“But Rat, you’ve had a bunch of rolls and three servings of meat. That’s more than the size of your head,” countered Grimbledung.
“Not if you chew your food really well,” said Rat smugly. “Then it’s smaller and fits better.”
“Oh.” Grimbledung thought for a moment. “Really?” He thought some more. “Say, that doesn’t make much sense.”
Julie shook her head, “Oh, give me a rib. I’ll eat a couple.” She was also quite full after several courses but she had been pacing herself; she knew the Gnoll Brothers’ game.
Bonk (or at least one of the Gnolls that wasn’t Klank) approached the table. He had a tray over his head. On it was a bottle of a bright orange liquid, several small glasses, and to Drimblerod’s horror, a plate of dark cookies. “Aperrrtif?” He asked smoothly.
“Sure” replied Drimblerod warily. “I’ll have one.”
Bonk lowered the tray to the table, “And a home-made cookie?” He said nonchalantly. “Wafer thin, they are.”
“I don’t know if I should,” mumbled Drimblerod.
“It’s nice and thin with a coat of chocolate to help it go down,” offered Bonk. “One cookie.” He growled.
Drimblerod felt as if he were haggling with Akita. It was disconcerting even though the Gnolls, and as far as he knew, Akita’s condition, were not contagious. It was always the specter of Lycanthropy that kept people in line around Akita. He had on several occasions actually nipped at people and even though they didn’t become Werewolves, the general consensus was “What if I’m the first?” While he was thinking, Bonk was patiently waiting. Waiting and panting.
“Well?” He asked.
“One then,” agreed Drimblerod sociably.
In a flash, Bonk wheeled on Grimbledung, “Whatabout you?” He growled. “Wanna aperrrtif?”
Grimbledung had a rib sticking out of his mouth, his eyes grew wide. “Want a what?” Tears welled up in his eyes. “I don’t know if I can. I’m having enough trouble with this rib.”
“Eat the meat, not the bones!” Said Bonk, revealing rows of sharp white teeth. “Finish off yer meal with an aperrrtif. It’ll help ya digest it.” He took the rib bone from Grimbledung’s mouth, dropped it on his plate, and handed him a small glass, it’s good fer ya,” he barked.
He picked up the bottle of orange liquid. It seemed to glow it was so bright. He poured some into the glasses on the tray then filled Grimbledung’s glass to the rim. Cautiously Grimbledung smelled it. “Melons?” He guessed.
Bonk gestured at the now-filled glass. “That there’s called Melonchello. Good stuff. Just dangerous. We don’t serrrve it to the students.”
Grimbledung moved the glass away from his lips, “Dangerous?”
“Only in that you’ll end up drinking a whole bottle because it’s so smooth.” Julie tipped her glass up and drained it in one gulp. She raised an eyebrow at Grimbledung.
Bonk started banging his paw on the table, “Go! Go! Go!” He growled.
From various points around the room, his three brothers looked in his direction and picked up the chant. It was disturbing and yet also, strangely, persuasive.
Steeling himself for the harsh bite of alcohol that usually accompanied most drinks, he tilted the glass and downed the drink. It ran down his throat like peaches daintily placed on a silk sheet resting in the shade on warm summer’s evening. There was no bite, not even a nip- or even a peck of alcohol for that matter. “This is alcoholic?” He asked unconvinced.
Bonk’s eyes seemed to twinkle. “Wait for it.” He cocked his head to the side as he gazed at the Gnome. “Yaaaa?”
“Ohhh. I’m all warm on the insides,” cooed Grimbledung. He smacked his lips several times. The melon flavor lingered in his mouth but nothing else. A warm glow emanating from his belly was the only indication that the drink was alcoholic. From how the glow spread, very alcoholic. “Say, how about another shot of that stuff. I think I drank that last one too fast.”
