The Halfling staggered back, dazed. He threw a punch at what he thought was the helm-wearing Dwarf. It was a seated Orc at a completely different table. He was sitting with a Human. On purpose even. The Orc rose to his feet.
“Time to go Grim!” Said Rat.
Grimbledung rolled off the table and onto his feet. He picked up his chair and swung it at the Orc’s back. It exploded ineffectually into splinters. The Orc spun around to see who hit him. As he did, Grimbledung tossed the remaining leg of the chair to a Halfling. Instinctively, the hapless Halfling caught it.
“He did it!” Shouted Grimbledung, “stinking Halfling!”
The Halfling looked from the table leg to Grimbledung, then to the Orc. Then to the table leg. He dropped it as if it were red-hot. “Now let’s not…” He began.
“Yeah. Stinkin’ Halflin’” The Orc reached for the Halfling who quickly moved out of reach. As he stumbled back, he bumped into another table. Not really needing an excuse at this point, but appreciating it anyway, the two Dwarves at the table leapt to their feet and grabbed the Halfling.
Seeing an opportunity, he would probably never get again, Grimbledung stepped forward to the struggling Halfling.
“Take a shot,” offered one of the Dwarves as the Halfling struggled in their grip.
“This is something I’ve wanted to do for I don’t know how long.” He reached out and twisted the Halfling’s nose roughly. “TWEEEAK!” Grimbledung shouted.
Tears welled up in the Halflings eyes as his nose broke. “You damned Gnome!”
One of the Dwarves let go of the Halfling’s shoulder, backed up a step and kicked him in the back. The Halfling, with both hands holding his broken, bleeding nose, reeled forward. Into the waiting arms of two Half-Orcs.
The brawl had spread throughout the bar. The battle lines were -vaguely- the Halflings against everyone else. The two Half-Orcs seemed to be on their own side, doling out punishment in all directions with the Orc lending a familial hand.
Drimblerod came down the stairs to see his partner get thrown over a table by two Halflings. “What is going on here?” He shouted over the ruckus.
As he scanned the room for Rat, a familiar-looking serving wench caught his eye with a wave. She gestured for him to come over. Between coaxing him on, she pointed at the bar. Rat was sitting on it. Holding a drink.
Drimblerod ducked and weaved his way to the bar, only getting glanced with a table leg at one point. “What is going on here?” He asked again.
The serving wench shrugged, “Happens a lot down here. The Halflings started it.” Just then, a Halfling staggered back against the bar. She dutifully picked up a bottle and smashed it on his head. He collapsed in a heap. “One down.” She smiled, “You know. Those fellows may be small, but they can sure hold their own in a scrap.”
“Oh, before I forget, Drimblerod. We owe for four drinks.” Drimblerod looked at Rat. “You’re on your second drink already?”
“Well, in my defense, Grimbledung smashed a Halfling on the head with my first one.” He twitched his whiskers. “And yours as well.”
“What do I owe you?” Drimblerod ducked as a tankard flew by his head. It smashed into the wall showering the three with ale.
The serving wench shook her head, “The ale costs more than the tankards. I wish they’d throw empty ones.”
“I’m working on it” said Rat as he tipped his tankard again.
“Five copper,” she finished at Drimblerod. She looked at the stairs. “Woops. This will settle things down.” She gestured toward the stairs.
Drimblerod looked over. Palmerlee Griggs was standing at the bottom of the stairs. He was old (for a Human) yet still fit-looking. His shoulder-length sweeping hair was all silver-grey; matching his beard and moustache. He was dressed in what vaguely resembled a sailor’s outfit. He held a wand in his hand as he looked around the room.
Palmerlee was used to brawls starting out in the lower BAR of his establishment. Early on, when he realized that they were going to be a routine occurrence, he had hired a local carpenter to supply him with lightweight, inexpensive tables and chairs to furnish the room. Nothing was heavy enough to be lethal. Even as a stabbing instrument, the broken leg of a chair would be a poor choice for a weapon. Even the tankards were made especially thin. He ducked as one of the aforementioned tankards sailed over his head. Being witness to countless brawls, he could easily pick out the instigators. Once he determined who ‘us’ was and who ‘them’ was, he could stop a brawl fairly quickly by focusing on removing just one or the other group. It seemed the Halflings were the ‘them’. Two Half-Orcs and a full-blooded Orc were also involved. Typically, Orc- kind fell into a third category: unaffiliated. Getting them out of the fight wasn’t as important since there were only three of them. They were also regulars and tended to listen to Palmerlee. Usually. One smiled and waved to him as he punched a Human in the mouth. Palmerlee waved back amicably.
