Eliza Twitchel & The Haunted Forest

Eliza Twitchel & The Haunted Forest--Chapter 14

                             Queen Grimmina

Two wizened, gray-haired elves dressed in brown  knee-length sackcloth stood barefoot on the marble floor in the great dining hall of Castle Malwyrn, their heads bowed, ankles shackled, listening to the sound of a knife and fork grating against a metallic plate.  The woman coughed and quickly covered her mouth. The manservant gave his wife a horrified look.

"Is it too much to ask for a little peace and quiet while your queen dines?" The words dripped with venom as they reverberated off black basalt walls. 

Queen Grimmina sat alone at the head of a heavy wooden table long enough to sit fifty men.  Violet eyes glittered out of a beautiful, pale green face as she glowered at the servants standing a dozen paces away. "Do I not feed and clothe you and allow you to live in safety? Am I not generous enough?"

The manservant bowed his head low. "Yes, my queen. You are most generous."

"Too generous, perhaps" the queen growled. "Perhaps time in the dungeons would make you more appreciative of my generosity."

The maidservant uttered a strangled cry. Her knees quaked and her shackles clanked.

"My wife is ill, great queen," the manservant said, his voice trembling. "If she could but rest a day--to get her strength back—"

"A day!" Queen Grimmina's eyes flashed angrily.  "And just who would take up her duties while she is resting? I will not tolerate laziness; especially from elves."  Her long, slender fingers stroked the head of a large black werecat crouched beside her chair, its golden eyes fixed on the uneaten mutton on the queen's gold plate.  A deep growl rumbled in its throat, causing the four-foot-tall servants to tremble in terror.

Queen Grimmina picked up her fork and stabbed the hunk of meat on her plate.

"The mutton is cold, the bread stale and the wine warm.  It is a mere hundred paces from the kitchen to my table.  Certainly not enough time to ruin a plate of mutton.  And you have the nerve to ask for a day of rest?"

"Forgive us, my queen," the manservant begged.  "Our shackles hinder us.  If you could find it in your heart to remove them during meals; we could work much faster."

The queen's violet eyes narrowed.  Her pale green cheeks flushed pink.  "Do you think me a fool?" she growled. "Once free, you would scurry back to King Thalion and divulge all my secrets.  I cannot allow that."

Grimmina held the mutton out to the tiger-sized werecat.  It grabbed the meat off the fork and wolfed it down.  "You will just have to work faster. Disappoint me again and it will not be cold mutton I feed my pet.  Is that understood?"

"Y-yes my q-queen," the manservant stammered.

Queen Grimmina sipped wine from a jewel-encrusted gold chalice too large for her delicate hand.  "The trophy room needs dusting.  See to it."

"The trophy room?" The maidservant released a strangled cry.

The queen's eyes narrowed.  She turned to the elves.  "Did I not speak clearly?"

The manservant bowed low.  "Yes, my queen. We will begin right away."

The servants bowed and headed for a closed door on the far side of the hall.  Before they reached the door, it banged open.  An ogre entered, his head brushing the top of the eight-foot tall doorway.   He growled at the servants, grinding two sharp tusks jutting from his lower jaw.  The old elves clutched each other tight in terror.