Eliza Twitchel & The Haunted Forest

Eliza Twitchel & The Haunted Forest--Chapter 23

                              Grindylows!

Eliza didn't know much about ogres. They weren't exactly common in Rudolph, Oregon--or anywhere else in her world as far as she knew.  One thing she did know was that they had zero patience when it came to answering questions, especially from nosy halflings who had an irritating habit of making small talk when they were nervous.

Questions like 'What do ogres eat?' or 'Do ogres marry?' or 'Do ogres ever take baths?' were met with impatient grunts and glares.  After a couple hours of interrogation, Fanghorn had roared so loud that her horse developed a case of the shakes and refused to budge for a full twenty minutes.  Even the dire wolves snapping at its knees couldn't budge it.

"Well, what do you expect?" Eliza scolded as she patted the horse's neck.  "My mama said you can catch more flies with honey than vinegar. Maybe if you apologized: and smile. Everyone likes a smile."

Fanghorn ground his tusks and climbed off his warhorse. He walked up to the roan mare and gave her a swift kick in the rear while roaring even louder.  The mare took off like a gazelle fleeing a lion, crashing through trees and shrubs with Eliza holding on for dear life. 

Fanghorn glared at the gobblings. "Don't just stand there! Go after her!"

The gobblings hopped on their wolves and chased after the spooked mare, growling and snarling at each other. Fanghorn swung himself up onto his warhorse and listened to the howling wolves as they move farther away. Blowing steam out his nostrils, he dug in his heels and rode after the gobblings.

Eliza's horse bolted out of the forest and sloshed through tall grass to a marsh surrounded by tall reeds.  Eliza pulled hard on the reins as the horse headed for the water. "Whoa! Stop!" she yelled.  The mare stopped at the marsh's edge, lowered its head and gulped mouthfuls of water.

The dire wolves loped up to the water's edge, panting, their tongues lolling. They greedily lapped up water while their gobbling riders growled and chittered angrily at Eliza.  Fanghorn appeared last, his warhorse stepping carefully on the marshy grass, sinking nearly up to its knees as it approached the water's edge. It gave Eliza a snort before lowering its head to drink.

"At least I found water," Eliza said, grinning sheepishly.

Fanghorn scowled at her, and then looked over the marsh.  Eliza patted her horse and gazed down at the water.  Something caught her eye—deep in the murky water and slowly rising. It was pale and bloated like a corpse, with large black eyes and a wide mouth.  Long hair swirled around its face.

"Uh . . . Mr. Fanghorn?"

Fanghorn glared at her.  "What?"

"Something's in the water."  Eliza pulled back on her horse's reins but the mare remained in place, its eyes fixed on the creature rising from the depths.  "My horse won't move."

Fanghorn pulled on his warhorse's reins. It stood frozen in place, staring into the water as something large and pale floated up toward it.

"Grindylows!" he roared.

A bone-white creature with long green algae hair and hooked claws for hands lunged out of the water and grabbed a dire wolf's front legs. Long needle-sharp teeth sank into the wolf's throat as the grindylow dragged it and its rider into the water and down to the murky depths. 

A dozen grindylows erupted out of the water, lunging at horses, wolves and riders.  Fanghorn reached back and grabbed his war-axe just as a grindylow dug its claws into his horse's throat.  The warhorse swung its head back and forth trying to shake the creature loose.