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

Today’s the day of the Jamboree!

  There’ll be food and drink, you’ll see!!

  We’ll do a jig and all have some fun,

  And toast mallows on the fire when we’re done!

  It’s the day of the great Jaaaam booooorrr

  EEEEEE!

  This time, instead of a jig, he hopped back and forth as he sang the song. Rat came under the curtain, whiskers twitching. He looked up at the two. Grimbledung got the milky eye. “I can honestly say I’m glad this day is here. So it’ll be an entire year before we have to hear it again.”

  “Hear what again?” Coaxed Grimbledung.

  Rat shook his head, “No, no. Not this time.” He moved to the table, “I just want to eat my breakfast in peace and quiet.”

  “You mock me now, but just you wait- this is going to be the best Jamboree this town has seen,” Grimbledung said. “They’ll talk about it for years! It will be famous!”

  “It better be with how much you’ve spent on it,” said Drimblerod testily, “you’re way over budget you know. Way over.”

  “Well, the jamboree is going to be worth it, way worth it. Trust me.”

  Drimblerod shook his head, “I still can’t believe you convinced the mayor to let you use The Square.”

  “Harangued is more like it,” said Rat as he hopped onto the table. “The poor mayor looks like he lost ten pounds just this week. I’m surprised we haven’t been labeled persona non grata and ridden out on a rail.”

  “Pushaw” said Grimbledung, “he’ll appreciate all the business this will bring to Aution. This place is going to be known as the place to have Jamborees when I’m done with it.” He smiled broadly again. “So anyway, I’ll leave you two to break your fast, and I’m going to make sure things are running smoothly at the square.” Grimbledung turned and left.

  “I really think most all those Pixie bits are finally out of his head,” commented Drimblerod as he took a bite of a muffin.

  Rat, also with a good bit of muffin in his mouth, only nodded in return.

  Grimbledung hurried out of the store. He was giddy with excitement. He had been to several Jamborees and had enjoyed himself. To excess. But at each one, he saw something that he would have done differently if he had been in charge- or someone asked his opinion. Now, as the main planner, he was able to make sure everything was just like he wanted it to be.

  Walking down the street, he waved to several shop owners as he went, “Make sure your goods are out on a table and ready to go by sundown!” He called to the baker. In a stroke of genius (at least he thought so) he had gone to several of the restaurant and food stores in Aution and asked them if they wanted to sponsor a food booth at the Jamboree. In past events, Grimbledung was upset that only one type of food was available- by inviting several businesses, he -and everyone else- was assured a wide variety of food.

  “I’ve sent my two apprentices ahead to make sure everything is in order” answered Raffaele Esposito, the owner of the Gamboling Bakery and Pizzeria. “They should have the wood ovens going and the dough proofed by now. Raffaele was looking forward to the advertising (and extra money) an all-night eating affair like a Jamboree created. Not since his gig as a royal Pizza Maker had his shop been so prominently displayed; Grimbledung had promised him the place of honor among the food vendors at the Jamboree. “We’ll be the first booth up and running” he called at the quickly disappearing Gnome.

  Grimbledung turned the corner onto the main street of town, just a block away from The Square. He heard loud voices. Probably workers putting up the stage for the musicians. As he approached, the voices got louder. And angrier. As he entered The Square he saw that the angry voices were accompanied by an all-out brawl. Tables were askew, and the center of the area was occupied by several Humans, Dwarves, Gnomes, and at least three Half-Orcs (the arm count was wrong for just two) all in a large, writhing mass of anger. Grimbledung could see no weapons but even so, he was hesitant to try and break up the melee. Several workers (who were earlier assembling a stage) also watched with interest. At this point, several bets had been made and they were anxiously awaiting the outcome of the battle.

  A long howl pealed through The Square. Grimbledung as well as everyone else turned to look at its source. Akita had climbed up one of the poles on the corner of the stage- a cover was going to be strung across the top in case of rain. Grimbledung had gotten soaked at one Jamboree and decided that covers were definitely something he would have at his Jamboree. So he did.

  Akita glowered down at the mass of bodies from half way up the pole. As usual, his eyes glowed. Grimbledung was sure that he took some sort of potion to make that happen. “If you are all done makin’ complete fools of yerselves, I know I’d apprrrrreciate it if you’d stop actin’ like children.” He looked at the mixed group. “Or whatever yer particular species calls youngsterrrrs.” He hopped off the pole to the stage in a single bound. There were gouges where he had been gripping the pole; deep ones. One of the workers nudged the person next to him and held out his hand; he had been betting on Akita. It was always a safe bet.

  The mass of bodies untangled into their appropriate groups- bakers, butchers, brewers, and even two ale wenches. None of them would look Akita in the eyes, becoming keenly interested in their own shoes, it seemed.

  “What’rrrr ya doing?” Akita asked no one in particular. Everyone in the group found the ground at their feet the most interesting thing they had seen in weeks (even since their shoes few moments ago). A growl started in the back of Akita’s throat. Suddenly, he was the most interesting thing in town.

