by Pete Prown
* * *
Not five minutes later, the two stood inside the Tunbridge home, surveying the wreckage left by the thief. Chairs were knocked over and drawers spilled open. Again, tears of sorrow ran down Cheeryup’s cheeks, while Mr. Timmo merely shook his head. “He got them, didn’t he?”
“Yes,” sobbed the girl. “The papers were hidden under my mother’s mattress, and he found them. And now the evidence is gone!”
“Is there anything else missing?”
Cheeryup looked thoughtful for a minute and lit up. “Why … yes! He took a jumble of hair I found in the cave and had left on this table. And look—he left us something in return.”
“Why, are those pie crumbs?” Timmo was bewildered. “I could see Fibbhook or another of his henchmen stealing those papers—they could bankrupt poor old Bindlestiff. But why did the Pie Thief break in and take them back? Does he plan to blackmail Bindlestiff?”
Timmo was just as shocked when Cheeryup laughed and threw her head back triumphantly. “I don’t know why he took them, but I know exactly who he is. You fool, Mr. Pie Thief! It was a mistake to take your lock of hair back!”
Cheeryup laughed again and was beaming with excitement. “Don’t worry, Mr. Timmo—I can take care of it from here!”
And Timmo smiled, nodding in agreement, for he knew she absolutely would.
Northward
“So how are we gonna break out of here? We don’t have the key anymore.”
Orli was exasperated and tired.
“I broke out of there once before, and it was a piece of, dare I say, pie,” said Wyll. “I just kicked the old rotted bars out. But Ol’ Forgo has replaced ’em, he has.”
Orli leapt up on the cot and began shaking the bars. “Looks like they still have some play in them, Wyll. Tell me again how you did it—you just hung from the rafters and kept kicking.”
“Yep, but I ain’t strong enough knock out these bars—the frame is fresh wood and mortar.”
“Maybe you can’t,” smiled Orli, “But I bet I can. Move over!”
In a second, the stout boy was up on the cot and swinging from the joists, repeatedly kicking the window and its frame with his powerful Dwarf legs. It was brutish work, but each kick seemed to loosen the bars a little more.
Wyll began egging his friend on: “Orli—think about your Uncle Wump getting killed.”
With that, he kicked the bars twice as hard. “Now think about Fibbhook catching us in smeltery.
Wham! Another powerhouse kick.
“Think about Wump’s whip coming down on your back. Think about how much it stung from each lash.
“Rrrrrrrar!” Now Orli yelled aloud and drew back as far as he could from his hanging position. He delivered a massive kick to the bars, shattering the frame and sending the bars flying out onto the ground.
Wyll clapped him on the back. “Now, let me not make the same mistake twice. When I broke out of here, I forgot to take any food or blankets—let’s remedy that and grab these quilts. And we’ll find some food on our way out of the village. That will keep us living like kings for a few days.”
“But Wyll, where are we going? We can’t go back to the cave,” said Orli as he was gathering up bedding for the journey.
“I say we go north—let’s go to your homeland and try our fortunes there. The Northern Kingdom!”
To Orli, this sounded like an absolutely brilliant idea. “I’d dearly love to go home. My Pa will be angry, but he’s often peeved with me. I’ll just tell my many relatives we got separated here in the south. I will have to explain why I have a Halfling with me, but we’ll cross that cavern later. We can also talk to the Seer.”
“Who’s that?”
“She’s the wisest Dwarf of all, one who knows all and sees all. The Seer will know what causes your Grippe. You could find the cure and return to Thimble Down a hero.”
Wyll shook his friend’s hand eagerly. At that, the two boys bounded out of the shattered window frame, and carrying a few quilts, sped northward towards the Great Wood and beyond. Orli was excited to be going home and Wyll Underfoot felt he was about to go on the adventure of a lifetime.
In a heartbeat, they were gone.