Swamp Water Cordial
Begonia looked around her kitchen. There were so many dishes. Her cave was a wreck on the best of days, if some troll saw it now, she would die of shame.
‘That’s a thought. I could die, and then I wouldn’t have to deal with any of this.’ Begonia imagined herself as a solid slab of slate. No feelings, no bothersome ideas, it was a pleasant thought, and it certainly simplified things, but petrification wouldn’t fix Begonia’s problems.
‘It’s all so fuck’n easy in my head. It all works out just fine, but bring it into the wyrld and it goes to hyl.’ Everything needed to be exactly right and Begonia’s Swamp Water Cordial had gone wrong. Another troll would’ve just gone to the nearest swamp and filled a bucket, but not her.
‘Swamp water’s disgusting. People may grind bones to bake their bread and eat ladies’ fingers with their tea, but that’s not how I do things.’ The cordial was just part of the plan. Humans may have strange habits, but if she could just get them to see things from her point of view…
“Ma!,” Fay screamed.
Begonia hated her children. Not actual hate, but the natural hate every parent feels for their progeny as they drain the last bits of will and patients from their progenitor.
“Ma, did you polish my coral bracelet? I want to wear it tonight.”
Begonia didn’t bother replying. Fay didn’t listen, so it wasn’t worth the effort.
“Ma,” Fay said finding Begonia in the kitchen. “Why is everything a mess and why is that jar oozing?”
“It’s Swamp Water Cordial,” Begonia replied.
“Oh, the human thing, aren’t you done with that yet? You know it’s going to fail.”
Begonia took a deep breath. She had seen a rock painting of a parent yelling at her kid. Had she been her parents, that’s exactly what she would be doing right now, but Begonia didn’t want to be angry, she wanted something more, so she was breathing. “You’re right, I’m probably going to fail, but then again maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll finally get through to the humans and things will change.”
Fay rolled her eyes. “What’s going to change?”
“I don’t know, Fay, but I’m trying,” Begonia returned. “Maybe I’m stupid, but I’d like to think that if people and trolls could talk to one another, then maybe we could start to understand each other, and maybe, just maybe, I could visit my grandmother again!”
“Didn’t she get turned into a countertop?” Fay asked.
“Yes,” Begonia sighed, “she did, and do you know why?”
Fay rolled her eyes again, “Because people can’t tell the difference between a sleeping troll and a rock.”
“Exactly, people thought your grandmother was a slab of granite and now she’s a nice family’s kitchen countertop which makes visits difficult.”
“You hate grandma,” Fay replied.
“That’s entirely beside the point!”
Fay was a smart girl who knew when to leave. Begonia balled up her frustration and sunk into a pile on the ground. ‘If a human comes in here now I’d be lucky to get out of this with both of my eyes. I could be seeing the world from around someone’s neck, just like uncle Horace.’ Begonia snorted. It all meant far too much to her. She tried hard not to care. When it came to people it was best to shut down and just grunt. It had worked for the last millennia, who was she to want more?
Still, there was magic in food. Begonia knew this, she had seen it with her own eyes. Take someone who’s broken and exhausted, give them a good meal, and right before your eyes, everything about them changes. She didn’t understand people or their traditions, but if she could connect with them through her cooking, maybe she could find success where others failed.
‘That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard.’ Begonia berated herself. If she had just kept her thoughts to herself, after all, that’s what trolls do, they keep to themselves. But she had to mouth off to the Mountain King about how ridiculous it was that human/troll negotiations always failed. Now it was all on her.
What did she know of humans? They bustled across her bridge every day, but she never talked to them. They were just a bunch of angry men, demanding women, and kids with eternally sticky fingers. ‘Luscious little fingers, made with sugar cookies bones, white chocolate skin, and raspberry blood!’ Begonia sprang up and began washing. There was nothing human’s liked better than ladies’ fingers.
Francis, the last royal negotiator the humans sent, wouldn’t shut up about them. She had no idea if they grew back, or if rich ladies were just willing to sacrifice their digits for the greater good, but people were apparently crazy for them, and now she knew just how she wanted to make them.
She fired up her oven. It would be a long night and she still needed to make the cordial, but the picture of the fingers was clear in her mind. The delegates would come in, the cave would be dank, a slime-filled vase of decapitated lilies on the stone table, and next to the Swamp Water Cordial, her Ladies Fingers. They’d be delighted, or at least less unreasonable, they’d try a finger and that would start things off.
‘Hyl’s fire… one taste and a thousand years of tension is going to end? Why do you do this to yourself?’ Begonia put down her baking sheet. One day none of this would matter. Her organic material would fade and just her mineral deposit would be left. She wouldn’t have to convince people to be less stupid, and she wouldn’t have to do dishes. She slumped back down into a pile.
‘I don’t want to be a slate countertop. I don’t want my teeth turned into diamond engagement rings, and I don’t want my eyes plucked out to make a nice pair of opal earrings.’ Begonia got herself up. ‘I’m a fool. I care and I bake. Swamp Water Cordial and Ladies’ Fingers may not fix the wyrld’s problems, but that’s what it’s getting.’