  “Well, you see, Akita,” began one of the Humans, “we were told by our Master, Raffaele, that we were supposed to be closest to the stage, at the place of honor.” He stood a little bit straighter, “Since we’ve served Kings.”

  One of the Dwarves stepped forward, “Kings? That’s all you’ve served?” He puffed out his chest, “We were told that our ale was going to be at the place of honor.” He shook his head, “Kings? Our ale is used in the sacred Winter Solstice ceremony.” He put his hands on his hips for emphasis, “We serve GODS.”

  The human shoved the Dwarf, “Yeah? How well do they pay?” The Dwarf shoved him back. One of the watching workers banged two hammers together to signify the official start of Round Two of what he hoped would be called the Great Jamboree Melee.

  Akita howled again. “That’s enough! Who said you two would both be at the place of honor?” Grimbledung turned to leave as quietly and unobtrusively as he could. Before he made it two steps, Akita had him by the collar. “Wherrre d’ya think yer going?” He growled on the back of Grimbledung’s neck. The hairs there stood on edge and goose bumps ran down his arms.

  “Errr. Back to the shop?” Grimbledung began to walk away.

  His feet were no longer in contact with the ground. Akita hefted him around and aimed him at the still angry group. “No ya don’t. This is yer mess, so yer gonna fix it.” He growled to show that there was not going to be any debate.

  “Fine, Akita. Fine.” He looked at the Constable- he still was not in contact with the ground- “I’ve got this. Don’t worry.” He patted the Werewolf on the shoulders then smoothed his fur. “Easy potatoesy.” A few stray strands refused to lay flat so Grimbledung licked his hand them smoothed them again. “There we go.”

  Akita eyed him once more then put him down. “Grrrreat. Take care of it!” With that he bounded off on all fours.

  Grimbledung looked at the group. They did not look pleased. Frantically his devious Gnome mind tried to come up with a plan. Years of practice yielded one quickly. “Sorry for the misunderstanding folks” he began. Apologies always put people off balance as it was hard to be angry at someone who was being apologetic- even if, in all honesty, it wasn’t sincere. Honestly. “I didn’t explain myself well enough and I am truly sorry.” The faces of the crowd showed that they were now more interested in listening to than pummeling on him. Progress. “Since the stage is in the center of The Square, the way I
saw it, each of the four corners were a place of honor, so when I said that two of you had places of honor.” (Grimbledung was trying to walk the fine line between over-explaining and babbling) “I meant it, and then I’d still have two more places for other shops and then the shops farther from the stage would be the smaller shops which really isn’t less honorable as a position (he was right on the line now) but one for a less established shop, which is fair since the shops closer to the stage have been around for centuries and have paid their dues being farther from the stage or other action, so that’s what I was trying to do when I put two booths at the place of honor, and I still have two more booths to put there.” Everyone in the group looked confused. Definite progress. “It’s a cardinal direction thing. Or maybe a bishop direction. Either way, it’s someone pretty high up making the directions.”

  Several confused shrugs and half-smiles later, the workers were all back at their own booths putting things in order. “So now, we need to move these tables back to where they need to be,” Grimbledung commanded forcefully then proceeded to mumble about his bad back and other duties as Official Jamboree Planner.

  Grimbledung dusted off his hands as he moved to the far side of The Square to where a large pile of wood had been dumped. It was a substantial pile of almost seven feet. Several sweaty workers were sitting beside it. “Is that all the wood you’re going to put on it?” He asked.

  None of the workers stood, or even looked at him. “I think that’s as high as it should go, really. You know the wind whips through here some nights and there’s a lot of clouds in the sky so it could be windy.”

  “And my hip’s been bothering me today and that means there’s a storm brewing nearby.”

  Another worker nodded- his knees were acting up as well.

  “I’m sorry” began Grimbledung testily, “I didn’t realize I asked for a weather prophesy. I thought I asked why this pile of wood was so small.” He narrowed his eyes at the man, “I can see how ‘why is this pile so small could sound like ‘what’s the weather tonight’ TO A COMPLETE IDIOT!” He finished at the top of his lungs. “NOW GO GET ME MORE WOOD!” Spittle ran down his chin as he hopped back and forth. “I’m the Jamboree Planner and Mayor Shinn said I got what I wanted and what I want is more wood for my bonfire!”

  “You want more wood?” The man said angrily as he jumped to his feet, “You got it. Let’s go get some wood, boys.”

  Grimbledung raised his hands plaintively, “That’s all I want is more wood.” He then clenched his hands into fists, “SO GO GET MORE WOOD!” The last jamboree Grimbledung had been to, the organizers had set up a small mine cart with wood in it for people to roast Marsh Mallows and Marsh Pixies on. Grimbledung had to stand in line for several minutes while his Mallow tried to bargain its way off the stick. It almost ruined his whole evening. This time, he wanted to make sure everyone could roast their treats all at once and -more importantly- without any pleading. That’s how a good Jamboree was run. “That’s how a good Jamboree is run” he said to no one in particular- which was good because no one was listening.

  For the rest of the day, Grimbledung screamed and cajoled his workers in setting up The Square. Finally, to everyone’s relief, the sun finally set and the Jamboree officially began.