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Middenly Charms
© 2017 by Walter Reimer
A hearty thank you for the use of characters by
eocostello set in 
tegerio’s Realm of Faerie universe!
Thumbnail arts by tegerio, with color by 
marmelmm!
Part 19.
I’ve had some scholars in the capitals tell me that you can learn a lot about a culture by studying its waste. After two trips to the middens, I could report that I was gaining some insight into the Grand Duchy.
Whether it had any real scientific value or not, I decided as I dragged my sodden self out of the reeking muck for the second time today, I would describe my findings in my report to the Marshal. I’m sure that he might be mildly interested whereas Crown Prince Gawain would likely laugh his fool head off. I fancied that I could hear the royal skunk chuckling gleefully as I slowly started to use my cleaning cantrips.
In lieu of Lacklove’s chortling, I thought (after I cleaned my ears out – ecch) I could hear the Grand Duchess’ raven laughing at me. Dratted bird. My now-unblocked ears swiveled as I heard someone coming up behind me.
“Och, Penda! ‘Ere he is agin,” and the two wolves that I had encountered earlier in the day walked up. One, Penda, I think, set his hoe across both brawny shoulders as the other asked, “’Ere, Buck, whot yer doin’?”
“It’s supposed to be good for your fur,” I grumbled. I looked up at them. “What do you two do around here?”
Cinneadh leaned on his rake and replied, “Penda an’ me, we’re gong-scourers.”
“Aye, ten year noo,” Penda added, hawking and spitting expertly into the midden. “Keep t’pipes clear, we do.” His partner nodded, paused and nudged Penda, who asked, “Whot, Cinneadh?”
“’Ere, Buck, hold yerself still,” and he reached out to my antlers. I held still, and felt a gentle tug before Cinneadh stepped back, holding something between his fingers.
“We been lookin’ fer thot, Buck,” Penda said, and I saw that it was a gold ring with a pale green stone in it. “Lady Blackfur were on our tails ‘bout findin’ it after she lost it doon th’ loo yesterdee.”
I thought about a retort, but shrugged and got to my hooves. “Glad to help, fellows. I think I need another bath now.”
“Och, dinna faf on ‘bout that,” Cinneadh said, “tha don’t smell a bit.”
“Really?”
“Aye!” Penda said cheerfully. “Cinneadh an’ I’ve been on’t job these ten year, an’ we dinna smell it.”
“M’wife does,” Cinneadh supplied. “Makes me sleep doonwind, she does.”
I decided to have another bath anyway, and clean my uniform again.
Cantrips helped speed up the process, and in very short order I was headed back up the stairs to the Grand Duchess’ quarters. One of the Dainties gave me The Eye. “An’ how’d tha git past us?” she asked in a suspicious tone.
“I opened the window, and in flew Enza,” I replied. She pondered that for a moment, then shrugged and opened the door.
The Prince and Her Grace were still there, still eyeing each other a bit warily, but the orts and leavings on the plates indicated that their hunger had won out over their misgivings. “Well! Welcome back, buck,” Her Grace said. “You vanished – ‘not a rack behind,’ you might say,” and she giggled, “and now here you are again.” She sipped at her mug of beer as a servant brought in a towel-covered basket containing more herbed buns.
I bowed and resumed my seat. “I confess that I’m at a loss as to what happened, Your Grace. With your permission, I’d like to find out.”
Her ears perked up and her tail wagged a bit uncertainly as she thought it over. She gave Prince Erik a worried look before turning to me and saying, “I think not, Master of Elfhame. I’ll have our own magic-users investigate this matter.” She raised an eyebrow as her ears flicked forward. “And do not presume to go off and pry into the Grand Duchy’s affairs or secrets. Guest-right goes only so far.”
My own ears stayed still. I had expected this, and I nodded. “As you wish, Your Grace.”
“Yes, as I wish.” She gave me another glare before turning in her seat as her brother cleared his throat. “And not a word from you, brother. I’m the Grand Duchess.”
“I wasn’t going to say anything, sister. But I am interested in one thing.”
“Oh?”
“What happened to Uncle Cedric? And Uncle Malcolm?”
The Grand Duchess ran a fingertip down the length of her beer mug. “Uncle Cedric – well, he lost. You know how the Lairds feel about that, and Uncle Malcolm challenged him.” Her ears laid back. “You know what that means.”
I glanced at Lord Erik, and he said, “Full armor, swords. To the death in front of the throne and the assembled Lairds. I’ll take it that Uncle Malcolm won?”
