The Rise of the Raccoon Queen
Or The Big Grey Fluffy Butt Matter

A Story of Faerie
© 2019 by M. Mitchell Marmel

(Additional characters by E.O. Costello and W.D. Reimer.)
Thumbnail art by  tegerio, color by  Major Matt Mason


Part Seventeen.

[Note appended to manuscript: “So.”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “’What, Master?’”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “Is that it, then? Are you going to leave us all hanging?”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “Certainly not, Master. This way, we get more than one chapter to ourselves, right Ooo-er?”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “Right!”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “She’s got you there.”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “Help from you, I don’t need. Very well, Tessie; you and Ooo-er carry on.”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “Thanks, Master!”]


***


Ooo-er:

This huge white-furred bear took another swig from the fizzy brown liquid in his cup and gave me and Tessie a look that, while welcoming, was definitely not something I found attractive. “HAH! OSRIC, DEAD? BUT I CAN FORGIVE HIM, A LITTLE, BECAUSE YOU TWO LOVELIES ARE HERE. DID BERIC SEND YOU LOT AHEAD AS A GIFT?”

I poked my head up. “Was Beric the raccoon?” The bear gave an amused nod and I said, “Pity he didn’t tell me before I killed him.”

Evil Reg blinked before tipping his head back and laughing, his minions dutifully laughing along with him. The villagers gave a few halfhearted laughs in response to threatening gestures from the guards. Far away as Tessie and I were, it still hurt my ears. He stopped laughing, and everyone else did too. “KILLED HIM, DID YOU?” he boomed.

I nodded.

“SERVES HIM RIGHT. SCRIBE!” he bellowed, and a weedy little canine came forward with a notebook and a graphite stick. “TAKE A NOTE; REMIND ME TO DESECRATE BERIC’S GRAVE. TUESDAY, ABOUT TEA-TIME. NOW!” He leered at me and Tessie before leaning over in his chair and wincing as a disgusting wet blattering noise erupted from his worn trousers. Several of the toughs around him coughed and stepped back as he waved his free paw. “PHEW! THAT ONE CAME IN WITH ITS BOOTS ON.”

I glanced over at Tessie, and she seemed to be having some sort of conversation with her Regalia. From the look in her eyes, it was probably a profane one. “Hey!” I called out, and when Evil Reg looked at me I said, “You make me wish I had a daughter.”

“OH?”

“Yes, so I could forbid her to go anywhere near you.”

The bear had been taking a swig from his cup, and my sally made him do a splendid spit-take, spraying that foul-looking brown liquid all over the scribe. When he finished laughing Evil Reg (I never figured out if ‘evil’ was a job description or a nickname) said, “THAT’S FINE TALK, M’GIRL. YOU AND THE ONE WITH ALL THE JEWELRY WILL MAKE FINE ADDITIONS TO MY HAREM – WHEN, OF COURSE, MY MEN ARE FINISHED BREAKING YOU BOTH IN.” The rest started to leer at me, and I’ll swear before the Lady that I really wished my father had been here.

“Tessie - ?” I turned as the cart rocked slightly, and just sat there, gaping, as the raccoon jumped off the cart and started weaving her way around the square.

It looked like she was sniffing, like a feral dog on a scent.

Everyone else looked just as mystified as I did, and after another blast of unpleasant noise, followed by “YOU WON’T GET THAT OUT WITH A COLD RINSE,” Evil Reg cleared his throat.

“What?” I demanded.

“WHAT’S WITH HER?”


***


Tessie:

Keep it up, girl, you’re doing beautifully.

What kind of featherbrained scheme are you up to, Regalia?

The Raccoon Queen’s armor had quit yelling “It’s here! It’s here!” in my mind and was now urging me to act like I’d suddenly taken leave of my senses.

That’s exactly right, kiddo.

What?

Look, there’s a piece of me that’s been missing –

You mean the Wolf Queen?

Shush, you’re the Raccoon Queen now, so get used to it. No, there’s a piece of me that went missing a long time ago –

How long?

Did I say ‘shush,’ or didn’t I? How long ago? The Lacktail still had his tail back then, satisfied? But now I can feel it, and it’s somewhere around here. The Regalia actually sounded uncertain. Somewhere here, definitely. The problem is that they won’t allow us to search without a fight, so I need you to act as if you’ve taken leave of your senses while I search.

So that’s what I started doing. Dancing about, acting like I was sniffing around and occasionally running straight at one of Evil Reg’s toughs, laughing in his face and running off.

The bear watched all this and asked Ooo-er, “ANY MORE AT HOME LIKE HER?”

The otteress just shook her head. “I’ve never seen her act like this before.” Her tail twitched.

“SHE DANCES – WELL, SORT OF.” Evil Reg leered. “I THINK SHE’S A GOER. I’LL SEE HOW WELL SHE DANCES IN MY BED. CAN SHE SING?”

“Sing!?” I suddenly shouted. I pushed my tiara back into position, because my dancing around had knocked it askew. “Of course I can sing!”

Can you?

Last time I checked. Father Cellini says that my hymns to Fuma bring tears to his eyes.

This does not fill me with confidence, you know.

I ignored the Regalia, and slapped one feline whose paw tried to grab my tail.

