned broadly when something caught his eye. "Well, you may have won the round, but the game is mine."

Mathilda looked back over her shoulder; across the common room, the serving girl darted down a hallway, giggling, followed moments later by Ayen.

"Well, Ah'm glad ye made some friends," the Dwarf said, trying her best not to transfer her disappointment. The serving girl had been very pretty. Especially for a Halfling.

"Hopefully more than just friends!" Ivy responded to Mathilda's quirked eyebrow by pointing back toward the bar. Dozens of Halflings were staring at tiny slips of uniform-sized paper. "I handed out some business cards."

"...Business wha'now?"

"Business cards!" Ivy said brightly, producing one from her generous cleavage and handing it to the Healer. Mathilda stared down at the very warm 2 x 3.5 inch piece of paper. The first side was completely blank, and there, alone in the middle of the other side, were the words Terrible Company.

"Wha' is this?"

"That's bone. The lettering is something called Silian Rail." After a moment, Ivy added, "It's not a real bone. That's just what that color of off-white is called."

"Ah might've guessed," Mathilda said, turning the card over and over in her hand. "Bu' wha's the point of i'?"

"Well, as I told them, it's for when they have a problem that only Terrible Company can solve." Ivy bounced in her seat.

Mathilda's jaw hung slack as she held the card up beside her face and twirled it so the name was visible to Ivy. "Terrible Company?"

"Yeah, remember? Val approved it when she was in charge."

The Dwarf blinked, trying to drudge up the memory of it. Her train of thought barreled through I-Can't-Believe-This-Is-Our-Name station and collided head-on with another train leaving the platforms at I-Get-To-Blame-Katsal-For-This station. " 'ow does it work?"

"What do you mean, work?"

"Well, ok. S'pose one of those 'alflings there 'as a problem, like ye said, and we're the only ones who can 'andle i'... 'ow do they get 'old f'us?"

"It's funny you ask that," Ivy said, smiling confoundingly. "Quite a few of the Halflings said the same thing!"

Mathilda turned around. One of the less-intelligent and/or completely-inebriated barflies was chewing on the end of a card in confusion, and the rest of the cards seemed to have found their way to the floor. Dozens of little white cards everywhere. "And?"

"And what?"

"What did ye tell them?"

"I said Thank you! Come again!"

"Not—" Mathilda squeezed her eyes shut and laughed.

"Repeat business is the key to building a brand," Ivy quoted knowingly. "And we're off to a great start on that front too. Some of them got back in line four or five times!"

The Healer wiped a tear from the corner of her eye and tried to catch her breath. "There was a line?"

"Well sure," Ivy reasoned. "I had to incentivize them to take one in the first place."

"Lass," Mathilda said, struggling not to burst into full on laughter, " 'ow did ye incentivize 'em to take a piece of paper?"

"If they took a card, I showed them my breasts." The snickering Dwarf held up her mug and saluted Ivy. Ivy beamed proudly as she picked up Ayen's mug. "Oh! And I found our client!"

"May yer term as presiden' be long and prosperous."

"Thank you," Ivy replied brightly, as they clinked mugs.

***

Ayen squatted down with the others in the low brush and smiled. "So what's the plan?"

"Oooh!" Katsa hissed quietly. "His highness graces us with his presence! Thank you for finally prying yourself free from your pressing business!" Ayen gave a dismissive raspberry, but Katsa was sure she saw something else in his reaction too. Val turned and fixed them both with hard stares.

"Soo... 'ow was she?"

It took Ayen a few seconds to realize Mathilda had been talking to him. "Oh, the serving girl? Um... she was great, for a bit, but then her mother stormed in and started yelling. Something about Elves being a bunch of perverts."

"Ah don' know abou' tha'. Ah've always found yer kin to be mild. That'd make ye half-mild a' b... Wait!" Mathilda clapped her hands over her mouth and laughed. " 'er mother?!"

"Yeah, why?"

"Did they have a resemblance to e'chother?"

"Yeah," Ayen said guardedly.

"Remember how ye said the girl looked abit fermiliar?"

"Yea-oh. ... oh... Oh wow. Wow. Wow, yeah." Ayen stared down, his widened eyes casting about. "It's been... whoa. How many years? Whoa. Whoa! Where are we? Like, what country are we in right now?"

Val whirled, fixing them both with hard stares. "Troll," she whispered.

"Seriously though, I only followed your tracks. Where are we? What are we doing?"

"Troll," Val repeated tersely, as she continued to stare ahead.

"We're doing a Troll?"

"Yes," Val huffed.

"Please tell me that doesn't mean we—"

"I' doesn't," Mathilda grumbled.

"Why do you sound disappointed?" he snickered. "Did you have your heart set on some Troll loving tonight?"

