Day 85: Love Story Part 2

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.