They Were The Best of Gnomes, They Were The Worst of Gnomes (Tales From a Second-Hand Wand Shop Book 1)

by Robert P. Wills

  “Oh yes. It’s me. First you tell me you robbed Pozoolie’s shop then you said you’d rob the wand shop?” He raised the still dripping wand. “My shop,” he growled. “Do you know why you never hear about someone crossing a Gnome?” He asked, wand inches away from Peachey’s face.

  “No?” Wheezed Peachey.

  “Because no one ever lives to tell the tale,” finished Drimblerod as he stood and moved beside his partner. “So you heard him say he was going to rob the place?”

  “Sure did,” said Grimbledung.

  “That’s as good a confession as I need.” He narrowed his eyes. “Whatever shall we do with them?”

  Just then the bell over the door jingled as a customer came in. Or actually, two customers. Possibly it counted as one. Maybe two.

  “What’s going on here? The sign next door said to come by to join some sort of Gathering Division, but if this is the initiation, count us out!” The creature shuffled into the store, its three legs working in unison to carry the bulk in gracefully.

  “No kidding,” said the second head. I sure am not going to sign up if there’s tattoos involved!”

  Danny groaned on the floor and tried to lift himself with his hands.

  “Not at all. Just dealing with a minor pilfering problem,” said Drimblerod as he kicked Danny in the head. Danny promptly returned to unconsciousness. “What can I do for...” He examined the creature before him. “You?” He guessed.

  “Well, like Runion said, we’re looking to get into the ground floor of this Gatherer’s Division gig,” said the head on the right. “We’re always out in the Region and come across all sorts of things. We usually leave wands behind because we can never find anyone to take them off our hands.”

  “That’s true,” agreed Runion, “we must have left dozens behind.”

  “Say, you two look like you could use a partner” began Peachey. “How about I come with ... URKK” he finished as Nulu tightened her clutch.

  “Nulu, could you put that one down and fetch the constable?” Asked Drimblerod. “Grim can keep an eye on him while you’re gone.”

  Nulu looked from the crumpled heap that was Danny and to Peachey who shook his head pleadingly. “How about Grim goes and I keep an eye on this one?”

  Peachey nodded. Tears were streaming down his face. Nulu let up her grip and he gasped for air.

  “Yeah,” said Grimbledung hopefully, “I’ll watch him. How about YOU go and get the constable.” He winked with not a bit of mirth. “Get the constable.” He looked into Peachey’s teary eyes. “We’ll see you tomorrow Nulu. Just put the thief down.”

  “Should we leave too?” Asked Runion. “We really can’t be held in town as witnesses. A lengthy trial would really cut into business.”

  “Oh, there’s not going to be any trial,” cooed Grimbledung. “We’ll just skip that part, right Drim?”

  “Hold on boys,” began Nulu. “This isn’t how respectable shop owners work. Gnomes or not. Grim, go get the constable and make it quick. You might want to send for the Doc on your way back as well. I think that one on the ground is going to need some healing, and this one’s got broke ribs.”

  “I don’t think my ribs are broken” coughed Peachey. With that Nulu’s biceps bulged and a distinct crack was heard by all. Peachey promptly fainted.

  Nulu stepped over and dropped him on top of his partner.

  “Go quick, Grim. I’ll stand watch.” Nulu folded her arms and leaned against the counter. It creaked in protest but stayed put.

  Grimbledung’s face scrunched up. “But I don’t wanna go!” He whined. “The constable gives me the willies!”

  “Are you sure you don’t want us to come back?” Asked Earl. “Honestly, this is more excitement than we have had since we went to the Mora Tau bar and BAR last week. Town should be a place for an adventurer to relax after the excitement in The Wilds.”

  “Get the constable,” ordered Nulu.

  “Or The Region,” continued Runion.

  Grimbledung lowered his wand in defeat. “Fine, I’ll go get him if I have to.” He shuddered. “He just really gives me the willies.” He exhaled slowly. “Drim, take care of these fine adventurers, I’ll fetch the authorities. Unless you want to go get him and I’ll help them out!” He added quickly.

  Drimblerod shook his head “There’s no way I’m going to the Constable’s Office.”

