Chapter Text
It all started with a scraped knee.
A group of local kids were getting rowdy as they normally do. When it comes to small and quiet trailer parks like theirs, grumplings have the tendency to compensate and make up for the lack of action. They had made up a new game, “Ultimate Football Tag,” where the person who was It could throw a ball at those they were chasing in order to tag them. For nearly an hour they managed surprisingly well, only knocking over two whole trash cans.
Then, one misplaced throw to the foot later, a stout grumpling falls sideways onto the gravel road and starts hissing through their teeth to cope with the pain.
A majority of their friends (a few lingering behind thinking it was a trick for them to get tagged) winced when they saw how wide the scrape was along their leg, tiny pieces of gravel still stuck to their olive fur. Pricks of tears poked against the injured child’s eyes, and to their relief (after a minute or two of them whining) the other kids honored their wish of not wanting to play anymore. There was hugs and consolation, but also an agreement between them all to not mention how this happened to the adults. This game was fun after all, it just needed some fine tuning, maybe a helmet or two.
So the stout olive grumpling began to limp their way back home, rubbing the shoulder that they fell on. Both their parents would be out for the rest of the afternoon for work, so he would likely just sit inside and read for the rest of the day. Maybe watch some TV, whatever might be on. But as their house was in sight…
“Oh my, are you alright little one?”
A light yet matured voice called out from their side, one they didn’t recognize. It was a new grump, a small pink puffball of a grumpus that was only a foot or two taller than the child. He was also wearing a rather tacky Hawiian button up with palm trees and a pastel blue sky design that matched his own eyes. Across his face there was a genuine look of concern as if the child was his own.
Even still, the olive grumpling held their arms close and stepped away. They knew about stranger danger.
The pink grump stopped in his tracks at the sight, his face looking a bit crestfallen. “Ah, right. I getcha. Erm…”
Still standing a considerable distance away, the pink grump kneels down to their height and tries to put on the friendliest face he has.
“Um… hi there. You probably don’t know me, I just moved in and all, but do you want me to look at that for you?” He holds a paw out to the child, the blue pads looking a tad rough with flecks of dried paint.
The olive grumpling looks down at his paw, then back up to him. It didn’t seem like he had anything dangerous, but…
“...I’m sorry, no thank you.” The child squeaks out past the frog in their throat. “I just, want to go home.”
“I get that, I get that.” The adult nods his head in understanding, starting to stand back up. “But I can’t in good conscience let you go home empty handed. Would you at least take some bandages if I brought ‘em out for you?”
The grumpling opens his mouth to say no, but a bit of air bristles the fur across his knee and he winces. After looking down at their injury once again, seeing the dark crimson mix with their fur, they look back up with a tired expression and just nod.
“Okay then, I’ll be right back.” The adult smiles and stands back up, lightly jogging back to his trailer across the road and disappearing through the door.
It’s not the smallest of the neighborhood, but it’s certainly on the shorter side. Gentle sky blue on the outside lined with dark blue trim, a size built for maybe two small bedrooms maximum. A couple lawn decorations here and there (he certainly liked gnomes), but only a single lawn chair for people to sit on. Though they can’t see inside, the child spots a few bricks and fencing poking around the back… along with a few sprouts of leaves? A garden, maybe. The child remembers seeing them pull up about a week ago, but this was the first time they were seeing him out in the open.
After three minutes of listening to the trees bristle from the wind and some birds chirping, the child spots the pink grump coming back out holding a small box of bandages and what looks like a bowl of… stew? He still doesn’t step any closer than he did before, kneeling down again to their height.
“These might not be big enough, but they’re the best I got.” The grump opens up the box and pulls out a large square bandage patch. He tosses it across the gravel space between them right to the child’s feet for them to pick up. “And, if you want it, I just made myself a pot of soup for dinner. Normally make enough to have leftovers the next few days, but I can spare a bowl or two.”
The pink grump holds out the plastic bowl and spoon to the child, heat still radiating off the top. Swimming inside the orange-ish brown broth were what looked to be a few carrot slices, little chopped beets, a thin layer of melted cheese and a decent chunk of bread sticking out to chew on. Smelled like onion too.