“He did,” and she gave an unladylike snort. “Cedric didn’t go quietly though, and Malcolm was so marked up by the duel that he wasn’t right or whole ever after. He was missing his left paw, part of his tail, one ear, and was bleeding from a half-dozen places by the time he sat down. A few of the lairds started calling him Malcolm the Lucky.” She grinned as her brother chuckled and refilled her beer mug.
“So how did he die?” I asked. Morbid curiosity.
“He started laughing over dinner, and something broke free inside him. The herbalists and surgeons say he bled to death.” Her almost dismissive tone made me think that she might have been the one that sent the late Grand Duke to the Great Alpha’s Embrace. “That was all there was to it. After a lot of growling and arguing, the Lairds offered the throne to me.” Her smile faded. “Of course, they are pestering me to get married.”
“They are.” Prince Erik buttered a roll. “Any candidates?”
“A few. The Blackears are being very insistent; in fact, they’re pushing no fewer than three likely mels at me.”
My former prisoner frowned, his ears laying back. “Clan Blackears? Father always called them a pack of scheming mongrels.”
Her Grace chuckled. “They still are. Hengist and Horsa – remember them? They’re your age – they practically killed themselves in a leaping contest.”
“A leaping contest?” I asked. I couldn’t resist.
The wolfess nodded gleefully. “They were taking turns long jumping, and didn’t see that they were getting too close to the waterfall. We judged that Horsa had won after we fished them out of the river.” Brother and sister laughed at that, and all our ears perked at the sound of bells down in the town. “Ah, second hour of the afternoon. Brother, Master, I must excuse myself to have a talk with the Treasurer.” She stood, and Prince Erik and I both stood and bowed slightly as she left the room.
We followed, and I said, “I’d like to go into town, my Lord.” We were passing by the Wolf Queen’s rooms, and I was a bit intrigued to see that her door was slightly open and the hallway being studied by a wolfess’ eye.
The door swung open and the Wolf Queen stepped out very quickly, closing the door and looking about for any sign of the Grand Duchess. What was getting in her fur? I wondered.
“Ah, Wolf Queen,” Prince Erik said, nodding politely. “I haven’t seen you lately. Are you well?”
“Hm? Oh! Just fine, Lord Erik, just fine.” She still looked a bit perturbed at something. “Did I hear that you were going into town, Master?”
“Yes, I had planned on it – and no, I’m not planning on getting in trouble.” It never hurt to act pre-emptively if she was in a mood to take the piss.
Her next question surprised me. “May I come with you?” Ordinarily, the Wolf Queen goes where she will, and if I decide to go somewhere, she either won’t ask for my leave to tag along or she’ll just up and leave me to my own devices. Her Elf-Mind was completely locked down.
I thought back to our conversation earlier today, and I guessed that the Grand Duchess was still pestering her. I let the matter drop for the moment as we parted ways with Prince Erik and made our way to Creig de Chuirn. Getting out of the fortress wasn’t very difficult, as our descriptions had been distributed to the guards.
There was a wait at the Auld Wall, while a guard determined for us where the Wandering Gate was at that particular point in the day. It turned out that the gatehouse was on the far side of the Lair, so we had to walk all the way around to get there.
It was a nice walk, though; in between broad swathes of lawn there were trees and carefully-tended bushes. I didn’t feel like casting detect-magics, not fancying a mid-afternoon dip in the middens, but just assumed that the place was as stiff with wards as the rest of the complex.
One side road led to a cave entrance barred with a stout wooden door. The stone lintel and posts were carved with stylized sheaves of grain entwined with vines. I started sniffing and the Wolf Queen asked, “What?”
“Beer,” I replied. “Must be the Royal Brewery that Prince Erik told me about.”
She sniffed, and nodded. “If you ever go missing, I’ll know where to find you,” the wolfess said with a bit of acid in her voice. So, she was returning to form. She followed up with, “Only because you don’t know where the public houses are yet.”
“I’ll try not to get too drunk,” I assured her as we reached the Wandering Gate and walked through.
The streets of the city were filled with late-afternoon shoppers. To my relief, hardly any of them were looking at me, but the Wolf Queen tipped her head back a bit and basked in the attention. It was justified, to my mind – she was a wolfess, and a fairly attractive one; she was the current incarnation of the Wolf Queen from their own sagas; and she was also rather close in appearance to the Great Alpha.
To my surprise, there were a few younger wolves who were giving me admiring looks. They had their headfur slicked back, a few puffing at pipes, and most of them wore jackets made of tanned hides. One gave me a cheerful two-fingered salute that would have made a squaddie proud. I returned it with a smile, and his mates slapped his back as they all laughed.
