A Short Confrontation

 

            Wolvrin Farsukkil, King of the Plaidies was not pleased, to say very little! In fact, he was all worked up about the ousting of his vassals. His countenance had fallen, that was for sure.
            Mikkel Mooch, the head Plaidie in yesterday's attempt, had come dragging his heels in to report that he had failed ignominiously to re-acquire the Golden Portal. He wasn’t sure the King had any business being so fired up. It was his, Mikkel’s, baby after all, not Wolvrin’s. He supposed that it was something in the nature of kingship to be all fat-headed in that way.
            The uncomfortable interview had occurred somewhere in a kingdom on the other side of a pool of standing water. All three Plaidies had been forced to escape by jumping into the shining surface backwards. They were fortunate to have made such a successful escape. Pumas deal with problems by biting them!
            “I will deal with this hairy brute myself,” said Wolvrin. The idea pleased him. He sat around grinning, tiny and mean, hyping himself up and believing everything he told himself.

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            But back to the Home Clearing, and our friends who live there.
            Berry and Bob padded silently down to the fire circle. Everybody was there, sitting around the fire, while serving sized pieces of those two birds the Puma Bros. had caught earlier in the day sizzled over the fire on Ramona’s grid.
            “Oh, there you are! Anything exciting happen out there?” said Ralph, not really expecting much of an answer.
            Berry emitted a small huff, which is how Pumas snicker.
            “Not really,” said Bob.
            Something in the tone of the exchange made Ralph take more note of them. He didn’t say anything right then, but he realized that something had actually happened out there. They both looked healthy and shiny as usual, so he wasn’t worried or anything, just curious.
            At dinner, Twigg and Cherry compared the flavors of wild turkey and pheasant, finding them not too dissimilar. To go with the birds, Ramona had mushrooms stewed in butter, a very fine dish, which reminded Bob of how much he had desired butter.
            He felt shy about it, but he finally did speak to Ramona.
            “Firekeeper,” Bob said, rather formally, “My heart seems to be set on butter. I hesitate to ask, but, Twigg’s mother, may I have some of your butter?”  
            Ramona was a little surprised, because Bob didn’t usually speak. But she said, “of course,” and went to her little butter crock, which Ooog had made and Thaga often filled with butter in exchange for trout. Nobody knows exactly how Thaga gets butter, but she does. Ramona  dished a good big dollop of it into a wooden bowl for Bob.
            Berry coughed politely, looking at Bob’s serving of butter, so Ramona got him one too in another bowl.
            Ralph began to think that whatever had happened on the Puma’s way home had something to do with butter. “Passing strange!” Ralph thought to himself. He looked over at Ramona watching the Bros. eat butter, and she looked amused too. She winked and kept smiling.
            The sun began to sink toward the horizon, which is obscured anyhow, among all those trees and the forest became dim. Twigg and Cherry became drowsy and wandered off to go to sleep behind the clever green door. Bob and Berry drowsed, full of butter and happy, near Ralph’s feet. Ramona sat beside him.

            Without warning Maeve dropped out of the canopy of tree tops, landing on Ralph’s shoulder. She was all in a huffy hurry for some reason.
            “Something’s up, Boss,” she said breathlessly. “Evermore! Ever MORE!” she muttered.
            “Oh, hi, Birdie,” said Ralph, eyebrows up. “What’s the story?”
            “Oh, Ralph! Something wicked this way comes! I saw it!” said she.
            “Really! What can it be? Coming here?” asked Ralph.
            “The worst Plaidie anyone has ever seen! He’s wearing a crown made of coins, stolen no doubt, and he’s stomping this way from the river this very moment!” hollered Maeve.
            Ralph laughed. “Oh, this should be fun!”
            Maeve looked at him all wild eyed and shut up, waiting and looking toward the river.
            Just at the right dramatic moment, a small figure came into view. Much like Mikkel, he wore the regulation plaid jacket, leather pants, bare feet, leathery skin, crazy light blue eyes and grey braid. But this Plaidie wore a crown made of golden coins.
            He strutted up to Ralph’s feet, where he sat, and put his hands on his hips, looking up and squinting in the smoke of Ramon’s dying fire.
            “I’m calling you out, Beast,” yowled Wolvrin Farsukkil, King of all the Plaidies. “You have something that rightfully belongs to me. You will hand it over if you want to live!”
            Berry and Bob woke from their drowsiness and looked at each other. Both were thinking the same thing.
            “You have named me Beast, Plaidie. Do you crave to deal with a Beast?” Ralph laughed. “What could a Beast have that belongs to you? Speak, Shortling!”
            “Don’t bandy words with me, Beast. Hand it over!” spat Wolvrin.
            “It? What’s it? Whose is it? This is all mysterious,” said Ralph, standing at full height.
            “I’m here for the Golden Portal, Beast. Give it to me!” said the tiny monarch. “Let me have it!”
            “You want me, a Beast, to let you have it?” asked Ralph. His eyes shone with laughter.
            “This is your last chance, Beast! I have powers you can’t even imagine!” howled Wolvrin.
            “That remains to be seen,” said Ralph. Ramona had her hand over her mouth and was stifling a flurry of giggles. She had tears in her eyes.
            “Tell that She-Beast not to mock a king! She shall not mock again!” raged the little stinkpot.
            Threatening Ramona was a dumb move. Ralph stopped laughing. A sober, appraising Ralph regarded Wolvrin raging around his feet, and he became heartily sick of the whole performance.
            “Cats,” said Ralph, “This Shortling, this homely, overblown Grimkin, this half-wit, puffed up manikin has threatened your Queen. What say you?”
            “How dare it?” said Bob.
            “Bad idea,” said Berry.
            “Deal with this problem for me, will you? I leave it with you!” said Ralph.
            He turned his back, singing a song called “No Returns,” just to make sure.
            Bob and Berry seized Wolvrin, and marched him, screaming, red faced in some Gnomish language, back to the river for disposal.
            The wind, which is nosy, told the river they were coming and to get busy, and the river made a little whirlpool right near its bank. Berry shook the little king hard, until his crown fell off into the river. Then Bob grabbed him and flung him bodily into the whirlpool. The last of him they saw were the bottoms of his flat paddle-like feet disappearing under the surface. The whirling water stilled, and it was done. The crown made of coins was just visible under the water, lying on river pebbles, but Pumas done care about such things.
 
            When they got back to the fire circle, Ralph and Ramona were there waiting for them.
            “I bet something did happen today, didn’t it, Bob?” grinned Ralph, humor restored.
            “I think it must have had something to do with butter for some reason. But I can’t figure it out!” Ralph said.
            Berry looked at Bob, and then the whole story came out. Bob felt silly, but Ramona said it was alright. Maeve said it would be crazy not to love butter. “Evermore, in fact.”
            “What a day,” said Ralph.
            “Those Plaidies don’t even need the Golden Portal to get around. I don’t understand them,” said Ralph. “Could it be simply greed for gold,” he continued.
            “I believe so, I can’t think of any other reason,” said Ramona.
            They were all sleepy and it was dark, so they all went to bed!

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