Palmerlee aimed his wand at a Halfling that had just staggered into his line of sight. Even with an obviously broken nose, he continued to fight. Palmerlee aimed his wand at the Halfling’s feet and shot a stream of ice at him. Within a moment, the Halfling’s feet were firmly frozen to the floor. One down. He looked around and saw a Human and another Halfling grappling. The Human had a knife out. More than a friendly barroom brawl, this was attempted murder taking place. Palmerlee aimed his wand at the Human’s knife-wielding hand and blasted it. Suddenly, the Human’s hand weighed an extra twenty pounds as it was neatly encased in a block of ice. Caught off balance, he fell to the side, hand thunking to the hard-packed dirt floor. The Halfling glanced over at Palmerlee as he raised his fist to punch the now at-his-height human. Palmerlee shook his head and jabbed a thumb up the stairs. To emphasize his point, he aimed his wand at the Halfling’s head.
The Halfling moved to the stairs, grabbing an accomplice as he went. Without making eye contact, the two left the brawl.
Seriously outnumbered, the remaining four Halflings backed into a corner, and regrouped for the assault they knew was coming. As they stood ready, a Gnome crashed into them, sending them all to the ground. As they got to their feet, the Gnome took a position beside the Halflings, facing the rest of the group. His face was bloodied and his shirt was torn, but all in all, he seemed in fair shape. A Gnome tossing in with a group of Halflings? ‘Bring it on’ Palmerlee heard the Gnome say as he shadow-boxed. The Gnome looked left and right at the Halflings that were staring at him. ‘Hey fellas’ said the Gnome with a smile ‘I think we got them on the ropes.’ Not smiling back, the Halflings picked up the Gnome and tossed him back into the ‘us’ crowd. The battle lines were reestablished. Silence fell over the room as everyone picked out a target to attack.
In the far other corner of the bar, a loud ‘Clink, Clink’ was heard. Palmerlee turned to look. So did everyone else.
There was a rat sitting on the bar. It held two tankards- the ones it had hit together. “In the far corner, weighing in at a combined weight of 17 stone,” it said. “are the despicable Halflings.” He gestured at them with one of the tankards. Ale sloshed out of it. It took a quick drink. “And in the rest of the bar, weighing in at considerably more, are representatives of various noble races.” The two Half-Orcs nodded in approval at the Rat. “Let’s get reaaaady to ruuummmb...” Suddenly the rat was encased in a solid block of ice.
“No, let’s not,” said Palmerlee. “Let’s all get out.” He aimed his wand around the room, “After everyone settles their bill, and tips the wench. Heartily.” He shook his head. “You should all be ashamed of yourselves.”
Most weren’t; it’s why they came to the Tora Mau.
“Settle up and get out” he said again. He pointed toward the serving wench.
Dutifully the patrons formed a line that moved past the service wench, the frozen rat, and then snaked up the stairs.
“We’ll be open again in an hour or so,” Palmerlee assured them as they left. Off the main bar was a storage room filled
with spare furniture- it was just a matter of dragging it into place. Since it was light, it would be short work.
Grimbledung stayed in line and finally made it to the bar. He tried not to make eye contact with his partner. “I guess it’s time to go?”
“Yes.”
“Are we settled up?”
“With the bar tab. Yes.” Drimblerod grabbed the block of ice that was Rat off the counter. “So all I got to do on this outing was to pee.” He looked at the frozen Rat. “You’re going to carry him home.” He shoved Rat towards Grimbledung. “Have a better evening,” he said to the serving wench.
“If you please?” Tried Grimbledung with a wink.
“No.”
The two Gnomes filed up the stairs with the rest of the patrons.
“Grimbledung Sixtoes, the next time we go out. When I need to pee, you’re going with.”