“You want it?” The pink grump asks. “I can just leave it here if you still don’t feel comfortable gettin’ close.”
The smell drifted across the space between them and filled the child’s nostrils. His family didn’t make this kind of food often, food that naturally smelled good and reminded him of how hungry he was. It was mostly fast food or microwave meals since that was cheap. Apprehension still nagged at the child knowing this was from a complete stranger… but a grumble from their stomach was enough to help them decide.
“...yes please.” the child said, staying where they were as they peeled the back off the bandage and pressed the cotton against the scrape.
“Alrighty then.” Relief washes over the adult’s face and they gently place the bowl down on the ground, before standing back up. “Feel free to keep the bowl for now, you can bring it back whenever you’re able. No pressure.”
After a small nod and a gentle wave, the pink grump starts back for their trailer. Although he gives a few peeks back on the way, he heads back through the door and calmly shuts it behind him and leaves the child to their meal.
The olive grumpling walks over and kneels down over the soup, picking up the plastic orange bowl. It’s almost filled to the brim with a few splashes of broth dripping off the sides. Careful hands wrap around the bowl and pick it up slowly, trying not to accidentally spill some. Their own trailer is just a few minutes walk away so they could take this back… but the growling of their stomach and how much the soup is flowing over makes them feel compelled to have at least a sip.
As steady as they can (though a few drops slide out) the grumpling sips the broth and lets it trickle down their throat. It’s still quite hot, very clearly from the steam coming off the top, but it’s just cool enough to where it doesn’t completely burn their lips. An assortment of flavors flowed across their tongue, from the tang of the chopped onion to onion to the savory stock of the broth (it had the taste of some sort of meat, yet it felt more like, corn??). Just a single gulp and the grumpling could feel it warming up their belly like a nice wool blanket.
It tasted like a sick day from school, spent with their parents at their side while they all watched TV together.
Once the first gulp was down and the soup was low down enough from the bowl’s surface, the grumpling smiled and began walking back to his own trailer, sneaking in a few extra mouthfuls along the way as they slowly forget the pain of the knee.
From the painted trailer, the pink grump looks out with a comforting smile and begins to fashion a bowl for himself.
A few days later, an olive green paw knocks on the trailer’s metal door. Sunlight is peeking through the canopy of leaves overhead, the last traces of early morning Spring chills starting to melt away. Dotted across the lawn are a few extra lawn ornaments (more gnomes??) and the paint looks a bit more refined, with one or two empty paint trays lying about.
With a little under a minute of waiting, the grumpling spots a face peeking through the window and soon after the door in front of them opens. The same pink grump, in a somehow even tackier orange and yellow hawaiian button up.
“It’s you again! Hey there lil’ one.” The pink grump waves, pleasantly surprised.
“Um, hi…” The grumpling says, their voice still on the quiet side. An empty bowl and spoon is held close to their chest.
“Ah, glad to see you liked my cookin’. Was trying a more experimental recipe a few days ago, didn’t have all the ingredients so I had to make a few substitutes.” The grump bends down and takes both from their hands, smiling at how both are thoroughly cleaned.
“It was really good,” The child looked away nervously, “but, I did get in a little trouble with my dad. He was upset that I took food from, uh, someone I didn’t know. Plus he wanted to surprise me and mom with takeout that night, so…”
“Ah, shoot. Sorry about that.” The pink grump rubs the back of their neck guiltily. “I can try ‘n talk to them later, smooth things over for ya. Just wanted to help out how I can.”
“You don’t have too. It was kind of my fault, anyways. Didn’t listen to them about stranger danger.”
“Well, I won’t deny you should still keep that stuff in mind. But even still,” he places the bowl to a coffee table inside, “thanks for tryin’ it out. It’s been a bit since I got to share my food with someone else.”
“Oh, do you live alone, mister?” The child asks.
“Mhm. Used to live with some friends closer to the city, but I was in the mood for somethin’ quieter and felt like I was just intrudin’. Heard this place was quiet and close enough to the town nearby, so I thought it was a good fit.” The pink grump clasps his hands together. “Though, I haven’t exactly gotten a good chance to introduce myself to everyone yet.”
