Focus.How was a frog—confined by a curse to a pond—ever going to create change?He’d need to hold court here, with messengers and guardsmen and a full retinue of staff.
But no one had travelled to the pond except Bella.
And he’d sent her away.
Riven realized Brumenhildr had no intention of ever letting him break this curse, not if he couldn’t even leave for a few hours without risking his life.
He was stuck here, likely forever.
He wallowed in his misery for a few moments until boredom set in.So, he kicked his hind legs and crossed the pond, searching the reeds for something nutritious buzzing around until he found a bent stem strung with spiderwebs.Intrigued, he grabbed the stalk and tried climbing it, but it bent under his weight.So he carefully inched it lower and tried strumming the strands with his fingers.
Spiderwebs could not be strung.
But perhaps the pond’s enchantment would provide.
He would not ask for anything magical this time, just something tiny and useful.A frog-sized mandolin would help him pass the hours.He focused, and within a moment, he knew right where it was.He dove and saw the neck and headstock sticking out of the mire.He pulled it free and bolted for the surface, eager to see if he could play it.
He sat on a floating piece of filth and propped the instrument on his lap, turning it upside down to drain it.He strummed his fingers over the strings and made a few notes, then adjusted the tuners until the notes sounded pure.
It was not a magical mandolin, yet Riven was thrilled to hold it.
He strummed and let his imagination create the words:
Do, da do, da do do da do dum
How did I get here and why do I yearn?
My errors have found me and so now I languish,
I care not for my kingdom- for a girl I do burn.
Do, da do, da do do da do dum
I know how I got here but will I ever learn?
I wallow forever with the choices that curse me,
But the true love I hoped for is forever spurned.
Do, da do, da do do da do dum
But the true love I hoped for is forever spurned.
He set the makeshift mandolin across his bony legs and stared at the sky in thought.Music would not solve his problems, but the momentary escape helped him focus.
He’d need to draw people to him.Only then would he be able to issue orders for change.But as a talking frog, he’d have to ensure that people would not try to capture him and remove him from his enchanted prison, where he could die.
Bella’s words drifted over him.Even with his reduced size, he still had his hands and his brains.He would still be able to create something.
Right?
He’d never been allowed to build anything—certainly not with his own two hands.‘Twas unseemly for royalty to dirty themselves.
But Riven was already dirty, and did he even qualify as royalty in his current state?His fingers drifted over the strings as he tried to envision someplace safe to live, someplace that would tell passersby that an enchanted creature lived here, not just a regular frog.
He’d build a castle in the middle of this cesspool, something frog sized.
A castle with protections erected around the shore.
