Geniture

Part 1: On the Other Side

In a place we call the other side, two souls spoke to each other. It was a quiet conversation between Quater and one of the many souls that lived on the other side. It went on something like this…
“Hello, Quater. Thank you for taking the time to talk to me, of all the souls that surely request an audience with you every day.”
“Think of it as nothing, my friend. The souls of this universe are still young and shy, and very few have the courage to speak to me directly. What is it you wish, soul from the universe of my older brother?”
“Quater, I am in search of a happy life. I have been reincarnated countless time, but I have found all those lives empty and sad. I thought: There must be a world in the universe where I can live happily. The universe is old and vast, and the world of my dreams must be out there somewhere.
“Yet no matter how many times I stepped through the Door to the living side, I always stumbled upon wars, famine and injustice to the weak. I could not take it. I spoke to your brother and I asked him to take me through the Door himself, so that I could be born into the happy life I sought. But he said: ‘What you ask, I cannot do for you. Too many souls ask of me: Take me to the happy life, master. They do not realise that a happy life is something only they can earn. Make good deeds and you will live happily wherever you live.’
“I contemplated this, Quater, for a very long time. I came to the conclusion that, indeed, I am the only one who can complete my search. I must not rely on the Door, for the Door is deaf to those who ask. I cannot rely on your brother, for he has once stepped through the Door himself. The Door has power over him now and he won’t cross its path.
“On my own accord I crossed the Chasm, a feat your brother deemed impossible, and I have come to you. The souls of your universe are young and shy, as you have said, and they will not think of your help to me as a precedent. Your guidance through the Door will lie forgotten by the time anyone works up the courage to ask what I am asking. And I am asking: Is there a world in your universe where I could live happily forever, and will you take me there?”
“My friend, I am struck by your courage. No one has ever dared to ask me to alter the flow of souls within the Door. It is imprudence and temerity. And I am tempted too much to pass. I will help you through the Door. I have studied its workings since Father created me and I can influence them if I wish. I ask only one thing of you: to keep my help a secret.”
“Of course, Quater. I shall never tell anyone.”
“Very well. You are lucky, my friend, to have come to me now. Had you come any sooner than eighty years ago, I would have been sad to tell you that among the worlds in my universe, there is none where you could lead a happy life for ever. But you have come in the right time, and I am glad to tell you that I know just the place.”

Part 2: Somewhere Far, Far Away

Somewhere far, far away there was a room and that room was a total mess. There were six kings in that room, and they were all snoring loudly.
“They seem to be rather incapacitated,“ a red being whispered, looking round.
“No kidding,“ a yellow being snorted, stepping over a pile of purple goo. “Who are these people?“
An orange being cackled. “Sie sind echt besoffen.“
Yellow turned to look at Red. “Why's he talking like that?“
Red shrugged. “I don't know. Try talk to him.“
Yellow stood square before Orange. “Hello. Who are you?“ he asked slowly. Orange blinked at him stupidly.
“Was sagst du?“
Yellow eyed him with annoyance. “Who. Are. You?“
“Hoo - aa - iuu?“ Orange repeated. Yellow rolled his eyes and waved his hand dismissively.
“It's no use,“ he said and came to Red's side. “As I said, who are they?“
“Maybe we could ask them,“ Red suggested.
“Good idea.“ Yellow shook the shoulder of the nearest king. “Hey. Wake up.“ The king groaned and batted his hand away. Yellow grew impatient. “I said wake up!“
The king moaned and cracked an eye open. “What do you want?“
“Who are you?“ Yellow asked gruffly.
“I'm BertBert, son of Quater. Who are you?“
Yellow was taken aback by that question. He straightened, cast a look to Red and finally said: “I... don't know.“
“At least you don't claim to be BertBert,“ king BertBert sighed. “Ugh, I feel sick!“
Apparently he wasn't the only sick one in the room. Talking roused the other kings as well and the room was filling with groans. A yellow king with a blue crown vomited rainbow.
“Ottoborg, are you alright?“ another king asked him with concern in his deep voice. He came to Ottoborg's side and patted his back. And then he heaved and retched cubes.
“What in the world...“ Yellow shook his head in disgust.
“Are they okay?“ Red asked in a small voice.
“Of course they're okay, it's not like they're - hey! Hey! What are you doing?“
Orange was holding one of the rainbow cubes in his fingers and he was sniffing at it curiously.