“Mm.” The grumpling looks back to their trailer. Neither of their parents were home and he said he would explain things to them later…
The child holds out a paw, with red paw pads containing tiny purple dots. “Well, my name is Olavender. Like the flower, but also like the fruit. My parents didn’t know if I was going to be green or purple.”
The other grump smiles and shakes their hand. “Nice to meet you, Olavender. Name’s Gramble Gigglefunny.”
“ Gramble…” when the two are done shaking hands, Lavender traces the letters to Gramble’s name on their paw to try and memorize it. They’ve never been the best at remembering names, mostly defaulting to nicknames for new friends they’ve met. This was a trick that was taught by their mom. “Uh, is that with a B or a D?”
“B.” Gramble does chuckle at the thought of being ‘Grandle’ though. Grandle Chucklesilly. “So what do you have planned for today, Olavender?”
“Oh, me and my friends are gonna meet up soon to play more Ultimate Football Tag! Delven has a bunch of helmets and pads for us to use, and I wanna get revenge for what Jackyl did to me a few days ago.” They rub the spot on the knee where they were hurt, only a few scabs remain. “I just wanted to come here early to give that back to you.”
“Oooh, well you better be careful. Maybe try to just stay on the grass this time.” Gramble’s smile wavers at the thought of them needing another bandage. “How much longer will they--”
A low growl fills the air, one that’s familiar to both of them.
“Oh dear, Ollie did you eat breakfast today?” Gramble looks down at the grumpling.
“The breakfast my mom left out for me was a broccoli casserole, bleh… ” Olavender gags a bit. “I don’t like veggies, they taste gross. Like soap.”
“Well, not all of them. From the looks of things, you like them quite a lot actually.” Gramble smirks.
“...huh?”
“The soup I made, it was full of veggies. Corn, carrots, lil’ onions. And from the looks of it you drank it all up!”
“It was? Well, I think it was the beef in there. It helped disguise it.”
“No beef.”
Olavender’s eyes go wide. “ No beef? ”
“I’m a vegetarian, I don’t cook with meat. What you tasted was a substitute made entirely outta corn and sauce!” A proud grin is painted across his face as he crosses his arms.
“Corn?!” Olavender gapes, then stares shocked off to the side. This was the face of a child discovering that vegetables can not only be healthy, but can taste good too. A whole new world has opened up. “ Woah……”
“Ya know, I don’t know how much longer you gotta wait for, but I got some leftovers I can heat up for ya.” Gramble places a paw on his hip. “Won’t be as fresh, but can still give you something to fill you up, can’t play on an empty stomach after all.”
“Oh um, sure!” Ollie feels a little guilty after the fact, immediately accepting food from this person again after being scolded for twenty minutes just a few nights before. But they already ate some of the food before, so it couldn’t hurt to have a bit more. Right? Right.
“Alrighty, then wait right there.” Gramble leaves the door open as he walks a little bit to the fridge, pulling out a small plastic container and brings it to the microwave. There was a crimson section of shag carpet in the living room area, along with a small orange couch resting on the wall opposite of the front door, facing a box television against the window raised up by a just-large-enough table. There are a few doors along the opposite wall as well down a hallway, likely to the bathroom and his room, and to the left is the kitchen lined with various cooking utensils sprawled out on the counter and a cookbook on the table. Lining the walls are a few posters of a tall slender grumpus with star shades and photographs of Gramble with a group of people he didn’t recognize. They seem happy together, having fun on some sort of beach day.
Though, on the coffee table next to the door (where Gramble put their bowl), there seemed to be a handful of envelopes and letters. At least five of them all together, but almost all of them clumped up and wrinkled. Almost as if they were balled up to throw in the trash can, then unrolled and set back in place. It was addressed to Gramble, but all from different places with complicated names. There was one that they seemed to make out, though.
“Spr… Spritwhell, ado--p--ton?”
The loud beep of the microwave knocked the grumpling out of focus.
“There we go, all warmed up!” Gramble pops open the microwave door and takes out the bowl, this time with a light purple bowl. “Different recipe this time, not my best, but it’s still something.”
Olavender takes the bowl into their paws and feels the heat radiating through the plastic. Various different vegetables could be seen floating in the murky brown broth, along with chunks of croutons floating inside. Once again the smell seeped through their nostrils and began making space for this new meal, eager for more.
