This story was written from a prompt from my daughter Serenity. She drew a picture of Princess Piggob, the half-pig half-goblin princess of Dill Pickleville and asked people to write a story about her. Here’s mine.
His name was Galumf, and he was a hunter. He hunted any kind of creature–chimeras, manticores, unicorns, sphinxes, faeries, mermaids, horse-fairies, mermaid fairies, narwhals, you name it. He hunted them, he killed them, sometimes for a price, sometimes just for fun.
Galumf was not a nice guy.
His client desired stealth, so Galumf waited outside Dill Pickleville until the sun set and the gate closed. No one saw him as he climbed the wall. If they saw him, they would remember him: he was seven feet tall, with one large eye planted moon-like smack dab in the center of his face, and he had just one rope-like hair on top of his bald head that no blade could cut. If they saw him, they would remember him, and he couldn’t have that. He stalked carefully through the streets of Dill Pickleville, as silently as a glare, toward the castle of Princess Piggob. Tonight would be her last night.
Galumf was not one of those mercenaries who took the coin and asked no questions. That led to accidents and decapitations. Galumf, instead, had carefully designed a twelve-page questionnaire his clients filled out. That is how he knew exactly why Mulg, King of Cucumburg, hated Princess Piggob.
Reason 1: Piggob was the daughter of Mulg’s archnemesis, who was also his younger brother. That story was long and complicated, and had been described in detail on extra pages attached to the “What Do You Want Me To Kill?” packet section of the questionnaire. Basically, the two brothers had discovered a dragon egg as kids. Mulg, then princelet of Cucumburg, had wanted to raise a ferocious fire-breathing beast of war. His brother had been rather peckish. An omelet was made, a rivalry sparked.
Reason 2: Mulg considered Princess Piggob an unnatural creature, an abomination among men. Sure, she was half-pig and half-goblin. (Her mother, interestingly, was full pig-goblin.) It was worse than that though. Princess Piggob also preferred her toast plain. Without jelly or jam. Without butter even. Burnt as black as sin. This infuriated Mulg beyond all reason. Piggob must die.
Reason 3: Mulg desired Princess Piggob’s head on a platter (the method of delivery specified in Question 17 of Section 3) because his son had fallen in love with Princess Piggob, and no son of his was going to bring home a lovely, charming, funny half-pig half-goblin heir to a throne and enormous wealth if he had any say in it.
Regardless, Galumf was happy to comply. This hunt would take little effort. Whatever risks there were (Princess Piggob had a fanatically devoted maid and some small, fanciful magic) were negligible, especially when all her guards and friends were sound asleep and he stood over her, sword in hand.
So Galumf slid through the shadows like an enchanted arrow through dragon scales. He passed the sentries like an ill-boding wind past the window of an inn common room. He ascended the winding stairs like the flatulence of a swamp slug. He entered the Royal Rooms and Adjoining Areas of Princess Piggob. She snored. He approached. Her lustrous hair shimmered in the moonlight shining through the open balcony door. With a soft sssh he unsheathed his short, shiny sword. He raised it over his head…he brought it down….
Princess Piggob rolled to her side to a better position. The sword sliced through quilt and mattress, sending feathers flying. One of those feathers fell upon Princess Piggob’s snout. It twitched, tickled. She murmured but did not wake.
Galumf, raising his sword again, paused. Princess Piggob was muttering something. He stooped down to listen.
“In calm, not windy weather, drift we few light as a feather….”
Galumf’s heavy body lifted into the air. By some small, fanciful magic, he was floating. It didn’t matter. He could still strike. This time he lunged, hoping to skewer the pig-goblin princess. The move was rather awkward; he had no leverage. The sword pierced the large stuffed bear the princess slept with. In his frustration, he flapped his limbs, stirring up a lone feather. It fell again upon the Princess Piggob’s snout. The snout twitched. She sneezed.
Now, as you perhaps know, sneezes are one of the three great natural defenses provided the pig-goblin, alongside unbreakable teeth and an ability to bear even the most unpleasant aromas. This sneeze came with great force and a volume of phlegm. Galumf, floating above the princess, felt the blast full force. He went hurtling out beyond the balcony and above the Bitter Forest beyond Dill Pickleville, dripping mucus.
In the morning, Princess Piggob woke and complained greatly of the tears in her bed and the hole in her bear. “What happened?” she asked her maid, the blindly loyal Hildagast Hildebrand.
“Blessed if I know, Princess. Another assassination attempt, I don’t wonder.”
Princess Piggob sighed. “That’s the third this month. Oh well. I won’t figure anything out on an empty stomach. Breakfast?”
“Two slices of toast, just as you like ‘em, Princess.”
She crunched into the first, charcoal crumbs splattering the sheets.