Frotwoot's Faerie Tales (Book One by Charlie Ward

Author:Charlie Ward
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: fae, fantasy, humor, ya, fairies, dragons, trolls, goblins, sword and sorcery
Publisher: Charlie Ward
Published: 2015-07-27T00:00:00+00:00

15

Frotwoot whirled around, letting out a strangled cry and tripping over his own feet as he swung his sword ineffectually at the air. The guy with the axe, meanwhile, didn’t move at all, and after a few seconds of panicked observation Frotwoot realized it was because “he”... was a cardboard cut-out.

“Shut up,” Frotwoot muttered, smirking at himself as The Dryad exploded with laughter. He was about to get up, but then Pixley walked in and the irresistible opportunity to get some laughs of his own suddenly presented itself.

“Pix, look out!” said Frotwoot, pointing in mock terror at the cardboard warrior. Pixley spun in place, weapon raised, but instead of doing something funny he simply shook his head and turned back around.

“What?” he asked, shrugging.

“... Nothing,” sighed Frotwoot, pulling himself to his feet. The Dryad was laughing even harder, now. “You find anything?”

“No,” Pixley said slowly, furrowing his brow and glancing back at the wall as if trying to puzzle out what had just happened. “Place is clear. I’m gonna start looking for clues and stuff.”

“Oh. Do you, like, want me to look too, or—?”

“No, just... stay here. Make sure this guy doesn’t come to life or something.”

“Wh—? Oh. Okay,” said Frotwoot, smiling and nodding sheepishly as Pixley broke his deadpan with a quick, knowing smirk and turned to leave. “Yeah, I’ll just—yeah.”

The Dryad was still laughing, of course, so, having no one to talk to, Frotwoot busied himself with looking around the bedroom. The guy in the cardboard standee (a scowling, smolderingly handsome hero type whose dark gray, amber-etched axe actually changed through the use of lenticular images into either a sword or a bow, depending on how you looked at it) seemed to be a favorite theme of decoration; posters, statues, and what looked like framed comic books bearing his image lined every wall and shelf, and each one was emblazoned with an overly-stylized logo that read, “The Changeling”. There was even an entire bookcase dedicated to “The Changeling”-branded paperback novels, and at this point Frotwoot had grown curious enough to want to go pick one up and flip through it. He never got a chance, though, because no sooner had the thought popped into his head than it was replaced by a sudden, far more pressing one: He still hadn’t checked the closet.

“Ohhh fie,” he said, giving the local expletive a try as he turned to look at the unsearched door. He briefly considered calling Pixley for help, but he was pretty sure whoever may or may not have been in there would hear him and would either launch a pre-emptive attack at worst or get ready for him at best. He then briefly considered quietly leaving the room to get Pixley, but if he did that it might give the hypothetical person in the closet a chance to escape. Finally, having exhausted what seemed like every possible consideration (he’d probably think of a really good one later and kick himself), he decided to just raise his sword, step forward, and do what needed to be done.

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