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It was another beautiful day in Pop Village. The sun shone brightly, framing every leaf on every vine in a picturesque yellow glow that sparkled as the wind blew across the plane. One by one, trolls began exiting their pods, stepping down the stairs and gathering together in the town square underneath the tall mushrooms.
One such troll pulled himself out of bed slower than the others, yawning and stretching. He rubbed his eyes, then half-stumbled down the stairs of his own pod as he let his cane lead the way. He blew his pink and white hair out of his face, going to meet the others. He hadn’t done something like this in a very long time- he did miss it, to be certain, it’s why he settled back down into Pop Village, but he had become a major night owl as he had grown up.
“Hi, Floyd!” One of his new friends, DJ Suki, greeted.
Floyd grunted a sound similar enough to ‘hey’ in response. He really had to wake up, goodness. He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the tiredness that weighed down his body.
DJ kept speaking, but he had long since phased her out. Unfortunately for him, it was growing increasingly obvious what she had been talking about, regardless- it was another one of those village-wide singing-and-dancing parties. Floyd sighed, rubbing his eyes. Branch had warned him about these before moving in. According to him, the Pop Trolls had grown a little more accommodating to people like Branch who weren’t always in the mood for a song, but… there were some caveats to that statement. For one, Branch was back singing, and Floyd would watch him participate in these musical numbers frequently, even if less so than the others, and for another thing… Branch wasn’t on medically-sanctioned vocal rest.
He snapped back to reality too late- the square was already surrounded by singing and dancing trolls- including Branch and Poppy. The noise was already one thing this early, but the more the song went on, the more trolls began to crowd him, staring at him expectantly- begging him to sing.
“Ahah- guys, I really shouldn’t- you know I had the whole incident a while back-” Floyd gulped.
“Aw, come on, Floyd! Just one verse? Pleeeeeaaase?” Biggie begged, cradling Mr. Dinkles as he wedged himself further into Floyd’s personal space. Many of the other trolls began to follow.
“I- ugh- fine! Just the one, though, okay?” Floyd whined. The trolls cheered, backing up to let him join them.
The song started back up, and Floyd began to quietly sing along. He was aiming to be more of a backup singer, but to his horror, he realized the more he sang along, the quieter everyone else got. The song kept going, and they just- wouldn’t stop STARING at him, urging him to keep singing- the song couldn’t stop here! In a panic, his voice got louder, his notes got more complicated, and it was almost like the song was being dragged out of him.
He couldn’t stop himself- vocals all came tumbling out like an avalanche, and as he got louder and louder, he could feel all the feeling in his feet start to disappear. He didn’t even have to look down to know he was turning translucent, but- he couldn’t stop himself.
The trolls were all chanting his name. “FLOYD! FLOYD! FLOYD! FLOYD!”
He couldn’t stop singing. He was terrified. He couldn’t stop-!!
He hit an exceedingly high note for his register, but was devastated to hear it came out like a tuneless shriek, like an animal getting strangled.
That pathetic excuse was the last note he was ever going to sing, as he felt the cold grip of translucency begin to choke out his face. It was a feeling he never wanted to feel again.
There, again, he heard the yelling of his name- ravenous trolls that would never be satisfied…
“FLOYD! FLOYD! FLOYD…”
“...Floyd! FLOYD!” Branch said, jostling his brother again as he slept.
Floyd darted awake, drenched in a puddle of his own sweat. He looked over only to see a concerned-looking Branch staring right back at him. They weren’t in any sort of pod specifically for Floyd… right. Right, Floyd had gone to live with Branch in his bunker, because the damn thing was built for five people anyways and they had missed each other a lot.
What he had last experienced was… a nightmare, then. Just… just a nightmare.
About him dying.
…No wonder Branch was beside his bed.
“Are… are you alright?” Branch asked quietly- his body language was nervous, tense. He looked at Floyd like he might shatter apart into pieces at any time, which only made Floyd feel worse.
He didn’t want to be looked at like he was some broken piece of china hastily glued together. He wanted to exist like he was before Velvet and Veneer, but that was getting… hard. Increasingly hard. He may not have been demanded to participate quite so thoroughly, but there was still that pressure of feeling like you needed to join in- and the guilt of not being able to.
