#lippers

It looked like a rough job and it certainly was not smelling that great. Even upwind, Nenani was still able to smell the stink. Even surrounded by bags and jars of spices and dried herbs, the stench persisted.

“I have no fuckin’ idea what the hell this is s’pose t’be,” muttered Yale, riffling through a bag of dried leaves. “The Queen could have had her people label this shit.”

Nenani walked closer to the bag and looked in. The leaves were small compared to a giant, looking like little flecks of green in Yale’s palms. To her, they were normal sized leaves.

“Can I see?” Nenani asked.

“Sure,” Yale said, bringing a small palm-full of the leaves down to her level. She reached out and plucked up a few of them. She lifted them up to her face and breathed in. “Don’t suppose you have any idea what these are? Just look like garden clippin’ t’me.”

“No. But they smell nice, though,” she said with a sympathetic shrug.

“Aye, that they do,” he replied with a defeated sigh. Beside him he had a book opened that he was flipping through, looking between its words and illustrations and the leaves. “I may have to ask a footman to get the Queen to identify these.”

Nenani twirled one of the leaves under her nose, enjoying the unique smell. The more she breathed it in, she began to feel as though she knew the smell. It was vaguely lemony, but also...not? She had so little exposure to herbs and the like besides whatever worked through the ports.

“...could it be Pepperwood?” she asked, the word popping into her mind. She vaguely recalled seeing some sort of herb on the docks and the Beastmen had called it Pepperwood. It had smelled lemony too.

“Pepperwood?” Yale asked. “Never heard of it. Might be.”

He flipped through the pages of the book before settling on a section almost at the very back. “...No, not Pepperwood, the veins are all wrong. But let’s see...”

He turned to a different page, studied the leaves, then the book and broke out into a wide grin. “HA! It’s Bay Laurel!”

“Bay Laurel?”

“Yep. It’s a cousin of Pepperwood,” Yale grinned, dumping the leaves in his palm back into the bag before vigorously ruffling Nenani’s hair. She had given up trying to put the blue ribbon back in her hair and her braid had come undone. So her hair was a bit of a mess. “Ya got a bit of a knack fer this, Dumplin’.”

“So...what now?” she asked, walking up to the bag and tossing her leaves back inside as Yale as done.

“Now, we label and catalog it in the inventory roster. With leaves like these, we usually put ‘em in a jar. But with this many, we’ll use a crock. Stay here, I’ll need t’go grab one from storage.”

As Yale went off to wherever the crocks were stored, Nenani walked along the table, looking at the other bags and small barrels that they would be going through and labeling. A good many spices she recognized, but didn’t know the names. The Beastmen port was an active stop for many spice traders. On hot days, the docks would smell spicy and floral, drowning out the scent of the ocean and briny seaweed along the beach. One of the open bags held large seeds the size of apples. She reached inside and picked one up. It was not as heavy as it looked like it should be, feeling hollow, but the shell was extremely hard. She lifted it to her nose and sniffed and was greeted by a deep and intense pepper like smell, but there were no floral undertones. It made her sneeze and eyes water.

A growing noise grabbed her attention and she looked up to see four giants dressed in long blue coats stride into the courtyard. They were laughing and pushing at each other, but a few steps into the square space, they all jerked as though slapped and covered their mouths and noses.

“Oi! The fuck is that?”

“Somebody die out here? Man that’s rank!”

“Fuckin’ Hells...”

Bart and his two helpers, hearing the commotion, looked up with sly grins.

“Oh, what’s the matter, lads? Thought ya liked Lippers!” Bart hollered. “Don’t much care fer how it makes it to yer plate, I take it?”

“C’mon, we can show ya how to do it yerself if ya like!” Herit jeered, waving a Lipper’s gutless body in the air.

“Don’t tell us the worse ya ever smelled was some stupid Lipper!” laughed Gjerk with a taunting wave of his hand. “A few weeks out with you boys and I bet these beauties start smellin’ pretty nice, eh?”

Bart laughed haughtily at that one, reaching over to slap the smaller giant on the back. The four blue clad giants threw angry sneers and snarls at the kitchen workers.

“Fuck off with ya stupid Lippers,” snarled one.

“Wave that thing at me again, boy, and I’ll hang ya over the walls.”

Gjerk just grinned. “Try again, Thrist. Lolly’s already used that one on us.”

