“Excuse me, sir,” he said, trying his best to sound courteous. “I seem to have lost my friend, Glorgan. He was supposed to bring me to some gate. I think he called it the Watergate? I presume this is it...maybe? But I think I’ve lost Glorgan himself! Do you know where he might be? I hope he’s all right.”
Erupting into a sudden cry of laughter, the rope began to speak so sharply and proudly that William rattled with fright.
“No, no, me dear lad! Percy is the gardener of Lythiann. Stringles is me name, and I’m one of Percy’s many creations. He made a whole family of us Grip Ropes and gave them to the Dwelvin-Mites as gifts before the great flee. He stayed abroad on Lythiann, however. Wanted to stay with the trees, he did. But never mind that. I’ve got even better tidings. Three hundred and forty seven years old I am, this very day. It’s me birthday, you know! And tonight I think I am going to get re-threaded by some of the leprechauns. I can’t wait!”
William didn’t really know how to approach this response, because it didn’t seem to answer his question about Glorgan at all.
Deciding to remain courteous anyway, he smiled. “That’s great news! Happy birthday, Stringles.”
He’d also been dangling for long enough by then, and his vision was starting to come alive with colourful spots. What he wouldn’t have given to be put the right way up, even if it meant getting drenched. And that was a hundred times better than having his head pop off like some ripe berry.
“No, no, I haven’t seen him,” Stringles carried on. “But I’m sure he’s fine. Glogs can be nimble when they wish. He probably just fell back inside the wall during his tumble.”
Confused, William asked, “What do you mean? Oh, you’re talking about Glorgan now?”
“Oh, thank you...you’re very kind,” said Stringles with a laugh. “I must admit, I’m a very old age. But once I get re-threaded I shall be as good as new.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” William said, speaking louder and slower, for fear of the rope being slightly deaf.
Then Stringles said, “What I mean is that Glogs can be quick, very quick when they need to be! I bet he’ll pop his head out at any moment.”
William was so puzzled, what with the rope’s answers being out of sync with his questions.
At that moment, and not a moment too soon, Glorgan popped his head out from the wall beside them.
“Well, thank God for Stringles!” he said, with a sigh of relief. “May your threads stay strong and full. Are you all right, William?”
“Yes, I’m fine. Stringles...um...may I call you Stringles?” he asked the rope, “Stringles caught ahold o’ me just in time.”
Sinking into a whisper, he then said, “But he seems a bit delayed in answering my questions. I’m fierce confused here.”
As Glorgan and William went into a secret murmuring, Stringles went on with his examination of the lad.
“Oh, I know what you mean,” the Glog whispered, turning his eyes up. “His reactions are a little slow. He confuses me too, sometimes! And he’s a little deaf. Not the full helping of strawberries, either...if you take my meaning! That’s what I was going to tell you before the ledge gave in. Trousers indeed! Ridiculous! When did you ever hear of an enchanted rope wearing trousers?”
William wanted to say that he had never even heard of a talking rock before, either, but he just kept that one to himself.
“Has he told you about his birthday again? I bet he has,” asked Glorgan. “He’d be getting presents every minute of the day, if half the things he said had any truth to them! But he can’t help it, I suppose. Poor ol’ dope. He’s harmless.”
“What do you mean, you don’t understand?” Stringles asked aloud, answering yet another of William’s retired questions. “You’re not a half-witted lad, are you?”
“No, I’m not half-witted....not really. Not in the normal run o’ things at least.”
Stringles then went back about his business, disregarding the boy like he wasn’t even there. What an odd creature he was. But those were his ways, and his ways were his means, so it couldn’t be helped.
Stretching his neck out from the wall, Glorgan looked down onto the turquoise pool and said, “This is the Grollo Watergate. All you have to do is jump in, and it will give you safe passage to the Halls.”
Meanwhile, after further observation of the boy, Stringles looped his narrow body around to William’s face, and protested, “I’m not daft, take no notice of her. She’s always trying to make me out to be a blundering idiot. Isn’t that so, Aíne?”