“Now, I got a few old friends coming over soon so I need to clean up. But you’re welcome to sit on the steps until your friends get here, when you’re done you can just leave the bowl on the steps. Alright?”
“Okay, thank you again mister Gigglefunny!” Olavender smiles wide and nods their head.
“No need for Sirs and Misters, just call me Gramble. Have a nice day Ollie, it was nice meetin’ ya!” Gramble waves to the grumpling and slowly closes the door.
Olavender sits down on the bottom step and looks around, their friends still nowhere in sight. Should hopefully have at least a little time to eat. Right as they’re about to pick up the spoon though, they were sure they could hear a distant sigh coming from inside… likely just their imagination.
Olavender picks up the plastic spoon and scoops up a fair bit, getting a crouton and even a little broccoli stalk in there. They’re a little suspicious at what magic exactly he used to be able to make these veggies not taste like veggies, but now that they knew Ollie was even more curious to try.
Bringing the spoon up to their lips, the grumpling hissed as their lips burned a bit (it did just hop out the microwave after all), but after blowing on it a few times it was good enough to swallow. Once again the soup’s stock had a meat taste to it (grilled chicken this time), but the knowledge that it was entirely vegetables continued to amaze. The softness of the broccoli stalk gave way under their teeth and squirted out a bit more of the broth which the child gladly let rest on their tongue for a bit. After which the crouton cracked and crunched from their bite, spreading the tiny bits of spice and texture all around their mouth. It didn’t have the same cozy blanket feeling as last time, more of a “suddenly hopping into a hot bath” kind of feel.
Though after a few bites, another taste began to settle in. Some sort of, saltiness? It appeared gradually as the last drops fell down their throat. It was very light, but noticeable as if grains of rock salt were sprinkled onto their tongue. Didn’t ruin the dish by any means, but after the energizing and warm feeling they got from the first few seconds it almost gave way to some sort of emptiness. They had to make sure at least a few drops of the soup remained in their mouth to keep that feeling while they ate, nobody liked to get out of the hot water and back into the cold air.
It tasted like uncertain expectations in a new, empty house.
“Hey Ollie!!” A nearby grumpling rides her bike and rings the bell attached while she slows to a stop. “Whatcha doing here? This isn’t your place.”
“Oh, um,” Olavender swallows the spoonful, letting the light saltiness settle on their tongue, “I was giving the mister back his bowl, and he gave me another.”
“Aw whaaat, you got MORE free food?! I knew I should’ve rode faster…” the girl pouts and crosses her arms once she hops off the bike. “Do you think he’d let me have some?”
“I don’t think so, he said he needs to get ready for something.” Ollie shrugs. They hold out the bowl, now chilled just enough to where they wouldn’t have to blow the heat away. “You can have a bit if you wanna.”
“Oooh, yeah! Gimme!!” She jogs over and takes the bowl from their hands (splashing some onto the grass in the process). The eager child doesn’t even bother using a spoon, just slurping it right from the bowl and spilling a bit on her shirt. To Olavender’s relief she doesn’t drink the whole thing, and there’s that same look of confusion on her face as the delicious taste gives way for a strange saltiness.
“Hm. Kinda weird, but pretty good!” She gives the bowl back and Ollie internally cheers seeing a few croutons remaining. “My dads don’t cook with chicken a lot, so this is pretty good.”
“Actually, there isn’t any chicken in there!” The same proud smirk crosses Ollie’s face while she munches on the remaining croutons.
“None?”
“Nope, he said he’s a vegetarian! Apparently he made this using corn and sauce!”
“Corn?!”
“Corn!!”
“How can corn taste like chicken, what?!”
“I don’t know!! You think he’s a wizard or something?”
“Well, wizards have those big pots. Pots are used for brewing, they’re always making potions and stuff! So maybe he is!”
“Aw, I wanna get food from the cooking wizard…”
“I wonder, does that make soup a potion then?”
“Only one way to find out! C’mon, let’s see if you can run faster than me now!!”
Both kids run off the trailer’s steps and out around the park, leaving the bowl of half-finished soup on the steps. After a little bit, a pink hand reaches out, grabs it, then brings it back inside before quietly closing the door.