The Reeve Amidst The Green (15) Beauty Of The Beast

“She’s talking about Charli Buds,” said Nessie. “Unless there are any other Charlis who have farms north of the river. She apparently thinks she’s spending the winter with him.”

Ada and Nessie had stepped out back into the alley to talk privately while Mildred combed out Oddri’s long black hair, preparatory to the wash.

Ada looked at Nessie with some trepidation. “And what are the odds that this is true?”

“I have no way of knowing,” said Nessie simply. “I haven’t seen him in years. I heard he was alone out there on that farm of his. But I can tell you that there are two ways this can go.”

“Two ways?”

“Yes. Either Charli is carrying on with an ogre… which might be possible, I suppose. He’s been out there by himself long enough, Filfolio knows… or… he convinced her not to kill him, and then he brought her here, dropped her off, and is now heading for the nearest horizon.”

Ada frowned. “I don’t like to think that about anyone. Or about Oddri, for that matter. She’s always been sweet as pie, when she comes in for a do.”

“She has,” said Nessie. “But would you come back to the Boudoir if you thought a lovesick ogre was going to come here and live with you? And more importantly, what’s Oddri likely to do if Charli doesn’t come back?”

“Point taken,” said Ada. “Would this friend of yours Charli dump the lovesick ogre on someone else while he hightailed it off and gone forever, do you think?”

“I… don’t think so,” said Nessie. “He wasn’t a bad sort. What do you want to do?”

“Only thing we can do,” said Ada. “We clean her up, fix her hair, do her makeover, same as always. And hope like crazy that your first guess is righter than your second one.”

The two women looked at each other, and stepped back into the back room, and from there back into the salon. Mildred had Oddri leaning back across a hassock, her head half immersed in the washtub, her hair foaming with suds. She looked up hopefully at Ada and Nessie, who flanked the washtub and began to work and rinse and comb out Oddri’s thick black hair with their fingers.

“So,” said Ada, “Will you go and show Charli your pretty new ‘do when we’re done?”

“Yes,” said Oddri happily. “Or he will come here. If he finishes first.”

“Where is he going to be?” said Ada.

“Lumberyard,” said Oddri. “The bank. Hardware. Grocer. Dry goods. Then here.”

“Sounds like he might be out for a bit,” said Nessie nervously.

*************************

Sitting in front of the Refuge Inn on the sunning bench, and on the barrel next to it, were three men. Across the street from Ada’s, they had a clear view through her window, and they watched with some interest the proceedings within.

"So they say Charli Buds's carryin' on with that there troll, out on his farm," said Old Fard.

“Troll? What troll?” said Old Man Hunderson, from his position sitting atop the barrel. Stuck in his face was a noxious cheroot, which he puffed with gusto, filling the air around him with smoke.

“That there troll sittin’ in Ada’s,” said Old Fard.

"A troll?” said Old Peep, who shared the bench with Fard. “That ain't no troll. That's a giant."

"Yer both wrong,” said Old Man Hunderson, around his cheroot. “That there's an ogre."

Fard looked sourly at Old Man Hunderson. “Big knowitall, ain’cha? Ever since that business at the stadium that one time, you think you know all the damn weird critters.”

“Where’d you hear this business about Charli, anyway?” said Old Peep.

“I’uz takin’ a leak in the alley next t’th’ smithy, fi’teen minutes ago,” said Fard. “Ada and young Nessie were talkin’ about it out back.”

“That Charli’s carryin’ on with a giant?” said Old Peep.

"Naw, it's a troll," said Old Fard.

“Ogre,” said Old Man Hunderson.

Fard ignored him to focus on Peep. "That ain't no troll. Trolls are all green and warty like."

"That ain't trolls,” said Peep. “Yer thinkin' of goblins."

"There’s a hunnert goblins runnin’ around these days,” said Fard. “And I ain’t seen a one of ‘em what got warts."

"It's a troll, I tell you," said Peep.

"Trolls, giants and ogres is the same thing," remarked Old Man Hunderson. “Just a matter of height.”

Fard and Peep ignored him and continued their argument. Old Man Hunderson rolled his eyes a moment, and then focused on what was going on across the street.

**************************

Arnuvel and Barnaby stood before the great glass window that read ADA’S BOUDOIR in frilly-looking letters.

“Seems a rather salacious name for a legitimate business,” said Arnuvel.

“Salacious?” said Barnaby.

“Spicy,” said Arnuvel.

“Spicy?” said Barnaby.

“You… do know what a boudoir is, Constable?”

“I always thought it was a place where women sat around on comfortable furniture and traded gossip and drank tea and things,” said Barnaby. “Does it mean somethin’ else?”

