“Sure thing, Drimblerod,” she said as she moved through the curtain.
Drimblerod sat on a stool, put his head on the counter and promptly fell asleep.
Nulu ducked to get through the curtain and entered the living area of the shop.
Dummy had its back to the curtain and was waving a wand at an upturned box.
“What in the lands?” She mumbled. “Hey, should you be doing that?” She asked Dummy.
The wand flared a yellow light into the box. He put it into a can with a sun painted on it. He turned his head to see who had entered the work area. When he faced Nulu, his head went from her to the limp Grimbledung and back to her. He flailed his arms then brought his mitt hands up in front of his face in a boxing pose. He made a couple of jabs then gestured for Nulu to move closer.
“Relax you ... whatever you are. He’s drunk and I’m just carrying him home” explained Nulu. “Where can I put him?”
Not changing his stance, Dummy jabbed at the cot.
“Over there, huh?” Nulu moved over and put Grimbledung not so gently on the cot. He continued to snore. Nulu turned to Dummy who stood disapprovingly with his hands on his hips. “Still not happy?”
The dummy appraised her for a moment, then gave a thumbs up. He moved his hands in the shape of an hourglass. A very large hourglass. Then he gave her another thumbs up.
“Oh for the love of ...” She started, “you’re all nuts. Completely barking mad,” she continued as she moved back past the curtain.
The Dummy waved approvingly at her. Exiting to the front of the store, Nulu saw Drimblerod asleep on the stool. Deciding he was safe there (it was a short drop if he tottered over) she went to open the door. It was locked. She rattled the catch but it made no difference. Nulu let go in an exasperated sign and peered over her shoulder to make sure Drimblerod was fast asleep. He was snoring softly. She bent over, putting her hands on her knees, “Who’s a good door? You are! Please let me out, Door. I just dropped the boys off and now I’m leaving. You solid, nice door.” It did not seem to move so she continued, “Such a safe and strong door. The best on the block, yes you are. Let me go, you wonderful door,” she finished.
The catch of the door clacked as it opened.
Nulu straightened and shook her head. “What have I gotten myself into?” She asked as she reached for the handle.
Quietly, she opened the door and slipped past it. As she stealthily shut it, she heard Rat chuckling. With a sour look on her face, she returned to her pub.
Chapter Eighteen
Wherein Grimbledung Explains His Condition
The next morning, Nulu crossed the street with a large tray in her hand. When she reached the door she tried to open it. It was locked. “All right door” said Nulu testily, “here is the deal. I’ll be coming over here a lot in the future and there’s something you need to know.”
The door was silent.
“As a Trolless, begging just isn’t in my nature. It really just isn’t. Yesterday was a once in a lifetime freebie.” She shifted the tray to one hand.
The door remained reticent.
“So let’s make sure we understand each other.” She leaned forward and placed a massive- yet manicured - hand on the door. “Don’t mistake my pink nails for daintiness” she growled. “Push me too far and I’ll rip you clean out of this wall and break you into toothpicks; use you to jab olives and cherries with for my drinks.”
The door clattered open.
“And a good morning to you too.” She gave a quick curtsey and ducked to enter the shop. Nulu flicked the bell several times with her finger. No one came out of the backroom. She shut the door behind her “Stay locked until they’re up. I’m not going to deal with customers.” The door obediently clacked and locked. “Thanks door.” Nulu said. The door rattled what was hopefully a ‘you’re welcome’.
Ducking under the curtain she saw Grimbledung still asleep on the cot. Drimblerod sat beside the cot, head tilted back resting on Grimbledung’s feet. “That’s going to be a sore neck.” As she put the tray on the table, Dummy sat up and waved. “You again,” she said, appraising Dummy.
It nodded and gave her a hearty thumb’s up.
“Uhm, not now. Not ever,” she said flatly.
Dummy’s shoulders sagged.
“Never in a hundred years.
Dummy’s arm lowered slightly.
“Never if every Troll in the Lands were gone.”
Dummy’s hand dropped to its side, thumb still extended.
“Not if the only males left were prissy, lute playing Elves.”
Dummy’s thumb sagged.