Floyd looked up at Branch, and realized then and there- he had to admit his feelings about the whole situation to his brother.
“I… I don’t think I am, Branch,” Floyd admitted with a sigh, combing his hair back. “Being back home has been really nice- and, gosh… so has living here. You really built something special.”
“...But you don’t want to stay,” Branch mumbled quietly.
Floyd winced at that. He hated seeing that sadness on Branch’s face more than anything- it got to him just like he did 20 years ago. “Branch, it’s not-”
Branch put up a hand to stop him. “No, no… I don’t take it personally. Promise.”
Floyd sighed. “I just… Don't think I’m ready for Pop Village right now. Not when I can’t sing.”
Branch nodded, pacing around as he adjusted his green bathrobe. His brow furrowed in concentration as he mulled over the idea. Floyd was feeling pressured to sing because he was in a highly-populated village of pop trolls… How could he fix that? He certainly couldn’t just help Floyd pack his things and send him out on a journey all on his own. Floyd was his own man and all that, but that just felt needlessly cold.
He could think of something, surely- he had ventured across all six of the genre kingdoms and seen even more beyond that! Branch had to be one of the more well-traveled trolls out there.He racked his brain, thinking, thinking… surely there were some trolls out there who didn’t live in some giant commune, but were still people enough to keep Floyd company-
And then it hit him.
“...Hey, Floyd- I think you might have a point, actually. So- I was wondering if maybe… you’d wanna hear about two guys I think staying with might suit you more?” Branch asked, folding his hands together as he swung on his heels. “I mean- you don’t HAVE to or anything-”
Floyd sat up in his bed slightly, giving Branch a curious tilt of his head. “Well- now you’ve got me curious. Let’s hear your idea.”
Branch walked over to a chest full of mementos he had collected over the years, tearing through it until his hands landed on what he was looking for.
“Aha! Here we go,” He said, running back over to Floyd and holding up what looked like a meticulously-well-kept page of a magazine he had clipped out.
Floyd squinted, reading the words Bounty Hunter Monthly before looking at the rest of the picture.
“…Who’re ‘The Yodelers’?” He asked, giving Branch a skeptical glance.
“Okay, okay. So- like- a while back, me and Poppy had to go on this crazy quest across the troll kingdoms to stop Queen Barb from stealing all the strings and turning everyone into rock zombies. Long story. But one of the guys- well, okay, two of the guys- we met along the way was this country troll, Hickory,” Branch began to explain.
“...Uh-huh,” Floyd nodded warily. This story was sounding crazier by the minute. Floyd loved Branch, but ever since they had gotten to know each other as adults, he learned that his brother had the tendency to be more… eccentric in some ways.
“And it turned out Hickory was actually NOT a country troll, but two BOUNTY HUNTERS disguised as a country troll. It was crazy, Poppy said the reveal was very sad and awkward. But that was three months ago now, so- basically all in the past,” Branch finished.
Floyd’s eye twitched. “...Branch. A bounty hunter tailing you and pretending to be a country troll is… all in the past ? That seems a bit… generous for your standards.”
“Yeah, well-” Branch stuck his hands in his robe pockets. “I kinda ended up befriending most of the bounty hunters. They’re all… kinda cool people, once you get past the whole bounty hunting thing. It’s just that… they get what being on the outskirts of society is like, y’know? So I guess we just- clicked.”
Floyd’s face softened at that. He supposed he couldn’t voice too many misgivings at that- any friend of Branch was a friend of his. They had the same taste in company, he found- and Branch was twice as skeptical as he was. So if his little brother really believed whoever this “Hickory and Dickory” were could be the solution to his company-but-not-too-much-company problem… then he’d bite.
Floyd adjusted himself in his bed again, combing some of his hair out of his face.
“Well-” He started. “I am going to… take a shower.”
“Yeah, probably for the best,” Branch said quickly with a cough.
“And then after that… I’m gonna pack up my stuff. How far out are these yodelers, anyways?” Floyd finished.
