Tales From a Second Hand Wand Shop- Book 1: They Were the Best of Gnomes. They Were the Worst of Gnomes.

by Robert P. Wills

Chapter Thirty-One

  Wherein the Gnomes Return to the Shop

  And Grimbledung is killed

  It was dark when the Gnomes got back to the shop; the trip back was decidedly slower due to several shortcuts Drimblerod insisted they try after much of the alcohol was drunk. Finally, out of exasperation, RatShambler took control of the reins and the two Gnomes sat in the back and drank the Melonchello to pass the time.

  At first, they planned to bring three bottles back with them for later.

  After a little while, two seemed an appropriate number; one each.

  Shortly after that, it was then decided that one bottle for a special occasion to be named later was an appropriate amount to bring back. It was even a unanimous vote.

  By the time they arrived at the shop, all four bottles were gone.

  “Whaddayasay we close for the rest dof the say?” Slurred Grimbledung as he leaned on Door for support. He had a route to the counter all planned out and was waiting for the room to swing in the right direction to make a break for it. “I donthink I should be handling money.” He made his move but the floor suddenly tilted in the opposite direction. He leaned heavily as he tried to counter the listing but was unsuccessful. He was, he thought giddily, in the shop but not any closer to the counter. With his back against the wall he squinted at the counter. “Think we can get Nulu to carry us to the back?”

  “Ish night. We’re already closed.” Drimblerod, now at the door himself shook his head. It felt as if his head were full of oil. The room rattled back and forth even when he was sure he had stopped moving his head. “She won’t be coming by today. I told her we’d be gone the day. So for the day we’re on our own for the day.” He hiccupped. “Today,” he finished proudly. “So ...” he continued as he stepped into the room, still holding the door for support. He reached out his hand for the counter which was completely out of reach. “... so we have to make it on our own because Nulu isn’t coming by today.” He made a circle out of his finger and thumb. He closed one eye and aimed down his arm at the counter. “Now I’ve got you!” He let go of the door and made a dash for the counter, still squinting down his arm. He tried to keep the counter in the circle of his fingers and made it three paces before he fell over. Still holding his hand out in front of him, he crawled to the counter. “Ah ha!” He proclaimed as the side of the counter filled his field of view through his fingers.

  Grimbledung slid down the wall and sat. “Say!” He exclaimed, “I’ve a great idea!” He hiccupped. “Why don’t we have Nulu carry us to the back?”

  Drimblerod rolled onto his side and sighted at his partner down his arm and through his fingers, “That does sound likes a good idea.” He agreed. “I see you!” He added triumphantly.

  “When is she going to come get us?” Asked Grimbledung expectedly.

  “Who?”

  “Nulu, of course.”

  “Nulu isn’t coming” said Drimblerod.

  “Of course, she’s not coming,” agreed Grimbledung, “I hear she’s got the day off or something. She’s not coming by. That’s what I hear anyway. Word on the street is.”

  “Well, if you heard it, it must be true,” said Drimblerod. He rolled on his back. “I think I may stay here.”

  Grimbledung snored in response.

  “Grim! You awake?” He asked as he turned his head to view his partner. He held his hand up to his face and looked through a ring made by finger and thumb. “Maybe we should wait here for Nulu to come get us.”

  Soon, both Gnomes were snoring contentedly on the floor of the shop. Door, as it had done several times in the past, quietly closed and latched shut. Door wasn’t aware of very much but he was certain that the owners of the shop were, on the whole, odd. It shuddered in its frame and waited for morning to arrive. It really had nothing better to do.

  Grimbledung, slouched over on the wall, finally reached the tipping point and fell over. As his head banged on a shelf, he popped awake. “Gah!” He exclaimed, “I’ve been shot in the head!” He sat up and felt his head. It was not bleeding as far as he could tell, but it felt like an entire herd of Shamblers were trotting around in it. Shamblers, he thought, something about Shamblers. He pushed the thought out of his head and looked for his partner. “Drim! You alive?”

  Drimblerod was on the floor on his belly, arms and legs spayed out. He picked up his head and looked at Grimbledung. “I swear, I’ll never drink again,” he lied. “What’s wrong with that woman giving us four bottles at once? Has she never met a Gnome?” He rolled onto his side. “What’s that banging?” He asked testily.

