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

  Once again, Grimbledung ignored the way the Halfling said ‘Gnome’ since he was seriously outnumbered. “Just passing through. I’m on my way to town” he lied. “Getting a haircut. Bath.” He took a step backward. “That sort of thing.”

  “Wanting to look good for your own funeral?” Said the leader of the group.

  Grimbledung ignored the threat and took a different approach, “I’m Grimbledung. Grimbledung Sixtoes. Owner of Second Hand Sorcery.”

  The Halfling just stared at him.

  “If you’re in the need for a wand or two, we’re the shop for you.” The urge to turn the phrase into a catchy song started to build. Grimbledung forced it down and set a healthy dose of Self-Preservation on it to keep it there.

  “I’m Corporal Titanicus” said the Halfling flatly, “Leader of this deadly Intelligence Squad of the Lord High Priest of the Halfling Empire’s Army.”

  The song deep within Grimbledung grappled with Self-Preservation. “Gah!” Was all he could say as the inner battle waged on.

  “What?” Said Corporal Titanicus as he narrowed his eyes.

  “It’s Gnomish for ‘very glad to meet you’,” offered Grimbledung. Self- Preservation got the song in a half nelson. Things were looking up.

  “Sure it is,” sneered the Corporal. The remaining Halflings lowered their hands to rest on their hilts. Of their weapons- Halflings have no patience with dangling participles ...

  Grimbledung, thinking the situation was defused since Self-Preservation now had the song in a full nelson[25] and the Halfling seemed to accept his translation, he relaxed and looked over at the Halfling busily stacking wood. “What’s with the wood stacking?” He asked.

  Corporal Titanicus smirked at Grimbledung, “It’s for the upcoming Festival at the Cessation of Violence.”

  “Festival? That sounds good.” Grimbledung looked at the Halflings. “Cessation of violence? What violence?”

  “Oh, that’s upcoming too.” said the Corporal. Several of the Halflings nodded.

  “Well, I sure want to be invited to the festival.”

  “Don’t worry, you’ll have a front row seat. You and your shop.”

  Grimbledung beamed. Reaching out he took the Halfling’s hand and shook it. “Sounds great Corporal! I’ll be looking forward to it!” With that he dropped his handshake and hurriedly walked away from the corpse-burning, wood-stacking Halflings bent on destruction.

  As Grimbledung walked, only one thing stood out in his mind: get a haircut and a bath so he could go carousing!

  “That is one of the stupidest Gnomes I’ve ever met,” said one of the Halflings to the Corporal. The rest nodded.

  Sadly, he was correct.

  The rest of Chapter Thirty Three

  Wherein Gatherer Division Wands

  Unfortunately Do Not Begin to Arrive

  Drimblerod sat at the counter, hoping customers would come in.

  No customers came in for the rest of the day.

  The next day, Grimbledung and Drimblerod sat at the counter, secretly hoping no customers would come in because they were dealing with the aftereffects of a night (and early morning) of carousing.

  To their pleasure, no customers came in for the rest of the day.

  Chapter Thirty Five

  Just because we figured there should be one[26]

  Or the next day.

  By then, the Gnomes weren’t too happy about it.

  “One big deep hole,” scowled Drimblerod, “and it’s called Grim’s Jamboree.” Drimblerod moved away from the breakfast table sullenly. “We’re going to lose our shirts on this gimmick of yours.”

  Grimbledung sat quietly as he ate breakfast- just as he did the day before. And the day before that.

  “Do you have anything to say for yourself?” Coaxed Drimblerod. He hadn’t been able to get two words out of his partner in a day and a half. Although it was refreshing to have some quiet time, it was difficult to tease someone if they didn’t respond. Rat had given up within hours. Drimblerod’s persistence was fueled by the profits that were being lost.

  “Today will be better,” mumbled Grimbledung. He looked toward the front of the shop. “Hopefully” he added as he moved to the curtain. “I’ll flip the sign.” He ducked past the curtain and moved to the front door. There was a line outside it. Grimbledung peered out the window at the queue that had formed while they had been eating breakfast. “DRIM!” He shouted, “DRIM GET OUT HERE!”