Branch paused, scratching his head and furrowing his brow. “Ahhh- right, yeah. Well, that’s the thing about those two. They’re kinda sorta nomads. If you’re cool with that, that is.”
“...So long as they take frequent enough breaks,” Floyd said with a shaky smile.
“Yeah, yeah, of course! You can talk to Hickory about it, he’s a real gentleman. Here- I think they’re usually way way out in the hinterlands. You want me to call you a bug-bus?” Branch asked, pointing to a far-off spot on the map.
“Ahh- yes, please. I am NOT hiking that far away,” Floyd replied with a laugh. “You do that- I gotta go have that shower.”
Branch nodded. He paused, glancing over at Floyd and swallowing quietly.
“You, uh, you promise to write, right? I just- don’t want us all to drift apart again,” Branch mumbled.
“Of course I do, bro,” Floyd said, gently taking Branch’s hands. “And- I appreciate you doing this for me, Branch. Letting me live in your bunker, hooking me up with these friends of yours when it didn’t work… man. What did I deserve to get a brother like you?”
Branch laughed quietly. “Ehh- just consider it payback for giving me your vest. It’s my signature accessory now, y’know? Part of the Branch brand. Yep.”
The two brothers laughed to themselves, wrapping each other in a warm hug.
“I’ll come back,” Floyd whispered into his shoulder. “When I’m ready.”
“Take your time,” Branch said back. “I’m not going anywhere.”
—----------------------
Floyd was advised to pack light, so light he packed- His cane came with him, of course, as well as a scrapbook Poppy had made for him of her favourite Branch moments. He left his guitar behind with Branch, though- bringing it would just make him sad about his currently-halved singing stamina. That had left his bug-bus ride blissfully easy, if not a little long. Branch seriously hadn’t been kidding about how far out these hinterlands were- by the time he got there, the sun was starting to set.
The bug came to a stop, and Floyd looked up- time for him to get off. He grabbed his cane and tucked the scrapbook into his pants pocket, hopping down the stairs. As the bus doors closed and it ran off, the dust cleared, and there Floyd saw two trolls standing there expectantly.
One of them was one of the shrimpiest trolls he’d ever seen- barring Smidge and Tiny Diamond. He wore a feathered hat along with some black-and-yellow lederhosen, and he had a surprisingly long ponytail, with a mustache and beard to match. Standing beside him was a troll of a far more average height, who wore a cowboy hat along with a vest that bore the same print as the shorter troll’s, as well as some black denim jeans and some cowboy boots.
“Howdy,” The taller one greeted, tilting his hat down as he chewed on a straw of wheat. “I reckon you must be the Floyd Branch was tellin’ me ‘bout? Name’s Hickory.”
“Oh, yes, Hickory, I am VERY sure there are OTHER trolls out here who are NOT your Floyd. You simply MUST make sure,” The other troll added sarcastically, rolling his eyes.
“Quiet, Dickory-!” Hickory huffed, shoving his brother away like it was second nature.
Floyd immediately giggled at that.
“So- I guess Dickory’s the older brother?” He asked with a knowing smirk.
Hickory let out a cute snort-laugh, covering his mouth.
“Yeah… What gave it away?” He asked with a smirk.
Floyd let out a little laugh of his own, blowing some hair out of his face. “I’m the second-youngest of five. I think I know what I’m talking about.”
Hickory nodded. “Right, right, five of ya… Branch did recount somethin’a that nature, I remember.”
“Jeez. With the way he turned out, you’d think you all left him out to dry,” Dickory snorted.
Floyd pursed his lips awkwardly. Great- it hadn’t even been five minutes and Dickory had already sniffed him out as having ditched his baby brother. This was going… just fine.
“Please- you’ll hafta excuse my brother,” Hickory said apologetically. “He’s got a tough exterior, but… he means well. The two of us, we’ve just had to… fend for ourselves for a long while.”
Floyd nodded. “Yeah. You two’re… nomads, right?”
Dickory nodded swiftly. “Ze only two yodelers left in ze entire kingdom, we’ll have ya know.”