“It’s a fancy word for a noblewoman’s private quarters, usually a bedroom, sitting room, and bathing area,” said Arnuvel.

“Oh,” said Barnaby. After a moment, he said, “Do you think we ought to tell Ada that?”

“Does anyone else know what it means?”

“She’s been there for twelve years now, and no one’s said anything.”

“Then perhaps we will keep it to ourselves,” said Arnuvel. Barnaby looked relieved.

They had a clear view of the inside of the salon from the window. Ada, Mildred, and Nessie stood flanking … a fourth woman. For a certain value of “woman,” Arnuvel thought.

The woman named Oddri was quite large. Arnuvel guessed she’d top eight feet if she was standing. Even sitting, she was nearly as tall as the shortest of the three women who combed and groomed her black hair. Again, Arnuvel found himself surprised that his expectations had again been subverted; he’d never actually seen an ogre and had expected a brutish, blocky, hairy brutal-looking… creature. Instead, he found himself looking at a woman. A large woman, to be sure, with broad shoulders and a blocky build, with blunt facial features and substantial tusks, the size of a large man’s thumbs, protruding from her lower lip. Her skin tone was strange; her skin was an odd orangy-tan color, the color of a terra cotta flowerpot. But she was unmistakably a woman, and not even especially unattractive, without the hairiness or brutishness Arnuvel would have expected; indeed, if one ignored the tusks, Arnuvel had seen uglier humans running market stalls in the Capitol. Arnuvel wondered if her looks and lack of hairiness were due to regular visits to Ada’s Boudoir.

Her behavior was decidedly unogrish. Arnuvel and Barnaby couldn’t hear through the big glass pane, but the four women seemed to be talking, chatting, and working the ogre’s hair, no different than one might see in any beauty parlor. While they stood and observed, Arnuvel noted two other women approach the front door of Ada’s Boudoir, and then, seeing Arnuvel and Barnaby, they paused at the door, and peered in the window… and promptly bypassed the door to the Boudoir and continued down the boardwalk at an increased pace.

“I see this is costing them business,” observed Arnuvel.

“Not a big thing,” said Barnaby. “They’ll be back tomorrow. Ada does lots of walk-in business. They just don’t want to wait is all. And maybe don’t want to be in close quarters with an ogre. Just in case.”

“Can’t blame them,” said Arnuvel. “You said she pays for services rendered?”

“Yes sir,” said Barnaby. “She pays in King’s Heads, one each for all three of them.”

“For a wash and style?” said Arnuvel, surprised. “Generous. Where does she get the money?”

Barnaby paused. “Can’t say as I know,” he said. “You want to ask her?”

“Not just yet,” said Arnuvel. “No robberies reported?”

“Not many folks around here would have that sort of money on hand, all at once,” said Barnaby. “And I’d think if they got robbed of it, they’d sure report it missing.”

*************************

By midmorning, Shuffa’s back hurt terribly. She returned to the wickiup and drank deep from her waterskin. She’d cleared a piece of land free of weeds. By kitchen garden standards it was huge. By farm standards, it was tiny. But it was a start. She would catch her breath, and then finish pulling the weeds from her plot; the tilling would have to wait until tomorrow, assuming it didn’t rain. Already, she looked forward to flinging herself in the river, savoring the cold water kisses on her, washing the dust from her skin and her hair.

Shuffa drank again, and sat and let the pain in her back lessen as she rested.

************************

Oddri stared in the mirror, openmouthed.

Oddri’s entire appearance had changed. Gone were her black braids. Now, her hair was loose, dry, and flowed over her shoulders in a black torrent. Ada had parted it on the right, and had done something with odd tools to make the hair in front sweep down over her eyebrows, but stay out of her eyes. Meanwhile, Nessie and Mildred had used kohl to outline her eyes, and something with a brush and little boxes to darken her eyelids, and the strange juice to stain her lips a deep red.

“Beautiful,” she said softly. Ada, Mildred, and Nessie had topped themselves again.

“You’re going to need to comb it, every day,” Ada said. “Especially after you get it wet. It’ll tangle otherwise. But if you comb it out, every day, it’ll shine and stay the way it is now.”

“Comb?” said Oddri, looking up. “I… don’t have a comb.”

“That’s all right, dear,” said Mildred, holding up a comb. “We have you covered, there.”

Oddri took the comb. “For me?”

“For you, dear,” said Ada. “You’ll want it for proper hair care. Take it with you when you go.”