“Fuck off with ya y’cheeky little shit,” replied the blue coat.

“Aye, careful now. Best watch yer words,” Herit said, setting the eel down and wiping his bloody hands on his apron, gesturing towards Nenani with his head. “We’ve got orders not to teach the Dumplin’ any bad words and all. She’s all impressionable like, y’know.”

“Th’fuck are you on about?” asked one of the blue coats. However, two of the guards had followed Herit’s head gesture and looked over to where Nenani was standing, breaking out into their own sly grins when they caught sight of her. They tapped their fellows’ shoulders, pointing Nenani out. “Oh-ho-oh! So you’ve got yourselves some new meat, eh boys?”

They started towards Nenani’s table. Behind them, she saw Bart smack Herit over the head and hiss something at him before calling out to the four blue coats. “Best leave the lil’un alone, boys. That one belongs to Farris.”

Two of them paused, sensing the grave warning in those words, but the other two were already at the table, looming over the small girl who could only stand there in nervous fidgets. She remembered the King’s words and felt the weight of the marker around her neck. They wouldn’t hurt her.

She hoped.    

“And what’s a little thing like ya doing down here, hm?” asked one of the giants, bending down close and making Nenani scramble back. He just laughed at her. His breath was foul smelling and his teeth were a sickly yellow. “Ah, now. Ya scared a’me, lil’lass?”

“No,” she replied definitively, trying to keep any clue to her fear from her voice.

He chuckled, brows narrowing, and lips pulling back further into a grim smile. “Ah, now that’s a lie. I can see ya quakin’ in yer little skirts there.”

“And ya should be. Know what these colors mean?” asked the other giant, pulling on the collar of his blue coat. “Ya don’t be seeing any a’the guards wearin’ it, eh? Blue’s for th’Rangers.”

“And us blue Rangers are a quite the ruthless bunch,” said the other, face still uncomfortably close. “Know what our jobs use t’be when the old King was still kickin’?”

She shook her head, fear squirming in her belly and wishing Yale would come back. She clutched the round seed in her hand, knuckles turning white. A faint memory prickling at the back of her mind. She remember a cold night, a blue coat giant, and bright green eyes...

The giant with yellow teeth suddenly rose up, one hand sweeping in and grabbing her up from the table, paying her alarmed squeaking no mind. He held her up, watching her kick and beat at his hand with sick glee. His eyes bore into her and in there depths was a predatory hunger that sent waves of dread through her.

“We use to hunt you little buggers down fer the King. Kept a few of ya fer ourselves, a’course,” he said, licking his lips with a long draw of his tongue, and clearly enjoying the girl’s fear. “What’ve ya got to say about that, my little morsel?”

He opened his mouth wide and started lowering her down.

Her mind went blank. She beat the seed against the giant’s hand, desperate to get away, and pulling at the fingers around her chest as he pulled her closer. She huffed, glared at the giant, and yelled as loud as she could manage, “FUCK OFF!”

The giant paused and he glared at her in slight confusion. And then she threw the seed at the giant’s face, hitting him square in the left eye.

“AUGH!”

The fingers around her disappeared and she felt the wave of sickening weightlessness as she plummeted downward. She bounced off the giant’s chest, rolling and flipping and landing on a decidedly not hard surface. Green leaves exploded around her and the world disappeared. The smell of Bay Laurel let her know where she had landed, but her heart was hammering in her chest and her head was spinning.

“O-oi! Thrist, ya okay?!”

“AUGH! YOU FUCKING LITTLE SHIT, I’LL KILL YA FER THAT! YOU’RE FUCKING LUNCH!” The table shook as large angry fists pounded onto the wood. Nenani fought her way out of the leaves that buried her in time to see the angry and red faced blue coat, Thrist, lock onto her. His mouth twisted into a snarl, spittle flying, and suddenly all Nenani could see was the large hand reaching for her. She froze…

Bart appeared at Thrist’s side and grabbed the blue coat’s arm and shoulder and twisted. He pinned the arm behind the Ranger’s back and pulled him away from the table. “I told’ya t’leave the lil’un alone, boy,” he said, voice deceptively calm. “Should have listened. I know you Rangers are a tad unorthodox in yer dealings and all, but surely Keral’s trained ya mutts on how to take orders now?”

“LET GO A’ ME, YA FUCKING SCAB! I’LL RIP YER FUCKING BALLS OFF!”