“Don't eat that, it's -“
Yellow was cut off when Orange placed the cube inside his mouth and chewed slowly. Yellow placed his palm across his face and mumbled: “Idiot.“
Orange broke into a smile. “Es ist gut!“ he proclaimed while scooping more of the rainbow covered cubes into his hand. The cube-producing king stared at him.
“Um, hello. My name is Hoborg, sixth son of Quater. May I ask you - blueegh - who you are and why you are eating my vomit?“
Orange gave Hoborg a thumbs-up. “Es ist echt lecker! Wie machst du es?“
“I'm sorry, I don't understand you...“
While these two were attempting to have a conversation, Yellow tried asking several others who they were. The kings introduced themselves as Numeron, Arven and Homen, sons of Quater and kings of various lands. They inquired who Yellow was and how they got here. Yellow had no answer to those questions.
“Alright everyone, listen up!“ he yelled when he was done, clapping his hands to grab everyone's attention. “I've got a few questions for you all. First off, what happened here?“
“Party haaaard...“ Ottoborg tried to cheer, but his stomach turned halfway through and he sprayed Yellow with rainbow. Yellow took a step back.
“I thought that much. Next question, where are we?“
Everyone was straining their memory at that. “I think we're... in Quater's mansion at the end of space and time?“ Homen offered. His guess was met with approving grunts.
“Uh-huh. Who is Quater?“
“I have a better question,“ Arven interrupted. “Who are you?“
Yellow was trying to look as dignified as he could while he stated: “We don't know. It would be nice if you told us.“
“I don't remember you from last night,“ Hoborg said. “But the truth is, I don't remember much of last night. Anyone, do you know who these guys are?“
“They look like your creations,“ Numeron suggested. Hoborg examined the three beings.
“Yes, the red one definitely looks Hoodian,“ he admitted. “But the hoophead looks like Ottoborg's creation.“
“Me?“ Ottoborg asked, confused. “What?“
Gingerly, Yellow stepped closer to him until he towered over Ottoborg. “Is it possible that you have created me?“
Ottoborg squinted at him. “I don't know you. Are you a ghost?“
Yellow wasn't confused, having already deemed this king's sanity as inferior. “No, I'm not a ghost.“
“In that case, you can't be my kid,“ Ottoborg concluded.
Hoborg looked like he was about to say something, but thought better of it. Yellow beckoned to him. “What did you want to say?“
Hoborg stared at him blankly. “I've forgotten.“
Yellow sighed. “Right. And what about that guy?“ he motioned toward Orange.
“He looks like a Neverhoodian,“ BertBert said.
“Well... the colours are a little off...“ Hoborg thought aloud, “and that stem... no, I don't think that he's my creation.“
Orange noticed that everyone was staring at him. “Was? Wollen sie 'was? Ich habe alles gegessen, sie können nichts mehr haben. Oder waaas? Warum seht ihr mich so an? Bin ich hässlich oder was?“ Orange gave himself a quick look. “Mein Gott, ich bin hässlich! Diese Kleidung ist schrecklich! Seht mich nicht an!“
Hoborg leaned to Ottoborg. “What language do you think that is?“
Ottoborg shrugged. “No idea. Better get going.“
“Wait, we still haven't established who they belong to!“
“Ain't that obvious? They belong to you,“ Ottoborg stated and left the messy room.

Part 3: On the Neverhood

As the council had established, it was Hoborg’s duty to take the three new-borns to their new home, the Neverhood. Hoborg was trying to think of it as an honour. But he couldn’t help feeling annoyed, despite his big heart. Yellow was constantly shooting questions and demanding swift and efficient answers. Orange didn’t stop babbling in his displeasing language for a minute. At least Red was quiet and docile. Hoborg was quite happy with that being. He was even willing to believe that Red was his son.
The journey didn’t take too long. It was because Hoborg had asked Quater specifically to hold the council close to the Neverhood. He didn’t want to leave his sons for any longer than he had to. And now the colourful island was in plain view.
“Wooow,” Red exclaimed softly and blinked a few times. “Is that?...” he pointed at the chunk of land floating around in nothingness.
“Yes,” Hoborg nodded with certain self-satisfaction.
“It’s so beautiful,” Red sighed happily. “It’s great that we’ll be able to live on your world, Hoborg.”
