A New Hope (Tales From a Second-Hand Wand Shop Book 4)

by Robert P. Wills

  “Test fit?” He pointed at the table where the butcher had laid out several dishes.

  “Yah.” He frowned. “I am busy prepah-ring. Come back lay-tah” He put his massive hands on his hips. “You lit-ahl per-sohn.”

  “What you call me?”

  “A lit-ahl per-sohn.” He held up a monstrous hand, his thick pointer finger and thumb close together. “Lit-ahl. Small. Klein. Not biiiig.” He thought for a moment. “I’ve eaten bigger things than you! Then pooped them out lay-tah.”

  “All, right, all right, I got it.” Grimbledung shook his head at the giant of a man. “They put two humans together to make you or something?”

  The man laughed a deep laugh, mouth open at the sky. “Hah hah! A good wun” He blinked. “Wait. Two humans did come together to make me. My mo-thah and my fa-thah.” He laughed at the sky again. “Now I make the joke!”

  “You’re a regular jokester, aren’t you. You and Pozz should go on tour.”

  “Yah, that’s me. A joke-stah.” He put his hands back on his hips. “I can’t stay to tawh-k. I have meats to prepare. Come back lay-tah and I’ll see you at the pah-tee.”

  “So I take it you’re the new butcher in town? Nice to have a butcher.”

  “That’s me. The new but-chah.” The man leaned over the table and extended a massive hand. It was attached to a muscled forearm. Things got bigger from there. “I’m Trench Richards.”

  “Trench Richards, the Butcher?” Grimbledung reached out and shook the man’s hand. His fingers completely engulfed his hand. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Grimbledung Sixtoes. I’m the co-owner of Second-Hand Sorcery, the best used wand Shoppe this side of Orcistan.” He raised an eyebrow. “So where you from?”

  “Ah-m from Bakerville by the western jungles.”

  “So, Mister Trench Richards the butcher of Bakerville. About this spread...”

  “It’s a good spread. I live to see you eat it!”

  “Riiiight.”

  “It is good to mee-ht you, Grim-bahl Dung.” The man smiled as he released the Gnome’s hand and straightened. “Ah’ve got to get to the choppa!” he pointed at a massive butcher block table. “See you at the pah-tee.”

  “Yeah, you said that.” Grimbledung glanced at the table. “Say, Trench, I hate to mention it but...So what are you going to be serving? Just this?” Grimbledung gestured at the table and the minimal amount of food on it.

  “Well, to staah-t with,” said Trench. “Once I see how many folk are coming to the pah-tee, then I can put more ow-ht. There’s no sense in wasting food by putting it out na-ooh. Besides no one eats right when they show up!” He gestured around the large open area, back rippling as he flexed his arms. “Folks find a place to sit. Get settled! Maybe get a quick sna-ahck. But they won’t get real food until the pah-tee staa-hts.”

  “But, with this showing of foodage, no one will show up!”

  “Listen to me nahow! Eat with me lah-ta!” He clenched his hands together as his muscles rippled all the way up to his shoulders. “Ah-’ve done this sort of thing before, you know!”

  “I’ve ORGANIZED this sort of thing before, you know!” Countered Grimbledung. He clambered up on a chair to emphasize the point.

  “Don’t be a pah-tee poo-pah. This is plenty,” said Trench. “You sissy-girl.” He started to turn away from the clearly unstable Gnome child.

  “This! Is! Spartan!” Grimbledung kicked a goblet.

  Trench Richards turned back to face him. “I’ve had enough of you! Go nahow or suffer!” He flexed his fingers. “Go nah-ow!” he shook his head. “I thought wee-folk were jolly and cordial.” He moved around the serving table to stand before the Gnome. Even on the chair, at his current size, Grimbledung only came up to the man’s waist. “Cordial, ya?”

  Grimbledung pointed a finger up at the man, “What’d you call me?”

  The Butcher kicked the chair out from under Grimbledung. As the Gnome toppled to the ground and onto his back, the Butcher leaned over him. There was a very, very large knife in his hand all of a sudden. The disturbing part was that the knife looked large in the Butcher’s hands, meaning it was practically a short sword. Grimbledung noticed that the tip was up near his eyes, and a quick glance let him know the hit was below his knees. “Ah-ll serve you fricasseed if you don’t get out of here right nah-how.”

