The Gnome of Elderberry

by Porphyro



  THE GNOME

  OF

  ELDERBERRY

  THE GNOME OF ELDERBERRY

  By PORPHYRO

  Copyright 2016 PORPHYRO

  1.

  Travelling one day down the path, lost in the woods--uh-oh--a young woman comes across The Gnome.

  He has a big nose that can be seen from A MILE away...!

  ...but not really. It is a huge nose, though. (Imagine a fist attached to your face. Actually, imagine a fist so big, it might as well be two fists attached to your face.)

  The young woman is happy to see him. She’s usually wonderful at finding her way, just wonderful. This is the first time she’s ever been truly lost. It’s been an entire hour since she’s known where north was north.

  And so she’s happy to see a fellow traveler, no matter how humungous the fellow traveler’s nose is.

  He’s way up there in the clearing, going down the path--

  “--okay, okay,” you say. “Enough about him and his nose. What about the girl?! What’s her name?” And I say, Oh? Has she caught your attention now? How interesting. (I raise my eyebrow.) Well, for starters, her name is of no importance.

  Well, but hold on. That came out wrong. I didn’t mean it to sound like that. Because I suppose if we’re to talk about her, it would be insulting to keep referring to her as, “Girl,” or “Young Woman,” or “No-Name,” or, “A Name of No Importance.” So let us look at her closely and examine her traits. Perhaps with a little bit of study, we can choose a moniker even better than the one her parents did.

  Let’s see…she’s rather short. Not as short as The Gnome--God no. She’s short in the usual way. She’s human, after all. Her nose is rather small, not so ginormous as his. Her hands, on the other hand, her hands…. Hmm. They’re rather large for girl hands. And her feet are rather large as well. Hmm. If she were a boy, that would mean--

  --but enough about the physicals. Enough about her dark hair and her dark eyes. Enough about how fast she walks, about her great sense of direction, about her prodigious ability to focus on the task at hand.

  But wait! Sense of direction…. Prodigious ability to concentrate…. These are the types of things we want to talk about! Yes, her emotional stability. Her stick-to-itiveness. Her quick wit, vivacity, and sheer optimism. These are the type of things that really make up a person.

  Ah, but enough, enough, enough! We’ll be making lists about her all day at this rate.

  Let’s just call her what her father does: Ruthie. A rather stupid name, don’t you think? At least for her it is. Ruth, Ruth, Ruth…. Doesn’t that mean sadness? Grief? Regret? Doesn’t it mean all of those things that are opposite of this cheerful girl? Ruth, Ruth, Ruth…. Ruthie.

  Ah, but it will have to do.

  Ruthie cups her hands.

  RUTHIE. (from afar) Sir, sir! Please wait up!

  THE GNOME. (shouting) Can’t! Got places to go!

  And though he sounds like a rude little one, it’s true. He does have places to go. Oh sure, he could have said it a little nicer. But it’s true.

  He’s carrying a rickshaw full of heavy orbs. Each of them is about the size of a melon. And they’re made out of beautiful, polished glass. And they’re all dyed a deep, deep purple. And, if you listen closely, they each make a distinct oscillating sound: woOOoooOOooOoOooOooOoooOOooOOOOOoo.

  Oh...! Oh...! And, and each of them have vicious swirls of black and red deep, deep inside the core. Yes, that’s right. Vicious swirls.

  They’re interesting orbs. Very interesting.

  It doesn’t look like The Gnome cares very much about them, though. Because if he did, he would be sure to wrap each of them up in a protective cloth. After all, how could he transport Fragility like that? Glass hitting glass with every bump. That’s irresponsible.

  You’re an irresponsible carrier, Mr. Gnome. You’ll get chips like that. You’ll cause scratches on your orbs.

  (But don’t feel too bad, Mr. Gnome. You’re a hard-working carrier, too.)

  And I’m not just saying that to flatter The Gnome. Because he sure is laboring an awful lot. He’s got the thousands of sweat drops to prove it. His clothes are drenched, his forehead shines, and his arms are a crazy tremble. It looks like he can hardly carry his cart anymore.

  RUTHIE. Wait sir!

  THE GNOME. Can’t! Load’s too heavy!

  The Gnome’s afraid if he puts the cart down, he’ll never be able to pick it up again. As previously mentioned--his arms a crazy tremble.

  RUTHIE. I see that, sir! But please wait!

  She rushes towards him. Her long legs (at least compared to his) move her swiftly. He should be jealous she can move so fast.

  And, actually, he is rather peeved he can’t outpace her, the gremlin, the sour, sour man. He would have liked nothing better than for her to be chasing him, “Sir! Sir!” only to despairingly watch the distance between them to grow further and further apart.

  Alas, things don’t happen that way. She’s right by his side within seconds.

  THE GNOME. (grumbling) What do you want?

  RUTHIE. I’ve lost my way, sir, and I’d like to know how to get back. My father is waiting for me.