“I can see the beings now,” Yellow said. “Hey, is it… is it really that small?”
Hoborg shrugged.
Yellow looked distinctly displeased with the size of the Neverhood.
Orange tried to spit into the Lake.
When Hoborg and company finally touched down, they were instantly surrounded by Neverhoodians cheering and welcoming Hoborg back. Hoborg thanked them and asked them for a few minutes of silence.
“Everybody, I’d like to introduce someone to you. These guys are your new brothers!”
“Half a cheer for the new guys!” someone shouted.
“Hip hip – hoo!” was the answer.
“They don’t have names yet, but I’m sure you can come up with some,” Hoborg suggested.
“That frowning hoophead – let’s name him Kain!” someone yelled. Laughter and chanting “Kain, Kain!” followed. Strangely enough, Orange laughed and chanted as well, as if he could understand the joke.
Yellow leaned over to Hoborg and whispered: “Is that a reference?”
“Um, why yes, it is. Kain was a farmer. He killed his brother because he felt unrecognised.”
Confusion and anger sprang to Yellow’s face. “Why do they want to name me after a murderer?”
Red leaned in. “I think it’s because of the way you’re glaring at them.”
Yellow smacked his lips. “Well I don’t like it. I’ll come up with my own name.”
“As you wish,” Hoborg said. “Go now. Explore your new home. I’ll be in the Throne Room if you need me.”
“Um,” Red touched Hoborg’s shoulder before the king could leave. “Where is the Throne Room?”
“Your brothers will show you the way if you ask them,” Hoborg said kindly.
“Okay. Thank you,” Red said and smiled.
Hoborg walked through the Neverhood, overjoyed to be back again. He hadn’t been gone for longer than a week, but he had still missed the friendly land. Feeling the soft klay under his feet was making him happier with every step he made.
He made no dilly-dally as he headed to the Castle. He knew that Klaymen and Willie Trombone would be waiting there, expecting his arrival. He had asked them to keep the Castle safe while he was gone and he didn’t doubt their adherence.
“I’m back!” he greeted loudly upon entering through the main gate. He heard rushing footsteps. And then Willie and Klaymen rounded a corner and ran to him with arms outstretched. Hoborg was nearly tackled to the ground. He returned their enthusiastic embrace, laughing.
“Yes, yes, my friends. I missed you too.”
“We had a huuge party, Hoborg!” Willie exclaimed. “In the BOBBY room! Everyone was there – and everybody drunk!”
Hoborg wasn’t too pleased to hear that his sons took this opportunity while he was away. “Is everybody alright?” he asked.
“Yep. But Kceler and Khouba – they had a fight. A huuuge fight. They speak together no more. Kceler is really, really angry about something! And no one knows what it is! Oh, and Frenchie didn’t party. Did you know that Frenchie don’t like party? Willie didn’t…”
Willie was tapped on the shoulder. He looked around to see Klaymen, who had long since let go of Hoborg. Willie looked back at Hoborg, then down at his arms which were still firmly wrapped around the king.
“Oh…” He let go. “Hoborg back. Willie happy,” he concluded his report.
“I’m happy to be back as well, Willie,” Hoborg replied. “Has anything else happened other than this huge party?”
“Not really, no,” Klaymen said. “But we saw three beings coming with you. Who are they?”
Hoborg explained it as best he could, given that he didn’t remember how the beings had come to live, when, or if he’d had a part in it. As soon as he mentioned a hoophead, Willie jumped three feet in the air with excitement and ran off to meet his sibling. Hoborg watched his spiked back shrink with silent amusement.
“I’m a little worried that the hoophead won’t meet Willie’s expectations,” he remarked. “He’s a lot stricter than any of Willie’s brothers.”
“Evil?” Klaymen asked.
“Why would you ask that?” Hoborg replied in surprise.
Klaymen shrugged. “Sounds mean.”
Hoborg scratched his chin. “I don’t think he is evil. He’s tactless and impatient, but not evil. You should see him talking to the orange boy. He can’t understand a thing and I can see that it irritates him very much, yet he keeps trying to come through. And he defends him. He defends both his brothers, every time he feels they can come to harm.”
“That orange one,” Klaymen said, brushing his lower lip with his finger. “What language does he speak?”
