Free The Grimm Conclusion by Adam Gidwitz

stone cliffs circling the huge crevasse. She wondered what the night would bring.
    At last, the light failed, and, for the third evening in a row, Jorinda got the fire going in the grate. The house made its strange noises—creaks and whines and clanks and the sound of things being dragged around upstairs and downstairs and all around.
    And then, the sounds seemed to come together. They seemed to concentrate themselves on the room just next to the one Jorinda was sitting in. They grew louder, and louder, and louder. And then—
    BAM!
The door to the room slammed open, and standing in it was an enormous, hideous form. Its huge body terminated at the top of its huge, hunching shoulders—which towered over a long scrawny neck, craning out from the body like a vulture’s. A bald head with a great white beard, tiny black teeth, and round, red-rimmed eyes was perched at the end of the neck.
    It was an ogre.
    At least, Jorinda figured it was. She had never seen an ogre before—but when you see one, you just kinda know it.
    â€œWho is in Malchizedek’s house?” the ogre boomed.
    Jorinda stood up. “Me,” she said. And she curtsied.
    The ogre strode forward until he was standing directly in front of her. She stood no taller than his waist. He bent his great ugly head to see the little girl.
    â€œWhy do you violate my home?” His voice was like war drums.
    â€œI’m very sorry, Mr. Malchizedek, sir,” Jorinda stammered, curtsying again. “I’d just like to talk to you for a minute.”
    â€œWhat of?” His breath smelled like rotting fish. His black teeth seemed ready to fall out of his gums. His red-rimmed eyes stared.
    Slowly, Jorinda said, “I think you have been wronged.”
    Malchizedek furrowed his brow. “By whom?”
    â€œThe king,” she replied.
    Malchizedek frowned. Then he said, “Go on.”
    â€œHe claims you owe him taxes,” the small girl continued, peering up at the ogre’s enormous, crooked form. “But my guess is you don’t.”
    â€œIndeed I do not!” boomed Malchizedek.
    â€œHe’s confiscated your land, I gather?” she continued. “Eminent domain or something?”
    â€œYes!” bellowed Malchizedek. “Indeed he did!”
    And then Jorinda said, “Tell me about it.”
    So Malchizedek took the white sheets off two of the chairs, pulled them up to the fire, and told her all about it.
    â€œOnce, this house stood on a beautiful meadow. It was all grass and trees and sheep grazing peacefully. But then this king, when he was quite young, decided that the Castle Grimm needed to be larger.” The ogre rolled his eyes. Jorinda did, too. The ogre smiled approvingly. “He announced that the stone would be quarried from the meadow, for it is well known that the stone in these mountains is the best in all of Grimm.” Jorinda nodded as if it was indeed well known. “I protested greatly, for this was my meadow, and it was beautiful. But the king claimed eminent domain, and my beautiful meadow was destroyed.”
    â€œTerrible,” Jorinda murmured. And she wasn’t lying. It did sound terrible.
    â€œSo now I refuse to pay the king taxes. Is that so wrong?” The ogre tipped his great, ugly face down to Jorinda’s, as if he really wanted to know what she thought.
    â€œNo,” she said. “It isn’t wrong at all.”
    Malchizedek got a faraway look on his face, and for a long time, no one said anything. And then, quite suddenly, he brought his red-rimmed eyes right up to Jorinda’s. “Wait, why are you here?”
    Jorinda took a deep breath. Then she explained the whole story. That she was supposed to marry the king’s son, that the king didn’t like her very much, and that he’d brought her here to be killed.
    â€œThat’s not what he told me, of course,” she added. “He told me to ask you to pay your taxes.