Whizzfiddle opened his mouth to reply, but stopped. “Actually,” he said, stroking his beard. “I’ve never considered the point.”
“And do you think all female elves are lesbians as well?”
“Heavens, no,” Whizzfiddle replied as if slapped.
“Praise The Twelve,” the enormous Dwarf agreed.
“Anyway,” Orophin said. “There you have it. I was given my name by my people, made prince to take a horrific fall, and then condemned into a body that no self-respecting, half-attractive man would want to love.”
They were all quiet now.
“Mister,” the giant tugged on the wizard’s sleeve.
“Yes, little friend?”
“What the name mean?”
“Ah,” Whizzfiddle said, tipping his ale again. “I believe that you will need to ask the elf that question.”
“He not answer when I talk to him.”
It meant “the gay elf of Telemnar,” but Whizzfiddle didn’t see it as his place to share that information.
The wizard looked around the table, settling back on the dinky giant. The midget looked quite odd because he was so huge for a little man. He was like a hobbit that had gone a little overboard at the buffet…for the past twenty years. His hair was a bushy brown that matched the color of his deep-set eyes. His teeth were crooked, where there were teeth. His hands were abnormally large compared to his frame, so much so that Whizzfiddle guessed the runt could crush a dragon’s windpipe without a thought.
“What of you, little giant?” The response was simply an odd and confused look. “Right, right,” Whizzfiddle said, patting him on his noggin. “Tell me your name and story!”
“Oh,” the mini giant responded with a bit of snort. “I are Gungren, mister.”
“Gungren?”
“That it, yep.”
“Gungren,” Whizzfiddle scratched the table, “tell me how you came to be such a wee lad.”
“I were big before.”
“Yes, I would imagine you were rather large indeed.”
“That right,” Gungren said with a sigh. “Until that wizard did a spell on me when I weren’t lookin’.”
“Were you a prince as well, my young Gungren?”
“I not young,” Gungren said. “I nearly eighty summers. I just look young cause I small.”
“Ah, indeed,” Whizzfiddle tipped his hat. “Yet, were you a prince or king of your people?”
“No,” he replied. “I were the muscle for the elf attack.”
“I see,” Whizzfiddle said, glancing over at Orophin for confirmation.
Whizzfiddle again studied the group. “Okay, so you were all part of the elf’s party when a wizard jumped in and rearranged your anatomy.”
“No,” the knight replied. “Well, not precisely.”
“Oh,” Whizzfiddle said. “Please do tell.”
“I am Knight Zelbaldian Riddenhaur of the Queen’s guard…” he stumbled, “…or I should say that I was a knight of the Queen’s guard. Now, I am simply Zel.”
“Zel,” Whizzfiddle affirmed.
“We were attacking with the elves,” Zel continued. “I was leading the charge.”
“Who were you attacking?”
“Ikas,” said Orophin. “They have been expanding deeper into our forests and we finally had to put a stop to it.”
“I thought the Ikas had given up their warring ways some years ago,” said Whizzfiddle.
Zel shrugged. “Apparently not. The point is that I was not only changed physically, but mentally as well.”
“Aye,” the large dwarf said. “That’s what that bastard wizard did to me as well.”
Even sitting down, Whizzfiddle had to crane his neck a bit. “And you are?”
“Bekner Axehammer.”
“That’s an odd name.”
“I was equally skilled with both the axe and the hammer,” Bekner explained.
“But why not Hammeraxe then?”
“Thought about it,” the towering dwarf replied. “Just ain’t got that ring that Axehammer has, ya see?”
“Matter of taste, I suppose.”
Bekner clasped his hands. “Only matters how it tastes to the one wearin’ it, as I see it.”
It got quiet for a moment.
“Hammeraxe sounds more manly,” Orophin said meekly.
“Are ye questionin’ my manliness, elf?”
“Oh, no,” Orophin waved his hands, “I’ve seen your manliness and there’s no questioning that thing.”
I got quieter than before.