Floyd looked back over at Hickory, then back to Dickory. Sure, they shared some traits in common, but- he just had to say it.
“...But you’re a cowboy,” he muttered, pointing to Hickory’s getup.
Hickory squeaked in surprise, adjusting his hat as a few flyaways he had tucked under it poked through.
“Ah- well- about that…” He chuckled nervously. “How much has Branch toldja ‘bout how he and I met?”
“Well- he told me about the whole “Disguising yourself and your brother as a four-legged country troll” thing,” Floyd responded. “And how you two fought to keep your music safe.”
“Great, great. Well- spendin’ all that time as a country troll made me realize… some things,” Hickory began with a shrug. “As a yodeler, I was always… heck, I dunno. I felt uncomfortable with myself sometimes. I loved our music, still do, but… it was me I was always worryin’ about. But then, havin’ ta pretend ta be a country troll, it… it felt like I was a whole new me. Those sorrowful songs they sang, the hoof-stompin’ happy ones, too… it just felt so right.”
“So…” Floyd said quietly, beginning to walk a small circle around Hickory as he inspected his outfit. “You… decided to live as a country troll?”
“Yessir,” Hickory said with a nod. “‘Course, I still yodel, gotta keep the flame, but I mostly do country these days.”
Floyd looked down at Hickory’s lower half. “Wow,” he said. “And- nobody says you need to be a centaur or anything?”
“Some people do, but… I don’t mind ‘em,'' Hickory said with a shrug. “Guess bein’ transgenre ain’t somethin’ that widespread yet.”
“Well…” Floyd smiled up at the cowboy, a sweet smile on his face. “ I think it’s pretty cool.”
Hickory chuckled, playing it cool. “Why, thank ya kindly.”
They stood there for a while longer, just smiling at each other and enjoying each other’s company as the sunset cast them all in a sunset glow- but soon, Dickory loudly clearing his throat would shake the two of them back to reality.
“AHEM- So you will be joining us on the road then, is that it?” Dickory said loudly.
“Oh!- Yeah… I am. Sorry, I got a little distracted. Heh,” Floyd laughed bashfully.
“Hmpf- No matter. We don’t have long to walk tonight- you’re just coming back with us to our campsite,” Dickory replied.
Dickory tilted his head in the direction of the dirt road, beginning to hike it once more. Hickory gave Floyd a gentle nudge, urging him to follow- of course, they could walk and talk. Floyd picked up his cane, beginning to walk after them.
Floyd’s eyes wandered to the sky, watching as it cast an orange-purple gradient over the horizon. Stars slowly began winking into view, one by one, as they seemed to smile down on Floyd. The rocky mountains were foreboding in the dark light of the nighttime, but so long as he stood beside the brothers, it felt less like an oppressive series of mountains and more like… a warm embrace. The two other trolls walked like they knew the road as well as home.
Hickory began to light a lantern, holding it up as he cast a glance over at Floyd.
“Pretty, idn’it?” He asked.
Floyd stared back at him, mouth going slightly dry. The way the new orange light source bathed Hickory’s face in a warm glow- it just highlighted his face more. That sharp jaw, that unkempt stubble, a look on his face like nothing could ever drag him down… a grisly voice as smooth as syrup.
“ Yeah… Very…” Floyd mumbled.
Hickory gave him a sweet smile back as his entire face lit up. He turned to look at the mountains.
“The prettiest part’a these mountains is the way they just… letcha see a view of everythin’,” He said with a smile.
Floyd’s face dropped- oh. Oh, Hickory had been talking about the mountains being pretty. Not his face. He was going to explode. But it was fine- Floyd was a grown man. He could deal with the strange fluttering feeling he had whenever he thought about embarrassing himself in front of this guy. He could just… dive right back into the convo, simple as.
“I guess you guys know the mountains well, then…?” He asked.
Hickory didn’t say anything to that for a while. The only sound that filled the night air was Dickory and Floyd’s footsteps, as well as Hickory’s boots, which had seemingly purposely been fitted with horseshoes to get that signature clack-clack sound the country trolls’ hooves make.