The behavior of the younger generation was quite thrown away on a quartet of older wolf-mels gathered at a sidewalk café and sharing a small haggis. One set down his beer and growled, “Cubs today. I tell ye, yon Grand Duchess needs put her foot down on tha mince.”
“Aye, aye,” one of his dining companions said. “I blame yon sinful baglute music. Makes th’ young wolves dig out boulders in’t mountains an’ throw ‘em doon cliffs.”
“Ye mean - ?” a third asked.
“Och, aye. Rock an’ roll.”
I heard a noise and turned to see the Wolf Queen openly drooling at the sight of the haggis. She hastily wiped her muzzle and said, “I’m told it’s polite to drool.”
“You may like haggis,” I reminded her, “but it may not like you much.” Her ears went flat at the reminder of her tummy troubles on the trip to Crag of Dens, but before she could say anything I said, “I want to go and see another service at the Temple. Would you like to come with me?”
She looked at me, then at the haggis, and visibly made up her mind, setting off down the street at such a pace that I had to jog a bit to catch up with her.
Some early parishioners were starting to filter into the gates of the Temple when we arrived. I glanced up at the sky as a bit of a breeze ruffled my fur, and I noted that the sky was getting a bit cloudy.
One older wolf saw me looking and said, “That time o’ th’ year, buck,” and headed on in, leaving me to ponder his oracular pronouncement.
A few wolves had noticed the Wolf Queen and were reaching out to touch her paw, with some even dropping to their knees and giving low, crooning howls. I knelt as well, just to blend in, and wondered briefly how Brother Cellini would react to what I was seeing. The proponent of Muscular Mephitism might not shy away from a punch-up in a temple sanctuary, but I was willing to bet that the wolves would object.
The Wolf Queen was making a beeline to the altar-stone at the center of the open-air plaza, and manifested her wings before hopping up and taking a stance on top of the smooth cube of granite. She drew her double-bardiche from her Elfintory and struck a pose as the sexton I had met the previous day came running up.
“’Ere! Ye cannae do that, Missy! Sure an’ Herself’ll – “
KRAKOW!
(NEXT)
(PREVIOUS)
(FIRST)
© 2017 by Walter Reimer
A hearty thank you for the use of characters by
eocostello set in 
tegerio’s Realm of Faerie universe!Thumbnail arts by
tegerio, with color by 
marmelmm!Part 19.
I’ve had some scholars in the capitals tell me that you can learn a lot about a culture by studying its waste. After two trips to the middens, I could report that I was gaining some insight into the Grand Duchy.
Whether it had any real scientific value or not, I decided as I dragged my sodden self out of the reeking muck for the second time today, I would describe my findings in my report to the Marshal. I’m sure that he might be mildly interested whereas Crown Prince Gawain would likely laugh his fool head off. I fancied that I could hear the royal skunk chuckling gleefully as I slowly started to use my cleaning cantrips.
In lieu of Lacklove’s chortling, I thought (after I cleaned my ears out – ecch) I could hear the Grand Duchess’ raven laughing at me. Dratted bird. My now-unblocked ears swiveled as I heard someone coming up behind me.
“Och, Penda! ‘Ere he is agin,” and the two wolves that I had encountered earlier in the day walked up. One, Penda, I think, set his hoe across both brawny shoulders as the other asked, “’Ere, Buck, whot yer doin’?”
“It’s supposed to be good for your fur,” I grumbled. I looked up at them. “What do you two do around here?”
Cinneadh leaned on his rake and replied, “Penda an’ me, we’re gong-scourers.”
“Aye, ten year noo,” Penda added, hawking and spitting expertly into the midden. “Keep t’pipes clear, we do.” His partner nodded, paused and nudged Penda, who asked, “Whot, Cinneadh?”
“’Ere, Buck, hold yerself still,” and he reached out to my antlers. I held still, and felt a gentle tug before Cinneadh stepped back, holding something between his fingers.
“We been lookin’ fer thot, Buck,” Penda said, and I saw that it was a gold ring with a pale green stone in it. “Lady Blackfur were on our tails ‘bout findin’ it after she lost it doon th’ loo yesterdee.”
I thought about a retort, but shrugged and got to my hooves. “Glad to help, fellows. I think I need another bath now.”
“Och, dinna faf on ‘bout that,” Cinneadh said, “tha don’t smell a bit.”
“Really?”
“Aye!” Penda said cheerfully. “Cinneadh an’ I’ve been on’t job these ten year, an’ we dinna smell it.”