  THE GNOME. It ‘TAINT my problem you got lost!

  He scowls. That’s worth at least three more exclamation marks...!!!

  RUTHIE. I suppose I did wander a little too far past the river….

  THE GNOME. I suppose you did.

  RUTHIE. Sir?

  THE GNOME. What is it, ya pest?! (he throws his cart down) You know what you’re like? Hmmmmm? You’re like a mosquito that flies too close to your ears. High-pitched little buggers. Awful, awful. It’s like they’re taunting you, buzzing so close to your ears. They know you can’t possibly catch them. It’s like they’re telling you--“I’m here! I’m about to sting!” Well if you’re going to suck my blood and give me a huge itchy pimple, just do it. Just ruin my day. You don’t have to buzz so close to my ears.

  RUTHIE. Sir?

  THE GNOME. What?!

  RUTHIE. I’ve ventured into a different land, haven’t I? I’m looking at those trees nearby and they’re nothing like I’ve ever seen before.

  THE GNOME. (he shrugs) What’s it to me?

  RUTHIE. What are those giant orbs you’re carrying in your cart?

  THE GNOME. Those? (he points to them)

  Ruthie is too polite to say something like, “No, the ones down your throat.” Or, “No, no, I mean the ones hidden inside your shoes.”

  RUTHIE. Yes, yes. Nose. (she covers her mouth) Those, rather! Sorry!

  THE GNOME. Those are my thoughts.

  RUTHIE. Oh my. They look…quite heavy.

  THE GNOME. (grumbling) They are. Almost unbearably so. (he rubs his biceps and winces)

  RUTHIE. To where are you taking them, sir?

  THE GNOME. To the end of this path!

  RUTHIE. Where does this path lead, sir?

  THE GNOME. That doesn’t matter!

  RUTHIE. Well sure it does!

  THE GNOME. You’re abusing me! Away! Away! Get away! You abuse!

  RUTHIE. How do I abuse you, sir?

  THE GNOME. I’m too tired to flee from you. I need my rest. You’re forcing yourself onto me. Your voice...! It’s sonic torture! It’s downright sonic tor--

  RUTHIE. --what if the path curves around all sorts of towns and villages? What if it would be quicker to get off of it?

  THE GNOME. And do what?! Drag my cart through the grass?

  RUTHIE. Ah yes. I suppose that is a problem. Hmm.

  THE GNOME. Grumble
, grumble, grumble.

  RUTHIE. I’m sorry, what was that?

  The Gnome holds a finger up. It’s like he’s saying, wait a minute.

  He then takes a biscuit out of one of his dirty pockets and stuffs it into his mouth.

  After a good chewing, he opens his mouth and displays all of the nasty munch and gush inside.

  THE GNOME. Blah!

  The Gnome laughs to himself.

  RUTHIE. (unfazed) Sir?

  THE GNOME. (still chuckling) Mmm?

  RUTHIE. What if I help you out? I could pull the cart for a little bit.

  THE GNOME. No, no, no! Don’t you even think about it!

  RUTHIE. How far do you have to go, sir? What if, in exchange for directions, I take your cart a few miles down the road?

  THE GNOME. Ha! I have to go a lot further than a few miles.

  RUTHIE. Yes, I understand that. But isn’t a little help better than none?

  THE GNOME. Hmmmfff! (he crosses his arms) I don’t want your stinking help.

  RUTHIE. But why not?

  THE GNOME. You’ll cause the cart to tip over.

  RUTHIE. Is it really that heavy?

  THE GNOME. It really is.

  RUTHIE. Who nose? (she covers her mouth up again) Knows, rather! Who knows? What if I run ahead and manage to get a bike? We can tie the cart to the bike and--

  THE GNOME. Bike? Eh? Making up words are you?

  As you can see, The Gnome is being impossibly difficult. Perhaps purposefully so.

  I mean, everyone knows what a bike is! It’s right there in the word! B-I-K-E! It sort of looks like a bike, doesn’t it?

  …eh. Maybe not. Maybe B-I-K is more like it. Yeah, there you go. You sit on the “I.” The B and the K are the giant wheels that carry you forward.

  In any case, bike rhymes with hike. The Gnome should at least have a clue. Yeah? Yeah.

  (...maybe not.)

  But that’s not even the point. No, that’s not even the point.

  The point is he’s being unnecessarily grouchy. She’s such a helpful girl, too. It would be something else if she were sticking him up with a knife or insulting his little feet or poking fun at his enormous nose.

  Stupid little jerk. Why does he have to be so mean? Why does he have to be unnecessarily grouchy? He--

  --ah, but the girl doesn’t take it so personally as all that. She gets it. Ruthie’s a smart one.

  See, she figures the reason The Gnome doesn’t want her help is because he’s afraid. Yes! Afraid! He’s afraid she’ll take hold of his cart and outrun him. After all, with her long legs (at least compared to his), it’s very possible.