“WELL, IF YOU CAN SING,” Evil Reg thundered, “LET’S HEAR ONE, THEN! BUT IT HAD BETTER NOT BE ‘THE ELF-LASS ON HER BACK.’ I ALREADY KNOW ALL 1,223 VERSES OF THAT.”


***


[Note appended to manuscript: “Pfui. He was both Unseelie, and sadly misinformed. There are 2,248 verses to that song. I have it on the best authority.”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “’Whose, [gracious lord]?’”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “Your grandfather’s, [teashor]. I suspect that is sufficent?”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “Hey! Who’s telling this story, anyway? You, or me?”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “You are quite right, Miss Ring. Pray carry on, please.”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “Thank you. Ooo-er?”]


***


Ooo-er:

Most of these land-dwelling Elves that I’ve seen (I’m not counting those on the coasts, as they like to dance while singing – that’s otter influence for you, right there) sort of stand in one place and pose while they sing. Seems silly to me; how can you feel the rhythm of the song if you don’t move?

There was a canine fellow in Persoc Tor who figured it out for himself. He’d start singing, and then his hips would start gyrating in a way that was guaranteed to catch a femme’s attention. He was immensely popular with the younger femmes, so much so that the younger mels would try to copy him.

I wonder what happened to Phypps “the Hips” Parsley.

Anyway, it’s a good thing I’m married (and a bad thing that Tessie doesn’t swim that way), because she or maybe the Raccoon Queen started dancing even more, shaking her hips and bust in time as she said, “Have any of you ever been to the South Country? No? Then this will be new to you; it’s called The Old Cripple and His Daughters,” and with that she began to sing:

”Listen and I’ll tell a story that was first sung long ago,
Of an old man on a mountain and the valley-folk below.
With that old fur lived his daughters, beautiful or so I’m told,
And the echoes of their rutting sounded like deep thunder roll’d.”

Her voice wasn’t that bad, actually, and she sang it with gusto as she danced into the crowd of villagers and minions, occasionally sidling up to one of the toughs or touching them on the back of their necks. I think she even pooked at one point, which surprised me - I didn’t think she knew how to do that.

But I think I was the only one who noticed that as she danced, she was getting closer to where Evil Reg sat.


***


Tessie:

So, what are we looking for again?

It’s a ring. Silver-steel, with a stone that resembles a cat’s eye.

Gotcha.

My tail swung and swatted at a fellow who was getting close enough to cop a feel. Speaking of which, I felt my paw root around in my Elfintory. It feels really weird to feel yourself move and know you didn’t do it.

What are you doing?

Never mind me! Keep singing!

I kept on singing, even encouraging the villagers to sing the chorus with me. A few actually started to look like they were enjoying hearing something new.

Get a bit further, the Regalia told me, and my earring tingled. I can almost – there!

Where?

It – it’s on him! He’s wearing my ring! Evil Reg!

I looked as I swung into the eighth verse of the song. That fat, flatulent polar bear was wearing a ring – but he had it on a thong around his neck.

With what looked like finger bones arranged in order of length on either side of it.

Ick.

How many more verses are there?

Just two. Why?

As soon as we’re done getting through the whole crowd, I want you to finish the song facing Evil Reg. And then let me take over.

You really couldn’t ask fairer than that, so after singing the ninth verse I ended up practically next to the bear. He seemed to be enjoying himself, although my nose kept trying to climb into my face. By the Lady, he stank. Still, I managed to end up standing in the open area right in front of him as I sang the final verse and the villagers sang the chorus.

I could feel the Regalia take over, drawing Sun-and-Moon from my Elfintory and striking a defiant pose as Evil Reg thumped the arm of his chair with his free paw. “HO!” he roared. “YOU’VE GOT A GOOD VOICE, M’GIRL, AND A DELICIOUS FIGURE. PITY THAT YOUR VOICE WILL ONLY BE USED FOR MOANING FROM NOW ON. GUARDS! TAKE HER AND GET THAT ARMOR OFF HER. IT LOOKS LIKE IT MIGHT FETCH A FEW COPPERS.”

I pointed the Sun-blade at him. “You, Evil Reg, are Unseelie. Know that the Raccoon Queen will always fight on the side of Justice.”

The bear laughed. “WE’LL SEE ABOUT THAT – GUARDS!!” he bellowed at his minions. “I GAVE YOU AN ORDER! GET TO IT!”

I wanted to turn to see what was happening with the twoscore toughs and Unseelie types, but the Regalia stopped me.

Just hold the pose, sweetie. Wait for it . . .

“WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?” Evil Reg shouted.

“Er,” I heard from behind me and to my left. There was a heavy sound of something – or someone – falling.

There was a gasp from the villagers, and the voice said, “Er, I-I think he’s dead.”

Now.

Before I knew it, I was right in front of Reg, the tip of the Sun-blade shaving the fur off the underside of his jaw. “You,” I said, “have something of mine. You will surrender it to me.”

He still seemed unimpressed, despite a series of thuds as the villagers pushed his minions and they all fell down dead. “TRY TO TAKE I – “

Reg never finished the sentence. Sort of difficult to speak when your head’s separated from your neck.






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