“Well- me n’ Dickory know… most places well. We don’t stay in one place fer long. Not our nature. But us Yodelers… we used to live up here in these mountains. Man, Dickory says our pa’s voice coulda carried fer miles, bouncin’ around all up in the air…” Hickory chuckled softly, shaking his head.
“Do… do yodelers not live up here anymore?” Floyd asked. He could feel this was a topic he should tread cautiously in.
Hickory sighed. “We don’t, so that means yodelers don’t. We’re th’ last two yodelers left.”
Floyd’s eyes widened. “Oh, gosh- I’m so sorry-”
Hickory waved him off dismissively. “Eh… S’ a sad thing, to be certain, but… Dickory’s more torn up ‘bout it than I am. I mean- we both are. We both are. But there’re some nights… when he’ll tell me th’stories our mom told ‘im, and that her mom told her, an’ so on, an’ so on… I see his face, and it’s jus’ fulla this… this longin’. The longin’ that maybe one day, we’d be able ta have our own little village- a nice one, up in th’mountains, with wood cabins and everythin’... Just like all our targets do. An’ he tries not ta show it, music knows he wants ta be strong, but… I see it in his eyes.”
That sense of belonging… it really was important, wasn’t it. Floyd could see that. He had always called himself a Pop Troll, even during his years of going solo- his own clanship had stuck with him despite not having been in the Troll Tree for decades at that point. And the way Hickory spoke about his big brother being strong for him… he was reminded of the way he acted around Branch, a little. It made him a twinge melancholic, to think that despite their best efforts, little brothers could always tell.
Floyd cleared his throat. “...So- what happened to make all of the other yodelers die out, then…? If that’s not too… y’know.”
Hickory shook his head. “No, sir. Wasn’t one single incident. We jus’ got… lost, out there. We’d venture down from the mountains, meet someone, tie the knot, and then…” He shrugged. “Yodelers just wouldn’t keep yodelin’. Our music’s always been ‘bout the voice, most of all- requires a lotta very potent vocal control. But apparently when we went out into the world… other trolls just felt like they couldn’t really learn it. So- they didn’t. And then those married yodelers had kids, and those kids didn’t yodel fer jack, then fast-forward some hundred years or so… and it’s just us.”
Floyd was stunned into silence for a while. He had never been the biggest follower of the cross-cultural politics of the trolls writ-large, and him being trapped in a crystal during the Rock Apocalypse certainly didn’t help things. But… he had no idea that a music genre could die by unpopularity like that. The only things he’d heard of were things like the Pop Trolls slowly getting boxed in and picked off by the Bergens.
“ Wow,” He whispered breathily.
“Yeeeeah,” Hickory agreed. “You shoulda seen Dickory when I said I wanted to live full-time as a country troll- he damn near lost his mind frettin’ that I was abandonin’ our yodeling… But- heh- him and I found pre-tty quick that all the best country songs got a little yodelin’ in ‘em.”
He laughed, elbowing Floyd with a wink.
Floyd chuckled good-naturedly, tucking some of his hair behind his ear. “Oh, yeah?”
“Yep,” Hickory nodded, popping the ‘P’.
“Maybe you could sing a bit for me, when we settle into camp… Don’t laugh, but I’ve never really heard a country troll sing in person before,” Floyd asked, looking up at Hickory hopefully.
Hickory smirked. “‘Course I can. Never thought I’d see the day when a pop troll would go askin’ me to broaden their musical horizons.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard through the grapevine that we tend to have a bit of a… reputation ?” Floyd said vaguely.
“More than a reputation, partner. You pop trolls used to be me an’ Dickory’s boogeymen. Low-effort folk who love to stampede over genres without a fightin’ chance,” Hickory replied- then shrugged. “But… things change. Guess I just had to meet a few Pop Trolls myself.”
“Hope I don’t change your opinion again… I don’t think I’ve been that awful,” Floyd joked.
“Please. You’ve been a pleasure,” Hickory said with a tilt of his hat. “I look forward to bein’ on the road with you.”
The three of them arrived in a clearing very obviously intended for camping- and Floyd could spy a humble tent that could fit around four that had already been set up.