“Gah!” Shouted Drimblerod as he rolled on his side. “My neck’s broke!” He lamented as he held his head with both hands.
“Nothing some strong tea won’t fix, I imagine,” offered Nulu.
“Is it morning?” Drimblerod asked, rubbing his neck.
“Only barely still.” Nulu replied, “I let you sleep in a little.” She gestured to the table, “Get some food in you.” She wagged a finger at him. “So you’ll remember you owe me a mop. My storeroom is quickly becoming an underground lake.”
Drimblerod staggered to the table, head tilted sideways. He plopped into a chair and removed a shoe. He flung it at Grimbledung. “Wake up! The day’s getting away from us!” He shouted.
The shoe bounced off Grimbledung’s shoulder. “Hey!” He angrily exclaimed. He sat up quickly, “Hey!” He said this time with his nose in the air, “HEY! There’s bread and tea nearby.” Grimbledung turned and swung his legs off the cot, “And preserves!” He squealed.
Holding his head with one hand, Drimblerod pointed with the other, “Don’t you dare sing the Preserves song.”
“There’s a Preserves song?” Asked Nulu, surprised.
“Probably,” replied Drimblerod, “there seems to be a song for everything. Even certain bodily functions, if I remember correctly.” Drimblerod scrunched up his face and sing-songed, “Do I really? Yes, I do - do.”
“On that note,” said Nulu, “I’ll pick up my tray after lunch. Send that mop over before I’m flooded out.” She ducked under the curtain. Even before she reached the door, it swung open and closed behind her. She patted it as she left, “That’s a good door.”
Drimblerod poured himself a cup of tea as Grimbledung moved to the table, leading with his nose, “Tea, toast, and blackberry preserves. Very nice dealings, Drim.”
Drimblerod spread the preserves on a hunk of crusty bread. It wasn’t warm but the inside was still soft and the crust was crunchy. “If she had a Gnome cousin, I’d marry her.”
Grimbledung blinked twice, “Why would you marry Nulu if her cousin was a Gnome?” He asked. “Wouldn’t it make more sense to marry the Gnomish one?”
Drimblerod stared at Grimbledung, “It’s really too early for your antics. Eat your bread, drink your tea and be content.”
“Whatever you say, Drimblerod,” Grimbledung said. As he spread the dark preserves on a piece of bread, he hummed a tune. When he bit into it, crumbs spilled all over the table. “Tasty.”
Drimblerod shook his head, “Let’s just save Rat a piece for when he wakes, he put a way a bit of Ale yesterday.”
Grimbledung set a piece of bread - a heel- aside. “Say, I was thinking. How about if I whip up the Gatherer Division sign. I have an idea that I think would be perfect.”
Drimblerod raised an eyebrow at him- his mouth was too full of bread and preserves to speak.
Grimbledung raised a hand, “Don’t worry. Nothing gaudy or outrageous. Just a simple sign to get customers’ attention. I’ll get Rat to help with the spelling.
Drimblerod finally swallowed his bread. “Sounds fine to me. You seem to have a flair for that sort of stuff.”
Grimbledung smiled. Now his mouth was too full to speak.
Drimblerod poured him a cup of tea, “I do have one question, and please don’t get upset. I’m just curious.” Grimbledung was sipping his newly poured cup of tea around
a mouthful of bread so Drimblerod continued, “Why can’t you read? I mean, you’re conniving, underhanded, and devious...”
Grimbledung waved a hand at him dismissively.
“No, no; I give credit where credit is due. Great Gnomish qualities, all. So why can’t you read?”
Grimbledung finished chewing and put down his tea cup. He turned his head to the side and bent his large ear forward. Behind it was a puckered scar as big around as a gold coin. “I took a ricochet Disintegrate! Spell to the side of the head in the last Pixie Uprising. I haven’t been able to read since.”
“Good gravy!” Exclaimed Drimblerod. “How did that not kill you outright?” He moved closer to peer at the impressive scar.
“From what I’ve been told, the blast took out a Brownie, bounced off a shield, winged a Pixie and then caught the side of my head. I was out for two months.”
Drimblerod shuddered. “That was a close call. At least all you lost was your ability to read.”
