Chapter: High Ho'
Quintus was not a dwarf that liked to be kept waiting. He fancied himself just as important as the Snow Queen herself. Never mind that fact that he was the fifth oldest of seven dwarves and that he was a little lower than a bank teller. He was one of the Seven Dwarves and that alone made him important.
He fiddled with his ruby cufflinks and then he fumbled with his caveat at his throat. It was a old style he was sure but it was still stylish and he felt all the more important for being brave enough to wear one. Quintus would wear it till it was back in fashion and then he would go back to his bow ties. If everyone else was doing it it wasn’t in style was what he said.
He was a very important dwarf and he had things he needed to attend to.
Namely India Jin. He shook his head of such fantasies. He had business to get on with, and business for a dwarf always come first.
He looked down at his watch and swallowed back a sigh. His partner was never on time, but this was pushing it. He heard a twig snap. “Who’s there?” he demanded. He couldn’t understand why they had to keep meeting in the Enchanted Forest. The place always gave him a raging case of the creeps.
Dwarves liked wide open spaces with rich chocolate earth. Trees took up burrowing and tunneling space. Not to mention those damned nixies.
His partner stepped free of the trees in one smooth motion. Not one branch broke or snapped off. Seeing the perfection of his partner’s entrance did not put Quintus in a better mood.
“You kept me waiting.” It was more of a bark than actual speech, but Quintus was sure his intention had been telegraphed properly.
“You bow and scrap at the feet of that pretender on the throne and you dare give me lip about time.” The voice under the cowl almost sent Quintus into a shiver.
He felt doused in a bucket of ice cold water. It couldn’t be. It just couldn’t that voice should be singing lullabies in the Summerlands.
Quintus took a step back. “Who are you?” he asked. For certain this was not his partner.
“Don’t you remember me Quintus?” The cloaked figure took a step forward. “We were the best of friends.” Another step.
Quintus took another step back. His back bumped up against a tree. He was running out of room. “No it can’t be. You’re dead.” He reasoned trying to keep the wine out of his voice.
The figure laughed. It was entirely without mirth or warmth. “The news of my death were gravely exaggerated. I was given a kindness.” He was a mere hair breath away from Quintus now.
“What do you want with me?” He squeaked.
“Oh my dear Quintus you are going to be given a great honor.” A hand shot out of the cloak and closed around Quintus’ neck. “You are going to be the Snow Queen’s harbinger of death.”