I can't thank my critique partners Fariha and Izzy enough for their combined effort of 46 comments and/or suggestions. 
You provided me with an invaluable outside perspective, and pointed out exactly what had been lost when I had to cut those 700 words between first and second draft. Jeepers! Not only that, but you gave me a sense of where I needed to clarify things, or just change stuff around. Again, thank you!
I present to you all a well improved rainbow twist on the traditional changeling fairytale: full of John Bauer-esque trolls, flipping tropes, challenging fairytale conventions, and just a little sprinkling of fairy dust. Gotta have a bit of sparkle, after all. Or bioluminescent moss. You know. Either/or. 
---
Once upon a time, not very long ago, a changeling-prince returned to the halls of his parents. Beneath the flowing green lay a vast kingdom that reached as far as the horizon and burrowed into a great mountain. Crisp flowers framed an unassuming white-washed cottage, within which was a fire that never went out: this was the doorway through which stepped all fair-folk to go before the Mountain-Trolls and tell them of the past year. Both queen and king were clad in moss that glowed from within, and along the cavernous walls grew mushrooms that cast everything in a crisp, untethered light like gossamer. The gnomes brought bowls of porridge laced with almonds and coins as tribute. The elves offered wreaths of ivy and bluebells. But the troll-prince, not knowing the custom of his kin, went before his parents empty-handed.
"What tribute, this? What travesty!" asked Queen-Mountain, her crown jangling with polished stones. "My son and heir--"
"Expecting amnesty!" His father gestured, big nostrils flaring. "Clothed as such. What
is that?"
"Suspenders!" squeaked a goblin.
"A necktie for hanging!" cried another. "The consummate bureau
crat!"
"An accountant, actually," the changeling decreed, adjusting his glasses. The congregation of fairies went up in a murmur. Beside the royals sat the other changeling--the human whose place he took, flowers like a wreath in his silvery hair and beads braided into his graying beard-- brown eyes wide with apprehension.
"QUIET!" boomed the Queen. "For your negligence, we'll set you a challenge. A riddle."
Suggested the King, "Not too difficult, nor too easy, but right down the middle."
Her Majesty agreed. "For every heart what needs a box; for every lock, a key. Present to us this paradox; make use of your degree."
The troll-prince simply stared. "Wait, hang on! Make a box for my heart? You're joking!"
But the prince was sent on his way with his tail bobbing behind him. It was a hassle to keep hidden, so eager to leap at the outside world and give a friendly swat. Once home, he set out to the hardware store, returning to his studio apartment with a toolkit for beginners. The first box he made was an eyesore, and much too small; the second day, he made another, much improved. The prince was pleased, but wary of cutting his own heart from his chest. It would be gruesome, at best.
On the third day his box was finished. There was only one thing left to do. He readied his knife, but a desperate rapping at his door stopped him. It was the human changeling, as out of his element as a troll without its cave.
"Three days it took me to find you! Knife in hand, poised to take a literal plunge! Are you mad?"
The troll-prince scratched his head with the tip of his knife. "Not as I'm aware." He turned on his heel, measuring his chest by the rolling of his eye.
The human marched right in, and took the knife away. "To be a prince, you'd need an
inkling! That riddle's a trick, and you too dumb to see it!"
The prince guffawed, reaching for the blade; the human interjecting himself, the distance closed between the two. "I work with
numbers for a living!"
The moment held, like their eyes, a flush sparking between them. The knife clattered to the table, effectively calling a truce.
"...you mean it's a trick?"
"
Of course 'tis!" the human hissed. "You
dick--! ? Pardon."
They each slumped onto a kitchen chair, one wood-frame creaking more than the other. The troll elaborated, "I guess I'm not good with riddles."
"You've your flaws, I've mine--but spending too much time among the fairies, one gains an understanding."
The troll leaned back, brown eyes twinkling. "Not an 'inkling'?"
"Quiet," grinned the human. "You're too literal. The riddle: take a stab at it. Pun intended."
"A box for every heart??"
The human reached across the distance, placing his hand atop the prince's knuckles. "'Tis a test of your
wits, not craftsmanship. What of
your heart? Where does it lie in wait for greater things?"
"Right here," said he, and smacked his breast.
Not yet satisfied, the human arched his eyebrows. It was then it came to the prince, the answer to all his miscalculations.
The faerie court was still in session when they went before the Majesties. Realizing his mistake, the prince was now in his finest: a nose ring, and earrings, and cufflinks to match.
"My son returns," announced the Queen. "A sight for sore eyes!"
"The man-changeling at his side," noted the King, wry. "The pair of them in proper guise.
Or something like it...."
"Hold your tongue! Show me, my darlings, what have you crafted?"
The prince presented his box, revealing its contents. Mother squinted at him. "Where be your heart, child?"
"My heart is mine to keep, and there's no finer chest for it than my own. If anyone's to unlock it, the key is mine to give."
All of a sudden the hall rang with claps like thunder, as the King applauded him. "I
told you he's cleverer than his looks suggest!"
Her Majesty moaned, publicly outed. "And whose idea was it, to put him to the test!?"
The changelings smiled at each other. "You're not mad," whispered the human. "I admit I was wrong."
"Nor as dumb as they feared," said the prince.
"As reunions go, not a good start: nor too bad. To think your parents were missing you, all along."
The troll reached between them, their fingers twining. "If we're to be friends, you've got to stop rhyming."
The human chuckled, merry as a faun. "For asking me out on a date, you've
terrible timing."
And so it was, that a troll-prince was set a challenge, and in reconnecting with his roots came out a winner.
The End
Topic: Kindred: CP revisions (997 words!) (Read 720 times)