  “Well, there’s no call for that kind of language, I’m sure.” Grimbledung scooted away from the knife-wielding butcher. “I mean, honestly.” He got to his feet. “I just stopped by to offer some advice and lend a hand.” He dusted off his breeches. “And what do I get for my trouble? Insults.” He pointed at himself. “Aspersions cast directly at me. Me!”

  “Stop whining! You are soft.” The man waved the knife at Grimbledung. “You lack discipline!”

  Grimbledung stood. “You’re unstable, and I have to tell you, coming from me, that means something!”

  Trench narrowed his eyes at the Gnome. “Big Julie sent word to all the businesses yestah-day!” He gestured around at the various shops, arms out wide. He stretched out one leg and flexed his thigh as he did so. Several muscles bulged in different directions. “We were told that if a certain Gnoh-m came by trying to get involved at all with the pah-tee, we were to tell Constable Aki-tah. Who, I have been informed, has been told by the Mayoress to lock the fellow up until after all the celebrations are done!” He moved his hands back to his hips and flexed his shoulders. That seemed to be their resting place. His hands, that is. “And then a day la-tah just for a good measure!”

  Grimbledung got to his feet. “Well, all I know is that Grimbledung asked me to come down here and relay that message. He’s my partner at Second-Hand Sorcery you know. A bit unstable at times, from what I hear, but well-intentioned nonetheless.” He dusted his hands off. “I’ll make sure I let him know what you just said, Mister Richards.”

  “Yah,” the Butcher said, unconvinced. “Lie to me now. I hit you lay-tah, girly-Gnome.”

  “Well, I need to get back to the shoppe, you know. I can just imagine Grimbledung is wondering where Drimblerod... That’s me by the way. Drimblerod. Where I am.” He turned and walked quickly from the man.

  After he was a dozen paces away, the Butcher called to him: “Hey, Grim blahl Dung!”

  Grimbledung turned around. “Yeah?”

  “That’s what I thought!” The Butcher pointed his very, very long knife at him. “I lied; I hit you nah-ow! Come hee-yah!!”

  “Yaaa!” Grimbledung screeched as he turned to run, arms flapping as he went.

  Grimbledung scooted back to the shoppe as fast as his tiny legs would take him. He skidded through the open Door, around Big Julie and then counter.

  “Back so soon?” Asked Drimblerod.

  “What happened to you?” Big Julie looked at the sweat-covered Gnome peeking around the counter. “Someone chase you all the way here?”

  Grimbledung shook his head. “I don’t think so. I’m not really sure, actually; I was too afraid to look back.” He pointed at the door. “That new butcher is unstable.”

  “Unstable?” Big Julie smiled wistfully. “He’s built like a siege tower that one is. I don’t think unstable is a word I’d use to describe him.” She gave a low whistle. “Nice and solid.”

  Grimbledung raised an eyebrow at her. “Does Pinky know?”

  “Hey,” said Julie defensively. “You like gals with curves. I like men with bulges.” She nodded. “Pinky knows that’s what I like. He’s got them too, you know.”

  “Yeah, yeah- I’ve seen the two of them. It looks like they’ve both been stung or something.”

  “Yeah,” said Julie wistfully again.

  “So what did you do to upset the butcher?” Drimblerod asked.

  “Who me?” Grimbledung raised his hands defensively. “I was just walking by, minding my own business, not doing nothing to no one, when all of a sudden he pulled a knife on me.”

  “Well, he is a butcher,” offered Julie.

  “Who doesn’t kn
ow how to set up for a jamboree,” countered Grimbledung. As soon as he said it, his eyes got large. “What I meant was...”

  “Why don’t you go get cleaned up and then come mind the store?” Said Drimblerod, offering his friend a way out of the hole he just dug.

  “Good idea!” Grimbledung took to the stairs, grunting as he climbed them. “Another almost three weeks of this,” he said to no one in particular as he climbed the knee-high steps.

  “It builds character!” said Big Julie.

  “You think he’s not enough of a character already?”

  “I suppose he is, Drimblerod.” She rubbed her hands together. “Well, I think I’m going to pick up some meats and cheeses and then head home.”