“M’wife does,” Cinneadh supplied. “Makes me sleep doonwind, she does.”
I decided to have another bath anyway, and clean my uniform again.
Cantrips helped speed up the process, and in very short order I was headed back up the stairs to the Grand Duchess’ quarters. One of the Dainties gave me The Eye. “An’ how’d tha git past us?” she asked in a suspicious tone.
“I opened the window, and in flew Enza,” I replied. She pondered that for a moment, then shrugged and opened the door.
The Prince and Her Grace were still there, still eyeing each other a bit warily, but the orts and leavings on the plates indicated that their hunger had won out over their misgivings. “Well! Welcome back, buck,” Her Grace said. “You vanished – ‘not a rack behind,’ you might say,” and she giggled, “and now here you are again.” She sipped at her mug of beer as a servant brought in a towel-covered basket containing more herbed buns.
I bowed and resumed my seat. “I confess that I’m at a loss as to what happened, Your Grace. With your permission, I’d like to find out.”
Her ears perked up and her tail wagged a bit uncertainly as she thought it over. She gave Prince Erik a worried look before turning to me and saying, “I think not, Master of Elfhame. I’ll have our own magic-users investigate this matter.” She raised an eyebrow as her ears flicked forward. “And do not presume to go off and pry into the Grand Duchy’s affairs or secrets. Guest-right goes only so far.”
My own ears stayed still. I had expected this, and I nodded. “As you wish, Your Grace.”
“Yes, as I wish.” She gave me another glare before turning in her seat as her brother cleared his throat. “And not a word from you, brother. I’m the Grand Duchess.”
“I wasn’t going to say anything, sister. But I am interested in one thing.”
“Oh?”
“What happened to Uncle Cedric? And Uncle Malcolm?”
The Grand Duchess ran a fingertip down the length of her beer mug. “Uncle Cedric – well, he lost. You know how the Lairds feel about that, and Uncle Malcolm challenged him.” Her ears laid back. “You know what that means.”
I glanced at Lord Erik, and he said, “Full armor, swords. To the death in front of the throne and the assembled Lairds. I’ll take it that Uncle Malcolm won?”
“He did,” and she gave an unladylike snort. “Cedric didn’t go quietly though, and Malcolm was so marked up by the duel that he wasn’t right or whole ever after. He was missing his left paw, part of his tail, one ear, and was bleeding from a half-dozen places by the time he sat down. A few of the lairds started calling him Malcolm the Lucky.” She grinned as her brother chuckled and refilled her beer mug.
“So how did he die?” I asked. Morbid curiosity.
“He started laughing over dinner, and something broke free inside him. The herbalists and surgeons say he bled to death.” Her almost dismissive tone made me think that she might have been the one that sent the late Grand Duke to the Great Alpha’s Embrace. “That was all there was to it. After a lot of growling and arguing, the Lairds offered the throne to me.” Her smile faded. “Of course, they are pestering me to get married.”
“They are.” Prince Erik buttered a roll. “Any candidates?”
“A few. The Blackears are being very insistent; in fact, they’re pushing no fewer than three likely mels at me.”
My former prisoner frowned, his ears laying back. “Clan Blackears? Father always called them a pack of scheming mongrels.”
Her Grace chuckled. “They still are. Hengist and Horsa – remember them? They’re your age – they practically killed themselves in a leaping contest.”
“A leaping contest?” I asked. I couldn’t resist.
The wolfess nodded gleefully. “They were taking turns long jumping, and didn’t see that they were getting too close to the waterfall. We judged that Horsa had won after we fished them out of the river.” Brother and sister laughed at that, and all our ears perked at the sound of bells down in the town. “Ah, second hour of the afternoon. Brother, Master, I must excuse myself to have a talk with the Treasurer.” She stood, and Prince Erik and I both stood and bowed slightly as she left the room.
We followed, and I said, “I’d like to go into town, my Lord.” We were passing by the Wolf Queen’s rooms, and I was a bit intrigued to see that her door was slightly open and the hallway being studied by a wolfess’ eye.
The door swung open and the Wolf Queen stepped out very quickly, closing the door and looking about for any sign of the Grand Duchess. What was getting in her fur? I wondered.
“Ah, Wolf Queen,” Prince Erik said, nodding politely. “I haven’t seen you lately. Are you well?”
“Hm? Oh! Just fine, Lord Erik, just fine.” She still looked a bit perturbed at something. “Did I hear that you were going into town, Master?”