  Grimbledung listened intently for a moment. “I don’t hear any banging.” He tilted his ear towards the ceiling. “There is a thumping ...”

  “Are they building a second floor on this place?” Drimblerod asked no one in particular. “There’re laws against doing construction so early in the day!” He sat up and held his head in his hands.

  “Thump. Thump. Thump,” said Grimbledung. “That’s what I’m hearing. Maybe there’s a dragon on the roof and his tail’s wagging.”

  “Don’t be daft,” scolded Drimblerod, “How in all the lands could there be a dragon on the roof with all the construction going on up there?”

  Grimbledung looked at the ceiling. “What construction? Are we expanding? Now it sounds like there’s Shamblers galloping around up there” he said as he stood uneasily. He held his head in his hands. There it was again- the thought of Shamblers. Again, he pushed it out of his head.

  Drimblerod pulled himself to a standing position using the counter to steady himself. “Mayhap it’s the Melonchello that’s causing the racket.” He too was holding his head.

  “Don’t be absurd Drim,” Grimbledung shook his head, “how could a bottle wag its tale?” He staggered to the curtain. “I say we get something to eat and see if that helps.” He moved the curtain aside and stepped into the back room.

  Drimblerod moved to the edge of the counter and looked up. “A strongly worded letter to the city council. That’s what I’ll do.” He shook his fist at the ceiling, almost losing his balance in the process. He quickly grabbed the counter with both hands. After several deep breaths, he also stepped through the curtain. “I’m telling you Grimbledung, I don’t think it’s the Melonchello that’s got my head hammering” said Drimblerod as he sat at the table. “You hear it too, right?” He put his head in his hands, “I’m going to kill whoever is making that racket,” he groaned.

  “Let’s ask Rat,” suggested Grimbledung, “he didn’t have anything to drink, so if he hears it too, then we will know it’s not us.”

  “Brilliant! Say, where is Rat?”

  Grimbledung looked around the shoppe. “I’m not sure. That racket is making it hard to think.” Angrily he got up. “Let me yell at those construction workers, then we’ll sort this out.” Testily (and somewhat unstably) he made his way to the front door. It dutifully unlocked as he reached for the handle. Yanking the door open, he stepped out and was promptly kicked in the chest. He doubled over and rolled back into the store. “Drim! We’re being robbed again!” He groaned as he tried to scramble to his feet. Still holding his chest, he managed to get to his knees; the wind was knocked out of him. For a moment Grimbledung was unable to speak. Finally, his breath returned.

  “I really and truly loathe you. Loathe you like a fifth ace in Trufflidge. With the fires of a thousand volcanoes. White hot hate,” said RatShambler. He was still attached to the wagon which stuck out in the street at an odd angle because of how he had backed in to be able to kick the door. There were several notices tacked to the wagon and one tucked under his harness. The door was scuffed where he had been kicking it. “If you don’t change me back this instant, I’m going to go find a spice caravan to join. In a month, I’d own the operation. Then I’ll sell it, and use the profits to hire a whole band of assassins to hunt you down, you dimwitted drunkard.”

  “Say, that’s getting personal, Rat,” countered Grimbledung. He rubbed his chest
. “That really hurt you know.” He considered his words for a moment. “Both what you said and what you did.”

  Drimblerod came rushing from the backroom, wand in hand, “Let me at them!” He said, “If those two Humans are trying to rob us again, they’re in for it!” He waved the wand over his head as a purple glob of magic sizzled and swung around on a tendril of lightning like a flail.

  “Drim! It’s just Rat. We forgot him outside,” explained Grimbledung as he got to his feet, still clutching his chest. “I think I have some broken ribs,” he said absently, “or something’s broken, anyway.” He staggered back against the wall. “Woops,” he commented to neither of them as he fell back. He coughed and droplets of blood dribbled down his chin onto the front of his jerkin. He looked down at the drops of blood on his front, and on the floor in front of him, then looked back up at Drimblerod, “You know, I don’t think that’s normal,” he commented. He looked ahead, staring at nothing in particular for a long moment. “Huh.”

  Drimblerod took a step towards his partner, “You alright?” He asked, worried.

  Grimbledung waved him off dismissively but continued to stare straight ahead. He then turned his face to Drimblerod and finally focused on him. A smile came across his face for a moment “I’m...” The smile faded away. “Oh my,” he remarked right before he died.

  Sorry.