  “Meats huh?”

  Now Julie raised her hands defensively. “A gal can look at the menu as long as she eats at home.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Whet my appetite,” she offered. “Yeah....”

  “Now it’s getting uncomfortable.” Drimblerod pointed at Door. “Door?”

  Obediently, Door opened.

  “Shoo, you window licker!” He shooed Julie towards the door.

  Julie moved to Door. “I believe the term is ‘window shopper’.”

  “In your case, I’m not too sure.”

  Grimbledung reached the top of the stairs. “Hey! Are there entendres going on down there without me?”

  “Nope!” Julie slipped out the door.

  “What’d I miss?” Grimbledung called down.

  “Big Julie likes guys with a lot of muscles.”

  Grimbledung nodded. “That’s what I heard. I hope someone tells Garibaldis before he finally manages to kill Pinky.”

  “What?!”

  “Nothing,” said Grimbledung. “There’s no need to worry until something happens.”

  “Unless you’re Pinky! Then it might be too late.”

  “I don’t think he’s in any real danger; he’s got some powerful, opinionated folks in his corner,” assured Grimbledung.[37]

  “Isn’t he a little old for Big Julie.”

  “Yeah, that’s the consensus as well, apparently.”

  “Well, if you say so,” said Drimblerod. He rubbed his hands together. “Hurry up, up there. I want to go get the lay of the town for the jamboree before tomorrow!”

  “Right, right!” Grimbledung turned and went to the sink by the cupboard. Thanks to his size, he could wash up in it without any problem. Thanks to seeing him do it, Rat said he was scarred for life.

  After only twenty minutes, Grimbledung came hopping down the stairs. His hair was still wet, leaving drips as he went. Colossus was there with Drimblerod. When he got to the bottom of the stairs, he shook his head fiercely. Water went everywhere. “Hey Col.”

  Colossus ignored the annoying shortening of his name. Halfling names conveyed greatness and power. He knew that Grimbledung didn’t shorten it out of malice, but it was annoying just the same. “You need a haircut.”

  Grimbledung shook his head- water went everywhere. “Cut this? That’d be like cutting down the Giant Bluewoods. Majestic things, those trees.

  “I don’t think your hair is in the same class as those three hundred foot trees.”

  Grimbledung posed. He ran his hands through his hair, it all pulled back as he did. When his hands reached the ends of his hair, it sprang back up even higher than a moment before. “Really?”

  Drimblerod laughed. “Fine then; it’s in the same school as those trees, a couple of classes down.”

  “I’ll accept that.” Grimbledung moved to the counter. “Well, I’ve got the shoppe if you want to go walking around.” He smiled at Colossus. “You going with?”

  Colossus nodded. “Well, I suppose so. I came by to talk to Drimblerod about some construction work...”

  “Oooh- If there’s one thing I do well it’s not construction! Want my help?”

  “No?” Tried Colossus.

  “That’s a good choice, I think,” admitted Grimbledung. He snapped his fingers. “But, I’m a great painter so once you get it built, I can help paint whatever you’re building.”

  Colossus looked at Drimblerod. “Painting?”

  Drimblerod shrugged. “The wagon does look nice and sporty now that he painted it.”

  “I’ll think about it, Grimbledung,” promised Colossus. “And when we get our house built, I’ll let you know.”

  Grimbledung did a little hop. Water flung out in all directions.

  “Let’s go Colossus, before we get soaked.”

  Colossus nodded. “A haircut would solve that, you know.”

  “Solve what?” Grimbledung ran his fingers through his hair again. Water ran out of his hands and down his arms.

  “Never mind,” Drimblerod put his arm on Colossus’ shoulder. “Let’s go. We can talk along the way.”

  Colossus smiled at Grimbledung. “Oh, I forgot to mention; the Lord High Priest of Halflings is coming to the festival.”

  “What?” Grimbledung clambered onto the stool behind the counter.

  “He was invited since it’s supposed to be a celebration of the armistice,” explained Colossus as he and Drimblerod moved to the door.

  “I thought the jamboree was because we are celebrating for kicking the Halfling’s butts all over the map.”

  “Not as neighborly sounding that way. So since he’s coming, you should lay low.”