“It’s me then?” Bekner had a look of horror on his face.
Whizzfiddle looked around the table seeing a mix of hopeful expressions and one terrified gigantic Dwarf.
“I’m still not telling,” Orophin replied with an exasperated sigh.
“What’s he talking about?”
Gungren said, “Orphan think one of us is cute and we not like that.”
“Ah, I see.”
“It’s Orophin, you bulbous midget. O-R-O-P-H-I-N! Not Orphan!” He turned back at Whizzfiddle. “And I swore that until this was done that I would not tell who it was that I found suiting to my taste.”
“I’ll bet it’s the knight,” Whizzfiddle said, receiving stern glares from both Zel and Orophin. “What? You’ve got a dwarf, a giant, and a knight. Do the math, people!”
“Your math would be wrong,” Orophin said with disdain, causing two groans and one sigh of relief.
“Interesting,” Whizzfiddle said and then waved Gilly over and ordered another round, which Orophin refused, instead asking for water with lemon.
The pub was now teeming with patrons. Whizzfiddle was never one for crowds, and especially not one for noise, but that’s what always happened as an evening progressed in a Rangmoonian tavern.
“Well,” Bekner piped in, “you said you’d be after helpin’ us.”
“And help I shall.”
“We have little in the way of payment,” Orophin mumbled.
“I have little need of money,” said Whizzfiddle. “I have need of an adventure to satisfy a guild requirement due to a...” He trailed off. His head was spinning and he shut his mouth. Something deep inside told him not to say too much just yet. “I won’t waste time with details. Let’s just say that I have to finish a quest in thirty days as part of a guild requirement, so if we work as a team we can have a mutually successful outcome.”
“How does this work then?” Zel asked.
“Simple enough. We have to find the wizard that did this to you and have him undo it.”
“We know who it was,” Orophin said.
“Aye, the rangy bastard,” Bekner said.
Whizzfiddle wiped his beard and said, “As do I.”
“You do?” Gungren asked.
“Lads,” Whizzfiddle said with his hands out in grandiose fashion, “you don’t get to be the level of wizard I am without knowing all there is to know about the world!”
“Hmmph,” Orophin said. “You thought all elves were gay.”
“Fair point,” the wizard nodded, “but you probably think that all wizards are horribly selfish individuals who hold little regard for anyone or anything but themselves. No?”
There was no response.
“That’s what I thought. Well, I’ll tell you that it’s not the case. Many of us are far worse than you’d expect.” It was meant to be a joke, but they seemed to accept the comment at face value. “It was Peapod Pecklesworthy.”
Astonished nods all around.
“Simple deduction, lads,” Whizzfiddle said. “There aren’t that many wizards in the Upperwo...um, north capable of managing transfigurations.”
He pushed away from the table and stretched his arms.
“Well, then,” he said after a full yawn. “I shall return to my home and prepare for the journey ahead. Get your supplies and make ready for an adventure. It will be challenging at times, so be primed for the worst!”
“It can’t possibly get much worse
,” Orophin groaned.
“Actually, elf,” Whizzfiddle said, “it can.”
AN APPRENTICE REPORTS
The sun was just dipping past the horizon when Treneth saw Rimpertuz enter the garden. His apprentice’s step was a little off kilter and his clothing was hanging on him haphazardly.
Treneth sat his cup of tea on the counter and pushed through the screen door. The smell of ostrich was thick in the air. It was a smell that Treneth had come to appreciate because of the power their ejecta afforded him. Not only did it allow magic to flow through his veins, it also served as a wonderful fertilizer.
He stood on the landing as Rimpertuz continued staggering through the courtyard. The man was whistling and singing an old tavern song that Treneth hated. “The Ale of Glinderdoom.” Treneth had many recollections of his father waking the house with that tune in the middle of the night.
Treneth feigned a cough.
“What have you learned, Rimpertuz?”
“Sir Treneth of Dull,” Rimpertuz slurred and snickered, and then saluted. “Master Whizzer found a quest, sir!”
