Chapter 10
Kermit sat, staring into the white puppy-dog eyes of Rowlf, who was sitting across the table from him, haphazardly wiping down a beer mug.
“Th-that’s it?” Kermit asked.
“Yup,” Rowlf said simply.
Kermit looked to Fozzie who, in turn, looked from the frog and the dog confusedly.
Scooter scratched his head. “I thought you said you’d heard a rumor about the chalice we’re looking for!” he said to Rowlf.
“I did!” Rowlf said defensively.
“But-but all you told us was that a nice, female frog came in and told you everything about the chalice we already know!” Fozzie whined.
Rowlf shrugged. “How was I supposed to know you already knew that stuff?” he asked.
“He makes a good point,” Gonzo said.
“Not helping, Gonzo,” Kermit said.
“Well neither is he!” Gonzo shouted, pointing at Rowlf.
“Hey,” Rowlf said, “I’m just tellin’ you what I know—and what I know is that a nice, good looking lady frog came in and told me this whole story. She seemed pretty upset—didn’t smell too good either.”
Kermit frowned. “Well unfortunately Rowlf, I don’t really think that’ll help us out too much…”
“Hold on a second, boss!” Scooter shouted suddenly. “Rowlf, did this frog say where she was going when she left here?”
Rowlf scratched his ear and plunged the depths of his memory, trying to remember. “Not specifically… all she said was that she just wanted to go find the cave that chalice is buried in and curl up and die there.”
Fozzie gulped audibly. “D-d-die?” he stuttered.
Gonzo’s eyes widened with excitement. “Die? How morbid! I love it! Ha ha!”
Kermit looked at Scooter. “What’s that supposed to tell us?” the knight asked his squire.
“Don’t’cha see, Kermit?” Scooter asked. “We now know that the chalice is in a cave, and that the frog lady knew where that cave was!”
“I’m not following,” Gonzo said.
“Meaning, if we knew which direction the frog lady went,” Scooter said, “we’d be on the right path to the cave of the chalice!”
“Oh, I get it,” Gonzo said. “But… doesn’t that seem to easy?” he asked.
“Easy’s good!” Fozzie interjected quickly. “I like easy!”
“Me too!” Kermit said, hopping up quickly. “Easy it is, then!” Kermit placed his hand on Scooter’s shoulder. “Good work, squire.”
Scooter flushed slightly. “Thanks boss.”
“Well team, it looks like we should be going!” Kermit said.
“Going where?” Fozzie asked.
Kermit scrunched up his face. “To the cave of the chalice!” the frog said.
“Oh yeah,” Fozzie said. “But… how do we get there?”
Kermit stopped in his flipper-steps. “Oh yeah… how do we get there?”
Kermit, Fozzie, Gonzo, and Scooter each turned to look at Rowlf, who was quietly rubbing out another beer mug. The dog looked up slowly. “Huh. Ya ever get the feeling that you’re bein’ watched?” he asked, chuckling to himself.
Kermit approached the bartender slowly. “Gee, Rowlf, do you think you could point us in the direction of that frog lady?” he asked.
Rowlf sat the mug down on the table. “That depends,” he said. “’Cause if froggy’s tryin’ to go a’courtin’—no can do—and that’s for your own good!”
Kermit grimaced. “No, no, no—nothing like that!” Kermit said. “We just want the chalice.”
“Ah!” Rowlf said happily. “Well in that case… sure thing. You did help clear those bums out of my bar—although they were the only paying customers… but you guys gave me a song. That’s a tune we can all dance to!”
“We can—” Scooter started.
“And I did!” Fozzie said. “Wocka! Wocka!”
Rowlf shook his head. “C’mon outside and I’ll see if I can pick up her scent—lucky for you guys, I’m part blood hound!”
“Which part?” Kermit asked.
“The nose—thankfully,” Rowlf said with a smirk.
<-> <-> <-> <-> <->
Robin hopped upon stair after stair in the dimly lit tower. The only sound, other than that of his little flippers “plunking” down on the stairs, was his incessant counting.
“One-hundred thirty-three, one-hundred thirty-four, one-hundred…” Robin paused suddenly. “Wait a second… why am I counting to halfway if I don’t know how many half way is?”
The little frog shrugged and continued hopping. The fact that every stair was nearly as tall as he was didn’t help the fatigue that was sure to be setting in soon. Regardless, he persisted anyway, his five year old curiosity fueling each hop.
Once he stopped counting each step, it was hard to determine how long it took him to reach the top--but one thing was for sure; he’d reached it.
Robin let out a relieved sigh as he looked down at the last step. Then he looked up slowly, and dramatically (all for the camera, of course) at the massive door posted in front of him.
Robin stared up at the door.
He gulped loudly.
He bravely reached for the door knob.
He couldn’t reach the door knob.
Tip-toes didn’t help much as the young frog reached and reached for the knob of the dark door before him.
Finally, he buckled down (his knees, that is) and leapt up towards the knob.
His fingers couldn’t grip the cold brass as he slid right off and fell down on the top stair. He grumbled, rubbed his rump, and stood back up.
The green knees bent once more, and Robin soared towards the door knob.
His grip tightened around the knob, he held on with both hands, and turned it towards the right.
As Robin hung from the door knob he looked around. “Well what now?” he asked aloud.
