#trouble kelp | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ionlymadethissoicouldleaveanask · 1 month ago

Text

River

The water lapped against the sides of the gently rocking riverboat Sudan, the sounds of gambling, shouting, and raucous laughter filling what would otherwise have no doubt been a quiet, peaceful night. Music played off a record machine, feet tapped as couples danced, and an excellent time was had by all.

It was the kind of scene Trouble would ordinarily adore, if it weren’t for the terrible sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Partying, gambling, drinking, dancing… it left a sour taste in his mouth, knowing where he was headed. He kept his head low and tried to make his way through without catching anyone’s attention. He had things to do - weapons to clean and load, a letter to write for his little brother, a ceiling to stare at for hours on end as he tried to sleep… he had big plans for the evening.

“Kelp!” someone called out, interrupting his plans immediately. “Come sit down, my boy… we need another player.”

Trouble slowly approached the table, eyeing its occupants warily. He found five men - one of them wiry, thin, bedazzled with jewelry that clinked with his every movement and glittered in the lamplight, a more muscular fellow who was working hard to mask his keen attentiveness beneath a mask of indifference, a pair of massive piles of muscle who may as well have been twins for all that they nearly perfectly resembled each other, and finally a squat, rather hairy man wearing a smile so wide it looked like a tiger trainer could fit their head comfortably between those tombstone teeth with room to spare.

Trouble plastered a grin on his face that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m more than willing to bet my life, Mister Diggums,” he said, casually hooking his thumbs behind his belt buckle and adopting a relaxed posture, “but I don’t gamble my money.”

The skinny one looked Kelp over, his eyes shining like the oversized bracelets on his wrist. “Come on, man,” he goaded in an American accent, a smarmy, surprisingly punchable, smirk taking up residence on his thin lips that looked like they were stretched too tight across his gaunt face. “Everyone is willing to bet something… For instance; I bet you five hundred dollars that we’ll reach Hamunaptra before you.”

Kelp felt a chill run down his spine. “And who says that I’m headed to Hamunaptra in the first place?” he asked through clenched teeth, his chest tight and his voice strained. He wasn’t a man who liked it when strangers knew things about him - strangers like this one knowing that he was going to the one place on earth he was willing to describe with the word cursed? That was altogether worse.

The rhinoceri flanking their narrower companion both pointed to Trouble’s rather pungent travelmate. “He does,” they answered in unison, not even bothering to lift their eyes from the cards in their hands.

Mulch at least had the decency to look nervous as he shot Trouble a bashful grin.

“So what do you say, cowboy?” the skinny one - clearly the leader of this little band - asked, that infuriating smile still plastered across his face. “Have you got the stones for a little wager?”

Trouble’s hands clenched into fists by his side. He would have liked to punch that smile out of existence. He was still trying to decide whether he would or not when the question was answered for him.

“A bet? How exciting,” remarked a new voice from beside Trouble. “You’re on.”

Kelp lifted one eyebrow when he turned to find the young organizer of their little expedition beside him. Artemis responded with a quiet nod, his hand falling onto Mulch’s shoulder and tightening meaningfully.

The well-built man with deceptively calm eyes seemed the only one to perceive the silent interaction. “Well, you sound awfully confident,” he drawled in a surprisingly high-pitched New Zealander accent. “What makes you so sure that you’ll fare better than us?” One of the behemoths chuckled, his broad shoulders shaking with the effort while his companion nodded along beside him with a smirk.

This crowd did a lot of smirking, Trouble noted idly.

“Oh don’t worry,” Artemis responded, leaning forward to rest a hand on the card table. “I’ll be sure to let you know… as I count my cut of the five hundred dollars you’re about to pay me.”

Trouble couldn’t help but grin at the crestfallen expressions on the men’s faces. Artemis Fowl was not the type of man he saw himself spending much time around, but he couldn’t deny that it was enjoyable to watch the man in action.

“Well, there’s a bed calling my name,” Kelp said rather suddenly, clapping Artemis on the shoulder and excusing himself before someone found themselves tempted to lash out again in this game of wordplay. “Enjoy your game.” He couldn’t help but throw a playful wink at the Kiwi as he added, “Be sure you don’t go gambling away all of your money tonight… we only accept payments in cash.”

With that he lifted his bag onto his shoulder and marched away from the aft deck, angling for his bedroom. He hadn’t slept in days - not since he’d agreed to come on this journey, in fact. The Fowl siblings were offering him an almost obscene salary for his part in it… but he still wasn’t sure whether he’d made the right decision or not.

Speaking of the siblings, he found himself grinning when he recognized the shock of auburn hair sitting at the deck table nearest to his bedroom. Holly Fowl was easily the more agreeable of the pair - even if that was only because she provided a far prettier view. She was engrossed in a book when he approached, but turned her face up as she heard his boots on the wood plank flooring.