Mildred grinned. After that bizarre afternoon where they’d had three ogres at once, Ada had insisted on having the proper tools for the job, in case it ever happened again. They’d gone to Dun Smith, who’d made three combs from lengths of broken saw blade from a lumber saw, using a thin grinding wheel to cut the steel fine between the teeth. It was worth it to part with one, if it made Oddri happy. It might rust, but she’d have to work hard to break the thing.

Oddri smiled hugely. “You are so nice to me!” Fishing in her little loincloth for her pouch, she dug three King’s Heads out and handed one to each of the hairdressers.

Ada glanced out the window. The Reeve and the Constable were plainly visible, standing on the boardwalk, as were the three old wags across the street, but there was as yet no sign of Charli Buds. “Is there… anything else we can do for you, dear?”

“I…” said Oddri, her smile vanishing. “There is a thing. I think. Maybe.”

“Well, do tell, Oddri,” said Nessie brightly.

“I don’t know if this is a thing you do here,” said Oddri uncertainly.

“If you don’t say, we’ll never know,” said Mildred, also glancing anxiously at the window.

Oddri looked thoughtful, and took a deep breath, and sighed. “I … want to buy… clothes.”

“Clothes?” said Ada.

“Clothes. Like you have,” said Oddri, looking mournfully down at her blanket-turned-shawl. “But… I know I am too big. Human stores won’t have clothes for ogres. But… I … want to wear clothes. I want… to be like a farm woman. Not to have to wear a blanket. Is there a way to … make clothes? I can pay.”

For a moment there was silence.

“Well,” said Mildred, “I know Rieka Singer takes in sewing… could she… perhaps do something for an ogre?”

“Making the big clothes wouldn’t be hard,” said Ada. “But I do wonder what they’d be made of.”

“Made of?”

“Look at that bosom,” said Ada matter-of-factly. “What fabric would you choose, to restrain all that, especially working on a farm, without tearing or giving way?”

Mildred looked at Oddri’s substantial bosom, and made a tch sound.

Nessie looked Oddri over speculatively. “I think I might have an idea.”

Oddri looked at her hopefully.

“I’m going to have to run out for a moment,” Nessie continued. “Can you all keep things afloat here? If I’m right, we can send her home in a fine new outfit.”

“THAT fast?” said Mildred unbelievingly.

“That fast,” said Nessie with a grin. “I bet it’ll work too. You stay here, Oddri. I’m going to run to the hardware store. I’ll be right back.”

***********************

In front of the dry goods store, two doors down from the Refuge Inn, Charli nestled the last purchase – a clay pot of honey -- amidst the supplies in the back of the wagon. Looks like she’ll have to sit on top of the lumber, he thought to himself, but I reckon we’re set for a while. Time to get home and get to building that new trough.

He looked up and down the street. Still no Oddri. Well, perhaps she was still at Ada’s; Oddri had often spoken fondly of the three hairdressers there, and regarded them as friends. Wouldn’t it be just the thing if they’re all sittin’ around havin’ a hen party? Charli thought, cheerfully. Charli climbed into the wagon, shook the reins and began to roll forward in the street in the direction of the Inn, across from Ada’s Boudoir.

*************************

“Canvas,” said Nessie. She’d made a skirt, and some sort of top from the same material. She’d even put pleats in the skirt.

“Is … that the old awning, from off the hardware store window?” said Ada. “The blue used to be darker.”

Nessie grinned, and looked at Oddri, still sitting on the floor. Oddri looked at the garments. They were indeed made of canvas, and striped in white and sky blue.

“Will they… fit?” said Oddri wonderingly.

“One way to find out,” said Nessie. “Here, put out your arms with your hands towards me.” Oddri did so, and Nessie held out the top and guided Oddri’s hands through the armholes, and finally lifted it up and over Oddri’s head. Oddri, promptly figuring out how the garment worked, shrugged off the blanket and began to push and arrange her substantial breasts up into the halter top.

Outside, unobserved, Arnuvel averted his gaze, like a proper gentleman. Barnaby, on the other hand, merely blinked. Across the street, Old Peep, Old Fard, and Old Man Hunderson abruptly ceased their conversation.

After a moment, Oddri had arranged her bosom to her liking, and critically examined the garment, stretching her arms to and fro, and canting her shoulders up and down, back and forth. It was a halter top, albeit briefer than Ada or Mildred had ever seen, lacking sleeves. It had a back, though, and while the front was certainly full, the canvas did not stretch or seem particularly stressed about its full load.

“How does it feel?” asked Nessie.

Oddri’s critical expression remained, as she worked her arms around. The holes were big enough. Everything seemed to be big enough. Oddri wasn’t used to wearing anything above the waist, but… it didn’t feel bad. Might take some getting used to, but it certainly seemed to fill the order. Experimentally, she swung her breasts back and forth.

