Page 15 of Troll Charming

“It’s not just trolls. There are all sorts here,” I respond.

“Oh, how exciting! I really want to see it then and meet your friends.”

A pang of nervousness shoots through me. Shehas tolike it. I have to convince her to stay!

“All right.” I try to sound unaffected by her words. “Let’s go.”

The weather isbeautiful as we walk hand in hand through the park along the crystal-clear waters of our lake. The animals and birds are in full mating season mode. The air is filled with the calls of birdsong. The squirrels are putting on a show for us as we meander along the pathway. My mate giggles as one of the resident chipmunks runs over to her begging for a nut, then scurries off when she shows her empty hands.

“This place is magical,” Alexandra sighs. “It’s like a fairytale.”

“Just wait,” I say to her, guiding her gently to our destination.Then I hear her gasp once she sets her eyes on it. The phoenix tree stands majestically over the rest of the forest, several hundred feet tall where the once old and ancient tree stood. In a matter of days, it grew back to its regal splendor.Alexandra walks over to it, placing her hand on the rough bark, and sighs.

“Wow, this is like one of those old growth trees you see in books. I heard there were some in these mountains and was looking for them on this hike. I had heard there was a grove of them, and we were all supposed to go there together. At least that was my idea.” Her face falls, and I guess that her hike in the woods was not supposed to be a solo one. Then she smiles at me. “Thank you, Red, for bringing me here. I love it. There is just something about the air. I don’t know what it is, but it just feels like home.”

Does this mean she will want to stay? I hope so. I don’t want to think about the alternative. She takes my hand as I walk her back into the village, though. That is a good sign.

“Come.” I place a gentle kiss on her forehead. “Let me show you our neighborhood.”

“Our neighborhood?” she repeats questioningly.

“Yes.” I’ve never feared rejection so much in all my life. I wait for her to object, but she squeezes my hand and gives me hope.So far, my plan seems to be working.

I decide she needs to experience our best bakery, but on the way, we walk past a small market.

“Oh, my God! What… or, um, who is that?”

As I turn, I realize she is pointing at Sammy.

“Oh, that’s Sammy.”

“Is he a…?”

“I think you call them ‘Bigfoot,’ yes.”

“Wow!”

I contemplate introducing her, but Sammy has already ducked around the corner of a stall. Instead, I take her into old Bab’s bakery and introduce her to Old Bab herself, who, for some reason, looks none too pleased when I do. I buy Alexandra every breakfast pastry she points to. A sweet cream and raspberry Danish, a wild blueberry muffin, an egg and cheese quiche, and one of Bab’s famous cream horns.When I wave goodbye, Bab gives me a strange look. Her eyes are hard. I am not used to this kind of treatment from my friend, but perhaps she doesn’t know what to make of my woman.

I guide Alexandra outside to a bench amongst the butterfly bushes, and I watch her dig into the pastries. Halfway through the egg quiche, she offers me a bite. I love watching her eat. I take a small bite but accidentally finish it. She laughs and licks her fingers. I kiss her heartily on the mouth. If we weren’t in thetown, I would lick her fingers and that sweet pussy of hers right now. I grow hard thinking about what I want to do to her.

We finish our breakfast quickly, I wonder if she feels the need to have me, too. I know I cannot take her back to the house right now. I need to stay on task and assure that she wants to stay.

On our way past the tavern, I notice everyone sitting outside staring at us. They aren’t exactly unfriendly. More astonished, I think. Alexandra squeezes my hand tighter, and I can see the anxiety on her face grow deeper with every step. I, too, am uneasy. Some of my initial confidence is wavering. Perhaps this was a bad idea. I quicken our pace, and I can feel my mate having trouble keeping up. I will pick her up and run if I must.

Thankfully, the streets are quiet, so the odd looks, ranging from cold to confused, are not too many. I realize it is May Day, and a wave of nostalgia flows over me.

“Many years ago,” I hear myself saying, “during this time of the year, we would prepare for the spring festival.”

“Oh?” Alexandra stops walking, her eyes bright. “What was that like?”

“Beautiful, and fun.” I can see it in my mind’s eye. “Garlands of flowers were hung across the streets from eve to eve. There was music and food. Everyone danced and laughed. We would set up a pole in the middle of the town square, attach ribbons to it, and dance around it. It was called the maypole dance. Afterward, when the sun went down, everyone went home, drunk, happy, and ready to make babies. You see, during those times, magic lived everywhere, and creatures from all over the country could easily travel without worry of humans taking videos or pictures and exposing us to the world. Many came to our May Day celebration to find a mate. Now, the tradition is no more, and we are isolated.”

“That’s so very sad,” my love says, hugging my arm. “You must have been very lonely.”

I nod. “You have no idea, my sweet tree hugger. I gave up hope.”

“Now I am here, hugging all the trees.” Her words lift my spirit. “Maybe one day your village can have another May Day celebration.”