Excellent Squeeky breakfasts and dodgy repairs Chasing Gnomes : Chasing Gnomes Ch.7 - Japery by Fleedleflump

PREVIOUSLY in Chasing Gnomes... [in the voice of Harry the Dwarf (our one)] Uh canny tell ye tha whole tale, folks! We're a bunch o' naughty boys led by a naughtier lady. Uh ken tell ye there's a jewel called Hexapussy, and we need ta get it or the wee lass Rozlyn's in fer a reet kickin' and probably more. We're chasin' a wee gobshite called Billy Bass - a local crime lord headin' North with Hexapussy - but a wheel fell of the wagon and we had te stay tha neet in a Jolly Jester - tha chain tavern even paupers refuse to stay at. There's also the small matter o' some hard types following us along the road. Mebee uh should jeest stee un beed. *Cough* Maybe, I should stay in bed. AND NOW, in Chasing Gnomes... ----- "What I want to know," said Little-John in his high-pitched voice, his fingers clutching a roughly etched menu "is how, when there are so many breakfast things in the lands we might eat, this place can distil it down into two options." "You can always go out back and start fixing the wagon," I said, and he seemed immediately more interested in the menu. A waitress approached, apparently chewing her tongue, wearing a tabard so red and white, she looked like a snowman with stab wounds. "What you want to eat?" Lindon's head shot up. "What's on the menu, lovely lady?" The look she gave him could have curdled milk in the udder. If sloths could look bored, her expression would still have beaten them in a boredom competition. "You can have wheybread with a red bit, or wheybread with a brown bit. Yellow bits cost extra. For drinks, we have Olaf's leaf tisane or boot beer." "Uh think ye mean root beer, lass," said Harry. She focused that look on the dwarf until he turned away. "No. I don't. I recommend the tisane." I chuckled. "Tisanes all round and bring us a tray of red bits and brown bits - we'll figure the rest out." She waggled her eyebrows, flipped Lindon (who was staring at things other than her bored expression) a single finger salute, and shuffled away, mouth smacking as she resumed chewing her tongue. Partly to distract Lindon from her departing posterior, I snapped my fingers. "Oy, Elf. Check up on that patrol from Pennylast, will you? We need to know if there's time to fix the wagon or whether we should be coming up with a new plan." "Very well. I shall drop into a trance state and float free of my body." As soon as his eyes closed, I passed around nose plugs. This time, nobody asked questions. We waited for the rumble and its aftermath to pass while Terence excavated his earholes and the Harrys waggled their beards amiably. Dwarves - a funny lot. It was Merchant Harry who first braved opening his mouth to talk. "If ye don't mind me asking, lass, what property is it ye seek to acquire with this venture? Could ye not simply acquire it elsewhere?" I briefly considered stonewalling him but there didn't seem much point. "It's Hexapussy - The Dragon's Ring-piece." "Most dwarves consider her a myth," he said, his forehead furrowing. "It's said she reflects flames twice as bright as the fire itself and glistens even in the lowest light." I tutted. "I'd lay money a poet came up with that one." "If she's not a myth, she's likely more trouble than she's worth. Legends say those who have her will die soon after taking possession." "Well, I won't possess her for long." I could feel myself deflating inside. "Unfortunately, there's only one of her that I know of, so this is my only play." "Trust me," said Female Harry, "find another way - pay gold instead." "What The Bee Triple-Jay wants, The Bee Triple-Jay gets," I sighed. "And what he wants is Hexapussy. My only other option, once he's added interest, is fifty thousand gold pennies." "Fifty thou!" piped up Little-John. "How would you even deliver it? It'd take all of us just to lift it." "He don't want the money," said Harry, his tone dark. "He wants the priceless Ring-piece." Terence raised his eyebrows at me and waggled a bunched fist. He was either rolling dice, calling me something rude, or offering to solve my problem with violence. "No gambling ... if it gets lonely enough ... and you're sweet but even you couldn't take out his small army of bodyguards." His confused expression was plaintive enough that I blew him a kiss to take the sting out of it. Breakfast arrived and we all tucked in with steadily decreasing enthusiasm. "I swallowed it all!" shouted Lindon, bursting awake. He blinked blearily. "I hope that's not breakfast I can smell, or do you all gang up to fart on me whenever I go into a trance?" "One day," I said, chewing a mouthful of food that creaked, "I might tell you. Now tuck in and report - are we about to meet a terrible, violent end?" He opted for a brown bit and, after a brief sniff, took a tentative nibble. "Actually, I couldn't find the patrol. They've either turned back or moved off the road. Perhaps they weren't after us. The Bass boy is ahead of us but not by too much. We can still catch him with good roads and - you know - four wheels