Hoborg shrugged helplessly. “Gibberish. I can’t understand a word. He speaks too fast.”
“I’ve got something that might help.” Klaymen pushed a button on his chest and reached into his chest compartment. He pulled out a small red box with a lever. “It’s a translator. Jerry-O gave it to me so that I could understand Skullmonkey tongue. It manages several languages though.”
Hoborg examined the box. “That would help immensely. Will you lend it to him?”
Klaymen nodded. “Sure. All he has to do is to tune it.”
Hoborg asked Klaymen to accompany him outside, so that Klaymen could explain how the box worked directly to Orange. Klaymen agreed, as he had nothing better to do and he wanted to meet the newbies as well. They happened upon Red at the end of the spiked bridge. Since Red was coming to see Hoborg anyway, he joined Hoborg and Klaymen on their way.
“How are your first impressions of my sons, boy?” Hoborg asked.
“Oh, um… They’re loud,” Red said with a smile of apology.
Klaymen gave Red a huge smile. Hoborg didn’t understand why at first, but then he remembered that Klaymen’s first impression of his new brothers was exactly the same.
“But you will find out that they are good folk,” Hoborg insisted, slightly alarmed.
“I don’t doubt that,” Red assured him quickly. “I just… well, spending the first two days of my life with only you and my brothers, and then suddenly coming into such a big crowd… It was sudden. You know,” and he made a vague gesture.
“I see. Well, you can take your time with meeting them,” Hoborg shrugged. “Have you chosen a name for yourself yet?”
“No, I haven’t really had time to think about that. But um… can I ask you something?” Red examined Hoborg. “All those things they’re saying, is it really true? About the creation of the Neverhood, your journey to the Mountain of Best Klay and… about Klogg and Klaymen?” He looked at Klaymen with unabashed curiosity.
Klaymen stared back at Red, head tilted to the side. Hoborg cleaned his throat. “It is true. My sons tend to exaggerate a little when it comes to telling this story, but it’s true in essence. You can read the tale in detail in the Hall of Records.”
“That long white hallway?”
“That’s it. The whole story is written there. If you want to know even more, you can ask Willie or Klaymen. Have you met Willie yet?”
“It was impossible not to meet him,” Red smiled. “He stands out.” He looked at his feet while he continued. “I want to ask another thing. Hoborg… do you think that my brothers will be happy here? One of them thinks that the place is too crowded. And the other can’t talk to anyone because he speaks a different tongue. And… they look different too. I was hoping that my yellow brother could become friends with Willie since they’re both hoopheads. But they’re nothing alike, really. So… won’t they become… lonely here?”
Hoborg stopped walking to put his hand on Red’s shoulders. “The Neverhood is a friendly land. They will be accepted if they wish to, despite their differences. Don’t worry about them… my son.”
Red’s face lit up. “Thank you… father.” It seemed that he was a bit redder than usual when he began walking again. “I think we’re near. I can hear that language.”
“Die Kronen! Sie waren groß! Größer als du! Größer als du! Und sie waren getrunken, echt getrunken!“

Orange is talking to people. Picture by OttonandPooky.
(Picture by OttonandPooky.)

Hoborg, Red and Klaymen walked around the corner to see Orange in the middle of a laughing group. Obviously language barrier meant nothing to him. He was making up for it with wild gestures and facial expressions.
“At least he’s enjoying himself,” Hoborg remarked to Klaymen. Klaymen snorted quietly: he, too, had spotted Yellow on top of a rooftop, watching the scene with a look of resigned dissatisfaction.
“Hey man, we’ve brought you something,” Hoborg called out to Orange. Orange didn’t react. Only when his whole audience was looking at Hoborg did he stop his performance. He waved at the king.
“Hallo, Krone!”
Hoborg held Klaymen’s red box up. “This is,” he extended his hands to Orange, “for you.”
Orange eyed his dubiously.
“A present,” Hoborg added.
Orange gasped in excitement. “Ein Geschänk? Für mich? Danke schön!“ He snatched the box and shook it next to his ear. “Was macht es?”
“Turn the lever,” Klaymen said, mimicking the motion. Orange turned it a few times. Nothing happened.
“Wofür ist es?” he asked, confused.
“Na co to je?” the box said.
Orange nearly dropped the box. “Es hat gesprochen!”
“Ono to promluvilo!” the box translated.