  Chapter Thirty Six

  Wherein Gatherer Division Wands

  Actually Do Begin to Arrive

  Drimblerod looked at the curtain, “How can you already be having a crisis? We’ve only just opened!” He called.

  “Drim! There’s a line out here!”

  “A line? Of what?”

  “CUSTOMERS!”

  Drimblerod was off like a shot and through the curtain as Grimbledung flipped the sign, “A line of people wanting to get in?”

  Grimbledung opened the door, “Come in and peruse the merchandise.” He added a welcoming smile for good measure

  “What?” Said the human at the front of the line.

  Grimbledung’s smile faltered, “Ahhh, buy a wand?”

  “I’m not here to buy a wand.”

  Grimbledung moved past the man and looked down the street. There were a goodly number of people in line behind the Human- various races of people but all kind of haggard looking, he suddenly realized. “Are any of you here to buy a wand?” He asked hopefully.

  The group had a quiet conversation amongst themselves. A Dwarf- the second in line shook his head, “Nae Laddy, we’re not here to buy wands.”

  Grimbledung’s faltering smile finally gave out completely. A frown replaced it. “Then what are you all standing here for? Is there a parade I don’t know about?”

  The Human looked at Grimbledung (he was still behind him), “Is this Second Hand Sorcery?” He asked.

  Drimblerod stepped forward also into the doorway, “Yes it is. Is there some sort of trouble?” He looked down the side of the shop. There were at least fifteen in the line.

  The Human shook his head, “No, no. The two headed fellow said you gents bought wands so that’s why ...” the man was cut off as Grimbledung hugged him, “Say now. This is a friendly shop. The two headed guy didn’t mention that part.”

  “Grimbledung, let go of that Human and let these people come into the store!” Scolded Drimblerod as he pried his partner off him, “Sorry, he gets emotional sometimes.”

  “Fine, fine. No harm done. Say can we get down to business? I’ve got to meet a blacksmith about some swords.”

  “Yes, come in. Let me get our other partner and we’ll get started. Grim, show these people in.” He moved quickly to the curtain, “Rat! We need your help out here. We’re swamped!” Drimblerod made it back to the counter just as the human came to the counter in front of Grimbledung. ‘So, kind Sir, what wand do you have to sell?’ he heard him ask hopefully. Almost too hopefully; a little bit of disinterest always helped when dickering over prices. He would have to give Grimbledung a few more pointers in the fine art of Haggling.

  “Don’t rightly know. I picked them up and carried them along ‘cause that two headed fellow said you’d buy them.” He reached into his pack and pulled out a Levitation Wand.

  “Ohhh! A Levitation Wand!” Cooed Grimbledung, “Those are nice to have.” He got a bad feeling.

  “And here’s the other one,” said the Human.

  “Oh dear. An Incinerator Wand.” Grimbledung gulped. “Did you by any chance find a large backpack as well?”

  “Yes, I sure did,” the Human said. “Taking it to the Haberdashery to see if I can get a store credit or something. That’s a lucky guess!”

  Grimbledung stuck out his tongue. “I don’t know how much luck had to do with it. Anyway, those are some great finds and we’re glad to have them.” He stopped himself before he added ‘back’.

  Drimblerod shot him a glance that foretold of a great de
al of ear whacking in the very near future for drooling over wands they were supposed to be buying as cheaply as possible. Grimbledung returned to help the Human in hopes that the whacking would be forgotten. “So a Levitator and Incinerator then.”

  “Yes, that’s it. Didn’t see any others.”

  “How about two copper for them?” Grim asked in the most emotion-free tone he could manage.

  “Sounds good to me. Didn’t cost me anything and that’ll buy me a drink or two across the street said the Human.

  Grimbledung did a little back-flip in his mind, “Great. Tell them we sent you and you’ll get a frosty ale for no extra charge.” Mentally he made a note to make sure and tell Nulu about that new arrangement. Hopefully it wouldn’t cost him too much later on.

  “Great, great. Nice doin’ business with you.” He took the coins and walked out of the store.