attached." He took another sniff at his breakfast, a grimace radiating across his face like disturbed water from his mouth. "Is there something you'd rather be eating?" I asked mildly. "Many, many things. My only left leg, for example, or possibly a testicle." Little-John swallowed with a visible effort. "Suddenly, repairing a wagon feels like a great prospect." I dropped what was left of my breakfast and it put a crack in the table. "Let's get on with it, then. Every minute spent not chasing Hexapussy costs me a few gold in interest." "There's a cheery thought to start the day," mumbled Harry. ***** "It can't be that difficult to change a wheel," I said, watching all my companions huddled round the bare axle. "Where are the instructions?" "Here," said Merchant Harry, emerging from the back of the wagon waving a piece of paper smaller than his hand. "I found them under some sacking." "Give," I said, waggling a hand. "Instructions are a woman's demesne." "My demesne don't look much like instruction manuals," said Lindon. "Yeah. Good," I replied as I unfolded the instructions. Then again, and again, and again ... "They look more like naked, red-skinned gobbits with sly smiles and wicked tails" ... and again, and again ... "And full, lusty lips" ... and once more. Oh, and again ... "And big, luscious, bouncing breasts!" Several minutes later, Harry, Terence, Harry, Little-John, me and Harry held up between us a sheet of paper the size of the wagon itself. "Blimey," I said. "I never realised there were so many languages in the world!" Merchant Harry was poring over the fold-defined panels. "There's Dwarfish, Elfish, Cuttlefish, Goblin, Troll, French [there is always French], Legal [I felt a shudder run through me] ... and Teenager. That one will be out of date." "What's the one that just looks like a drawing of a hand with the middle finger sticking up?" "Easy - that's Orcish." "You know your languages, friend Harry," said our Harry. Merchant Harry nodded sagely. "I'm a merchant. I have to be able to fleece customers anywhere, whatever language they speak. That's equal opportunities." "Well, equal for you, anyway," observed Little-John. "The best kind!" said the Dwarf merchant, beaming. "Aha!" I said, arriving at a destination with my finger. "I've finally found the Human section. LINDON!!!" "Hmm?" said the Elf. "Bouncing breasts. What? Eh? Oh, sorry." The stare I gave him would have sobered an Irish lottery winner. I've been practising them for years. "Don't look at me like that!" he shouted. "I'm an Elf. This is less, well, carnal than our favoured type of exercise." I put my head on one side. "I'm not sure the Council of Elven Ancestors would entirely agree with that assessment, sir Elf." Lindon sniffed - a very un-elflike mannerism. "Just tell me what to do." "Okay," I said, having folded (with the help of the others) the enormous instruction leaflet into a more manageable size. "Recommended tools: A large hammer, an axe, and two friendly trolls. Is there such a thing?" "Yes," said Lindon, with a master's poker face. "Axes are quite common in the modern era." I ignored that. "We'll just have to make do with Terence and three sets of Dwarven walking boots. Now, lift the wagon slightly off the ground with your trolls." Lindon held up his hands in submission, and Terence obliged. "Good. Now, offer the wheel to the axle." I couldn't resist a snigger. On cue, Lindon bent down to the underside of the wagon, fixed his grin on the poking axle, and said, "Excuse me, old chap, would you care for a wheel?" Harry turned to our merchant captives/escorts. "This may tek some time." Author Notes I hope you enjoyed the read. UK English - Fantasy Comedy CHARACTERS MAIN PLAYERS Rozlyn - Mercenary, human, currently down on her luck, taking any job to pay the bills. She's telling us the story, so don't be alarmed if she occasionally talks to you! Little-John (LJ) - Gobbit (the tragic lovechild of a gnome and a hobbit) - skinny and cute, particularly small. He's a master lockpick and only looks like a child. Lindon - Elf, wizard (allegedly) - oversexed and generally very pleased with himself. Harry - Dwarf, recently bearded, and Rozlyn's oldest friend. Terence - barbarian warrior with pecs so big, we'd put a wig on and call him Dolly. Straight-talker, straight-fighter, challenged only by maths. And language, and history. Okay, academics in general, but don't challenge him to a fight! ADDITIONAL PLAYERS Benchmark - the only blacksmith in Pennylast. Has a habit of allowing his teenage apprentice to make armour and may or may not be a swindler. Olaf - Proprietor of The Dragon's Tale tavern - owner of the dirtiest apron found outside a pig's whorehouse, and purveyor of weird parsnips. Bariston / Billy Bass - Charming young crime boss brothers, hard to tell apart - one famously charming, the other famously psychotic - or is that both of them? BJJJ - aka Billy-John Jingle-Jangles - Scary loan shark in Pennylast with a crew of henchmen so scary, they wear purple outfits and nobody takes the pee out of them.

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