  “Fine,” said Grimbledung, “I’ll go. Are you going to wait?” He asked Runion and Earl, “or are you not” he searched for the right words, “inclined to meet the local law face to face.”

  “Oh no,” said Runion as they both shook their heads. “We’re respectable folk. We’ve no trouble talking to constables and such.”

  “Just because they’re constables doesn’t make them bad people,” added Earl.

  “Obviously you’ve never met our constable” muttered Grimbledung and with that he scooted out of the store quickly. Door let him out and quickly latched behind him- just in case the two made it past Nulu and Drimblerod. Door was going to do its part.

  Drimblerod took a deep breath. “Sorry about that, Gentlemen. You’re definitely not catching us on our best day.”

  “That much is certain” agreed Rat as he moved back onto the counter, his heel of bread battered and dusty. He dropped it on the plate in disgust. “And that was the last heel.” He glared down with his one good eye at the pile that was Danny and Peachey. “You’ve made a powerful enemy, you two,” he warned the unconscious thieves.

  Drimblerod ushered Runion and Earl over to the far side of the counter, farther from the mayhem. “So, you’re interested in our wand program then?”

  Chapter Twenty Six

  Wherein the First Volunteers for the

  Gatherers Division are Recruited

  “Yes” began Runion. “You see, we’ve a very successful Pickled Elf Toe business. We supply most of the fine eateries and inns in The Region with the highest quality Pickled Elf Toes so we’re out and about quite a bit.”

  “And” continued Earl without missing a beat in their practiced spiel, “when we’re not selling the finest quality Pickled Elf Toes, we’re out procuring them.”

  “Wait. I have to stop you gents right there,” interrupted Nulu. “You mean to say that you actually go out and kill Elves and cut off their toes? The two of you?” She found it hard to believe that a lumbering mass that was Runion and Earl (or Earl and Runion even) could out-fight even a single Elf. And that was if they could come across one by themselves; much like ants, one never saw just one Elf. This was probably because of the unfortunate fact that their toes were, at the moment, considered a delicacy. Three years ago it was Fried Orc Ears. Nulu paled. She was glad that gourmet fad was over. Orcs were cantankerous on a good day, once someone lopped one or both of their ears off, they were downright belligerent. For the year or so they were a fashionable snack, Orcs were on the warpath and it wasn’t hardly safe to travel anywhere. “That’s pretty impressive, I have to say. Even as a Trolless, I don’t think I’d want to take on even a Troop of Elves.”[13]

  “We don’t really take them on. We rely on stealth to get our wares,” said Runion, “that and these pinky shears.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a curve-bladed pair of scissors. He snipped them in the air several times.

  “Pinky shears?” Asked Rat, “I’m almost afraid to ask why they’re called that.”

  Earl shrugged his one shoulder, “In the Kingdom of Putch, south of Orcistan, it was fashionable for a time for ladies to have eight fingers. It was kind of like the foot binding that goes on in Far East- but with fingers. Dainty hands requiring Haute Couture gloves were considered high fashion. Anybody that was somebody had eight fingers.”

  What some people do to meet some unattainable ideal of beauty,” said Nulu disapprovingly.

  “Our sentiments exactly. Why try to improve on perfection?” Said Earl. At Nulu.

  “Exactly my sentiments” agreed Runion. He was still looking at Drimblerod. "So w
hat do you need from us to get this business deal going?” He asked.

  “Just a handshake is good enough for me. We don’t exchange coins until you bring wands, so you’re not under any obligation to come back at all.”

  “The sign mentioned something about a Jamboree” said Earl.

  “He did,” added Runion.

  “Grimbledung is going to run the Jamboree so expect it to be completely out of control and over the top. We’ll do it at the Summer Solstice when the weather’s nice and the days are long. Top performers will get some sort of absurd prize that Grim will think up. Don’t expect it to be valuable though- Grimbledung is an odd Gnome.” Even though he pooh-poohed the idea of a years’ end Jamboree, Drimblerod was looking forward to it almost as much as Grimbledung was. Nothing got the name of a shop out on the winds better than a two or three-day party with free food and ale. The money spent on the event would easily be tripled with the word of mouth advertising it created.