Mathilda was shaking her head long before he finished. "When Ah was a wee li'l lass, we 'ad a spo' of trouble with Trolls. For years, the clan sent ou' raiding parties and scou's. My Da went ou' with 'em. They'd come back with incredible tales of 'eroics and bra'vry. Ah always wanted ta go, but my Da..." She shook her head as she trailed off. "And then 'e passed, and that miserable bastard started givin' me visions, and now Ah'm 'ere."

"What are they like?" Val asked.

"Well, they us'ally come in my dreams—"

"Not the visions," Val spat. "Trolls!"

"Oh. Well," the Dwarf said, building up steam quickly, "they always came back pretty sloshed, so Ah had to read between the lines abit, bu'... seven t' ten fee' tall. Strong. Tough as nails."

"Sounds about right," Val said. "I only saw it for second, but it was big. Tracked it just up there."

The Arcanist leaned in close, until their shoulders were touching. "What kind of wounds did they have? When they came back."

"Bruises, mos'ly, but they always went out pretty well armored." Her eyes glazed over for a minute, as she sank into her memories, and her brow furrowed. "They went out , like, ev'ry couple months."

"Is that a lot?" Ivy asked.

"Di'nt question i' a' the time, bu' yeah. They were always so 'appy when they go' back, but then a week la'er, a bit'f ore would go missing and they'd start chompin' a' the bit to 'ead back out again."

"How come you never went?"

"Dunno," Mathilda said distantly.

"Was it... because you're a woman?" Katsa carefully asked, but Mathilda shook her head.

"S'not 'ow it's done with Dwarves, lass. Lots'f women went. Almost as many as the men."

"But not you?" Ivy chimed in, quizzically.

"Da always said no. Must've been a lo' o' Trolls." An awkward silence set in. For a few minutes, they all just stared forward into the forest. Each of them sensed that they were deep in a quagmire of memories for their Healer, and individually resigned themselves to a bit of silence while it was digested.

Eventually, though, it was Ayen who broke the quiet when he asked, pointing down, "Whose net is that?"

***

One minute later.

"—leaves without their scout?! I mean, that's—"

"—too far! Can you lift your leg a—

"—in yer pants fer a week! This is your fault, ye sonnuva—"

"—can barely move, and who is grabbing my—"

"—never been in a net before! This is gr—"

"—more! More! Damnit, move your—"

"—orget about the broadsword! Who is grabbing my ass!?"

"—having a really great time, just so everyone kn—"

"—got it. I got it! I got i—"

A minor flash at the very bottom of the net started a chain reaction. First one cord snapped and, as the group's weight shifted and dropped, more and more weak points in the many ropes, vines, and twine gave way. Terrible Company landed hard on top of one another, and before they had time to untangle themselves another net sprung up beneath them, dragging them right back up into the air screaming and hollering the whole way. The first time, they'd all been more or less upright in the net. Now, with the exception of Ivy in the very middle, they were upside down.

"Was that net there the whole time too?" Ivy asked excitedly.

"Yes," Val grumbled, "and someone is about to lose a hand if they don't cut that out!"

"It's not me this time," Ayen argued from the far side of the net. A small voice whispered psssssst! from nearby, but it went entirely unnoticed.

"We are really adventuring right now!"

"Oh, write a song about it," Katsa snapped.

Ivy gasped. "That is a great idea!"

"Pssssst!"

"Quiet," Val growled. "Who is there?!"

"Have you seen it?" whispered a small voice from the bushes.

"The Troll?"

"Yes."

"Yeah," Val hissed back. "I caught a glimpse of it earlier, but I think it's gone now."

The brush parted, bending at the base of a nearby tree, and out stepped a small girl. Taller than a Halfling, with a vaguely-Human build, she had a wide face and wild, green hair. Dark green, like the surrounding foliage. "Pretty scary, right?" Her knee-length dress might have started out white, but time and the elements had faded it to something closer to yellow.

"I... guess?" Val did her best to maintain her unimpressed expression, but the blood flow to her head was making that increasingly difficult. "Maybe." The girl walked smoothly toward them, looking almost ethereal, and stopped near the edge of the disturbed grass where the nets had been. "Careful," she warned.

"I always am. I live here, so I've gotten used to avoiding the obvious traps."

"It wasn't obvious!" Katsa screeched, while still making a half-hearted attempt to be quiet.

"It was pretty obvious," the girl repeated patiently.

"How is it you live within the hunting grounds of a troll?" Ivy asked, her head quirked slightly.

"It's not as hard as you might think."

"Oh," the Bard said. Bard Rule 212 ("You never know as much as you think you do.") rang in her ears, although Rule 212 was most often invoked with regards to the shape and contour of The Maestro's penis. The location of various sensitive veins. She made a mental note to revisit her understanding of the danger of Trolls at a later date and time. She was also excited to have a chance to put corollary Rule 212a ("No amount of book learning can replace hands-on experience.") to the test.

