The Unpleasantness and Inconvenience of War

The river ran backwards on the day the Queen vanished. Then silence fell, and in time she was forgotten, as so often is the case in life. Hello, friend (or foe, I do not judge). The green valleys and hills, the crystal blue waters and the reverse waterfalls of the glorious kingdom soon adapted. Even the people, the great and the good, the insignificant and ne'er-do-wells, over time forgot. They became indifferent. Passion, mourning and fear of change were soon passed over for "getting on with it... life".

In truth, no one really knows what actually happened. Just that something happened. Land-over-under-sea had always relied on the water running forward. It was considered unsightly for water to run backwards. Like a pigman quacking like a ducklady or a treesquire brandishing a crudité of finely chopped vegetables and a spiced fungus dip rather than their usual accoutrements of sword and shield. So, it was thought to be rather absurd that the river should decide without warning to start running in the opposite direction just because the Queen vanished.

The Queen after all was not a noble or dignitary as you may be thinking she was. Instead, she was an old hag, thought to be over 100 years old, who had lived by the river for more than two centuries. I have trouble remembering those unimportant details. Unimportant from my standpoint. Really, if someone is more than a century old, what's 100 in comparison to 200? My maths may be bad, but my knowledge of Land-over-under-sea is not. I am but The Oracle. The Oracle or Truthknower. I prefer the shorthand iteration of my name - Steve. Still, in time, the people learned to live with it. It was better, as many would believe, than the alternative. I remain unsure.

Which is where we pick things up.

As I sit in my little haven called Home-of-the-Oracle, I do wonder why I am even worrying too much about the wider world. As a respected citizen of this world, who is looked up to as well, an Oracle, I do not have too much to worry about. That was until a less-than-halfling-more-like-giant darkened my doorway. Literally. His entire midriff took up my average-sized doorway. Although I tried to ignore him, his weeping and wailing and, yes, bashing and banging, with his thick and densely packed white knee almost rearranging my porch, motivated me to engage him in conversation. I know extremely well how little these giant folks wear.

It’s almost like they see it as justified due to their size.

{For a little background – the average Gigangiants is around 15 to 20 feet tall, wears robes similar to that of the Greeks and lets their hair grow out long down their back. So, there’s a lot of free-hanging fruit from between the legs, if you know what I mean.}

He had told me that he had heard rumours. As he was about 15 feet tall and hard of hearing, it had taken the best part of 50 years for the rumours to reach his ears. Then it took him a further 50 years to act on the rumours. "Bother, bother, Oracul. My name is Broadfoot-Overlarge of the Northern Gigangiants. What to do, what to do? Bother bother. I was told to travel to you. To tell of the rumblings and the mumblings across the land."

Though his kind did not make sense at the best of times, what with the “bother bother” and repetitious ramblings, it was clear something was troubling him. Which was more than a minor inconvenience to someone like me. It meant I might have to actually do something about it.

"Oh, speak, Gigangiant," I requested with all the weight and levity of a god to his kind of big dumb species.

"Oh...yes, bother much, bother me, there is a lot happening. The woodsquires and pigmypeoples are in fear, and even the greatest of the largest beings across our world are in one way or another, bother..."

"What, man?" I was frankly getting annoyed at his idiosyncrasies.

"War is coming. If the Queen does not return to the River. Our World is not survive another year".

That didn't sound good. Did it?

I mean if it took meandering fools like the Gigangiants just a century to act, it must be serious. At least worth further investigation. Unfortunately.

I told Broadfoot-Overlarge to go on his way and that I would indeed investigate. I slammed the door on the oaf's overlarge knee, to which I heard him "yowl, bother, bother" in the distance as he slowly and meanderingly stamped homeward bound. They are an overly sensitive kind of people, for their stature and might. Never mind, I shall send forth a gryphon-eagle with a basket or two of the foulest marsh pears and goosegogs as recompense.

Why, though, did it have to be me who deals with the big problems, the big questions and the big dilemmas? Bloody fate and its keen sense of ironic timing.