  And if she runs off with his cart of goods--why, what does he have left? He’ll have lost all his marbles. He’ll be without a single thought.

  And that’s a horrible thing, isn’t it? Losing all of one’s marbles? Poor, poor Mr. Gnome. Of course he’s untrusting.

  She needs to do something to convince him she’s honorable--above suspicion.

  But what could she possibly do? Hmm. Hmm.

  RUTHIE. Say, mister?

  THE GNOME. What?!

  RUTHIE. What are your thoughts about anyway? Are they so very precious as they look?

  This was the wrong thing to say. The wrong, wrong, wrongest thing to say.

  THE GNOME. Why are you so curious about my thoughts, eh? (he licks his lips) What are you thinking up, eh?

  The Gnome reaches into his smelly little boot and takes out a tiny switchblade.

  RUTHIE. Oh!

  THE GNOME. You better watch it, girly.

  RUTHIE. Oh! I was just curious!

  THE GNOME. Just making conversation, are you?

  RUTHIE. Yes, yes! Of course.

  THE GNOME. Well I don’t want your pleasantries. Get! Get! Shoo!

  RUTHIE. But--

  THE GNOME. Get! Shoo! (he stabs towards the air between them) Shoo! I’ll puncture yer tumsy!

  RUTHIE. But, sir! I’m lost!

  THE GNOME. What’s that to me?

  RUTHIE. But sir!

  THE GNOME. Get! (he jabs a little closer)

  RUTHIE. Fine.

  Ah, but the girl doesn’t take it so personally as all that. She gets it. Ruthie’s a smart one.

  She pretends as though she’s walking away.

  But then, all of a sudden, she dashes off to the side and runs towards the cart.

  THE GNOME. Hey! Hey!!!

  Ruthie snatches one of the orbs. To her surprise it is even heavier than she expected, and she was expecting something quite heavy.

  RUTHIE. Oooof!

  She tries to run off with it, but the orb drags her arms to the ground. She can barely hold onto the thing, let alone carry it off somewhere.

  THE GNOME. I knew it! I knew it! Now I’ll really shank you, girly!

  But all of a sudden, the orb lightens considerably--both in color and in weight.

  It’s much prettier to look at now. And it’s quite a lot easier to carry.

  Ruthie deftly makes off with it.

  THE GNOME. Hey! Hey!!!

  After several yards of separation, though, she stops in her tracks.

  RUTHIE. There! You see?

  THE GNOME. Whaa--?!

  RUTHIE. See? If I really wanted your orbs, I could easily steal them. But I don’t want them.

  THE GNOME. Whaa--?!

  RUTHIE. So do you trust me?

  THE GNOME. How did you do that?!

  RUTHIE. Do what?

  THE GNOME. With--the colors!

  RUTHIE. (slyly) …I’ll tell you if you give me directions back home.

  But now the girl has The Gnome’s attention. He isn’t about to let her go without a fight. No, he isn’t.

  THE GNOME. (slyly) You have yourself a deal.

  RUTHIE. Oh! Really? Do you mean it? Do you really?

  THE GNOME. Mmmmm. Well, actually, there’s a caviar.

  She thinks of a giant snail. Spirals on its little shell.

  Huh? Surely that can’t be right....

  RUTHIE. Caveat...?

  THE GNOME. Mmmhmm. A caveat.

  Ah. Caveat. Caveat....

  Of course there’s a caveat! There always is with these types of people.

  Bah! Gnomes. I’m going to tell you something...! Gnomes are the greediest, most--

  --but Ruthie is more pleasant about it than we are:

  RUTHIE. Of course. Caveat. (she nods)

  THE GNOME. (rubbing his hands) Yep.

  RUTHIE. Yep! (she nods)

  THE GNOME. Indeed! Hee-hee!

  RUTHIE. Hee-hee….

  THE GNOME. Hoo-hoo!

  RUTHIE. Umm. Sir?

  THE GNOME. Yes, girl? What is it?

  RUTHIE. Yes--that’s precisely my question. What is it? What is the caveat, sir?

  THE GNOME. Oh, that! Hee-hee! Don’t worry about that! Hoo-hoo! Just go on and carry my orbs into town like you promised.

  RUTHIE. …and that’s all?

  THE GNOME. (OBVIOUSLY changing the subject) It’s quite a journey, girl. I don’t know if you’re strong enough.

  RUTHIE. Of course I am!

  THE GNOME. Hee-hee!

  RUTHIE. Umm…. Is that all?

  THE GNOME. For now, yes, yes.

  RUTHIE. You’ll tell me the way back home once we get into town?

  THE GNOME. We’ll see, we’ll see. Hee-hee!

  She doesn’t trust him. Of course she doesn’t.

  RUTHIE. Oh, but sir! I just realized something. If I walk all that way, I’ll have to walk all the way back here. Your directions will be confusing. Can’t you just point the way right now so I remember?