Hamlet Thriving (Black Lake book 2)

Chapter 26
Ike

~

“Pace all ya want. It ain’t gonna help me finish this shirt any faster,” Mama snarled. “Ya shoulda thought about this more than an hour in advance of yar meetin’ with the council.”

“Don’t ya dare growl at yar mama,” Papa snapped, pointin’ a finger at me. Maybe I shoulda realized I didn’t have a shirt worth nearin’ a proper ogre temple—and best I could figger, the gods don’t much care how we dress—much less addressin’ the Greater Council.

Gladys and Eina, who had rushed over to help complete the shirt, looked up and grinned at me. Didn’t know it took three hens to put together a speak-to-the-council shirt.

“Be a wonder if we get this thin’ lookin’ like a single shirt,” Gladys mumbled. “Worse than three cooks workin’ on the same course.” She looked over to inspect what Eina was doin’. “Three styles of stitches aren’t the bad of it. Be lucky if one arm doesn’t come out the neck.”

“Hush, woman. The youngling is nervous enough.” Eina shook her head. If I can ever trust someone to speak for me, it’s my Aunt Eina. Every good ogre bull deserves a troll aunt.

“S’pose my youngest bull has a right not to be referred to as a youngling,” Mama said without lookin’ up, “since he’s takin’ an adult’s step today.”

“Ya excited about addressin’ the council for the first time?” Papa asked.

I glared at him.

“At least ya didn’t growl at me,” the bull said. He stood and slipped into his coat and walked out the front door. Did I irritate him? He’ll get over it.

“I’m finished here,” Eina said. “Can I help anyone?”

The other two females shook their heads.

“This sleeve is done,” Gladys reported.

I rocked from one foot to the other as Mama completed the hem at the bottom of the thin’. Not good to make the council wait—not good to make the council wait, I kept sayin’ to myself. Didn’t know it took so long to make a single shirt.

She finally raised the overly-frilly shirt to her mouth, bit through the thread to remove her needle. I yanked my vest and old work shirt over my head and tore the newly sewn shirt from her hands.

“Ike!” she snorted.

But I was in no mood to dally. Know Mama wouldn’t appreciate me barin’ flesh in front of the human woman and troll hen, but rationalized both had once changed my swaddlin’. There was nothin’ of mine they hadn’t seen. I struggled to get the shirt over my head as I walked out the door.

“Whoa,” Papa called to me, outside.

The bull walked alongside me helpin’ to funnel my dreadlocks through the openin’ of the shirt. He got me into my vest but held me from climbin’ Taiz’lin until my coat was at least half-looped. As I began to step up on Taiz’lin’s knee, Papa grabbed my arm and held it.

“Wait.”

Papa wore a serious demeanor that demanded my attention. He no doubt waited to get me away from the females.

“Ya should know somethin’ before ya meet ’em.” He paused for a moment that seemed overly long. “I’ve refused to join the council for years.”

“Why?” And why’s that important now?

“For another time. But I recommended—well—they may say I demanded they take ya as a new member.”

“What! Ya’re tellin’ me this now? Why would I even—”

“Shush for a moment.”

I settled into a comfortable dragon groove and stared down at Papa. His face twisted in a way unusual for him. This new drama only mildly set aside my impatience.

“This gives ya a bit of power, but it also provokes a problem for ya, for yar current situation.”

“How so?” The reasonin’ began to dawn on me as soon as I asked.

“Right. That’s why I told them ya must be added to the council.”

“Me? Council? Oh. Me matin’ a hen with no standin’—”

“Won’t sit well, considerin’ ya may be the council leader one day.”

“Leader!” I was surprised at the octave of my own voice—didn’t know it could go that high. “Ya tell me this as I’m off to greet them for the first time. I could get down from here and whip ya.”

Papa chuckled. I didn’t rightly appreciate the timin’ of his humor. I meant my threat literally. Opted not to explain that.

“So this isn’t just a formality, ya see?” Papa asked.

Not a formality? What? Oh. I nodded slowly.

“Ya have, what, maybe a thirty minute ride to the council lodge?” he asked me, reachin’ out and strokin’ Taiz’lin’s neck.

I nodded again. Five hour stroll chasin’ after a troll.