*

In the days that followed since the unwanted arrival of Broadfoot-Overdumb the Gigangiant in my neck of the woods, I had been readying myself for a journey. I had to ensure I had dotted all the teas and crossed all the eyes, before making a sojourn to find out more about these rumblings and mumblings and their connection to the vanishing Queen. Packing my bag and heading away from my humble abode, I had to meet up with an old and dear friend, or should I say, an old deer friend.

Maximus Vetus Cervus was a nobleman with a distinctive and impeccable sense of fashion. His antlers were always adorned with the latest and fanciest of fabrics found throughout Land-over-under-sea. He lived in a wooded area alongside a small group of woodsquires and soilnymphs. They made it work - their dysfunctional little community. "Max, you old tardbast, where are you?" I called approaching clearing where I was sure we had arranged to meet up. "Steve, you Kcid!" he replied in kind, as he sauntered majestically through the overgrown bushes of the woods into the light of the clearing. He had a wonderful mane-like section of fur that ran down the elegant top of his neck and back, given the amount of time he spent with the dirty, attractive under-crust of Land-over-under-sea, around the woods and the swamp to the left or west.

"You weren't lying when you said you were worried, Steve. This is the most active I've known you to be in centuries," he laughed between various grunts, spits and leg kick twitches.

"The Gigangiant may be slow," I said in earnest, "But in the unmarked graves of memories in my mind, there was a warning passed down to me by my father regarding Land-over-under-sea and the Old Hag, or Queen. For many years I thought it was just something the old Kcirp used to make fun of his lesser. Oh, how wrong I was on the clear and bright day of today. War, it seems is coming. Without the Queen, we're doomed for sure."

The dread in the air at that moment was palpable. Dread that you could cut with a knife. As the saying goes in Land-over-under-sea. The dread was interrupted by the uncouth grand entrance of a familiar soilnymph, from under a section of patchy grass in front of me. "Ah, Steve, Steve, Steve", the adorable little thing was clearly pleased to see me, and who could blame her?

Even if we were old flames of some description. "Sonia loves it when you use coarse language, she does" continued the soilnymph. This is why I sometimes avoid coming down to the clearing, because I don't want to retrace old paths. Don't want to fall into temptation. That bright little smile, shock of natural green hair that cascaded down her curvaceous form and was longer than her diminutive 2-foot frame, was just one of the many things that attracted me to her.

"Now, now, Sonia. I'm here in an official capacity. Not to fraternise with the likes of you, as good as you are looking for your old age!" I laughed as I placed my bag on Max's back, to the disgruntled sound of him spitting and then watched as my bag was thrown from his back into the air before landing unceremoniously at my feet. "Carry it yourself, Kcirp" he grunted some more as he started on his way out of the clearing to the other side of the woods.

I sighed while my mind wandered to that fateful and beautiful time Sonia and I spent together many moons ago. I forget how many moons it was, but it was a lot. We danced a lot. Rather, she would dance around me. Then we’d sing. Rather I’d sing beautifully, and she would holler out of melody, key and sense.

"What are you going to say when we meet the Queen again... if she is still alive?" Max prodded me as we ambled away. "I am not sure, right now, old friend. I may have to rely on my quick-thinking and smooth-as-squire silk charm!" I replied with a smug wink. "Or you could try to avoid scaring her off and just tell her what we know!" Max argued with a stamp of his feet, one by one, front left to front right, back left to back right. I'd love to argue with him, but the handsome Old Deer had a point.

I also knew I would be less capable of the journey and what lay ahead without his loyal friendship and hoofs of righteousness. War was looming so closely that even workshy gobetihs like me were being forced out into the public eye.

Better give them something to talk about, eh?

What do you think?

Oh? Stopped trying to figure out where the story might go next?

As me and my valiant chum go to meet the Old Queen, via the Old Woman that is my Old Mother, you didn’t think you were going to get an easy read, did you? In the coming chapters, you will find a lot of wit, wonder, and new characters and see first-hand the power of my inflated ego, the lore of my vast knowledge and evil, but I will have to help us out along the way.

*

Thanks for reading!

Author's Notes: For the Fantasy Prologue II challenge. Hope you enjoyed it.

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