Otto and the Dragon

Chapter 8: Bread, Cheese, and Rats

Otto awoke to the sun warming the back of his neck. He had fallen asleep again slung across Ben’s shoulder, and now the sun was coming up behind them, as the half-trolls carried Otto and dragged Steve up the final climb to the wizard’s castle.

“Can we STOP?!” Berk finally gasped. “He might not act like an ogre, but he sure is heavy as one!”

Ben nodded and stopped. Berk and Bud immediately let go of the rope and Steve hit the ground, face first, with a bit of  a thud. By comparison, Ben placed Otto on the ground gently, where the boy immediately squirmed into a sitting position and looked around.

They were on a wide, cobble road that wound along the side of the mountain, going round and up until it reached the castle gates. Above them, they could see the castle, not very far off, nestled in a bowl of the mountain. Its towers were just beginning to lighten in the rising sun. The outer battlements looked like marble with towers of ivory rising out of them. Down below, Otto could see where the trees ended and road had began its ascent up the mountain in earnest.

Steve gave a groan, and rolled himself over on his side. Clearly dazed, he yawned, giving a clear shot of his sharp, jagged teeth, and his deep breath stretched and then broke the rope around his expanding chest. Finally coming to, the ogre jerked and sat upright, clearly confused as to where he was and then apparently remembering the events of the previous evening.

“At last!” said Bud. “Now you can walk!” 

Bud looked over at Berk. 

“I hope he’s important,” said Bud, pointing at the ogre, “or I might have to kill him myself.”

Berk laughed, and it was not a pleasant sound.

“All right, enough,” said Ben. “Let’s go. The sun’s almost up and I don’t want to spend any more time than I have to walking in the light.”

Bud and Berk nodded and poked and prodded Steve to his feet. “Come on, let’s go,” they each muttered. The ogre towered over the two half-trolls and looked like he could crush both of them in one firm hug, but he just followed along sheepishly. His hands were still bound together, but broken rope  hung loose around his chest and was starting to fall off. Steve tried to hold it in place to be helpful, but Bud just gave the rope a couple of firm pulls and then left it on the roadway.

“Move!” he growled.

Ben made Otto walk as well, which Otto would have enjoyed if it weren’t for the company. He had slept remarkably well on the half-troll’s shoulder, and the morning was clear and fresh, perfect for a walk. The roadway was wide, the cobbles smooth and well worn, and the path climbed at an easy pace. Occasionally they passed what appeared to be large flower pots, but without any flowers, just ragged piles of weeds.

Otto’s stomach began to rumble but no one noticed. When Steve’s  stomach let out a loud rumble, however, all of the half-trolls paused and looked nervously at the ogre.

“Sorry,” Steve apologized, looking down at the road. “I’m afraid I’m a little hungry.”

The half-trolls didn’t say anything but looked at each other. 

“I’m glad he’s not a real ogre,” Berk muttered and they all resumed walking. Berk and Bud gave Steve a little wider leeway than they had been previously.

Steve’s stomach was starting to rumble loud and regular as they drew near the castle gate. It had become so aggressive in its complaints that it took all of Otto’s self-control (which was limited) not to laugh. The half-trolls weren’t so amused because, unlike Steve, they did know people who had been eaten by ogres. And an ogre with a rumbling stomach, however benign he might appear, was not a laughing matter.