  “So that’s it? We wander off” began Earl

  “Bring back any wands we come across?” Finished Runion.

  “Legally if at all possible” suggested Drimblerod, “I would like to keep our interaction with law enforcement and brute squads to a minimum if at all possible.”

  “So, legally gotten wands. And at the end of the year, you throw a bash with free food and drink?”

  “That’s the long and short of it. Oh- and if you come across other travelers, let them know about our proposition as well. The more people at the party, the better.”

  Earl stuck out his hand. “Deal.”

  Drimblerod slapped it. “Deal”

  Runion stuck out his hand, “Deal.”

  Drimblerod sighed. He slapped Runion’s hand as well. “Deal. Now don’t go and get silly on me. I got enough to handle with Grimbledung.”

  Earl turned to Nulu who was silently watching the dealings while still keeping an eye on the two thieves. “Trolless, hopefully we’ll meet again. Under better and more sociable circumstances.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “At the Jamboree, perhaps a dance?”

  “What?” Was all she could manage to say.

  “Mayhap we can have a drink some time. I’m only in town a short while.” He winked surreptitiously, “Just the two of us.”

  “But. What about ...” She began as she pointed at the Runion side of his body. “Never mind.” For some reason, being a well-spoken Trolless made her an easy mark for every weirdo and oddball she came across. As if just because she didn’t grunt and shout like a regular Trolless, she had lost all her standards in males.

  “See you around then.” Earl said as he waved. Runion was already walking out of the shop, which meant he was as well. “We’ll be back,” said Earl as the door unlocked and opened for them.

  “Safe travels you two. Errr. You all. You-uns.” Nulu gave up and just waved.

  Runion and Earl stepped out the door and turned down the street just as Grimbledung came puffing back into the store. He coasted to a stop at the counter and leaned on it. “Sherriff’s....” He said breathlessly.

  “Yes. That’s who you’re supposed to be bringing. Did you forget?” Asked Drimblerod.

  “Sherriff’s...” Panted Grimbledung. He started to speak again, but just pointed at the door instead. Standing there was Aution’s current constable- Constable Akita. He was also panting, but that was normal for him.

  Constable Akita had been elected by a landslide. Mainly because no one else’s name was on the ballot. This was due to two reasons: First, no one really wanted to be responsible for maintaining law and order in a lawless town like Aution, and second, and more importantly, because Akita would have probably killed anyone who dared to run against him. Constable Akita was the town’s constable the past ten years running. The local nobility saw him mainly lounging about, usually in a bright patch of sunlight so they assumed that his unusual approach to the constabulary arts kept the town free of riff raff. In all actuality, he didn’t conduct much law enforcement because no one wanted to deal with him; common riff raff dealt with their problems on their own instead of approaching Constable Akita. He tended to bite people who interrupted his frequent naps, eating, sleeping, and, as he liked to call it, “marking the town as his own.”

  In short, Constable Akita was a wolf.

  Sort of.

  Chapter Twenty Six and a Half

  Wherein Marjory and Spitz are Discussed

  Marjory Belladonna was the Mistress of Herbs (with a minor in Bryology) for Cool Springs- a town in southern Orcistan along the Emerald Forest in an area called The Wilds- and had been since turning sixteen years old. She had set up shop near the outskirts of town; closer to the herbs, lichens, and fungi that constituted her inventory. As Fate would have it (Fate always got her way), the town’s butcher also had set up business at the outskirts of town- closer to deer and rabbit (and Orcs while their ears were in fashion) which constituted his inventory. Theirs was a whirlwind romance that spawned several songs and one mostly inappropriate limerick. On the day she became of legal age (18- they may have lived in The Wilds, but they weren’t savages), they wed. It was a grand affair that the entire town of Cool Springs celebrated as one. Except for a minor incident involving a water tower and two participants of the wedding party, it was a gala event. Even several Orcs showed up. Unfortunately, the revelry was short lived. It was soon after the wedding that Marjory discovered her husband- Spitz Finnish- was a werewolf.