“Oh- good, there’s already some room for me… do you guys usually travel with other people?” Floyd asked.
Hickory immediately flushed red, hiding his face under his cowboy hat. Dickory smirked obnoxiously.
“Well, not ME per se, but Hickory over here used to have oodles of sleepovers with Dreamy McChestHair until they broke up! Like I SAID they would!” Dickory said proudly.
“Dickory, we do not need to enlighten our wonderful guest here about my ex-” Hickory managed to hiss out in a rush.
Floyd mentally noted down that Hickory was single.
…
…Why did he mentally note down that Hickory was single-
“Here- you go on and take a seat, Floyd. I’ll get a fire goin’,” Hickory said with a nod. Dickory ran inside the tent as well, presumably to look for some food to roast over said fire.
Floyd nodded, finding a particularly even patch of ground to sit on, retracting his cane and slinging it inside his belt loops. He watched as Hickory fiddled with a lighter, sparks flicking in and out of existence in an inconsistent pattern until the logs he had set up on top of each other began to catch alight. Hickory hummed confidently, coming to take a seat near, but still a respectable distance away from, Floyd.
“Come grab some food!” Dickory said with a smile, popping out of the tent and triumphantly holding some weenies to roast as he sat down opposite the fire and Floyd.
“Thanks, Dickory,” Floyd said with a smile, skewering one of the hot dogs onto a stick. “I really do have to thank you guys for taking me in. This… I feel like it’s gonna be really good for me.”
“Think nothin’ of it, pal,” Hickory said with a smirk. “Any brother of Branch’s is a friend of mine.”
Hickory ruffled through one of the bags at the campsite, pulling out a wooden brown guitar and beginning to idly strum on it.
“Any requests?” He asked, looking over at Floyd.
Floyd smirked softly. “I told you I don’t know any country songs.”
“That you did… that you did. I’ll start you off with somethin’ simple, then,” Hickory hummed, gently futzing with the frets of his guitar.
The fire crackled, coating the three of them in a soothing warmth as Hickory began to idly strum out a series of warm-up chords.
“Miss Delta taught me this one,” He said. “It’s a love song- hope you don’t mind none.”
Floyd snorted, covering his mouth. “Ha ha ha- what’s that supposed to mean?”
Hickory shrugged silently, beginning to play.
“ Love is a burning thing,
and it makes a fiery ring.
Bound by wild desire, I fell into a ring of fire.
I fell into a burning ring of fire. I went down, down, down,
And the flames went higher.
And it burns, burns, burns,
The ring of fire, the ring of fire….”
Floyd sighed, looking over at Hickory as he played his song. The way the cowboy looked so animated , like he just came to life when he played a country song… it was honestly pretty amazing to see. Floyd just sat there, soaking in the performance. He had never heard a country song before this, but if they were as soulful as this one was- he might really be a fan.
It was… really nice… his soft strumming was really soothing, especially after Floyd had taken such a long journey to get here in the first place. He tried to stay awake, but he felt his eyelids get as heavy as concrete, and he could fight to keep them open no longer. He fell asleep leaned up against one of the duffel bags in the camp.
Hickory finished his song with a gentle sigh.
“So? How was that?” He asked, looking up- only to blink once or twice in surprise. “Oh… he- uh- fell asleep-“
“If you’d been yodeling, that would have been a giant insult,” Dickory scoffed, finishing off his own dinner. “But you weren’t, so I suppose he must have liked it.”
“Well- what do we do now?” Hickory fretted. “Do we wake ‘im?”
“Bah. Just tuck him into a sleeping bag,” Dickory grunted, waving his hand dismissively.
“But then- I’d hafta pick him up-“
“So??”
Hickory gulped. His brother was right. So what? So nothing. It’s just him picking up this guy he just met bridal-style and tucking him into a sleeping bag. Lovingly.
It was fine.
Hickory emerged from the tent, having committed the deed he promised and put Floyd to bed.
“See? No biggie,” Dickory said with a smirk.
Hickory didn’t need a mirror to know his face was tomato red.