Grimbledung shook his head slowly, “Well, that wasn’t all I lost. I lost something even more dear to me than reading.”
Drimblerod refilled their cups, “Gads! What could be worse than losing the ability to read?”
Grimbledung sighed. “I lost my rhythm. I used to be a famous Bard.”
Drimblerod stared at him wide-eyed. “No kidding? Wow, that does explain a lot,” he said. “All your rhythm? That’s a tough one. Well, if those are the only two side effects, that still not bad.”
“Actually no. I’m kidding. I’ve always sung like this. But I really can’t read.”
Drimblerod smirked, “Well at least you know the quality of your songs. Admitting you have issues if the first step to recovery.”
“And why, pray, am I the only one NOT eating?” Scowled Rat as he squeezed under the curtain.
“Rat!” Grimbledung clapped. “I saved you some bread!”
“A heel?”
‘Of course. I’ll put some blackberry preserves on it for you.” Grimbledung reached down and scooped up Rat. “Want some tea?”
“Only if it’s strong enough to stop my head from pounding,” said Rat. “And blow up my heart.”
“Well, we can always hope. About the heart, that is,” offered Grimbledung.
“So” Drimblerod brushed his hands off, “I’ll go open the store and leave you two to your work.”
He got up and moved to the curtain, “I can’t wait to see this display. Reserved?”
Grimbledung nodded.
“Professional?”
Grimbledung nodded again.
“And not at all gaudy,” finished Drimblerod as he ducked past the curtain, “Riiight ....”
Chapter Nineteen
Wherein Grimbledung Begins Work
on the Gatherer Division Sign
“That’s what I am aiming for,” reassured Grimbledung to his departing partner’s back.
“All I can guarantee is that all the words will be spelled right,” said Rat. He sniffed the blackberry preserves, “What have you volunteered poor Rat to do now?”
“It will be fun, Rat” assured Grimbledung, “we’re going to make a Gatherer’s Division sign to trick people to get us wands.”
“I see” said Rat warily. He took a bite of his bread.
“All for next to nothing! It’s a perfect scheme” said Grimbledung as he wet his finger to pick up crumbs from the table.
“Sneaky and underhanded as usual,” said Rat.
Grimbledung took his finger from his mouth.
“Is the truth so hard to use to get your way?”
Grimbledung silently pulled his finger around the table, gathering more crumbs.
“People sometimes will actually do more for you if you’re truthful, you know.”
Grimbledung put his finger back into his mouth around a smile.
“I heard that Disintegrate! yarn you spun for Drimblerod, by the way. Are you going to stick to that story?”
Grimbledung’s smile faded as he pulled his finger from his mouth. “And that,” he said pointing his wet finger at Rat, “is the last that will be said about the subject.” The two stared at each other in silence for a long moment- Rat with one good eye, Grimbledung with eyes hot as newly forged iron. Grimbledung’s smile returned. “So come on, Rat. Finish up so we can get to work.” He clapped his hands, “We’re going to paint, carve, and imbue a sign. It will be fun!”
“Sounds fun” monotoned Rat.
“And if all goes well” continued Grimbledung, still smiling, “I won’t pitch you into the box” he finished as he casually pointed at the Abyssmal Box.
“Yes. Won’t that be a treat,” said Rat, stuffing the last of the bread into his mouth.
“Chew that while I dig up some lumber” said Grimbledung as he pranced to the backroom, humming a tune.
The threat or the bread? He hopped off the table onto the chair. “Hey Dummy.”
The Dummy turned to look down at Rat. He twirled his hand next to his head and jerked his thumb at the backroom.
“You don’t know the half of it,” said Rat. “He’s got Pixie brains mixed in with his brains. They weren’t able to get it all out. Every so often, he goes Pixie Crazy.”
Dummy raised his hands and shrugged.
“You see, Pixies are mean, spiteful, and ornery. Much like your garden variety Gnome.”
Dummy nodded.
“The problem is that Pixies are also mean spirited, and on the whole, criminally insane.” Rat sat on the chair. “Take those Gremlins that hide out in the back that we hear about but never really see, and they never seem to interact with anyone at all. Why, it’s as if they aren’t even really there.”[7]
Dummy gave Rat a thumbs up.