“Turn it again,” Red said, gesturing what he meant. Orange did so.
“Was nun?”
A low howling came out. “Victoid language,” Klaymen muttered. “Needed that too.”
Before the box could translate, Orange was already turning the lever, for now he understood what it was for. A series of whelps were emitted from the box - this was Skullmonkey tongue.
“It might take a while to tune it,” Hoborg said, ignoring a screeching translation in a language he was glad not to know.
Orange seemed to be getting annoyed with the device. “Es ist kaputt. Was für einen Ausschuss hast du mir geschenkt?”
“It doesn’t work. What piece of crap have you given me?”
Everybody gasped. “It’s working!” someone said in awe. “Es funktioniert,” the red box said and Orange gave a whoop of joy.
Hoborg smiled. “Well, I hope it serves you well,” he wished to Orange and turned to thank Klaymen one more time.
“Wait, Crown!”
Hoborg froze. He slowly turned to Orange, who was walking up to him.
“What did you say?” he whispered.
Orange gave Hoborg a hug. The king returned it feebly and as soon as Orange let go, he repeated his question. “Did you just call me Crown?”
Orange shrugged. “You’ve got a nice shining peace of gold there.” He smiled broadly. “Can I have it?”
Experiencing a sickening dejavu, Hoborg sincerely hoped that the boy was only curious. He tried to make himself sound as authoritative as he could. “No, you can’t have it. This crown is the only thing that you cannot have. I am the ruler of this world - and a ruler needs his crown. If I lost it somehow, it would make me very sad.”
“Oh…” Orange said. “Okay. Wouldn’t wanna make you sad if you’re the ruler here… Hey guys! I can tell you the story so you can understand it now!”
The crowd cheered. Turning away, Hoborg caught Klaymen’s concerned gaze. He sighed.
“I hope he won’t be trouble,” he told his oldest living son.
“So do I, Hoborg,” Klaymen said, watching Orange tell his story with even more exaggeration than before. “So do I.”
Hoborg looked around. He saw Yellow waving at him from the roof, beckoning him to come closer. Hoborg approached the house, warmly aware of Klaymen trailing after him. Yellow jumped down from the rooftop.
“He’s making trouble, isn’t he?” he asked, not expecting an answer. “I want to tell you something. I’ve come up with a name for myself. Nike.”
Hoborg nodded, vaguely remembering that the name meant something along the lines of “victory”. Nike continued:
“In case you’re wondering, it’s ‘Kain’ reversed. I based my name on the choice of the locals because I chose to accommodate to this place. I’ll try to live here somehow, Hoborg.” Nike looked at the king sharply. “But don’t expect me to be such a goof-off as those fellows over there, or – Quater forbid – that idiot Willie.”
“Hey,” Klaymen frowned, more than ready to defend his best friend.
“There’s a lot you don’t know about Willie yet,” Hoborg reasoned, trying to prevent an argument.
Nike snorted. “I don’t need to see any more than I already have to judge his personality.”
Well, that made Hoborg angry as well. He straightened and said in a thunderous voice: “You shouldn’t judge people you’ve just met. Willie may be a goofball, but he’s a very dedicated friend and a good person. Without him, the Neverhood would still be in Klogg’s hands.”
Not the least bit intimidated, Nike snorted again, then shrugged. Apparently he had his own mind about this matter but he wasn’t about to argue. “Anyway,” he said. “See you around. I’ll try to find a place where I can breathe.”
As Hoborg watched Nike leave, he was contemplating on how much more could go wrong. Orange had an interest in Hoborg’s crown. Nike was unhappy with the Neverhood and letting everyone know. Red seemed fine so far, but that could change quickly as well. Where was Red, anyway?
Hoborg looked around. Orange’s group had moved somewhere else while he was speaking to Nike, so the place was quiet now.
“Klaymen, did you notice if the red guy went along with his orange brother?” Hoborg asked his son. Klaymen pointed at a tree in a far corner. When Hoborg looked properly, he saw Red standing behind it.
“Hey – um – red guy,” Hoborg called out. Red leaned from behind the tree and looked at them.
“Hi.” He was holding something.
“What’s that you’ve got there?” Hoborg asked, walking over to Red. Klaymen was trailing behind, ready to step in should something bad happen.