“Yes, I had planned on it – and no, I’m not planning on getting in trouble.” It never hurt to act pre-emptively if she was in a mood to take the piss.
Her next question surprised me. “May I come with you?” Ordinarily, the Wolf Queen goes where she will, and if I decide to go somewhere, she either won’t ask for my leave to tag along or she’ll just up and leave me to my own devices. Her Elf-Mind was completely locked down.
I thought back to our conversation earlier today, and I guessed that the Grand Duchess was still pestering her. I let the matter drop for the moment as we parted ways with Prince Erik and made our way to Creig de Chuirn. Getting out of the fortress wasn’t very difficult, as our descriptions had been distributed to the guards.
There was a wait at the Auld Wall, while a guard determined for us where the Wandering Gate was at that particular point in the day. It turned out that the gatehouse was on the far side of the Lair, so we had to walk all the way around to get there.
It was a nice walk, though; in between broad swathes of lawn there were trees and carefully-tended bushes. I didn’t feel like casting detect-magics, not fancying a mid-afternoon dip in the middens, but just assumed that the place was as stiff with wards as the rest of the complex.
One side road led to a cave entrance barred with a stout wooden door. The stone lintel and posts were carved with stylized sheaves of grain entwined with vines. I started sniffing and the Wolf Queen asked, “What?”
“Beer,” I replied. “Must be the Royal Brewery that Prince Erik told me about.”
She sniffed, and nodded. “If you ever go missing, I’ll know where to find you,” the wolfess said with a bit of acid in her voice. So, she was returning to form. She followed up with, “Only because you don’t know where the public houses are yet.”
“I’ll try not to get too drunk,” I assured her as we reached the Wandering Gate and walked through.
The streets of the city were filled with late-afternoon shoppers. To my relief, hardly any of them were looking at me, but the Wolf Queen tipped her head back a bit and basked in the attention. It was justified, to my mind – she was a wolfess, and a fairly attractive one; she was the current incarnation of the Wolf Queen from their own sagas; and she was also rather close in appearance to the Great Alpha.
To my surprise, there were a few younger wolves who were giving me admiring looks. They had their headfur slicked back, a few puffing at pipes, and most of them wore jackets made of tanned hides. One gave me a cheerful two-fingered salute that would have made a squaddie proud. I returned it with a smile, and his mates slapped his back as they all laughed.
The behavior of the younger generation was quite thrown away on a quartet of older wolf-mels gathered at a sidewalk café and sharing a small haggis. One set down his beer and growled, “Cubs today. I tell ye, yon Grand Duchess needs put her foot down on tha mince.”
“Aye, aye,” one of his dining companions said. “I blame yon sinful baglute music. Makes th’ young wolves dig out boulders in’t mountains an’ throw ‘em doon cliffs.”
“Ye mean - ?” a third asked.
“Och, aye. Rock an’ roll.”
I heard a noise and turned to see the Wolf Queen openly drooling at the sight of the haggis. She hastily wiped her muzzle and said, “I’m told it’s polite to drool.”
“You may like haggis,” I reminded her, “but it may not like you much.” Her ears went flat at the reminder of her tummy troubles on the trip to Crag of Dens, but before she could say anything I said, “I want to go and see another service at the Temple. Would you like to come with me?”
She looked at me, then at the haggis, and visibly made up her mind, setting off down the street at such a pace that I had to jog a bit to catch up with her.
Some early parishioners were starting to filter into the gates of the Temple when we arrived. I glanced up at the sky as a bit of a breeze ruffled my fur, and I noted that the sky was getting a bit cloudy.
One older wolf saw me looking and said, “That time o’ th’ year, buck,” and headed on in, leaving me to ponder his oracular pronouncement.
A few wolves had noticed the Wolf Queen and were reaching out to touch her paw, with some even dropping to their knees and giving low, crooning howls. I knelt as well, just to blend in, and wondered briefly how Brother Cellini would react to what I was seeing. The proponent of Muscular Mephitism might not shy away from a punch-up in a temple sanctuary, but I was willing to bet that the wolves would object.
The Wolf Queen was making a beeline to the altar-stone at the center of the open-air plaza, and manifested her wings before hopping up and taking a stance on top of the smooth cube of granite. She drew her double-bardiche from her Elfintory and struck a pose as the sexton I had met the previous day came running up.
“’Ere! Ye cannae do that, Missy! Sure an’ Herself’ll – “
KRAKOW!
(NEXT)
(PREVIOUS)
(FIRST)
Category Story / Fantasy
Species Cervine (Other)
Size 120 x 106px
File Size 48.5 kB
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