“Ok.” Grimbledung nodded. “I’m real sorry about that. The Halflings started it you know. I was minding my own business...”
“Not doing anything to nobody,” interjected Drimblerod. He had heard the speech many times.
“Right! And then all of a sudden, I was in the middle of current events.”
“Well, maybe we’ll try again tomorrow night,” said Drimblerod as he put his arm on his partner’s shoulder. “Let’s go home and thaw out Rat.”
“Sure thing. Tomorrow I’ll be on my bestest behavior. I promise,” Grimbledung said as he exhaled. “Then after a quiet evening celebrating tomorrow, we’re on easy street with only the funnest Jamboree in the history of Aution ahead of us!” They turned the corner onto the street their shop was on.
“Don’t say things like that, Grim,” warned Drimblerod, “that’s usually when things fall apart.”
“What are you talking about?” Scoffed his partner, “Things are going great. We’re on easy street now. What could go wrong? We’re living on the corner of Easy and Street. See? We’re right there on the corner.” He pointed at their shop.
Drimblerod ignored the poor geographical reference and cringed. “Really, Grim- don’t tempt Fate like that.” He reached for the handle and opened the door. “It’s not a good idea.”
Grimbledung waved his hand dismissively, “Fate. I don’t believe in that sort of stuff.” He shook his head at Drimblerod. “Honestly, a smart Gnome like you believing in Fate. You know the old Gnomish Proverb- ‘There is no Fate but what we make for ourselves.’ ”
Fate, hearing her name several times, swooped down and peeked into the Shoppe to see what was going on. It was otherwise a slow evening in Aution, so Fate was looking for something to pass the time until the war that was brewing along the borders made it to town. It was a slow-brewing war.
“Fate schmate,” finished Grimbledung. “How about we do a late second lunch? That’s something real I can sink my teeth into.”
Fate seethed and looked at the edge of Aution. It saw two ragged travelers arguing whether to go left or right a few blocks away. One produced a coin with a flourish, and flipped it. Fate reached out and nudged it to tails- down the road the Wand Shoppe was on. Fate moved across the street and sat down to watch the action. Without realizing it, Fate sat down right beside Destiny. They didn’t notice each other because Destiny was looking the other way through town to a dusty and dirty reptile that was also moving down the street in their general direction. They looked at the shop at the same time and finally noticed each other. They exchanged glares.
The race was on!
Chapter Thirty Eight
Wherein Semfeld and Liverioso Return
to the Wand Shop ...soon after Garibaldis does.
“Yes,” agreed Drimblerod in an exasperated voice, “I have heard the proverb, but that doesn’t mean I believe it.” He shook his head at his partner. “How about we agree to disagree?” He offered. “That’s another old saying.”
Grimbledung stared at Drimblerod, “How can we agree to disagree. If we don’t agree ... You’re just trying to confuse me,” he sat on a stool at the counter. “You know what I think ...” He began.
Drimblerod threw his hands up in exasperation and retreated to the back room.
“Say what about ...” Grimbledung was interrupted when a short squat lizard burst into the shop. It was covered in dust and its claws were mud caked. Several gnats flew around its head.
“There’s no time to spare!” GaribaldisGila hopped several times.
“Leaping Lizards!” Grimbledung exclaimed.
What?” Asked Drimblerod as he came back through the curtain at the same time as the reptile’s entrance. Noticing the new, yet unusual customer, he smiled and greeted it. “Oh, hello Sir Lizard, what can we do for you?” At least it wasn’t wearing a cloak.
“I think it’s a Salamander” said Grimbledung
“Salamanders are slimy. This one’s dry. I’d say it’s a lizard.” Drimblerod appraised the creature as it stood frozen in the doorway, watching the exchange.
“How about a Gila Monster?” Suggested Grimbledung.
“Gilas are Lizards.”
“Now don’t go trying to confuse me again. If it were a Lizard, why would they call it something completely different?” Tut-tutted Grimbledung. “I think you’re still sore about the Fate stuff.”
They both moved from behind the counter to make a closer inspection of the creature.
“Listen you two Gnomes” began GaribaldisGila testily, “I am a Short Tailed Gila Monster; it’s a type of Lizard. A poisonous one in fact,” his voice dropped to a conspiratorial tone, “At the moment.” His voice dropped another octave, “But, for your amazement and entertainment...” He drew the wand from his back with a flourish, “I give you the Great Garibaldis!”