“Wrong answer, lad.” Bart jerked his grip on Thrist’s arm up, making the man practically squeal for mercy. “Now, I’m gonna give ya back yer arm. And you and yer boys are gonna go back to yer boss and tell him yer all in some dire need of a good arse kickin’. And ya can be sure I’ll be askin’ ‘im about it later. Now do as the lil’lass suggested...” he trailed off for a moment before sneering and growling into the blue coat’s ear, “...and kindly fuck off. Before I take your suggestion and rip yer balls off.”

Bart released his arm, pushing back and away from the table before putting himself between Nenani and the blue coats. He only moved away once the four had rounded the corner and out of the courtyard. Bart peaked back over his shoulder, expression curious. “Still in one piece there, Dumplin’?”

“...uh-huh,” she replied weakly, still shaken. “T-thank you...”

Bart spared her a smile. “Just do us all a favor and save our ears from Lolly. Don’t let ‘er hear ya talk like that, eh?”

Nenani nodded, trying to will her heart back to a normal rhythm.  

“There’s a good girl,” he replied before walking back to Herit and Gjerk and the Lippers. Yale reemerged from from the kitchens, a glazed crock under one arm, just as the blue coats left. He jogged back over to the table as Nenani was trying to gather the spilled Bay Laurel.  

“What was that all about?” he asked, putting down the crock and looking concerned. Nenani paused with an armful of the leaves, trying to think of something to say. Yale raised an eyebrow.

“Uh...I said a bad word,” she said. “Don’t tell Lolly.”

Yale cracked a confused smile. “And the Rangers?”

Nenani frowned. “...they’re the reason I said the bad word.”

Yale’s bemused look turned sour and he turned to Bart. “Do I need to get Farris, Bart?”

“All taken care of,” Bart replied, going about his task. “Dumplin’ got one hell of a throwin’ arm on ‘er.”

Yale looked back down at Nenani, unamused. “I’m not getting the full story here. And I’ve getting the impression it’s gonna end with Farris ripping apart a blue coat.”

“Better than that,” Bart called back. “Gonna be gettin’ Keral on their tails.”

Yale laughed darkly. “Well, I’m satisfied with that. You’ll still be owin’ me a story, though, Dumplin’. What’d they do?”

She bit her lip, avoiding Yale’s gaze. “...one of them tried to eat me.”

“WHAT?!”

……………………………….

After Bart had calmed Yale down, physically having to restrain him from running off after the Rangers, Bart assured him that whatever he had planned was nothing compared to what this Keral person could manage. After a moment, Yale conceded and returned to his work. But not before making sure Nenani was in fact whole and unharmed, free of any bite marks.  

“I’m okay!” she told him after the third time he demanded she turn around. “I promise!”

“Don’t care,” Yale grumbled, gesturing for her to turn once more. “Lift your arms.”

She sighed and did as instructed, but as she raised her arms, Yale’s dour expression became murderous. He reached out, gently grasping her left arm between his fingers. She had a bruise just above her elbow.

Yale growled at the sight, but his tone was soft when he spoke. “Does it hurt?”

“Nope,” she replied. “That’s an old bruise.”

“Where’d you get this one?”

“A port master tried to throw me off the docks,” she replied causally. The morning that she had fallen into the persimmon basket, she had spent looking for unwatched goods that she might sneak for a snack. One of the beastmen had caught her sniffing about his cargo and had grabbed her arm and tossed her away. She managed to keep herself from falling into the water, but only just.

“What?” Yale asked. “Why?”

“I was looking for food,” she answered. “I got caught.”

Yale sighed with a displeased scowl.

“And no one from yer village took ya in or nothin’?” He asked. “After ya were left all alone?”

She shook her head. “No. They...thought it was my fault. The fire.”

Yale’s somber expression turned incredulous. “What now? Why would they think that?”

“They said I was cursed,” she replied with a sad frown. “And I was bad luck and dangerous.”

“Well, yer village sounds like its full of right stupid gits,” Yale scoffed.

“You don’t think I could be cursed?” she asked.  

“You?” he asked with an incredulous grin and a laugh. Yale put his hands on his hips and titled his head in amusement. “Sorry to laugh, Dumplin’. But yer a lil’ small fer me to be considerin’ ya anythin’ close to dangerous. Gonna have t’forgive me if I ain’t tremblin’ at the sight of ya.”