Hunting Parties

Hunting Parties

two tales of Trollworld by Ken St. Andre

Hungry Fairies

“Summer is almost over,” said Bluefeather.

“I like winter better,” Prickle answered.

“But winter is cold. I don’t like the cold.”

“Cold doesn’t bother me, and I do like the meat.  Don’t you?”

“Mmmhmmm.” A dreamy glaze came over the eyes of the two fairies. Prickle licked her tiny lips.

“Hey, you two! I’ve got weapons for you.” Burndog flew up with his arms full of flint knives.

“Flint! Flint again? Why is it always flint? When do we get iron or steel?”

“We can’t buy iron or steel,” he answered.  “Fairies don’t have money for men-things. And the elves don’t like those
metals.”

“The stinking elves,” snarled Prickle. “We treat them like lords. They aren’t our masters. We have no trouble with cold iron.”

“Psst!” Prickle and Burndog turned to look at Bluefeather.

“Look! Bunnies!” hissed the other fairy. “Let’s try out those knives.”

The three fairies attacked. The shrill screaming of the rabbits filled the night.

“Yum, meat!” Prickle gloated as she cut her prey open and started to eat.

Dinner is about to be served.

The End

Nobbig was making too much noise.

Frog Hunt

Four Goblins splashed through some of the shallower waters of the Great Sump.  They worked in pairs as they hunted for their supper.

Nobbig from Knor splashed through the murky water. It only came up a little past his knees, but the bottom was so soft and
muddy that his splay-toed feet kicked up mud and water with every step. He had a bamboo spear in his left hand – the perfect frog sticker. It was just a hollow cylinder of reed with one end sharpened.

“Do you have to make so much noise?” complained his partner – another goblin named Glumb. Unlike Nobbig, Glumb could glide through the swamp and never leave a trace.

“Are you worried that I’ll scare the frogs away?”

“A little bit. I’m more afraid that you’ll attract something that might want to eat us.”

“What? You didn’t tell me that we could be prey as well as predator!”

Rrribbet!  The bullfrog’s croak was surprisingly loud in the night.  Nobbig looked around apprehensively.

The Goblins stopped arguing. Their big ears swiveled on their bald green skulls. Their eyes darted from side to side,
searching the reeds and weeds and lilypads. Every ripple could be their targets.

As the water got deeper, frogs and other creatures began to appear. Fishy shapes darted between their legs and larger serpentine bodies sometimes pursued them.

As the night deepened even more of the swamp creatures came out. Glumb struck first – his arm darting out and slashing at a
big bullfrog, but he missed.

“Har!” snorted Nobbig. “And you’re the great swamp hunter.”

“I’d like to see you do any better!” snarled Glumb.

Nobbig looked left but speared right and there he had it – a big yellow-bellied amphibian transfixed on his spear. The frog’s
blood trickled down its bulging stomach.

“How’s that?” he gloated.

“Put it in your bag. We need more than one frog tofeed the clan.”

Nobbig got the second frog also. Then, Glumb got three in a row. They were doing well before the whirring of gigantic wings
interrupted them.

“Get down!” hissed Glumb. The two Goblins hunched down until only their eyes and nostrils were above the surface. The shadow of a monstrous dragonfly fell across the water, and a huge insect buzzed above them.
Luckily, it did not stay long. Two little goblins would not be enough to satisfy that bug’s appetite.

But they stayed low in the water until the whirring of its wings faded out in the distance. After nearly half an hour they
got back to an upright position.

“Let’s get out of here,” said Nobbig. “We’ve got enough.”

“I agree. I think the shore is this way.”

They started off. Nobbig didn’t splash nearly as much as he had at the beginning of the hunt.

They had just emerged from the water when the biggest frog Nobbig had ever seen appeared out of nowhere.  There was a mighty thump as it landed, and then the huge amphibian had its tongue around Glumb. and popped him right into its big, gaping maw.

Goblins are ferociously brave.  Nobbig and the other two members of the hunting party attacked.  Even Glumb struggled inside the frog’s stomach–he wasn’t chewed up on the way down.

The Goblins fought with determination, cunning, and all the ferocity they could summon.  And not a single one returned to camp to tell the tale.

The End

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One Comment

  1. Glenn P. ("Glarrrn")
    Posted February 28, 2011 at 12:06 am | Permalink | Reply

    I have a challenge: artwork (and consequent story) involving a child. Preferably a young boy. No particular reason, just strikes my fancy.

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