Young Writers Society

Chapter 7

~917 words

“What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger,” thought Jay dejectedly. The next few days were filled with endless walking. They passed few towns, but when they did pass one, they always stopped to buy a half a pound of cheese, a loaf of bread, and whatever vegetable or fruit was most common in the town. Most of the time they were foods that Jay had heard of, but there were times Shep bought something completely alien to him. One such fruit was a “Jerechom,” a slightly sweet, slightly salty fruit with very little juice and a lot of skin.

The rest of the time was spent walking even farther. Jay was getting blisters, but Fleta and Shep seemed well enough. “Good roads,” said Shep, admiring a particularly well-kempt stretch.

“Who’s in charge of keeping them clean?” Jay asked.

Shep scratched his head. “Well, I s’pose that it might be the road trolls, if they have them in these parts. Road trolls do a good job. They take pride in their work.”

“Trolls?” Jay reminded himself to never forget that any creature could exist in this other world. “Aren’t trolls supposed to be smelly, rude, and don’t they eat people?”

“Well I wo-“ Shep was cut off my an indignant gravelly shout from somewhere.

“Oy! Git off our road if that’s ‘ow you see us!” Two short creatures clambered out of the bushes to the side of the road. They were reddish and were dressed only in loin cloths. They hat pot bellies and two sharp white tusks that peeked out from beneath their large noses. Their heads were misshapen, and their eyes murderous.

The second one piped up in a voice higher than the first, “Yeah! I got half a mind to stick ye like a peg!”

“I’m sure he didn’t mean it, right Jason?” Shep asked, his voice suddenly grave.

Jay just stared. Shep elbowed him. “Right Jason?”

“It ain’t nice to stare,” muttered the first troll, shuffling his elephantine feet.

Jay broke his gaze and looked at the ground. “Yessir, sorry sir, I had no idea.”

“Sir?” the second troll broke into a crooked grin, “I like this one, and it’s not too wrong to say that we’re smelly and a bit rude.

“But we don’t eat people! The very nerve,” sniffed the first troll.

Shep made a small bow to the trolls, “What are you two’s names?”

“I’m Gilfred,” said the second troll, “and this here is Godfrey.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintances,” said Fleta.

“I as well,” said Shep. “Neither of you two have seen any sheep wandering about, have you?”

“If we did, we would’ve eaten it straight away. But no, I don’t believe we ‘ave,” answered Godfrey. Jay noticed the sheep back away from the trolls a few steps.

“Oh well,” responded Shep, “Have you any idea as to how long it is to Mystor?”

“Acourse we do! Ain’t no troll worth ‘is salt that don’t know ‘is own road as good as ‘is right hand. It be just over two hours away, not far at all. In fact, we be ‘eading there ourselves,” Gilfred puffed up his chest a bit, “We got some business with a ‘portent fella.”

Shep clapped his hands. “That’s great to hear! We can travel together!”

So for the next two hours, Jay listened to the trolls bicker between themselves about whose job it was to take note of the rocks in the road, and whose job it was to count steps. Neither of them seemed like they were doing either. Their bickering turned into who could burp the loudest, or who had the most wax in their ears. It’s not a bad sort of conversation, Jay thought. He added to his list of things not to forget about this world: don’t stereotype these unknown creatures.

The border between Trevon and Mystor was made apparent by the two soldiers that sat on a bench next to the road. Half of the bench was painted yellow—the color of Mystor—and half of the bench was painted a royal blue, to symbolize Trevon. The soldiers chatted idly as the small group drew near, and as they passed the bench, the Mystor soldier gave a friendly wave and a smile to Jay saying, “welcome to Mystor!”

Other than the border, everything else seemed largely the same. The only difference was, as the trolls remarked, “These roads are a disgrace!” The roads were riddled with large stones, and great wheel ruts ran down the middle. “They need a good road troll,” Gilfred mused and Godfrey nodded.

It was only half an hour more until they reached a large town that sprawled over a large hill. The buildings were made of some kind of white plaster and red roofing. Women carried baskets of various fruits on their backs, children chased after goats, and men argued over prices.

“So how are we getting farther north?” asked Fleta, eyeing some sparking jewels.

“See how much commerce is going on here? It’s like this because of the river! We’re taking the river up to the north. That should be much faster than walking,” answered Shep.

“The river? The last time I was on a boat, I ended up seasick,” said Jay, suddenly looking panicked.

“You’ll live. A little seasickness never hurt anyone. We’ll leave tomorrow. Let’s enjoy our time here today.”

Jay felt a little sick already. He thought again darkly, “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”