Glorgan and William just paused at that, and stared blankly at each other.
“Well, I suppose I’d better let you go now,” the rope concluded. “I’ve business that needs tending to. It’s me birthday tomorrow! Two years old I’m going to be, and there’s much to get done. So long.”
Thwacking like a cracking whip, Stringles released his hold on William’s legs, letting him loose into the pool with a splash. Upwards he then zipped like a projector cord, but not before dealing out some belated invites to yesterday’s birthday party.
“Right!” said the Glog. “Peace at last. How do you find the water? Is it warm enough for you?”
“Yeah, it’s fine!” William said, as he spat and spluttered, kicking his limbs to stay afloat.
“I must be off now,” said the Glog. “I still have a lot of duties to see to today, and I’ll be lucky to get a morsel in before I start! No doubt I’ll see you again before journey’s end. Good luck, William! And it was a great honour to meet you!”
Upon those departing words, away he burrowed, off up the walls like a great mole.
“Wait! You forgot your egg...stone...thing!” William shouted, but it was pointless.
The Glog was already gone and he was all alone, with no direction to go other than downwards through the Watergate. So he put the stone in his sporran for safekeeping until he saw the Glog again, whenever that may be.
He stayed put for a few minutes. Just him, alone, with the sound of water dabbling by the edges of the lake. The wind crept through the deepening shadows of the chasm and sang softly, yet dauntingly out of key. The gloom was otherwise motionless and still, but again for those airy whispers and lonesome ripples which circled his every movement. ‘Twas a woeful situation, and William became very on edge. He wanted Glorgan to come back; at least then he would’ve felt more safe. The Glog was gone now, however. It even crossed William’s mind to utilize the stone again, to search for him. Then again, that creature moved swiftly, and therefore could’ve been leagues away by then. Chances are, William would’ve only gotten lost anyway, thereby ending up in an even bigger bind than he was already in.
This was the first time he’d been truly alone since he first came to that unusual world, and he didn’t like it one little bit. On all other occasions, someone, or something, had found him and helped him, which he thought much more convenient and less frightening. Even to see Khrum again would’ve been an unexpected delight. Alas, that didn’t happen, and the lad’s options were stark.
“Right!” he said, trying some enthusiasm. “How hard can this be?”
Those words were then suddenly traced by a shrill copycat whisper from the unknown. It was only a trick of the wind, but William didn’t know that. When he swished about to find no other signs of life, it made him very hot under the collar.
“...Right!” he said again, expecting another whisper; yet there was none. “I’m alone now...I think. But that can be easily fixed. All I have to do is wait here till the pond whisks me away...as Glorgan said.”
The Glog’s instruction notwithstanding, nothing happened. Not straight away.
William’s doubts quickly subsided when he got yanked below the surface, like a great plug had been pulled from beneath. Bubbles gushed by him, as of a vicious gale, and he spun through the current with great bulging cheeks of air. Next thing he knew, he landed with a bump onto a golden throne with quilted cushions. Quite an awkward landing it was too, with
his leg slung over the armrest, whereas the rest of him had almost slid off the throne completely. Not only was he bewildered again, but he was also bone-dry and back on dry land, too.
On the ceiling above him, stretching around for at least a mile in every direction, was that huge rippling lake. A truly unusual sight. It just lingered there, upside-down, like the rear of a mirror. It lapped gently with growing ripples, dripping not a drop onto the ground below, whereon a thick bed of hay was scattered, as some sort of landing pad for any other who came plummeting down through that gate. William, on the other hand, was given this majestic-looking throne, and was getting all of this special attention which he really had no care for. All he genuinely wanted was to be on his way to getting things sorted, and that was it.
Ahead of him was a huge cavity in the stone, leading from which, a long stairway ran right down into the centre of the Grollo, where the massive tree column was. The Dwelvin-Mites were gathered around it; peering up and awaiting his arrival. Anun was at their forefront with her usual tranquil smile.