“Spend the time composin’ how yar hen will benefit the clan,” Papa said.

I glared at the bull. “Ya and I may have a hike to take, when I return.”

The gray-tressed ogre smiled. He leaned over and hefted an enormous jug up to me, then a second one I hadn’t noticed settin’ below Taiz’lin’s wing. “Away from their hens they’ll readily attack this, knowin’ they can’t return home with any of it. I recommend ya ensure they finish ’em before ya begin yar plea.”

“Ya’re the one who should be on the council, ya evil bull,” I growled. “Ya can spin the politics and spread the lies like none other.”

“No need to be spiteful. We’ll discuss it one day, perhaps over our own jug.”

I smiled, despite my irritation. Papa had manipulated me, as the ogre might have a vendor any workin’ day, over a lumber deal or such. No. It’s worse than that. I’m a stinkin’ sacrifice.

“Let’s go, Taiz’lin, and inebriate the most powerful bulls of the Ogre Nation.”

The dragon launched, forcin’ Papa to drop to the ground to avoid the creature’s wings. Those dew claws can rip ya up—bad enough gettin’ slapped in the face by a dragon wing.

“Fine job,” I told my friend.

“Thought ya might enjoy that,” Taiz’lin replied.

~

At first the six ancient bulls growled and muttered angrily, unappreciative of bein’ asked to travel in the winter, only for the inconsiderate petitioner, me, to make them wait—wasn’t my fault they arrived early so they’d have time to tell lies, insult each other, and complain about their hens. The four junior members were thankfully actin’ indifferent. I imagined none of them had much of anythin’ better to do, considerin’ the season, so didn’t understand their sour faces. Thankfully, they were most interested in makin’ a dent in the first jug, while the elders made me grovel.

The two most-senior council members had finally agreed to join in tippin’ a cup, and thin’s lightened up quickly. After another twenty minutes, the council leader had finally broken the idle chatter.

“Ya know the council is chartered to retain eleven members, doncha?” he asked me, pointin’ his cup at me and sloshin’ a little hard cider upon the floor threshes. His voice rose on the last two words ominously.

I had never given it much thought, but answered what shot into my head.

“Exactly!” The ogre shouted the word as though he was angry, but took another gulp from his cup, which one of the junior members had just topped off.

A little of the toxic cider dribbled down the old ogre’s chin but he didn’t move to wipe it off. I was tempted to reach out and wipe it away myself. But the leader continued talkin’. Odd we continued our informal gather, instead of them climbin’ upon their raised dais, so they could look down at me.

“Ya’ll learn most any issue of consequence will inevitably be loved and hated by an even number of reasonable bulls—men—hens. It’s a bizarre fact of life I’m not interested in contemplatin’.” He took another gulp.

“I considered it oft enough when I was a young stud-bull. Never found a reason for it. My time is less important now than ever, but I won’t waste it on such reflection. Serves no purpose.”

But he’ll waste my time raisin’ it. The grisly ogre stared off at nothin’ for a moment. When he returned to the council lodge, he took another snort from his cup.

“Did yar papa—” the ogre shouted angrily—but he didn’t continue for a moment. When he did, his voice dropped back down to an ogre’s conversational tone. “Yar papa tell ya, we want ya on this council?”

I allowed the moment to stretch. Don’t know exactly why, but it seemed like a natural thin’ to do. “He did,” I finally said. Though, didn't Papa imply he wanted me on the council?

The ogre grunted, and took another gulp. That cider was gonna be gone fast.

“Is that why ya insisted on a quorum today?” one of the other councilors asked.

The bull didn’t answer him. Maybe it was an inside joke. He motioned his cup to the young bull who guarded the open jug. He seemed happy to top everyone’s cup off.

“Ya have demands, obviously,” the other elder said.

“We aren’t embarrassed to admit yar Hamlet provides a great deal of prestige for the greater clan,” one mumbled.

“We’ve been honored that yar papa has aided us time and again,” the leader barked. Don’t know why he sounded angry. But it is a common ogre thin’.

“He’s helped enrich the clan, especially in our dealin’s with the humans,” another added.

“Set us straight more than a time or two,” one elder muttered. Explains why Papa has gotten so many visitors over the years.