Red opened his palm and showed them a red pebble. “My brother threw this at me when I tried to ask him something. I must have interrupted his story,” he chuckled. “Do you, by any chance, know the name of this stone?”
While Hoborg was fishing for information in his brain, he asked Red: “Why would you like to know?”
“I like the stone,” Red said simply. After a minute of silence he added: “If you look at it closely, you can see that it’s exactly the same shade of red as my body. I noticed that your sons, Hoborg, are a little more… um… saturated shade of red, while I’m more ginger. So it’s like this stone understands me.”
Hoborg snapped his fingers. “I remember now. It was called hematite. It’s also known as krevel in several regions.”
Red nodded his head, looking at the stone pensively. “Say, I noticed something else… When your sons introduced themselves to me, I realized that all their names began with K. Is that a custom?”
“More or less,” Hoborg nodded. “There are some who don’t have a name beginning with K, but that’s mostly for personal reasons.”
“See, I’d like to name myself after the stone,” Red said with certain excitement. “It’s good that its name begins with K because it won’t stand out.”
Hoborg smiled. Red belonged to the Neverhood. There wasn’t going to be any trouble with him. “So, should we call you Krevel from now on?”
Krevel nodded vigorously, a huge smile spreading across his lips. “Yes. Yes, I’d like that. Krevel… Krevel…” he rolled the word on his lips, playing with the red pebble.
Hoborg was poked. He looked around to see Klaymen, who was appearing rather restless.
“Going to see Willie,” the Hoodian announced. “See if he’s okay.”
Remembering Nike’s unkind words about meeting Willie, Hoborg nodded to urge Klaymen to go. Willie Trombone wasn’t easy to insult. But Hoborg had a hunch that Nike the hoophead just might have managed that.
Krevel fisted his red pebble and smiled at Hoborg. “Do you know if any of my brothers have chosen names for themselves yet?”
“Well, your hoophead brother has just told me that he wishes to be called Nike,” Hoborg replied.
“Nike? That’s Kain reversed, isn’t it?”
It seemed like Krevel was not only well-behaved, but also smart. Hoborg was pleased at that. This son was going to make him happy. He placed a hand on Krevel’s shoulder to say something encouraging, when he felt his crown stir.
His golden crown lifted lightly. And then it left his head.

Nehmen steals Hoborg's crown. Picture by OttonandPooky.
(Picture by OttonandPooky.)

Hoborg spun around, shouting: “No!” He staggered and his vision fogged. Then he saw Orange standing in front of him with a surprised expression on his face and Hoborg’s crown in his hands.
“What are you doing?” Hoborg cried out. Orange took a step back. Hoborg stepped forward to take his crown back. Orange broke into flight.
“Someone stop him!” Hoborg yelled.
From opposite sides, two Hoodians came running to catch Orange. One of them was Klaymen, who had heard Hoborg shout. The other was, surprisingly, Nike the hoophead. They ran straight for Orange, who shrieked in horror and ducked. Klaymen and Nike collided above him, knocking each other off their feet. Orange took this opportunity and ran for it. But several seconds later, he was caught by the wrist. He slipped and fell. Nike was towering over Orange, crushing his wrist in his grip, glaring absolute murder.
“What are you doing?!” he roared.
Orange curled into a ball and began crying. Nike shook his wrist roughly. “Explain yourself!”
Krevel and Hoborg hurried over. Krevel kneeled next to Orange, attempting to wrangle the crown out of his hands. But Orange hugged it close with one arm, bawling uncontrollably and babbling incomprehensive words.
“Where’s his translator box?” Krevel asked, looking around.
“I don’t think he has it with him,” Hoborg said, feeling the top of his head nervously. He was getting dizzy. He needed the crown back, fast. He considered using his powers of creation to subdue Orange. But without his crown, that didn’t seem like such a good idea…
Someone took Hoborg’s arm and supported him. It was Klaymen. The Hoodian must have been too stunned to get up after the crash. Klaymen smiled at Hoborg tiredly and swaggered a little. They leaned on each other, waiting for Nike and Krevel to wring the golden crown out of Orange’s grip.
“Come on, you need to calm down,” Krevel was saying. “Just give the crown back, okay? Just give it back and everything will be alright.”
Nike rolled his eyes. “That isn’t going to help, man. He doesn’t even understand you. We need to get that box first.”
Orange was still crying.
