Chapter 21: Chapter Fourteen – Compassion Awakes

It was much warmer outside Baleful’s den, but Curesoon’s long stay within the muddy cave made it so that he still trembled with a terrible chill. Thus, after Tippleglee had coaxed the flames to burn brightly, the bard drew near to warm himself, and it felt so good that he thanked the King of Heaven for the blessing of fire.

“I can’t believe that the Trollop lives in that cold wet hole!” Curesoon marveled.

The bard was just beginning to regain the feeling in his hands when the giantess returned carrying a recently slaughtered horse. With a splash, she dropped the poor creature into the great cauldron, and in this way, she began to cook the animal even though it was neither gutted nor skinned.

Curesoon scurried away from the sloshing water and then asked without thinking, “Where did you get this horse?”

A deep, rumbling laugh issued from the Trollop. “The pre’iest li’l’ carriage came by on the road, and since it came so close to my bog, I took its ‘orses as a toll. We’ll eat this one now and the other when it’s ‘ad a chance to ripen a bit.”

Though the bard said nothing, a clear look of disgust was upon his bearded face.

“You don’t like the taste of ‘orse?” Baleful asked with a menacing grin.

“No,” Curesoon answered plainly. “It’s a cruel practice, eating horses.”

“D’you eat cows?” the Trollop replied.

“Well, yes,” the bard answered with a shrug.

“And how’s tha’ any less cruel than ea’in’ ‘orse?!?” Baleful asked with a scoffing chuckle.

“Well,” Curesoon shrugged. “Horses are much smarter than cows.”

“So, the stupid cri’ers don’t matter to ya none?!?”

“I didn’t say that,” the bard protested.

“What ‘bout pigs? They’s smart,” she offered. “D’you eat them?”

He shifted uncomfortably. “Well...”

“I’s tell you what: Instead of eatin’ this poooooor li’l’ ‘orsey,” the Trollop paused and feigned a thoughtful look while petting the dead creature. “I s’pose I could just eat you. D’you like tha’ be’er?” She added this last part with a growling sneer.

Curesoon swallowed hard and said nothing more.

As Baleful prepared her meal, the bard was able to fully look upon her for the first time, and the sight made him grimace with disgust.

To add to the Trollop’s ugly face, she had a thick slanted brow and overly small pointed ears. From her huge flattened head dull-black hair hung down in long ragged tangles.

Even with a hunched back, Baleful was every bit of sixteen feet tall. She stood upon two bent legs, and her oversized feet had gnarled toes with broken and chipped nails. While her tree-sized legs looked short in proportion with the rest of her body, her arms were overly long ending in huge meaty hands with thick mannish fingers, and these too had unkempt nails.

From her broad bare chest, two great breasts hung like empty waterskins swaying with her every movement, and yet they were so caked in black mud that their details were obscured. Her great sagging breasts eclipsed her swollen stomach to the point that it was hardly noticeable.

While the Trollop’s whole body was covered with rocky-looking warts, they grew so thickly upon her back that it looked as though she wore a shawl of rough stone.

With the pot on the boil, Baleful sat back against the side of the hill where the tunnel to her den opened. There, she considered the bard with a growl, and after a short time of brooding, the Trollop began to speak in a lowered tone.

“I killed a Troll once,” she admitted with a cruel smile.

Curesoon’s brow furrowed. “Why would you murder one of your own?”

“I ‘ad li’l’ choice,” the giantess replied after pursing her dry gray lips. “‘E’d a killed me if I ‘adn’t slit ‘is throat first.”

“But, why?” The bard’s curiosity often made him forget his fear.

“Like I told ya – Trolls‘re all wrath and no cunnin’.” Baleful reminded him. “They don’t think ‘bout what they’re doing; they’re just mad.” She shrugged her huge gray shoulders. “Anyways, I came upon ‘im after ‘e’d tired ‘imself out with ragin’.”

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The Trollop’s gaze shifted as if she were suddenly looking far off into the distance. “I wanted another li’l’ babe, and so I took what I needed from ‘im, but the whole time, I kept my knife at ‘is throat. After all, I wasn’t there when ‘e passed out, so ‘ow’d I know when ‘e’d wake up?”