  Door opened behind the pair.

  “Lay low?”

  “Not come to the jamboree.”

  “Whaaaat?!”

  “You can go to the next one.” Colossus backed out of the shop pulling Drimblerod with him.

  “Yaaaaa!!!”

  Grimbledung was still shrieking as Door closed.

  “I like pushing his buttons every so often,” explained Colossus. “Keeps him on his toes.”

  Drimblerod nodded. “You’ll get no complaints from me. I push them as well for fun.”

  As the pair walked towards the center of town, Colossus explained his plans, even pulling out the sketches he had made in the Duck Inn and Dine.

  As they got to the center of town, they ran into a very determined Pinky- he was on his way to have a talk with the town’s new butcher. A serious talk. About who was the one and only male who should be paying any sort of attention to Big Julie.

  Colossus and Drimblerod followed along, hoping for a good knock-down, drag-out between the two behemoths.

  They ended up being sorely disappointed...

  Chapter 49

  Let’s Get Ready To Rumble?

  Pinky walked up to the table in front of the butcher’s tent- there was an assortment of platters and trays spread out on it. Stinking meat cutter making the moves on my woman! I’ll serve you up on a platter you little pipsqueak. “Hey, butcher!” Called Pinky tersely. He had heard of a certain man whom his current lover seemed visit regularly. It took just a day to discover it was the town’s new butcher. From extensive experience, he knew that men became butchers when they were unable to master any sort of other physical profession. Meat-cutting pipsqueaks! Without mentioning anything to Julie about his insanely unstable jealous streak, he decided to have an up-close and highly personal talk with the man. By personally pounding him to a pulp. He had decided earlier in the day that he wouldn’t mention his jealous streak until the aforementioned pounding had taken place. It was, he thought, an excellent idea:

  Being the size that he was, he was confident the pounding would go just as he planned- completely one-sided with some hapless meat-cutter ending up looking like something he’d serve. And, Julie would appreciate his willingness to pound any and all male suitors to a pulp to ensure she only had eyes for him.

  Perfection in one simple plan.

  As he looked into the tent, a hulk of a man ducked under the flap with four plates in his hands. As he stood, Pinky noticed they were the same height. And width.

  Trench nodded at the man before him. After a strange discussion with an equally peculiar Gnome child, T
rench was now arranging his wares to determine how many of each dish he could fit on the table. Just in case. “Ja,” said Trench as he put the plates on the table. Out of habit, he wiped his hands on his apron then extended a massive hand. “That’s me.”

  Pinky extended an equally sized hand.

  The two exchanged a very firm grip. Pinky stared into Trench’s eyes as he squeezed.

  Trench stared into Pinky’s eyes as he squeezed.

  Any other’s hand would have been crushed into a soupy mess.

  After a long ten seconds, they both smiled.

  The pair became instant, lifelong friends.

  Dejected, Colossus and Drimblerod went to the Mora Tau to have some drinks.

  Grimbledung caught up with them later that evening.

  He almost, almost immediately started a brawl.

  Almost.

  After the brawl but before daybreak...

  Chapter 50

  On the Great Shambler Plains

  Thanks to the full moon, a dark shadow crawled along the Great Shambler Plains. It passed over yet another dead wild Shambler. It was the seventh. Well over a dozen arrows were stuck in it. Just like the others. It had passed near ten more, just not over them. It’s gigantic oars - two per side - moved back and forth, turning to slice forward, then they rotated to present their broad, flat canvas and wood faces to the nighttime breeze. Almost in unison, they moved backward, pushing the air in that direction and the craft in the other. Only the sounds of the oars creaking in their rowlocks and the rigging holding the five bladders of air above the decks gave away its presence. That and the 100-foot shadow it cast in the moonlight.

  Pollux leaned over the side of the massive craft. “What is going on with these Shamblers?” He said in hushed tones because the crew was asleep. His stone features scrunched up. “Wasteful killing; that’s all it is.” He turned and moved back under the peaked canvas and glass that covered the deck. “Makes me want to find out who’s doin’ it and...”

  “Yeah, I know,” interrupted his brother. “I know; it’s all you’ve talked about since the sun went down. You wan’ta do the same to them.”