“Mister Kelp,” she addressed him, her tone professional. “You’re up late.” It was a simple observation, though her tone implied it was more of an invitation to speak with her than anything else. Her heterochromatic eyes studied him curiously as he neared her, taking him in with an almost clinical interest.

Trouble shrugged nonchalantly as he came to a stop beside her. “You have your preparations to make, Miss Fowl, and I have mine.” He gestured to the seat across from her and asked, “May I?” He waited for her to nod her assent before sitting down, then dropped his heavy bag on the tabletop and unrolled it, revealing a small arsenal of handguns, ammunition, knives, and even a couple of sticks of dynamite.

One corner of the young woman’s mouth curled upward in a bemused smile. “Mister Kelp, have I missed something?” she asked curiously. “Are you expecting a war?”

Trouble studied her in return as she slowly lifted her hand to stroke the grip of his short-barrelled Peacemaker with one finger. Most women would have reacted more strongly - fear, nervousness, at the very least surprise. He shook his head and ran a hand back through his hair. Holly Fowl was a force to be reckoned with, he was sure of it.

He lifted up a Smith & Wesson Model 10, making sure that it was fully loaded. He could tell by the weight that it was, but he visually scanned each chamber all the same. It helped relax him… somewhat, anyway. “Last time I was there, I was chased out,” he said tersely, keeping his mind on the familiar weight of the pistol in his hand to try to keep from thinking about the shrieking winds and panicking horses that had populated his dreams for the past three years. “There’s something out there in that sand.”

Short rolled her eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re one for superstition, Mister Kelp,” she chided playfully. “All that I hope to find out there is a book… what exactly do you think is there with it?”

“No clue,” Trouble answered coolly, setting the Model 10 down and instead grabbing a 12-gauge Model 12. “If I had to pick one word to describe it, though, I’d choose the word evil.”

Silence stretched between them - Holly stared at Trouble with the eye of a skeptic, and Trouble did his best to ignore her. She was the one to break first.

“Well, Mister Kelp, I need some sleep,” she said with a sigh, standing and turning to her bedroom door. “I’m sure that we will have plenty of travel ahead of us.”

Trouble watched her go from the corner of his eye. She moved more gracefully than before - more fluidly. He finally realized as she walked past him that it was because she had changed her clothes. Where earlier she had worn the long skirt and puffy dress befitting a woman her age, now she was dressed in trousers and boots with a thin blouse more properly suited to the heat of Egypt.

“You look better without the skirt,” he remarked, wiping excess oil from the chamber of his shotgun with a worn rag.

He didn’t even realize what that sounded like until she rounded on him, her hands on her hips and an incredulous glare on her face. “I what?” she hissed defiantly.

“No… I just… what I meant was…” Trouble stammered, his cheeks turning a deep red as he scrambled to explain himself. “You just…”

That was when he noticed the playful sparkle in Holly’s eyes. “It’s alright, Mister Kelp,” she cut him off with a gentle laugh. She leaned forward, resting one hand on his shoulder and grinning as she added, “I find skirts are too cumbersome for this particular line of work. It’s easier to go without.”

Trouble brushed his hair back from his forehead, a subconscious nervous tick he had developed over the years. “You’ve got to stop calling me that,” he said, changing the subject to try to distract himself from his embarrassment. He stuck out his hand to shake hers and grinned as he said, “Call me Trouble.”

Holly’s lips twitched up in a smirk, which was not nearly so annoying as those of the men he’d been speaking with earlier, he noted idly. She reached out to take his hand in hers and shook it firmly. “Goodnight, Trouble,” she said, her voice hardly louder than a whisper.

“Goodnight, Holly,” he answered. Then he had to turn back to his weapons to try to keep himself from watching her walk away.

Trouble ran his fingers through his hair once again. Cursed destinations, gambling idiots, and distracting partners added up to make a whole slew of confusion and distraction. He sighed heavily as he picked up the Model 12 again to finish his work.

Not for the first time and certainly not for the last, he wished that he had turned Artemis’s offer down. As he turned in spite of himself to catch a glimpse of Holly’s retreating form, though, he found that for the first time since agreeing to this venture, he was almost glad he did.

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(This one in particular goes out to @blondetroublemagnet for liking a bunch of my AF stuff and getting me back in the spirit.)

#i bet you all thought i stopped this didn't you?#mwahaha #you fools #i was but biding my time #i'll probably go back and rewrite the rest of this scene with the fighting and the burning and trouble throwing someone into the river #but first i just wanted to get this part out because it was fun #artemis fowl #af fandom #the mudman #my writing #trouble kelp #mulch diggums #holly short

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