  The next in line – inexplicably the adventurers maintained their line as they entered the store. They were, without a doubt, the politest, orderly adventurers Grimbledung ever saw. “What have you?” He asked the Half-Orc hopefully (again to Drimblerod’s displeasure).

  “I dunno.”

  “Do you have a wand?”

  “A what?”

  “A wand.”

  “For what?”

  “To sell.”

  “No.”

  Grimbledung frowned. “Then why were you in line?”

  “I dunno.”

  “How about I give you a copper and you go get yourself a drink across the street?”

  “I can do that?”

  “Sure. They serve everyone over there.” Grimbledung took a copper out and handed it to the perplexed looking Half-Orc. “Here you go. Have a drink on us.”

  “Sure.” The Half-Orc left the store content in knowing that a few moments in line (Half-Orcs were as notorious for cutting in line as they were for pulling arms out of sockets) had earned him a free drink. If he finished the drink quickly, he would try the line at the Furrier next.

  Drimblerod shook his head at his partner’s annoying charity. There was going to be a list of lessons for his partner once the day was done. “Who’s next?” He asked disinterestedly to no one in particular- he was a pro at this.

  “Tha ... tha ... tha ... that’d be me,” said a shaky looking Elf. He looked over his shoulder twice before Drimblerod could call him forward.

  “Step right up, kind Elf” he coaxed.

  The Elf looked over his shoulder again and hobbled to the counter. When he got there he leaned on it.

  “Are you alright?” Asked Drimblerod anxiously. The last thing he needed was another incident that brought Akita by. He had seen the Constable more in the past month than he had in almost five years in town.

  The Elf alternated between nodding and looking over his shoulder. “I ... I ... I ... I’m fine.”

  “This is a safe shop, Elf, you don’t have to worry about anything in here,” Drimblerod lied. “How about you show me your wands, and then you can get going?”

  “Not wor ... wor ... worry? How many toes you got?”

  Drimblerod shrugged, “Eight. Just like any other Gnome. Why?”

  “I got th ... th ... th ... three.”

  “On each foot?” Drimblerod asked hopefully.

  “Toe ... toe ... total.”

  “Gads! How’d that happen?”

  The Elf winced with the one shoulder that wasn’t holding him up. “Dunno. I remember sp ... speaking to that Runion fel ... fel ... fellow and the next thing I know, most of my toes are gone.” He pursed his lips, “And I just had them done too. Think he had something to do with it?”

  “No way. Not Runion,” Drimblerod lied again. “So how about you show me your wands, and then you can get going?” He tried again. The Elf, and Runion - by proxy- was giving him the willies.

  The Elf gave another half-shrug, “Sure.” He took a small bag off his belt, “Go ... got ... They’re here.” He loosened the drawstring on the bag and upended it. A dozen small wands of different colors spilled out. “Pixie Sticks,” he explained.

  “Yes. Very nice.” He surveyed the pile of wands. They were easily worth two gold coins (retail). “How’d you get them all?” Drimblerod said

  “Walking around. I’m a Pixie wrangler.” The Elf reattached the pouch to his belt.

  “Pixie wrangler?” Asked Drimblerod, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of one of those. What, do you train them or something? Put on a show?”

  The Elf shook his head. “No. I get rid of inf ... infestations.”

  Drimblerod nodded, “That’s a tough job. Once you get a bunch of Pixies settled in, they’re real ...” a thought popped into Drimblerod’s head, “Wait a grain of sand, Pixies don’t use Pixie Sticks. Folks use Pixie Sticks against Pixies. How do you get these wands?”

  “When I get rid of them, the people give me the Pixie Sticks because they don’t need them anymore,” the Elf said.

  “So what do you do with the Pixies? Shoo them away?”

  “No ... no ... nope. I sell them to the Orcs. They eat them you know,” explained the Elf.

  Drimblerod blanched. Most people considered Pixies to be pests but even so, they were mostly harmless. “Orcs?”

  “Ago ... ago ... gold coin.”

  “You sell the Pixies for a gold coin to the Orcs?” Drimblerod didn’t feel sorry for the Elf anymore. “That’s horrible!”

