Klondaeg shuddered as the coconogg sunk to the bottom of his stomach. “Thargblassef, this stuff is unbearable.” He threw the shell over his shoulder and said, “Another!” All the frog-people patronizing the tavern stared in bemusement.
“I’m ready to leave Frog-town,” said Dexter. “Are you ready to leave Frog-town?”
“I think I heard someone call it Cocopolis,” said Sinister.
Dexter groaned. “I don’t care what it’s called. Let’s just get on a boat and make it back to civilization before Choppinsmas is over.”
“You’re making it up as you go along. Change the date if today isn’t working out.”
“O’Plenty’s buried treasure map, you can’t go around changing holiday dates! Holidays commemorate very specific events on very specific days.”
“Plenty of actual, legitimate holidays have floating days,” said Sinister.
“Why, you—”
“Excuse me, Mr. Klondaeg.”
Klondaeg shuddered as more coconogg dribbled down his throat. “Axe, quiet. Tolmy, what?”
The frog-boy stepped closer. “You realize no one actually likes coconogg? People have a few sips on Fromsday, just because it’s tradition, and avoid it the rest of the year.”
“Dwarves have a special relationship with tradition,” said Sinister. “The general thought is that traditions are formed by our ancestors, and a Dwarf must become the sum of all his ancestors. Thus, if a Dwarf drank one sip of coconogg on Fromsday, his child should drink a sip. And that Dwarf’s child should drink two sips, one for the father and one for the grandfather. And so forth.”
“How many generations have you people been celebrating Fromsday?” said Klondaeg. Tolmy shrugged. “Another!” said Klondaeg.
“We’re traditional to a fault,” said Sinister.
“And Klondaeg is drinking for three,” added Dexter. “Another!”
Klondaeg crushed the most recent coconut-bowl in his fist as he tried to hold the beverage down. “If you’re here about your father, he won’t leave the tree. Says he has to wait for the coconape to come down. Tried to scare the fell beast off, but the thing threw a coconut at me.”
“It’s bad luck to let a coconut fall from the tree,” said Tolmy. “If a coconut shall crack upon the ground, so too shall your skull be cracked by Fromdon’s wrath. I hope you caught it.”
“He did. With his face!” said Dexter.
Klondaeg slammed an empty coconut bowl on the table. “Point is, he’s not leaving. Sorry, kid, but Fromsday is ruined for you.”
“No,” said Tolmy. “I won’t accept that. Look around this pub. There’s a fisherman, having a sip of coconogg with his son. There’s a tanner, having a sip of coconogg with his son. Soldier and his daughter. Scribe with her son. I’m the only one without his parent today.”
“Sometimes parents have to work on Fromsday,” said Sinister. “Couldn’t you celebrate with him some other day?”
“It wouldn’t be the same,” said Tolmy. “And he didn’t have to work. He practically begged for the vigil. I’ve barely seen him in two months because he’s spent all his time trying to become Ceremonial Yon Toadlius. Last year, he didn’t even have the job, but he stood vigil anyway to prove that he could. He was obsessed with bringing honor to the family. But like the coconut, a family member is part of a bunch. What good is family honor if you abandon your family for it?”
“Sorry, kid. He made his choice,” said Klondaeg. “I’m a stranger here. Can’t be ruining holidays by kidnapping a man in the middle of a sacred vigil. I have policies.” He patted the frog-boy on the shoulder.
Tolmy was fighting tears again. “But would you lead him in a hunt?”
Klondaeg thought it over for a moment. It wasn’t a long moment. “What needs hunting?”
“Well, there must be some reason the coconape won’t come down. What if it’s afraid of some horrible monster?”
Klondaeg nodded. “Good enough. Let’s find a monster.”
He charged out of the tavern, with Tolmy hopping behind.