She growled menacingly. “Oh and wake up ‘e did! ‘Is eyes popped open the very moment ‘e gave me what I wanted, and ‘ow they were full of rage! I didn’t wait a second. I opened ‘is throa’ from ear to ear.”

She drew her huge hand across her gray warty neck mimicking the action. “And yet, ‘e still gave me a crack across the face that sent me sprawlin’. ‘E would’ve done more, but ‘e bled out first.”

Pointing at a massive scar that split her left cheekbone, she added ominously, “‘E left me this to remember ‘im by.”

“Why would you want to have children with such a cruel brute?” The bard asked with a note of compassion seeping into his voice.

“What?!?” the Trollop growled sarcastically. “Should I look for a fine li’l’ lord like you to do the deed?!? You gonna help ol’ Bogra out? Give her some of yar baby-seed?” This idea made Baleful chuckle to herself.

Curesoon shifted uncomfortably, and this made the Trollop cackle all the more. The sound was much like clapping thunder echoing out into the swamp, but soon it was replaced by a fit of coughing.

When her hacking quieted, Curesoon’s curiosity got the best of him once more. “So, did you ever have any children?”

“I’ve ‘ad six over the years,” Baleful replied wiping black syrupy liquid from her dry lips. “But they’re all gone now.”

“They aren’t dead, are they?” Curesoon asked with a look of shock. He suddenly thought of his own sons.

“I’ve got no way of knowin’.” She shrugged. “They all left me one by one, and I ain’t seen’em since.”

“Why would they leave you and never return?!?” The bard looked puzzled.

“I s’pose they didn’t like it when I beat ‘em,” she answered with a cruel chuckle. “But they had no cause to complain. After all, I only beat’em when a foul mood took me. Bah! My mum did worse!”

Disbelief, horror, and pity silently blended themselves upon Curesoon’s face.

“Anyways,” the Trollop continued without noticing his mixed expression. “I have to admit I miss the li’l’ imps sometimes. That’s why I didn’t kill ya when I saw yar shield – Like I said, ‘I ‘eard yar tale and felt sor’ of bad for ya.’”

“My shield?!?” Curesoon echoed with a curious look.

The giantess went on as if she hadn’t heard him. “So now ya see why yar story can’t be true? If ol’ Bogra cut a sleepin’ Troll’s throa’, and ‘e’s still able to crush half of ‘er face in before ‘e died, ‘ow’d yar li’l’ Never-save manage to cut a ragin’ Troll’s ‘ead off?!?”

After saying this, Baleful fell silent for a moment as if she were trying to make up her mind about something. After a few more minutes, she spoke again.

“If yar tale’s true, ol’ Bogra wants to know it, so I’ll make this bargain with ya: If ya go and bring back one of those fruits tha’ ya claim ‘eals, and it can ‘eal me, then I’ll know ya tale’s true, and I’ll let ya go free.”

Curesoon could hardly believe his ears. “You’ll let me go free if I bring the Fruit-Glimmering back to you has evidence that my story is true?”

“Isn’t tha’ what I just said?” Baleful answered grumpily while shifting in her seat and crossing her great arms. The sound of them sliding together was like that of someone sharpening a blade upon a whetting stone.

“But, why?” the bard replied with a hint of skepticism.

“I’m dyin’, and I rather not,” she answered plainly.

“But I can’t be distracted by this quest. After all, I’m already upon a quest of my own – I’m looking for my wife and sons and cannot delay,” the bard began to argue.

“Ya’ll find nothin’ stewin’ in my pot!” Baleful roared with anger and a tone of desperation revealed itself in her voice, which ended with a rasping cough.

When the coughing fit had passed, she wiped away the black juice from her mouth and then held it for the bard to see. There was no question that the black spittle had been expelled from her lungs.

“See, I’m coughin’ up my own blood,” the Trollop growled and then rose to stomp off into the ruined wood. Her deep gruff voice echoed back through the broken trees as she added in parting, “You’ll give yar answer when I’s come back, or I’ll twist off one of yar arms!”

With those menacing words, Baleful disappeared into the swamp.

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