The fabric held. Arnuvel and Barnaby blinked. Across the street, three old noses swung back and forth, as if refusing something.

“I like this,” said Oddri, finally. “Canvas is strong! I can wear this!” And her eyes abruptly shot to the matching skirt that Mildred still held. Seeing her gaze, Mildred held out the great canvas pleated skirt, with its blue and white vertical stripes, and Oddri took it from her hand, and struggled to her feet. Keeping bent slightly, so as not to brush the ceiling, Oddri lifted one foot and stepped into the skirt… and then the other… and began to lift the waistband upward…

Outside, Arnuvel, Barnaby, Old Fard, Old Peep, and Old Man Hunderson all watched, transfixed, as if beholding an angel ascending into the heavens.

Ada, Mildred, and Nessie watched likewise. The single issue on their minds: will it fit? And if it does, will the waistband hold? Will it make it over those hips…?

Oddri continued to hike up the waistband. Resistance was met at the hips. Oddri thought about it a moment, and then canted her left hip HARD, and jerked the waistband above it. And then canted her right hip HARD!

Old Fard gasped. Old Peep coughed. And Old Man Hunderson jerked, and slapped the wall behind him to keep from falling off the barrelhead.

And the waistband was at Oddri’s waist, up over the hips and loincloth, without rip, tear, or undue stress. It didn’t even seem especially tight or stressed by Oddri’s girth. Oddri smiled, and wiggled her hips experimentally.

“Mmm,” said Nessie critically. “Shorter than I’d hoped … I ran out of fabric… … but, still, at least it fits at the waist.” Ada nodded; the skirt didn’t quite come to Oddri’s knees.

Old Fard leaned forward, drawn forth by the wiggle. Old Peep caught him by the collar before he fell off the bench.

And abruptly, their view was cut off by a wagon slowing and stopping before the Inn.

Oddri stretched and wiggled. The clothing fit. The clothing wasn’t uncomfortable. The clothing was going to work. She fixed Nessie with a look between awe and joy, opened her mouth and took a DEEP breath…

Mildred scrunched her eyes shut. Nessie flinched. Ada glanced at the great glass window with a pained expression, and remembered that the Constable and the Reeve were standing outside said window, open mouthed. And someone seemed to be approaching the door from across the street…

Oddri remembered her manners, exhaled, and in a soft voice said, “This is the best thing ever! Nessie, you did it! This is great! The clothes fit! Even over my big! This is … this…“ and then, unable to find the words, she abruptly fell to her knees before Nessie, and swept her up, off the floor and into her arms, and hugged her.

Mildred’s face suddenly looked much like Arnuvel’s and Barnaby’s, and it was Ada’s turn to flinch.

Nessie took it in stride, though, and flung her arms around Oddri’s great neck and threaded her hands through Oddri’s great sweeping flow of hair, and hugged her back, hard. And after a moment, Oddri put Nessie down, careful to let her catch her balance before letting go.

The door to the salon swung open, and Charli walked in… and stopped cold.

Oddri looked up. “Charli!” she said. “Look at me!” She shook her great swirling stream of black hair back, off her shoulders, and seized the sides of her skirt and spread the pleats to show off her new glory.

Charli stood there. Oddri’s expression passed beyond joy to sheer ecstasy. She recognized that clocked-upside-the-head-with-a-tree-branch expression.

Arnuvel looked, and thought, and had to admit, she did clean up nicely. And with cosmetics, and wearing that beatific expression across her face, he even had to agree that Oddri was pretty, even by human standards. Despite her size. And if you could get over the tusks. And Charli’s expression seemed to indicate that he’d passed being bothered by tusks quite some time ago.

Charli finally broke the silence. “What,” he said, dazedly, “did y’all do… to my Oddri?”

Nessie and Ada exchanged a look. No one noticed.

“Well,” said Mildred, “she came in and said that she wanted to look pretty for her young man. So we helped her out as best we could. That’s what we do here.”

Charli stared at Oddri, his smile spreading. Then he looked at Ada. “And you make clothes here, now? For girls her size?”

Nessie adopted a sly expression. “We aim to please, at Ada’s Boudoir,” she said. “And we might be opening up a new sideline in ogre fashions.” This got her a stunned look from Ada.

Oddri’s face shifted to alarm. “Oh!” she said. “I need to pay… “ and she reached for her coin pouch, and suddenly realized that, tucked into her underwear, she no longer had quick access to it.

“No, you don’t,” said Ada. “You already paid plenty, Oddri. You always do. Just think of that as an extra little service. Your business is welcome here, and whatever we can do to make you happy, well, you’ve paid for it plenty over by now. I’m glad you like your new clothes.”