Treneth nearly gagged from the stench of alcohol. It was so strong that he held his gloved hand over his nose in order to smell the ostriches again.
It was grounds for dismissal. Alcohol of any sort was not tolerated in Treneth’s realm, except as a disinfectant, what with ostriches and all. Were Rimpertuz not a pawn in his plans, Treneth would have terminated him on the spot. For now, this lapse in judgment would prove useful.
“What is the quest?” Treneth asked.
“As to that, it’s a bunch of wom...wom...weirdies that don’t look like they ought to look.”
Rimpertuz swayed for a moment, looking a bit pale.
“Why don’t you have a seat,” Treneth said. “Now, tell me the entire story. Slowly, if you would.”
“The dwarf was huge,” Rimpertuz said, as if that explained everything.
“I will require more detail, Rimpertuz. Please start from the beginning.”
“Okay,” Rimpertuz said. “There was a lot of different opportun...opportun—”
“Opportunities.”
“—options for quests. Even some simple types like princessesses and stuff. But he stuck fast to his wands and way...way...waited for something interesting to me.”
“To you?”
“What?” Rimpertuz said.
“You said that Master Whizzfiddle waited for something interesting to you.”
“I did?”
Treneth bristled, took a deep breath, and sighed. “Let us continue, Rimpertuz.”
Rimpertuz attempted to cross his legs, but kept missing. He grunted.
“So’s as I was saying, it took all day and the food kept coming and so did the drunks...dranks...well, you know.”
“Yes,” Treneth said with a slight edge. “I do know.”
“Super,” the apprentice said with a mild sneer. “As Whizzy was about walked out these four fella’s sho...show up and they were all weirdies.”
“What precisely do you mean that they were weirdies?”
“Well, you know, they didn’t loo...look right.”
“Rimpertuz, this is important. I need you to concentrate. What can you tell me about the people that Master Whizzfiddle interviewed?”
“The dwarf was big. Real big.”
“So you said earlier, yes.”
“Yep, and he was standing next to a fat elf.”
“A fat elf.”
Rimpertuz winked and nodded. “There was a little guy there, but he was big really. Just not like he was.”
“Explain.”
“He was supposed to be a giant,” Rimpertuz said.
“Are you certain that the dwarf wasn’t the small one and that what you thought was a large dwarf was actually a giant?”
“I know what you mean, man,” Rimpertuz said. “It confused the helloutta me too. But they were...was...were like I said.”
“Wait,” Treneth said, sitting back. “Are you saying that this is a quest of undoing?”
Rimpertuz grinned and clapped. “That’s the one.”
That was odd. It was one of the more challenging of quests. On the other hand, it could also be the simplest if Whizzfiddle knew who the responsible wizard was, and if that wizard owed a debt. As undisciplined as he was, Whizzfiddle knew how to play the system. Maybe Whizzfiddle wanted to go out in style, or maybe the old coot had been a bit too drunk to realize what he had gotten himself into.
“Did you get the name of the wizard that caused the transfiguration?”
“Yep.”
Treneth clenched his teeth, but kept his cool.
“Could you give me the name please?”
“I could,” Rimpertuz said, “but I think we have to have a har...heart to heart chat first.”
“Oh?” Treneth said, raising his eyebrow. “What would that be about my dear apprentice?”
“I caught how you just said that wor...wor—”
“Word. And I’m glad you’re of clear enough mind to have caught that.”
“Listen here, fella,” Rimpertuz said as he attempted to stand up. “I don’t need to listen to you anymore, I think.”
“Rimpertuz,” Treneth said, “let me provide you some advice.”
“No, no,” Rimpertuz said, waving a finger. “I have something to say and it’ll be good for you...me...us to hear it.”
Treneth sat back as his apprentice managed to stand upright. After a few moments, the man spun around and seemed happy that he had found his Master again. Then his eyes rolled up into his head and he keeled over.
As Rimpertuz snored, Treneth thought of wizards in the region that were capable of transfigurations.