“They are mischievous and tamper with things,” continued Rat. “Well, at least they used to anyway. Now they’re an organized mob. BUT, before, when they messed with things, it was more as a nuisance than as lethal. Stitching in water bladders leaked, knots untied. That sort of thing. It made you curse, but that’s about it.”
Dummy nodded and gave another thumbs up.
“Now Pixies on the other hand, lure Werebears and Werewolves to sleeping travelers’ campsites.”
Dummy shivered.
“Or they untie knots to rope bridges while folks are on it. They do just plain mean things.”
Dummy gestured to the back.
“Yes, and when that Disintegrate! Spell blast bounced off a shield, it caught that second Pixie in the head, not the wing. When it hit Grimbledung, it was carrying along mean Pixie brain bits with it.”
Dummy put his hands on either side of his head.
“Right. So those little bits of Pixie brain make him a little unstable. He’s getting a lot better. A few years ago, he’d have burned this place down by now. The Pixie is working its way out of him slowly but surely. Hopefully soon, he’ll be back to just being goofy.” Rat dropped his voice to a conspiratorial tone, “You know,” he continued, “he didn’t know how to read before he got blasted in the head.”
Dummy flailed its arms wildly.
“It’s true,” assured Rat.
Just then Grimbledung came back into the room, arms full of lumber and nails. He was kicking along a hammer. “Success!” He said as he let it all fall to a pile at his feet. “Say, Dummy,” Grimbledung began. “Say- do you mind us calling you that? I know you are a dummy, but you, well, you also aren’t a dummy.”
Dummy shook his head and waved off the double entendre.
“Well you know, no one should be called a dummy, even if they are a Dummy.” Grimbledung looked confused. Finally, he brightened up “So I’m going to call you Larry from now on. How does that sound?”
Dummy gave him a thumbs up.
“Great, so Larry, what I need from you is a Mechanimator Wand.”
Larry pointed to where his legs should be.
Grimbledung shook his head. “That I can’t do. Since Drimblerod started the magic on you, he has to finish it. Bad things can hap
pen when you mix magic like that.”
Larry shrugged then held up his hands questioningly.
“I need a Mechanimator Wand for my display” he said. “For just a dash of style that will lure adventurers in.”
Larry held mitten fingers close to his thumb
“Just a hint, nothing gaudy. That’s right,” assured Grimbledung, “let’s get to work Rat, while Larry digs up a wand.”
“Why don’t I get a name?” Asked Rat. “How come Dummy is now Larry, but I’m still Rat?”
“Because Rat isn’t as derogatory as Dummy, of course” replied Grimbledung. “Besides we can’t call you Larry as well. It would get really confusing around here with two Larrys. Really Rat,” scolded Grimbledung.
Larry nodded.
“But no, that’s not ...” Started Rat. “I wouldn’t want to ...” Rat looked between Grimbledung and Larry. “You know, Rat is fine,” he finally said.
“Then what’s the problem?” Asked Grimbledung as he picked up a wide board. “This is perfect!” He said appraising the board. “Let’s get this done and surprise Drimblerod.” He reached for a hand saw.
Chapter Twenty
Wherein Drimblerod Tends to Customers
Until the Sign is Ready.
Kind Of.
Drimblerod tended to customers throughout the rest of the morning. I wonder how long we can run that Sale sign he thought as another customer entered the store.
“What’s on sale?” Said the Half-Elf, “I’m looking for a bargain.”
“A bargain what?” Asked Drimblerod flatly.
The Half-Elf thought for a moment, “I’m looking for a bargain, please?” He offered.
Drimblerod frowned. “No. That’s not what I meant. What kind of bargain wand are you looking for?”
“A cheap one?” Suggested the Half-Elf.
Drimblerod moved from around the counter testily. “Well, we have some cheap wands, some really cheap wands, and some really really cheap wands.” He was pointing at various racks in the store. “But these here are the supreme bargain cheap wands” he said has he picked up an Incinerator Wand.”
They Were The Best of Gnomes, They Were The Worst of Gnomes (Tales From a Second-Hand Wand Shop Book 1) Page 11