Oddri’s face shifted from alarm back to happiness. “Thank you, Ada,” she said. “You are so good to me. And you, Mildred. And you, Nessie, and your wonderful clothes. I will come back. Thank you, much!” And Oddri rose to her feet and smiled, and, taking Charli’s hand, the two of them exited the front door, with Oddri ducking low to fit. Ada, Mildred, and Nessie waved goodbye and watched them go.

Arnuvel, Barnaby, and the three men sitting before the Inn watched Oddri climb into the wagon, her great bare feet hanging out the back, while Charli climbed onto the wagon seat, and shook the reins. The last thing Arnuvel heard as they retreated into the distance was Oddri’s deep bass – yet recognizably feminine --voice. “Ooo! You remembered the honey!”

Old Peep watched them roll away. “Sure looked like a giant to me.”

Fard fixed him with a poisonous glare. “You said she was a troll.”

Old Man Hunderson said, “Same thing, all of ‘em.”

Peep watched the wagon fade into the distance, down the street. “Tell me, Hunderson,” he said. “You bein’ the big expert. Do they ALL dress like that?”

“I dunno,” said Old Man Hunderson, watching the wagon fade into the distance. “But I’d think that boy must have a pecker big as a log.”

*************************

In Ada’s Boudoir, Mildred promptly rounded on Nessie. "How in Bechdel’s name did you DO that?" said Mildred, mystified. “You weren’t gone fifteen minutes! And you come back with a finished outfit, and it’s even the right size!”

"Grommets," said Nessie, crossing her arms and never losing her foxy expression.

"What?" said Ada.

"Grommets,” repeated Nessie. “That's what I needed at the hardware store. I got the awning canvas, a set of shears, a bag of grommets, and the crimper thing they use to install them, and I used Oddri’s own money to do it. The canvas is tough enough to stand up to whatever she does to it, and rather than sew it, I just closed the seams with rows of grommets, clamped into the fabric. It'll hold better than any thread. Won't it?"

Mildred marveled. "I was wondering what you used to hold that top together. If it'll hold under that weight, the rest of it will hold forever. That was mighty clever, Nessie. And some mighty fine eyeball measuring!"

“I swear, I don’t pay that girl enough,” laughed Ada.

“Maybe you don’t,” said Nessie smugly. “But Oddri sure does!”

**************************

Shuffa had kept watch on the treeline for drooloks, just in case. And by midafternoon, Shuffa was thinking that if a droolok showed up, she might well leap into its mouth, to be free of her pain.

Her plot was clear of weeds, ready to till. Shuffa carried the last armloads of weeds and brambles to the fire burning in the dirt pit before her wickiup, and dumped them onto it, and watched them crackle, sputter, and smoke. The seeds would burn, and not be spread into her herb gardens.

Shuffa was unused to the sustained effort required of this “farming” activity, and her back was a solid shaft of pain, flanked on either side with different flavors of pain, no less bright and agonizing, through her back muscles, clear down to her ass. Her legs hurt, but her back, her back, gods, her back had never known what pain was, to this extent. The constant bending and pulling and tugging had left her hands raw, her arms and legs sore, and her back alive with pain so great, it was a wonder it didn’t throw its own shadow beside her own.

H’shi’vok, she thought, if it hurts like this now, what will it feel like in the morning? She looked around her plot. Clear. Ready to till. But the soil still needed to be turned, and all she had was her tilling stick, and there was no way she could make any sort of reasonable start today, not with this pain. But what would she feel like in the morning? Would she be capable of any sort of sustained effort, with the great pain in her back, and the stiffening the night would bring? And what’s worse, she could feel the shifting wind on her ears. Tomorrow’s weather would change. Tomorrow might bring rain. She needed rain, but it would turn the soil to mud, and trying to till wet soil would be ten times harder than trying to do it before the rain…

Shuffa began to cry. She had to get the seeds in the ground. She knew she could count on one good mustard crop before the first frost, no matter how early it came. But it had to be now. And she was just not capable of doing it. And if it rained tomorrow, it might be days more… Shuffa shrieked in helpless frustration, and felt the hot tears leak from her eyes, and she wept.

And then, her ears caught a sound. She looked up. A wagon approached, having passed the gateway of the property next to hers, and stopping on the road in front of her property. Two people got out. Humans. Humans had come. What did they want? Shuffa wiped her eyes, and squinted. A woman… and a smaller human. Her child, perhaps? Maybe they would not be hostile… but Shuffa did not trust her luck, no, not at all.

Shuffa wiped her eyes again, and stood with her pain while the strangers approached, and waited to see what new misfortune was coming.

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