Chapter Text
“I tell ya Plum,” the old troll said, sipping from a mug of tea, “it’s not like the old days.” The troll’s mug was pink with the image of a large eyed, fluffy kitten on the front. She gripped the handle with two of her fingers, the third and final digit lifted delicately. Pinkies out.
Plum sat across from the troll and drank from her own mug, nodding in a conciliatory way. Privately she was very grateful it was not like the old days. She liked not being hunted or driven from their homes by scared interloping mortals. She enjoyed modern conveniences like indoor plumbing, food delivery and luxuriously woven fabrics. She smoothed one long fingered hand down her slim skirt.
“You know-“ Plum began, meaning to explain to the troll the beauty of calling for Thai food delivery, but she wasn’t able to complete her thought before she was interrupted.
“My son,” the troll began, “you know my son, well, I told him I need grandbabies and do you know what he told me?” Plum opened her mouth to ask but the troll hardly paused.
“He said ‘love isn’t for me’, so I said, of course it is! Love is for everyone. Besides, he could find a mortal girl and at least give me a litter of halflings! Do you know what he said then?” Plum waved her hand for the troll to continue and sipped her tea. Again, the troll didn’t pause for an answer but continued on, clearly on a roll.
“He told me he didn’t want to burden a mortal woman with himself and he was better off alone! Can you believe that?” The troll huffed indignantly, setting her mug down with a thump. Plum waited to see if she was done her rant before speaking. She took a moment to appreciate how the sun shining through the kitchen windows lit up dust motes in the air. The troll’s kitchen was homey and well worn, the large windows overlooking a well-tended garden.
Satisfied the troll was done with her rant, Plum spoke.
“I don’t know why he wouldn’t want to stop his whole life to make babies for you, I really don’t.” She said, her voice dry. The troll frowned at her, the corners of her wide, lipless mouth turned down in displeasure. Her small amber eyes were deeply set under a heavy brow and no nose to speak of, only two small black nostrils set in the middle of her round face. She wore a dress made of leaves and spider silk, a thick silk rope tied around her neck holding it up. She was small for a troll, obviously the runt of the litter. Broken bone stumps protruded from wiry copper hair, where the troll’s horns normally would grow.
Plum smiled sweetly.
“Perhaps instead of instructing him to produce a litter for you, you might think about throwing some eligible ladies in his path?” Plum brushed her free hand down her blazer.
Unlike the troll, she wore mortal made garments, a matching silk skirt suit in a most fetching shade of periwinkle. She had, in deference to the company, forgone the glamour she wore when interacting with mortals. Where outside the house she looked like a reasonably attractive mortal woman in her fifties, inside the kitchen she was wearing her true face. Plums skin glowed and shimmered with pale blue lights, her ears long a pointed.
“I just settled the most adorable family into the neighbourhood in fact,” Plum went on, “a widower with two attractive daughters, both of whom are eligible, if I’m not mistaken.”
She sipped delicately from her mug, letting the information sink in. Plum adored her job as a real-estate saleswoman. It was a delicious kind of irony, getting to settle mortals into their perfect homes when it was being hunted by mortals which sent Plum to the continent in the first place. She loved the thrill of finding the perfect home to match her clients. Perhaps there was some Brownie in her bloodline, she mused silently.
The troll looked thoughtful.
“You could be a good neighbour,” Plum allowed herself a small smile at her own joke, “and welcome them to the area.”
The troll thumped her fist on the kitchen table.
“You’re right!” She declared, “That boy is never going to find love unless I force him too.”
Although this hadn’t exactly been Plum’s point, she knew better than to argue with her friend.
“Well my dear, I must be going.” Plum said, as she rose from her chair. She set her empty mug in the sink and bent to kiss her friend’s cheek.
“Don’t get up, I’ll see myself out.” She told the troll, “I don’t want you to have to glamor yourself just to see me to the door.”
She wiggled her fingers in a wave and called back into the house as she was leaving.
“Good luck with Bog, Griselda!”