"Can you please get us down?" Katsa whined.

The little girl nodded with a quirky smile, and paused while she looked up into the tree. Her eyes traced the rope as it wound over a branch and ran to a nearby sapling, to which it was anchored near the top. She scurried out of sight, and nothing was heard from her for a few minutes except the scuffling and grunting of tree-climbing and knot-untying. The net dropped precipitously, without warning, and deposited all five members on the ground in a heap replete with netting.

"This way," the girl said, as she dropped nimbly from the lowest branches. Mathilda was the slowest to get up, having landed fairly hard on her head, and within a minute they were all shambling after their unexpected rescuer.

***

"This is..." Katsa looked around at the dank cave. "...nice?"

"Thank you!" she replied happily. The little girl, who called herself Erkana, tended the cook fire. "Most of it was naturally carved out by the river, but I've done some work myself."

Val and Malthilda quirked eyebrows at each other out of the girl's field of view. Their savior looked like she would have struggled to move a pot full of water, let alone handle any sort of significant excavative work.

"Yeah, you can barely hear the road."

Although Erkana nodded enthusiastically in agreement, no such thing was technically true. Every cart and wagon sent vibrations down through the bedrock as it passed overhead. The Arcanist sat down on one of the rocks set, ostensibly as chairs, around the fire pit, and went about cleaning the embroidery on her sleeves and leggings with the tip of her fingernail.

Erkana smiled to herself as she added a bits of this and that to her pot. "In a couple hours, there will be the traditional Troll siesta. That'll be the best time to head out."

Ivy's eyes went as wide as saucers. "Really?"

"That can't be a thing," Katsa half-laughed, but she glanced sideways at Mathilda all the same, looking, as the rest of them were, for some sign of confirmation.

"Ehh..." was all Mathilda had. Her memories of her father's comings and goings were too fuzzy to remember the exact time of either.

"After the traffic on the roads dies down, but before the real darkness sets in." She tilted her head slightly as she went on. "I'm sure that experienced adventurers like yourselves have hunted Trolls way more crafty than this one."

"A fair few," Val said, stepping in while the Dwarf floundered. "It's definitely not our first Troll."

"I can tell, " the girl said, nodding enthusiastically. "You all seem to have it together."

"We fell out of that net together," Katsa murmured out of the side of her mouth.

"Twice!" Ivy added enthusiastically.

Erkana nodded. "The Halflings in town sent a few hired hands up into the mountains after that Troll, but none of them really knew what they were getting into." She hummed quietly under her breath as she stirred the pot. "I'm sure you're all much better informed."

"Mathilda here comes from a long tradition of Troll hunters," Ivy said brightly, clasping the Dwarf on the shoulder.

"Ehh..." was all Mathilda had.

"That's good!" Erkana said. "That's really good! She's probably taught you all kinds of useful tricks... like how Trolls have a keen sense of smell?"

"Ehh..."

"That's why most hunters smear shit all over their bodies." She doled out some of the contents one bowl at a time, and began handing them out to the others.

Katsa groaned. "Whose idea was it to take this job?"

"Mine!" Ivy said brightly.

"Why did I even ask?"

Val grinned. "To make us regret voting you out of power in the first place."

"Iwoulddoamuchbetterjob!" Katsa muttered.

Erkana held her flattened fingers over her mouth to hide a smile. "Did we hit on a sore subject."

"Some more sore than others," Ayen chuckled.

"I was far from the worst," Katsa fired back. "What about that poor p—"

"We said we'd nev'r speak'f i'!" Mathilda snarled. "An' besides, Ah never got us tossed in jail."

"It was a prop jail." Val shook her head. "It barely counts."

Ayen gasped, his fair skin turning an even whiter shade of pale. "How sad is it that Ivy's been the best?"

"Thank you!" Ivy said brightly.

" 'at's no' a compliment, Lass."

The Bard laughed musically. "I'm pretty sure that being told you're the best at something is a compliment."

"This is like a dream come true," Erkana whispered under her breath.

Val turned and peered at the small girl. "What was that?"

"I said 'that sounds like a shot at you'."

"It w... was it?"

"What?" Ayen squeaked, leaning back. "No!"

Val's eyes narrowed, and her expression hardened.

"It wasn't!!"

"It better not... have been... one?" Ivy gave the big Orc encouraging nod. "No, if we're gonna blame anyone, it's you," Val said, jabbing her index finger at Mathilda.

"Me?!"

"It's your fault we're all stuck together!"

" 'ow is it my faul'?!"

"He's your stupid God! Isn't this all his doing?"

"Watch yer tone, ye great brute."

"What are you talking about?" Ayen asked.

"Her low-rent liquor God has 'plans' for us," she said, miming quotes in the air.