Ben - 6. Epilogue

Ben sat under the great oak playing with a dried twig that had fallen to the ground and a small granite pebble he’d found near the privy. It was an unremarkable pebble, one of many broken from the mountain above. He guided the pebble around on the hard soil not paying attention to anything. To him, now, his world consisted of whatever was in front of him at the moment be it a stick and a pebble, his plate and cup at the table, his Papa’s lap during story time, or late at night when he stared up into the darkness and remembered the forever spent lock in the gnome’s cage.

His mother obviously was very concerned, but Gregor and Arvald convinced her that with time Ben would slowly come back. The length of time was not predictable since he’d been so young when sold to the gnomes. Also, there was the unknown time he spent within the gnomes’ orchard; in the real world Ben was gone for a few days, while in the netherworld he could have been kept for many years. It might take many years for him to fully return to the real world.

For the time being, though, he either stayed inside the cottage or close by, never venturing further than the privy or the great oak. Harold and the pixies watched out for him as they could, but sometimes watching a quiet child playing with a twig and a pebble can be very boring.

That was the reason Ben suddenly became aware of a presence before him. He looked up into the eyes of a gnome. It smiled.

“Fear not, child, I am Coryl of the Hazelnut Orchard,” the gnome said. “I have brought a small peace offering. They are of no use to us. None of our beings will trouble you more.”

It put down a wooden bucket full of hazelnuts and smiled once more. Then it stepped across the veil, disappearing into the nothingness of beyond.

Ben looked at the bucket; it was just like the one he’d used to clean up the walnut orchard. It was scary so close to him, but he reach out and took one of the nuts. He turned it around and around in his fingers trying to figure out what it was. It definitely wasn’t a walnut, yet it seemed to be some kind of nut. He put it down on a rock and raised his pebble over it.

“Stop! Stop what you’re doing!” a voice exclaimed up in the great oak.

Three pixies dropped from the great oak and one grabbed the hazelnut from Ben.

“Where did this come from?” the pixie holding the hazelnut asked.

“Gnome brought it,” Ben said. “Coryl was his name. Said it’s a peace offering.”

“Coryl? Do any of you know a gnome named Coryl?” the pixie asked. “And, which one of you is supposed to be watching the boy?”

“Me, sir,” one of the pixies admitted.

“Ben, these might be enchanted, best we take them to your Papa.”

“I can carry,” Ben said as he stood up and picked up the bucket.

The pixies froze for a moment as if they were expecting something to happen.

“Whew, well it didn’t explode or suck him back into the netherworld,” the pixie in charge said. “Well, come along, we might as well make our appearance and take our lumps for letting the gnome get to the boy.”

They ran to catch up to Ben before he walked in the door, but Gregor stepped out just before they got there.

“Okay, what’s going on?” Gregor asked looking at the pixies. Then he noticed Ben had a bucket of hazelnuts. “Ben, where’d you get those?”

“He said a gnome named Coryl left them,” the pixie in charge said. “Said something about being a peace offering.”

“Ben, is that correct?” Gregor asked with one eye on his son and the other on the pixies.

“Yes, Papa, he was friendly, for a gnome,” Ben said. “Can I go inside, now?”

“Yes, go see if Mummy needs help,” Gregor said patting his son on the head.

“Okay, anyone want to tell me how a gnome with a bucket of hazelnuts came across the veil and spoke to my son?” Gregor asked as he sat down in one of the rocking chairs. He eyed the bucket with the eyes of a sorcerer. There was nothing evil hidden in the nuts, nor were any of the individual nuts poisoned. It definitely looked like an honest peace offering.

“We figured Harold the raven ghost was watching him,” one of the pixies said.

“You figured the ghost of a raven pixies killed centuries ago was going to pay enough attention to my son to prevent a gnome from popping across the veil, right?” Gregor asked. “You trusted a raven rather than either of you? What’s wrong with this idea? If memory serves me, pixies don’t trust ravens and ravens don’t trust pixies. Granted Harold is a ghost and you’ve made peace with him, but I think we’ll all agree Harold is a few twigs short of a safe nest, so he’s not worthy of anyone’s trust. I asked you, the pixies, however many pixies it was going to take, to watch over my son when he’s outside just for situations like this. Now, what is your name?”

“Brimley, my lord,” the pixie in charge said.

“Okay, Brimley, I formally charge you with protecting my son when he’s outside and you know what that means. I’ll leave it to you to decide how many trustworthy pixies it’s going to take. I don’t want to have to take this up with Exetor and I don’t think any of us present want that either. Right?”

“Yes, my lord,” all the pixies chimed.

“Good,” Gregor said picking up the bucket.

“Wait, my lord, there’s something under the bucket,” Brimley said reaching up and pulling down a piece of vellum. “It has gnomic runes on it.”

“Let’s see, ah, yes, well, I guess the gnomes had a meeting about the firestorm at the walnut orchard,” Gregor said reading the wavy script burnt into the vellum with gnomic magic. “It says here they’ll be dropping off buckets of fruit or nuts at the appropriate harvest times as forgiveness and peace offerings. Of course, they’d appreciate having the buckets back. I suppose it’s because they don’t want the same conflagration occurring at their own orchards. Well, we’ll see how long it lasts. Well, goodnight gentlemen, I hope we don’t have a repeat of this again.”

“Goodnight, my lord,” Brimley said. “Come along lads; let’s go get our lumps from Exetor.”

Gregor chuckled as he carried the bucket inside.

End

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Author’s Note:

A big thanks goes out to Sharon for another wonderful job of editing.

Next up is a tale about a group of university graduates who decided to setup a winter tourist destination. Of course, this is at a time when tourists were mostly people on some kind of pilgrimage to a church where the petrified left thumb of Saint What’s-his-name is on view for adoration. Unfortunately, there’s a bit of a problem with expenses and there might be a thief among them. So, they decide to bilk the natives in the form of a tax collector. Plus, Trudy and Bea are going to school. Where turns into a big argument between Gregor and Edwina. And, for Ben, there’s a little surprise coming his way.