William was about to stand up and make his way down when two friendly looking trolls, clad in fur hides, came clambering up the stairs before him, each with a wooden pole in their hands. They were brawny fellows, grey of skin, with massive, hardworking backs. Their heads were rather obscure, having been studded over with tiny horns. Noble were their noses, and their jaws burly, with great tusks poking out from the corners.
“Hello, sire!” they uttered in unison.
“Oh, hello...” William replied.
You might’ve already noticed, but he was feeling a little less coy around these strange folk as he was meeting them. He was adapting, whether he knew it himself or not.
One of the trolls then said, “My name is Grump.”
“And my name is Dreckal!” added the other.
This made for a rather strange, yet also mildly amusing, situation. For it was obvious that they were both trying their hardest to speak properly, like two children who were made to read aloud before a class.
“And we are here to show you to your gifts, sire,” Grump uttered.
“Gifts?!” William exclaimed, hoping that they didn’t actually intend on giving him gifts now.
“Yes. Anun is waiting for you down below. She has some of your older belongings. She thinks they will help you out a bit on your journey!” said Dreckal, in his languid troll voice.
Now curious as to what these possessions might be, the lad perked up some.
“Right so! Let’s be off!” said Dreckal, dropping his elocution and getting back to business.
Clutching their poles, they fished them through two slots on either side of the throne. Once the rods were securely fixed, the trolls hoisted William up onto their shoulders like he himself was the King of the Grollo.
Down the stairway they moseyed, at a respectable pace and in an orderly manner. The Dwelvin-Mites conversed silently amongst one another and, again, some of them were bowing. You already know how this sort of behaviour made William feel; very embarrassed, and even a trifle exasperated. He was never one for fuss, you understand, and for people to fuss over him was something intolerable altogether. It made him feel absurd and pompous; two traits of which William’s true qualities were least like.
He could but smile and act polite towards their courtly gestures. And as an act of Irish impulse, he threw down a fine wink here and there, only to realise that such a common motion in return may not have been entirely appropriate. Thus he stopped, and endured the remainder of the journey with an awkward smile on his face. Thankfully, they’d almost reached the end of the stair.
Before the crowd, Anun welcomed him with her hands out. Having approached the end of their duty, the trolls settled the throne down delicately, delivered a bow, and disappeared back into the gathering.
“Hello, William. Did you sleep well?” she asked.
Glad to finally be rid of the throne, Williams answered, “Well, yes, I did.”
Again, he decided to say nothing of that awful nightmare which had now, somehow, resonated itself in his mind, unlike any other dream he’d had in the past. Normally, by his second slice of toast at the breakfast table, his dreams would’ve already been forgotten. Rarely could he remember them. This time, it was different.
Changing from the topic at hand, he asked, “When do you think I should start this journey?”
“I see you are very eager, young William!” Anun smiled, with a serene murmur thereafter. “First we have some items which belong to you. Items which you may require along your path.”
Anun then showed him to another small room just off the main hall. The crowd also picked up and followed behind.
The chamber did not go back all that far, nor was it all that high or wide. But it was a-clutter with treasures of every kind. That’s not to say that it was restricted to the treasures that you would imagine, such as gold coins or necklaces. There were also very modern items in there, too; such as kites, footballs, marbles, playing cards, abacuses, lettered blocks, hand puppets, and even comic books. Kitchen things were there, too. Colanders and breadboards and the likes. You may wonder how such items came to be a part of the Grollo trove? Well, these were the things which fell astray from the land above, in the early years. Then, one day, they were happened upon by one of the Dwelvin-Mites, who brought them below, thinking of them as valuables. Model boats hung from the ceiling above, jars upon jars of marbles and bright stones had overflowed and were spilling out onto the floor, and different artefacts like shields, jewels, and armour were all strewn throughout. The room was a muddle, and yet it would have been the playroom of all playrooms to any normal child...but not to William. For this brave young fellow had far more important issues to deal with now.
