The broom
swished back and forth as Frida cleaned the dust off the
floor. The rest of the cabin gleamed
from all the work she had accomplished: pulling down cobwebs, wiping the table,
tossing out the ashes in the fireplace. No
one used the one-room dwelling during the winter months that she knew of and
nothing seemed to be disturbed to prove the thought correct.
Though Hinn
built the cabin for her, she told Princess Icylica about the project. The Princess disapproved of the idea of
humans and trolls interacting. The only
reason she didn’t burn it down in a fury was because Bjorn, the leader of her
army, stepped into the argument. He told
her the cabin would be a good retreat for her to get away from the castle and a
good hunting cabin for the soldiers who protected the border from the
trolls. She relented, but she also
forbad Frida to come to the cabin. Six
months later, Frida ignored the demand.
No decorations
adorned the walls of the simple structure.
In fact, the sparse furniture totaled a table, two chairs, the
fireplace, and an extra-large bed for a troll.
Hinn put windows in the walls opposite of the door and fireplace. He had no access to glass, so he built shutters
to close the opening to keep out the weather and critters. She had opened them to let in the afternoon
sunlight.
With all the
cleaning finished, Frida took the cream apron, with multiple pockets on both
sides, off to hang on a peg next to the door.
Unlike her usual brown healer’s dress, she wore a periwinkle skirt with
a white blouse. Going over the
fireplace, she sat down on the rock ledge.
The small fire took the chill out of the crisp spring air.
Next to her, she
pulled items out of the rucksack she brought with her. The first package contained the ground bean
Hinn loved so much that made a strange type of drink. She thought it a different type of tea, but
the taste was like nothing she had ever had in any cup of tea. She grew to enjoy the bitter taste, and she
saved some from the last package he brought.
The smell would greet him when he strode through the door. How she missed him.
As she spooned
the last of the grounds into the pot, footsteps stomped up the porch
steps. She jumped to her feet after
putting the pot on the flames. Twirling
around, her voice caught in her throat as a strange troll stepped through the
doorway. The greeting left her lips as
the color drained from her face.
Something happened to Hinn.
Maybe? She wondered. The troll scowled at her. She stepped back only to run into the rock
hearth; almost falling, she caught herself inches from the fire.
“Where is Hinn?”
her voice cracked as the fear spread through her body.
“Dead,” he
snarled. With three long strides, he
towered in front of her. Where Hinn was
gentle and kind, this troll radiated fury.
Before she could utter a word, his meaty hands grabbed the front of her
blouse. Buttons popped off, scattering
across the floor.
During her
apprenticeship in the city south of the castle, a woman reported being raped by
a random man. The poor woman’s female
parts had been mutilated. Frida’s
healing mentor suspected the husband hurt her, but the woman insisted the
attacker a stranger. When Frida was
alone with the woman, she asked how she survived the attack. The woman’s response was she daydreamed about
the birth of her daughter, the best day of her life.
The troll lifted
Frida up off the floor. She scratched
down the troll’s face. His arms flew out
straight as he flung her across the room.
Screaming out as she felt the snap of her arm when she tried to catch
herself. Fighting him was a foolish
instinct. He could snap her neck and be
done with her. She needed to be smarter
to live through the attack.
As he walked
towards her a second time, he released the green suspender that kept his
matching trousers up on his waist. He
meant to defile her. Closing her eyes,
she franticly ran memories through her thoughts. What was her favorite day? All that came to mind was the death of her
small village when the humans attacked, her worst day.
Her mother had
pushed her down the small hole in the floor they kept a rug over the
opening. This saved Frida. All the terrible sounds crashed into her as
the troll lay on the top of her. She
moaned. Her mother had been raped that
day and killed afterwards. Now was her
turn. After the humans left, she crawled
out of the hole. Hinn found her hours
later, shivering in the cold evening, sitting on the porch. Now he was dead.
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