Hoborg felt like his knees were going to buckle when all of the sudden he heard a flurry of voices. A group of Hoodians entered the area.
“Hey new guy, where are you?”
“You sneaked out on us!”
“Oh my Quater – Hoborg!”
As soon as they noticed their father leaning heavily on Klaymen with no crown on, they rushed to his side. “Hoborg, are you okay? What happened?”
Hoborg pointed at Orange. His arm felt heavy. He wanted to sleep. “Have you got his translator box? You need to tell him to let go of the crown and give it back to me.”
“Yeah, we’ve got it!” A Neverhoodian passed the red box to Krevel, who nodded his thanks. Then he asked:
“Can you understand me?”
“Verstehst du mich?”
Orange looked up and nodded.
“I need you to let go of the crown. Just give it back, okay?”
Orange looked at the crown in his hand, then at Hoborg. He made a small, fearful nod and extended his free hand.
“Finally,” Nike growled and snatched the crown. He walked over to Hoborg and handed it to him.
“Can you… put it on my head please?” Hoborg asked in a weak voice. Nike placed the crown back on Hoborg’s head.
The king’s vision began to clear. He shook his head slowly and straightened. He coughed.
“I’m okay,” he announced to the frightened group of beings. That triggered a wave of relief.
“I’m so glad…”
“I was afraid that we were in trouble for a moment there…”
“What happened anyway? Why did the orange guy take your crown? Is he evil?”
All eyes rested on Orange. As soon as the box finished its translation, Orange’s eyes widened and he began to babble.
“No… you see… I didn’t want to… I didn’t want to hurt him! No! I didn’t think he’d notice. I wanted to give it back, I swear! Take but give back!”
“That sounds cheesy,” someone said. Orange shook his head wildly as tears burst into his eyes again.
“I wanted to give it back! I thought that if taking the crown made him sad, then getting it back would make him happy! Very happy! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… I took it, but I wanted to give it back… Take but give back… Take but give back…”
Hoborg sighed. He stepped in front of Orange, once again regaining all his authority.
“You have made a serious transgression. You ought to be punished.”
Hoborg’s words were affirmed with consenting murmur. Orange kept repeating “Take but give back,” until the box stopped bothering to translate it. “Nehmen aber zurückgeben,” Orange was croaking, rocking back and forth.
Hoborg heaved a deep sigh. The boy was scared out of his mind. It would do no good to punish him now. He would grow bitter – and truly evil.
“Everyone, you’ve seen what’s happened. But you can also see that he’s regretting his deeds. I say that we give him one more chance. After all, like he said, he wanted to make me happy.”
This time the murmur was disagreeing. Hoborg looked over his sons, who were less than willing to forgive someone who’s just stolen their king’s crown.
“You’re despicable,” somebody spoke in a loud and clear voice. It was Nike. He gazed down at Orange with unhidden anger. “But you’re my brother. And I’ll protect my family no matter what.” He walked over to Orange and stood in front of him, facing the Hoodians. “Anyone who wants to hurt him will have to have a piece of me first,” he declared.
Krevel got up from the ground and stood next to Nike. “I won’t let anyone hurt him either. Guys, he’s a good person. He’s just scared and he wanted to make friends. He didn’t know that taking the crown was such a serious crime.”
A red Neverhoodian stepped forward to speak for the whole group. “Who are you to defy the law of the Neverhood?”
“I’m Nike, son of free will,” Nike spoke firmly.
“I’m Krevel, son of Hoborg,” Krevel joined in. He looked over his shoulder. “And this is…”
Orange looked up at him, his face full of hope. He blinked a few times and chose his name.
“Nehmen Aber Zurückgeben.”
If Hoborg could, he would roll his eyes. Why did Orange have to choose such a difficult name to pronounce?
“Alright everyone,” he said, rubbing his forehead. “Will you hold onto that ill will forever, or will you forgive Ne… Nehmen?”
“Uhh… Ahh… Yeah… I suppose we could,” the red Hoodian said finally. “Since you’ll be living here from now on, I guess it’s no use holding grudges, is it?”
Nehmen nodded vigorously. A wide smile spread over his face. Krevel smiled too. Even Nike smiled a little.
Well, not all was bad, Hoborg thought. Maybe he wouldn’t come to regret his decision to take these three in after all. Um… maybe.

     

Zpět na povídky