  Being an Herbalist, Marjory tried to suppress Spitz’s Lycan tendencies so that they could settle down and start a family. It was, she believed (correctly), difficult to put down roots when one was always worried that the townsfolk would come calling with torches and pitchforks the evening after a full moon after one’s husband had been out terrorizing said townsfolk. One had a difficult time buying curtains and good quality, long lasting, furniture when one may have to leave them all behind and run into the Emerald Forest to avoid being strung up and/or burned at the stake. It’s just not what one did. So, after many trials and errors, Marjory believed she had come up with a suitable concoction and began to give her beloved husband daily doses. With some concentration and breathing exercises on his part, and the potion on Marjory’s part, Spitz’s transformation to a Werewolf were very minor and very far between.

  Since the Lycan-suppressing potion seemed to be working, the two put down roots. Curtains were bought. Heavy, high-quality furniture was purchased and assembled, all with the handy –included- allen wrench. A fence was even erected around the Finnish household.

  Roots!

  Soon Marjory was pregnant and all was well. For most of nine months at least. It was then that Fate once again visited the Finnish family. Struggling under the pangs of impending child birth, Marjory waddled her way to their wagon as Spitz harnessed the team. With time running short, Spitz was nudged by Fate (who was still hanging around because not much else was happening in Cool Springs) to decide that instead of going through the winding roads of Cool Springs to get to Midwife Braxy Hicks’ house- he would cut through the Emerald Forest. He was not concerned about losing his way because not only did he travel the forest often while stocking his hooks and smoke house, the moon was full and low in the sky. The forest was awash with moonlight and the paths practically glowed. A fresh dose of Lycan-inhibiting potion and they were off. The horses galloped swiftly, white foam flecking off them from their effort. Spitz coaxed them along the forest paths, cracking his whip while keeping an eye on his cherished Marjory. Realizing he would not make it to the Midwife in time, he pulled into a clearing to assist her as he could. At this point, Fate was more than just loitering in the area; she was sitting in the wagon. Which had stopped in a field of Monkshood. Blooming Monkshood.

  “How can I help, my dearest?” Asked Spitz as he jumped (past Fate) to the back of the wagon. “What can I get to help your pains? Tell me what to look for and I’ll fetch it.”

  Barely still in control of her senses, Marjory looked out from the back of the wagon
hoping to spy a medicinal herb nearby. Her eyes got huge as she saw hundreds of blue and purple flowers with dark green leaves. The flowers all seemed to turn and meet her gaze of terror. “Move the cart, Spitz!” She begged, “MOVE THE CART!” But it was too late. The baby was coming and there was nothing that could be done. Marjory’s screams of panic and pain echoed through the forest as nature took its course. Thirty minutes later, she gave birth under the pale moonlight to a baby boy. Spitz took his son in his arms and began to clean him off. The child cried as his father scrubbed. “He’s a healthy boy. Are you alright, dearest?’ asked Spitz as he continued to rub down his sire. “It must the light” he said to no one in particular as he looked up at the moon.

  He looked down again and saw his brindled son- he was sure it was caused by the moonlight passing through overhead branches. He looked up again and saw the full, clear moon above him. Eyes widening, he looked down again at his son. “Marjory! What has happened” his screams also echoing in the forest behind those of his wife’s. “What has happened to our son?”

  “Wolfsbane” was all Marjory said before collapsing exhausted.

  Spitz looked around the wagon, which now seemed to be spinning. On all sides, blue and purple flowers, hoods pulled back, seemed to stare at him and his son. Hopping to the front seat, he grabbed the reins with one hand, son in the crook of his other arm, and snapped the reins savagely. “Move!” He commanded the horses who took to a gallop almost immediately. Ignoring the moans of his wife and the cries -and to his horror- yelps of his son, he drove the horses from the meadow. As he entered the forest he stopped the wagon. He looked down on his son- even though the brindling was more pronounced because of the trees; he could see that it was too late. He screamed at the moon in rage. The scream began in the throat of a young, able bodied Butcher in love but ended as a howl in the throat of a tormented Wolf in anguish. Even a band of War Orcs who had come to see what was the cause of the commotion stopped when they heard the change in tone and returned home. When they got there, they bolted their doors and shutters.