Fartmoodles: chapter 2

How to Capture a Fartmoodle
Chapter 2
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** I apologize in advance for the ramblings of my brain monkeys, but they do like to muse on many things as I write.  If I don't let them contribute, they will most certainly will refuse to let me focus as they contemplate whether a Pixie likes to dance, or whether it prefers to boogie. **
A scholarly troll
by: Nellie Tobey

   Steve had been racking his brain for ages. That is since he first started teaching the Grand Master's daughter.  He wasn't too anxious about impressing the Grand Master, but the Queen was a force that no moodle would like to irritate.  He had to find a way to immerse Tooty.  To get her on board with the rest of the clan in that fine old tradition that made babies smile, and the young giggle all over the world (some of us never grow out of it).
   He had been summoned to the Queen mother's chambers after Tooty had tried to convince a small group at breakfast that shaving the vanilla bean into their mash would greatly improve the day.  It wasn't unknown of for the Queen to banish a moodle as punishment for dishonorable conduct.
*** Three generations ago, a Queen had banished her own wife to a mission among the Maple fairies of the North North America.  The wife had forgotten the queen's birthday for the fifth time in a century.  The air currents in the land of Maple fairies were said to be so fresh, it could make a Fartmoodle dizzy for weeks. ***
   Steve was not sure he knew at all what to say.  He entered the cavernous nook of the largest fallen tree, the rotten and fungus filled doorway decorated the air with a slight decay. He had a plan, but currently all he could focus on was the many ways he might be punished.

  The Queen had been discussing the topic of sushi with the up and coming cadet Maloudorous.  She waved the cadet away.
  Her pearly gaze pierced Steve.
 "My daughter's eyes do not shine with the expected essence of the vaporous quantities yet.  What are you doing to correct this?"
   ***Only the most dedicated to the craft developed that shimmering layer in their eyes, as the queen had.  Some believed the constant exposure up close to the fumes precipitated the change.***

  Steve took a long breath through his nose, capturing the scents he might soon dearly miss, and tried not to sound panicked. "The Yellow Bridge troll may be able to help, he is known for a vast knowledge of the human world, and may be willing to suggest ..."
  The Queen did a sort of half smile, half frown at him. "Those trolls are nothing but trouble.  They'd eat us just as soon as point us in the right direction."
  Steve had expected this. "Your pardon majesty, but the troll I intend on taking her to see is the great Hummer Garflat, one of the most steadfast allies of the Welsian Gremlins.  Surely he would be akin to helping with our dilemma."
*** The Queen could not refuse, unknown to any of the other pixies, she had visited this very Troll a month before her testing as a candidate for queen.  The results had been spectacular.
  Like the Welsian's, A bar was a great place for a warrior to test the skills bestowed upon them in training.  Queen FloofMuch had been able to clear the bar, and the kitchen supply of Buffalo Wings, in one of the most successful campaigns in recorded history.***
   FloofMuch tried to fain amusement at the idea her daughter might go to this very troll. "Very well Steve.  But if Garflat tries to talk either of you into the cookies his sister bakes, Politely refuse and head straight back to the village."

  Steve was not quite sure what a cookie was, but he had gotten permission.  As risky as visiting a troll might be, he had studied. Pouring over every document the Educational Establishment for The Grumble of Butts had, the Troll Hummer Garflat's name was synonymous for articles about the eating habits of humans.
  The Queen picked up a fuzzy caterpillar and started stroking it's bright hairs. "You are dismissed professor."  She was already quite curious what old Garflat would think of her offspring. "Oh, and Steve..."
  He had completed his bow, and was in high spirits before she spoke the next words.  "If I can't at least hear three nominations for my daughter when my time is done as Queen next Solstice, I will be banishing you to live with Hummer Garflat for a week to find out where you went wrong."

  Steve shivered as he exited.  While humans viewed trolls as dirty, stinky, unkempt monsters living under bridges; the truth was, they were clean, tidy, took baths quite regularly, and rarely ate fiber.  Not a single one had ever been known to pass gas in company.   The only reason a troll was known to confront a human was when said human refused to wipe the mud off from their feet before treading across the manicured yard they spent a lifetime maintaining.

  Tooty was actually giddy and excited when Steve told her the plan.  It was going to be a brilliant holiday to get away from the constant onslaught of methane and talk of how to produce it.  And a troll!  One that appreciated a good conversation about something other than the hind end of humans.

***Steve was a far more interested in what information he could glean from Garflat about cows, and livestock in general.  That is until he was threatened with spending a week with him.***

  "It's settled, we'll leave after dinner."  Steve nodded to himself in satisfaction.  At least Tooty seemed enthusiastic.
  A pair of moodles sat down opposite them in the dining patches. Today's soup was Grass, with a bit of Smashed Dung Beetle.  Tooty pulled a small pouch that was hiding in her breasts and began thoroughly dousing the soup.  She took a sip, set the bowl back down and produced a second pouch from a side pocket.

  Steve regarded this behavior as just one of those things that made her interesting.  " I do wish I understood your fascination with trying our spice collection out on yourself."
  Tooty offered him the last sip left in her acorn hollowed bowl.  "I wish you knew what you were missing out on."
  Steve politely refused.  It was pointless, he had tried her mixtures many times, and never really sensed any difference.  "I'll see you after next meal.  I need to go make sure I have Hummer Garflat's address correct in our charts."

  When they fizzled and popped in front of his doorway later that evening, it was much to their surprise that troll was crouched over a particularly well to do batch of strawberries on his lawn. Crying.