Nibbles Niblet was the king of transfiguration spells, but he was not known for using them on humans. It was rumored that he had once attempted changing a goat into a woman. As the story went, Nibbles had fallen in love with the goat, but he had gotten so embarrassed by what he had been doing that he channeled all his efforts to transmorph her into a human. And he had succeeded too. But after he married her, she became such a nag that he changed her back into a goat and rallied the town politicians to push for interspecies marriages.
Caterina Ogwern was another wizard that knew the craft well, and she had no qualms about using the spells on humans. She used those spells whenever the mood struck. Her mood swings cost her a guild status some fifty years ago and so she had moved to the Underworld.
The only wizard that Treneth knew who got involved in war transfigurations in the Upperworld was Peapod Pecklesworthy.
Treneth wondered at his former master. Why would he accept an undoing quest? There was too much difficulty keeping everyone in line, which would play against Whizzfiddle since he could barely keep himself in line.
In the morning, when Rimpertuz was feeling the effects of a night gone wrong, Treneth would get his information and Rimpertuz would get his just desserts.
A QUEST REMEMBERED
A loud thump brought Whizzfiddle out of his slumber. Morning always seemed to arrive much sooner than Whizzfiddle would have liked. It was followed by another thump.
He jumped from his bed and waited for his brain to join him. Grabbing his flask, he took a swig and felt his reserves begin to fill. Two more sips gave him enough energy to cast a spell that cleared his head and took the effects of his hangover away. One of these days he planned to bottle that spell so he could just drink the pain away.
His room came into focus and he peeked back at his bed to see if maybe he had a bed partner from the last evening. No such luck. The bedding was only ruffled on his side.
With a flick of his wrist, the knitted bedspread pulled itself back into place revealing an embroidered red and yellow dragon smoking a cigar. The pillows were its eyes.
Another thump.
He drank the rest of the flask and crept toward the door, pausing only to grab his wand from the dresser. It was the one thing that, drunk or not, he managed to keep consistent every
night. He didn’t really need a wand to do magic. No wizard did. A lot of them went without them too, but Whizzfiddle felt that a wand added credibility to his profession.
As he slunk down the stairs there was a smell of cheese and roses. He thought this an odd combination and it certainly wasn’t one he would subscribe to in his potpourri basket. The cheese, maybe, but never the roses.
There was a groan followed by a hush.
“You’ll wake the wizard,” a whispered voice said.
Too late, thought Whizzfiddle as he reached for his hat. His hat! He looked back toward his room and cursed himself. That pretty much sealed the fate of the intruders. Whizzfiddle was very private about his mood hair.
His magical resources were riding at about twenty-percent. That didn’t give him much to work with. Fortunately, his uninvited guests didn’t know this.
With a final pounce, Whizzfiddle jumped around the corner with his wand at the ready.
“Ah-hah!”
There were four of them and they were all lying about in his living room.
“See?” A pimply elf said, not bothering to open his eyes. “I told you you’d wake him.”
“What is the meaning of this?” Whizzfiddle demanded, wand whipping from head to head.
The scrawny knight stood up, raising his hands in surrender. He drifted behind the grandfather clock that sat next to the couch. “If you would kindly put the wand down, sir?”
“I think not,” Whizzfiddle said. “Not until I understand your purpose, young man. However, I shall point it at your feet instead.”
“Thank you, sir,” the knight said, moving his feet out of view. “After you accepted our quest we told you that we had no money to pay and you invited us to stay in your living room for the night.”
Indeed, he had. An entire day of drinking at Gilly’s can cause a person to forget all kinds of things. A little memory spell brought their names back to him. He hoped there was nothing else that he’d done that he couldn’t recall.
“Sorry, lads,” he said after a few moments of gathering himself, allowing his blood pressure to normalize. “It seems I was a little more blistered than I’d thought.”
Comedic Fantasy Bundle #1: 4 Hilarious Adventures (Tales from the land of Ononokin) Page 3