  The Elf shook his head, “No. That’d be ter- ter - terrible”

  Drimblerod sighed, glad that he had misunderstood.

  “I give them to the Orcs so they leave me alone.” Drimblerod blanched. “I want a go ... gold coin for the wands,” the Elf finished quickly.

  Drimblerod stuck out his tongue, “Here’s your coin, Elf.” He frowned, “Take it and go.”

  The Elf pocketed the coin and daintily hobbled out of the shop.

  “Next!” Called Drimblerod.

  “So what I have are Assassin Wands” said the Human to Grimbledung.

  “Wands-sss?” Asked Grimbledung hopefully. “You have more than one Assassin Wand?” Assassin Wands tended to not make it on the market very often since they were usually discarded after they were used so they couldn’t be used as evidence later. They were prized in the wand resale world.

  He opened his cloak and showed the inside lining to Grimbledung. Sewn into it were rows of loops to hold wands. He had four wands neatly nestled in them; two on each side. “It’s got loops for wands,” the Human explained.

  “Gads! You’re walking around with four Assassin Wands strapped to your chest?” Grimbledung backed up a pace. In all actuality, he would have had to back up a hundred paces to be safe. The counter in between them was inconsequential. “You’re liable to just explode at any minute!”

  The Human shook his head, “I got this cloak off a Magician. It keeps the wands in check.” He winked. “Real handy.”

  Grimbledung leaned forward, “Say, that’s a nice looking cloak.” He reached for it, “May I?”

  The Human shrugged. “Sure.”

  Grimbledung took one of the flaps of the cloak in his hands. It was dark brown and very smooth. “You know; the last two Magicians I saw had these really gaudy cloaks. I thought they were all like that.”

  “They are. I had the cover replaced and just kept the Magic Inhibitor® lining.”

  “So where did you even come across four Assassin Wands. I don’t mind telling you, those are hard to come by,” commented Grimbledung as he continued to examine the cloak. It had a sheen to it as if it had been well oiled recently yet it wasn’t wet feeling at all. It was slightly oily though.

  “I live in the sewers. People toss all sorts of stuff into the sewers. Sometimes I find Assassin Wands.”

  Grimbledung shrieked and pulled his hand back as if it had been inside a Thrak[27] . The patrons in the store all turned to look at him. He quickly wiped his hands on the back of his breeches. “Sherman’s Ears. That’s disgusting.”

  “You want the wands or no
t?”

  Grimbledung was tempted to not take any of them but the potential for profit was too great. After all, it was nothing a good washing couldn’t take care of. “Wait. Do you know where these came from? That’s important with Assassin Wands you know.”

  “Sure thing. I remember which sewer I was in when I got each of them,” he explained

  Grimbledung shrieked. Again, the patrons all turned to look at him. “You go into different sewers?” Grimbledung considered giving himself a good washing after dealing with this particular customer and seriously considered not mentioning the Jamboree to him.

  The Human, completely ignoring the shriek, pulled a wand from his cloak. “Let’s see. I got this one in West Kilbride. They have really nice sewers there. Lots of ledges you can lay down on, plus plenty of grates to let the sun in.” The man considered that for a moment. “Unless of course it’s raining, then you just get drenched.”

  Grimbledung stared at the man. “Weren’t you going to tell me about the wand? I don’t really want to hear about the sewers.”

  “They’re really nice you know. Lots of space.”

  Grimbledung shook his head, “Wands. Not sewers.”

  “Well, if that’s what you want, then by all means, here’s the tale of this wand.” The man smiled hopefully.

  “That’s what’s coming next, right?”

  The man’s smile broadened. “Sure thing. I’m glad to help,” he said. Because he was. “Well you see...”

  Drimblerod cocked an ear towards his partner and the disturbingly strange patron he was dealing with. He hoped that Grimbledung was making mental notes on the descriptions of each wand. With normal wands, the pedigree wasn’t important. At times, it was purposely forgotten- such was the case with dueling wands. With Assassin Wands, their initial construction and use dictated how much they were worth. He hazarded a glance at his partner. He seemed to be paying rapt attention to the human. With a shrug he turned to see who he was going to deal with next It was an Orc.