Soon the threshold of that room was jam-packed with beasts, creatures, and odd beings, all goggling in at Anun and William. There were even two witches wedged in the pileup, with the brim of their hats forced over their eyes from being lodged between the threshold and a Bidìck’s hairy shoulders. It looked like an altogether uncomfortable mess, granted you may think it to be amusing, sitting comfortably where you are.
“This is what we salvaged during our escape; our trove,” said Anun, introducing the riches with a sway of her arm. “Ancient possessions which we managed to scavenge lest we should have required them for that pollution known as commerce. Take what you must, William, but only what you can carry. I cannot fully aid you in your decision, as it was foretold by the swallows that you would already know what to choose, though now you may not know it. You must let your intuition work for itself. And remember, Lythiann is a large country. There will be other opportunities to gather more useful implements along your path, so do not burden yourself now with items that you may have no use for.”
Walking into the room, William stepped away from Anun, and everyone fell into a discreet observation.
Everywhere he searched; examining all the bits and pieces around him. Firstly, within a pile of silver coins and soft teddies, he noticed the cork of an old popgun poking out at him. He was already well aware that he was not going to choose this item, but he wanted to look at it all the same. Over he went to inspect the toy, yet before he could even touch it, the crowd made a wondrous gasp. It distracted William, so he refrained from picking it up and, again, he carried on searching.
Slowly he panned the trove, when this time he saw what looked like the helm of a wooden army man jutting out from a thicket of holly and costly brooches. Again, he reached down to retrieve the toy when there was yet another soft “Ooooooooooh!” from the creatures behind him. Spinning around, he glared at the mob with meeting eyebrows. Frightened to see William apprehending them in such an irritated fashion, their eyes gleamed; probing elsewhere in the room but for his grim expression. Some even took to whistling, to make it seem like they weren’t in the least bit interested in what he was doing. Others tried sparking up conversation with the idle person next to them. When William went back about his business agai
n, they all leaned back in, with just as much intrigue as before, if not more.
After a little more scavenging, he saw something that really took his interest. From beneath a large mound of spangled stones and expensive rings, he spotted a small wooden case encrusted with black diamonds. An unknown desire grew in his heart, making it kick hard and quick, which then led him toward the mysterious case. Kneeling upon both knees, he put his tattered rucksack aside, and began rustling through the trinkets until the box was totally uncovered and resting upon a mound of golden treasure. Suddenly, another “Woooooooooooo!” emerged from the threshold.
“I can’t concentrate with this racket!” he said gruffly, which he was soon sorry for, as he didn’t like the sound of his voice when he was giving out.
Not a squeak could be heard. He then glanced over his shoulder, and other than Anun, nobody else was around.
“Where’d everybody get to?” he asked, surprised.
Just then, a few dozen eyes peered in at him from both sides of the doorway. His outburst had scared them all into retreat, but, sure enough, they gradually made their way back inside the archway, one by one.
“Sorry,” the lad said apologetically. “Didn’t mean to snap like that.”
“They will be fine,” Anun condoned. “Please, proceed with your search.”
Returning to the case, he found himself staring at its perfectly unspoilt craftsmanship. On its front, a golden latch was affixed, which he eventually brought himself to open. With a pop, the lid bounced, and it was ready to be exposed. He then lifted it back to reveal that which was inside.
The lining was of flaxen velvet, and neatly placed within rounded pockets were three packages, bulbous in shape, all perfectly wrapped in gold and silver foil.
“I believe you have chosen wisely,” said Anun, who was observing from over his shoulder. “Those are the enchanted truffles, which were prepared by the Necromancers of the south. A magical food which, upon consumption, can give you the power to cast whatever spell that such truffle represents...but only for a limited amount of time!
The Other of One - Book One: The Lythiann Chronicles Page 11