He tilted his claws to show they were empty and then waved the wand over his head.
It’s Me!
He intoned
In a puff of smoke, he began to grow and his tail shortened. Soon, he was a full grown Human; the Great Garibaldis. For a moment he wore a wrist sheath strapped tightly to his back. And nothing else. The strap on the wrist sheath gave out and it dropped to the floor. Leaving him with nothing on. Naked and in the doorway of the shop, he raised his arms over his head and took a deep bow. “Tada!” He exclaimed as he stood upright again.
“What kinda shop you Gnomes running here?” Growled Akita as he appeared directly behind the Great Garibaldis. “I run a rrrrrough town, but we have some dignity.” He kicked the man into the store and pulled the door closed behind them. “Therrre’s ladies out there, pal!”
“Watch it, you!” Said Garibaldis as he turned around, “don’t you ....” He got around and was face to face with Akita, “You don’t...,” he tried again. “know?” He offered. “Dealing with?” He squeaked.
Drimblerod pulled the curtain beside him down and tossed it to the man who quickly wrapped it around himself.
The man gaped as he backed away from Akita. “Nice ...d - d – d - “
Akita barked at the man. “Don’t you even dare say it.” He warned as he straightened up. “The name’s AKITA. Akita Finnish. And I’m the law around here.” He snarled, yellow eyes narrow but still glowing bright.
Garibaldi’s demeanor changed completely. “The law! Thank Sheba’s stars!” He did a quick little jig then lunged at Akita, catching him completely off guard. He hugged the constable, whose eyes grew large. Hugs were something that he just did not receive. From anyone.[28]
“Thankyouthankyouthankyou!” Babbled Garibaldis.
Akita looked extremely uncomfortable. He grabbed for Grimbledung who quickly moved out of reach. “Let go of me you madman!” He howled. “Someone get ‘im off me!”
Drimblerod had never seen anyone flummox Akita. Of course, he had also never met anyone crazy enough to actually try to hug the Constable. It was, without a doubt, a most unexpected and effective tactic. He stayed in place to enjoy the show.
Garibaldis started to sob. He put his head on Akita’s shoulder and cried, “Six years I’ve been away and fina
lly I meet a lawman that I just know can stand up to them!”
Akita went from uncomfortable to full blown panic. As he backed away from the wailing man, the man walked with him, still hugging and sobbing. As he did, the curtain dropped to the floor.
They did a small circle in the center of the shop. Finally, Akita threw his head back and belted out a howl. Shelves rattled. Grimbledung covered his ears. Garibaldis finally let go. He picked up the curtain and blew his nose on a corner of it. Then after a moment’s consideration- and to everyone’s relief - he donned it like a toga, “Sorry about that. I get emotional at times.”
Akita stopped the howl and leveled his eyes at the man. “Don’t grrrrab me again! Just tell me what’s goin’ on!” He stepped back from the man, (partly) to give him room to speak, and (more so) to put some distance between him and the crazed, emotional, barely dressed Human, “From over there,” he pointed.
“Well you see, what happened was six years ago,” began Garibaldis, as he wrung a corner of the fabric between his hands. He had calmed down considerably, “I was doing this Gig...”
Akita barked loudly at the man. “I don’ want a historrry lesson. Just give me the facts and keep it short.”
“Just the facts? No great story?” The man pouted.
“Save that for yer kids,” snarled Akita.
Garibaldis exhaled and composed his thoughts. “Short. Right. I’m a Magician. I was banished to the Great Sandy Desert for not paying my dues. A few months ago a couple of Magician Guild Enforcers showed up.” Drimblerod walked over and slapped Grimbledung’s ear as the man told the abridged story. “They stole my Shamblers, food and water and left me to die. They said they were coming after Drimblerod and his partner so I got here before them to warn Drimblerod partly because he gave me a good deal on some wands for a birthday Gig I was doing and partly because they left me to die.” He gestured towards Drimblerod, “It was a really good deal.”
They Were The Best of Gnomes, They Were The Worst of Gnomes (Tales From a Second-Hand Wand Shop Book 1) Page 30