Robin looked to his left at the wall next to the door. He reached out his little green foot and pressed it against the stone. He pushed hard enough with the knob still turned that the door slowly creaked open.
Robin hopped down onto the top stair and looked inside the door. It wasn’t, as Robin had hoped, glowing from the inside. It was even darker than the stairway, and much spookier (and not just because of the terrible choice of drapes. Blech!).
The little frog put his best foot forward and slid it into the room. “Hello?” he called out. His small voice echoed around the dark room. “Is anybody… home?”
Perhaps to answer his question, the door he had tried so desperately to open slammed shut behind him, nearly knocking him over. It was so dark now that Robin couldn’t see his own hand in front of his face (let alone anything else in front of his face).
Suddenly, all around him, blue flames flickered out of the darkness. A circle of blue surrounded him. He gulped again and looked around, cradling his little body. “Hello? I asked if anyone was here!”
“Here, I am,” hissed an eerie voice.
“Oh, good,” Robin sighed, comforted, “then I’m not alone. My name is Robin the Frog, and--”
Something brushed forward in the dark and wrapped a scaly hand around Robin’s chest. “A frog?” the same voice sneered. A long snout slowly approached Robin’s nose and beady yellow eyes lit up in the pitch-black in front of the frog.
Robin felt his stomach rub along the palm of the creature’s hand as he gulped. “Umm… yeah, I’m a frog. You know… green, hippity-hop, lilly pads, long tongues--all that?”
With its free hand the creature snapped. Light filled the room and Robin looked straight into the blue, scaly face of Uncle Deadly (of course, he didn’t know that--they haven’t been properly introduced yet! Do pay attention.).
“I know exactly what you are,” Uncle Deadly said. “A hideous frog! How did you get up here?”
Robin frowned slightly at being called hideous. “I took the stairs,” Robin said. “You really should think about installing an elev--…Never mind.”
“Oh, never mind!” Deadly shouted. “Why did you seek me out? What do you want?”
“Well…” Robin thought. “Right now I’d really like to be put down… then an introduction would be nice.”
Uncle Deadly smirked. “Quite the wit on this young froglet, I see. Hmph, fine. I am Uncle Deadly!” he declared proudly, as if rehearsed (actually, completely rehearsed). “An evil wi--wait!” he shouted. He tossed Robin to the floor and spun around dramatically, snapping his claws and allowing only one spotlight to shine down upon him as he entered his monologue.
“If I don’t reveal to this frog my evil ways, perhaps I, Uncle Deadly, dark wizard, can get him on my side!” Deadly declared. “Then I’ll have bait to hold against his foolish uncle once he returns with that cursed chalice! Ha!” Uncle Deadly laughed menacingly. “It’s a fool-proof plot!”
With another snap of his fingers, the rest of the lights returned and Deadly swept back, bringing Robin into his grasp again. “Yes, I am Uncle Deadly, a kindly old wizard who was locked in this terrible, drafty tower for all eternity simply because I couldn’t make the princesses mole disappear!” Deadly moaned, playing his plan off for all it was worth.
Robin looked up with caring eyes at the ugly, scarred, angry blue monster. With his free hand he gently patted Uncle Deadly’s talon. “I’m sorry,” he said calmly. “I’m Robin. The Frog.”
“I had noticed that part,” Deadly said quickly.
“Is there anything I can do for you?” Robin asked.
“Oh!” Deadly shouted, acting completely moved. “You, young Robin, are simply too kind! I could never ask of anything from you--nay, never, I say! You’ve done enough by simply visiting this old, kindly wizard in his dark, drafty--did I mention drafty already?--tower. Please, don’t let me keep you any longer than I already have. Go on with you, your uncle must be worried sick!” Uncle Deadly said, continuing to ham it up (and he’s doing a lovely job of it, no?). He placed Robin on the ground and gently pushed him towards the door.
Robin turned back and stared up at Uncle Deadly. “Aw, well I can’t just leave you like that!” he said. “I just got here! In fact, I think all you need is… well, a friend.” The young frog smiled a huge smile at the blue creature and walked back into the center of the room.
“A… friend?” Uncle Deadly asked slowly, as if finding the word unpronounceable. “Why… I’ve never had a… a friend before,” he said, this time not at all lying (as if you couldn’t tell!).
“Really?” Robin asked, completely dumbfounded by this notion. “Well I’ve made lots of friends down there in the castle! I’ll bring them up and then--then we can all be friends! I’ll be back soon!” Robin said, running for the stairs cheerfully. He stopped suddenly and turned around, “Well… actually, it won’t be soon. Those stairs really take a long time to get up and down!”
With that, Robin was gone, leaving Uncle Deadly alone. The dark wizard turned dramatically and clenched his fist in angst. “Alas!” he declared. “The young frog has already pierced my heartless soul with his disgusting cuteness! I can’t let him get to me,” Deadly hissed. “I must focus! Ha!” he laughed again. “He’s gone to fetch his friends from the castle… Perfect!” he decided. “I’ll brainwash them and turn them against the princess--making my over-throwing of this awful monarchy all the more easy!”
Uncle Deadly grasped his long, black cape and swirled it around his body. As Uncle Deadly disappeared behind the dark cape, so did the light in the tower.
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