“The council can be a great deal of work,” another said. “But ya can’t disregard the reward of servin’ yar clan.”

“Plus yar time is financially rewarded,” another rushed to add.

This certainly wasn’t goin’ as I’d expected. Certainly not in a straight line. I sipped at the sour mash in my mug. Struggled not to let the fire flowin’ down my throat to show on my face. It isn’t my kind of drink. Tasted like somethin’ a blacksmith might use to soften iron. Was surprised Papa would brew such a thin’. When and where had the bull managed it? Couldn’t recollect ever smellin’ the evil stuff on his breath. Thought about Papa’s ease with offerin’ any visitor tea. I smiled to myself. I’m actually becomin’ fonder of the humans’ coffee than most anythin’ else.

I forced myself to refocus. The others had turned their attention back to their own cups for a moment, and the protector of the jug repeated his self-anointed task. The council leader cleared his throat loudly a few moments later.

“Ya bein’ a dragon rider, soon to become the Hamlet’s sheriff, we wouldn’t expect ya to come into the council at the lowest rank.”

Sheriff? Where’d they hear that from? I swallowed hard to hide my reaction to that news, tried to subtly steal glances at the four younger councilors—all a good two decades older than me. They all studied their cups. I couldn’t tell if the leader’s offer caused them any animosity. If so, they hid it well. Why did the council think it so important to have one of the Hamlet’s residents join them?

Particularly, me?

After my conversation with Papa earlier, I was thinkin’ they may have held a position open for him for a decade. Why didn’t he ever accept it? Should be a good story.

 “Take me home on that dragon when we’re done,” the elder said, pointin’ his cup toward Taiz’lin loomin’ fifteen feet outside the near, glassless window, “and I’ll step aside to give ya the leadership.”

I choked, gasped for a few moments, and it had nothin’ to do with the pure alcohol flowin’ into my lungs. The fumes alone had to be takin’ a layer of flesh from my throat with it. I watched the others glare at their leader.

“Don’t misread their irritation,” the ancient one grunted after takin’ in the faces of the other nine huddled around him. “We’ve already agreed to offer ya the chair, if that is what it takes to have ya join us. Figger they just expected me to wring some concessions from ya first.”

Concessions? Oh geez, my mouth hung open. Snapped it closed. From my clenched jaw, my tusks bit into my cheek. Still not used to their recent growth spurt. My mind spun with thoughts, as the reality of the situation settled in my mind. Too bizarre.

I’m the third-born bull.

How many ogrelings fight just to attend council? I follow after my papa—who couldn’t care less about clan hierarchy, politics, and all the socializin’ that comes with it.

Yet they’re recruitin’ me. Me. Hm. They get Papa as a bonus, as informal policy leader.

I stared into the dark eyes of each of the six senior elders, one at a time.

It was time to raise the issue of Aedwin. “I have another issue we need to discuss first.”

“That ya’ve been wooin’ that plains hen for some time is no secret,” one of the elders said.

“She impressed a dragon enough to bond with her,” the current clan leader said. “Over the past decade, those young bulls have come in contact with hundreds of our kind. That Tae selected her speaks well of her character and suitability. We select ya, and if ya choose her, that is enough for us.”

My stomach hardened. Had I swallowed a boulder? That was it? I’d been prepared for a battle. But Aedwin made my case for me. And Tae.

“Then it’s agreed,” the ancient one grunted, risin’ slowly. “Take me home. Next week ya come back to my place and I’ll prepare ya for yar duties, and begin to turn my responsibilities over to ya. Don’t worry about the formalities. First regular session we’ll go through the official hubba hubba, but within the hour, mark my words, every ogre within five hundred miles will know ya’re the clan’s new leader. Ya’ll have to make yarself handy more often.”

Had I agreed to anythin’? And how was I supposed to make myself handy?

The old, bent-over ogre looked up and clomped me on the arm with more strength than I imagined the ogre retained. “Close yar mouth, council leader, before ya catch a winter fly. Goodness, ya’re as big and tall as they claim. Yar arm feels more like a leg.”

Papa, how did ya make all this come about? It’s yar doin’, I know it is. I could so smack ya in the head. Could I still get out of this?

I hope the meeting with Aedwin’s clan council doesn’t indenture me as dearly.

~