“Ya had yer one drink. Here; have a mint cookie to go with it.” Bonk placed a cookie on Grimbledung’s plate, and for the first time of the meal, Bonk (or any of the Gnolls for that matter) left without providing seconds.
Drimblerod sipped his drink approvingly. “This is some smooth stuff. We need a couple of bottles of this to make the ride home more enjoyable.” He, too, smacked his lips when his drink was done. “Maybe three bottles. Just in case there’s traffic.”
“I think we can arrange that,” said Julie amicably. She then switched to a more business-like tone. “So, we have a deal then. If you put together a variety of wands for the students and bring them over, we can set them up in the Parchment Shop. I’ll buy them in bulk from you and then we can adjust as we go.”
Drimblerod looked at his partner who nodded at him. “Sounds good to us. How about next week we load up the wagon and come out?”
She stuck out her hand and Drimblerod slapped it. “That works for me. Come by on Moonsday and we’ll work out any unforeseen details.” Drimblerod nodded and Julie slapped his hand in return.
“Now there’s only one more thing to work out,” said Grimbledung smiling.
Both Julie and Drimblerod peered at him- it was a faux pas to alter a deal once it was accepted. They looked at him expectedly.
“Is it two or three bottles that will accompany us back to Aution?” He licked the inside of the glass. “Can I keep the glass? Drinking from a bottle, that’s the first step to degradation,” he added haughtily.
Drimblerod shook his head. “Either will work, Grim.” Then he too licked the inside of his glass. “Whichever Miss Julie decides upon.” He looked at her hopefully.
“We’ll make it three, but only if you agree to call me Big Julie. I haven’t been called Miss since I was eight.”
Grimbledung stood, “Sounds great Big Julie.” The warmth had started to fade from his belly and he was intent on getting back in the wagon and into the bottles of Melonchello.
The three of them (Rat was back to being carried) made their way back to the front of the Gristmill. As they came around the side of the Gristmill, Drimblerod was sure the Gargoyle on the left moved his head to watch them approach. Grimbledung placed Rat at the head of the wagon, drew his wand and hacked it at Rat. After RatShambler was fully formed, he deftly attached the harness to him.
Drimblerod was already in the wagon as Grimbledung climbed aboard. “Well, I have to say” began Drimblerod, “that was one of the most entertaining and productive days we’ve had in a while.” He smiled broadly and hoped that it wasn’t TOO obvious he was stalling. “Yes, very productive.” So far, no one had delivered any bottles of the orange goodness.
“Me too,” agreed Julie. “See you next week” she turned and as she started for the double doors, both dutifully opened.
“Drim!” Whined Grimbledung. “But… But… Drim!”
“Maybe she forgot” his partner tried to console him, although in all honesty, Drimblerod was also crestfallen. He looked sadly as Big Julie entered the Gristmill. A Dwarfling trotted past her, coming out of the windmill. He had a covered basket in his hands. “What a woman.” He remarked.
“You’re telling me” agreed Grimbledung albeit dejectedly. He was once again searching the skies for clouds.
“Sorry. I had to find a basket to put them in,” puffed the Dwarfling, “here you go.” He held the basket up as high as his arms would reach. Drimblerod bent over and took the basket from his hands. It was heavier than he expected.
“Thanks, kid,” said Drimblerod as he hefted the basket between him and his partner. “Let’s go home Rat.” With a snort, RatShambler began to walk off slowly.
“Ohhh!” Said Grimbledung, “lookit that one!” He said pointing at a cloud.
Drimblerod elbowed his friend, “No, look at that one.”
Grimbledung looked down at the covered basket. “What?”
Drimblerod flipped back the lid revealing four squat bottles filled with bright orange liquid, as well as several r
ibs and honey rolls. There were also two fresh shot glasses.
“I think I’m in love with a Gnoll,” Grimbledung said.
Tales From a Second Hand Wand Shop- Book 1: They Were the Best of Gnomes. They Were the Worst of Gnomes. Page 52