by Galen Wolf
I wandered outside to take in the morning air and saw the beer delivery had arrived and the kegs were stacked neatly against the honeyed stone of my tower wall. Good old Old Tom; you could always rely on him. I wandered up to the tumbledown hovels of the gnomes, cupped my hands to my mouth, and shouted for them to come out and get their beer. "Take what you want. It's all on me. And remember no work for another week!"
As they emerged from their hovels, I must admit they still looked a little nervous and that made me feel bad again. But they scampered past me and fetched their beer, guzzling it down in pewter tankards they'd brought with them. It was amusing to see the foamy ale running down their funny little faces. Then they scurried away with their retrieved kegs, and went into hiding again as if in fear of being punished.
Later on, I was in the tower reading my runebooks when the silver bell tinkled to say that, once again, I had a customer. How I love customers! With a great big smile on my face, I hurried down the stone steps of the tower and into the rune showroom. There was my old friend the druid Biróg. Then I remembered I'd killed her last time we met and frowned.
Biróg came into the showroom, protected behind a fey cocoon she'd summoned that shimmered and glittered as a spinning wall of silver and white particles. Behind her was a faun and a dryad. A sprite hovered at her shoulder.
I held my hands up. "Biróg, my old friend. I am so sorry how we parted last time." I gestured at her companions. "Given the history, I can see perfectly well why you've come with summons, but can I assure you I'm a completely different guy now, Biróg?"
"You've got my cat, Harald Runestorm." Her eyes narrowed in hatred and suspicion.
"Oh that little girl, my darling Pussy Wussy. I've been stroking her this morning, and she was purring like a traction engine. I'm so happy she's come into my life."
"Well, I want her back."
A fleeting look of sorrow crossed Biróg's face. For the first time I imagined what it must be like to be her – to have loved that little kitten as much as I did and have lost her. It made me sad. I was torn; I wanted to make Biróg happy but how could I now be parted from my little Pussy Wussy?
I frowned slightly. "Oh, Biróg," I said. "I know it's been a short time, but I can't express how fond I've become of Pussy–Wussy. Is there anything else you'd rather have?"
"I want her back. Nothing else, just her!" Biróg looked really angry now.
I backed away. I would certainly consider her request; the last thing I wanted to do was to upset her more when I owed her for horribly slaughtering her on Ermine Street. "Listen Biróg," I said. "I want to make you happy. Let's go outside. It's a lovely day and I'll make you a cup of tea. We can just sit there in the sun and talk this through."
She hesitated for a second and looked around at the storeroom. I knew what she was thinking. The old me would have thought like that too. I would be thinking that outside would be a better place, because here in my own tower, if I was so inclined, I would have the advantage in any combat. But that was the last thing on my mind. I wanted to make her a lovely cup of Earl Grey tea in my finest bone china tea set. And I had seed cake in the pantry too.
I showed her and her entourage out. I could tell they were all a little wary. Behind the tower was a wooden table and some chairs. I used to use it years ago just to sit outside and enjoy the sunshine on a beautiful day, but that was before my heart darkened. As we walked into the small garden with its beautiful flowers and its birdsong, I couldn't believe I'd given this up in favor of a life over a burning forge coveting only money and revenge.
I gestured, drawing out the chair. "You sit here, Biróg." I glanced around her entourage. "And would the dryad and fauns like any tea?" I didn't think spites liked tea, or I would have offered it some. Biróg looked at the forms and the dryad and they shook their heads without speaking.
"You just wait here." I had thought I would get the gnomes to make the tea and bring the cake but then I remembered that given them all the week off. I would have to go make it all myself. I didn't think Biróg would mind sitting in the garden because the surroundings were so lovely, and I would try to be the quickest I could be.
I haven't been in the kitchen for a long time. But as I stood there in the damp stone room, I quite enjoyed boiling the water and pouring it on the Earl Grey leaves. The scented vapor tickled my nose and I laughed. Then I got the milk from the ice room, and brought it all out on a silver tray. I put the bone china cups and saucers with their lovely blue patterns on the wooden table. I saw Biróg looking at my teapot. It was tall in the shape of an Eastern Sea Dragon and beautifully cast in silver. "Nice isn't it?" I said.
She shook her head and frowned.
I picked up a cube of sugar with my delicate sugar tongs. "One sugar or two?"
"Two," muttered Biróg. "Now, about my cat."
I plopped two cubes of sugar into her cup. "Drink your tea first Biróg. Don't let it get cold. Then we can talk." I put my hand on hers. "I want you to be happy. Please believe that."
She snatched her hand away and shook it like it had been slimed by a leprous slug. Biróg frowned again. I could tell that she wasn't believing the new me, but given the man I'd been, I didn't blame her. It would take time to win people round and prove to them I'd really changed.
She picked up her tea and sipped did it but put it quickly down.
I frowned. "I hope there was nothing wrong with the tea?" She might think I'd poisoned it. It was something I would certainly have done in the old days.
"No." She shook her head. "It's just a little hot."
The sunlight caught her dark hair and I saw how lustrous and beautiful it was. I couldn't help it. I leaned forward and took a lock between my thumb and fingers. "How do you get your hair so healthy and straight?"
She knocked my hand away. Then she gave a little sulky shrug and said, "It's just my own concoction."
"Berries and things? Maybe some mushrooms?"
She nodded. "I make it up myself from the herbs I pick. I only use the freshest ingredients. And completely natural. I can let you have some if you'd like?"
I smiled. I'd really like that. I pulled on my own hair. It was lovely but it really could do with a good conditioner.
Then her glance fell on my hand. I was wearing the +5 Ring of Empathy that I got from the Druids' treasure box. I remembered I'd stolen the ring and felt ashamed. It gleamed in the sunshine.
Some kind of realization dawned on Biróg. "Ah," she said. "So that's where that went."
"The ring?"
She nodded. "That ring was supposed to be a gift for a Ranger friend of mine.
"Oh the rangers! I do love those hearty outdoor chaps. Always swinging through the trees and beating their chests, living a healthy life dressed in greens and browns. It must be wonderful to be a Ranger."
"Yes, he's called Barcud. Do you know him?"
"No, I don't. Is he new?"
"Yes, he's relatively new. He's running the new village of Pennred up by the Ford of Dreams." She clapped her hand suddenly to her mouth as if she'd said too much, but she was among friends. The fauns and dryads gamboled about on the lawn behind her, picking daisies.
I smiled. "Yes, I heard that the rangers were building a village there. Jimmy the Zit told me."
Her brow darkened. "That scumbag."
"Now, now, Biróg. He's got his evil ways, I know, but he's not a bad guy."
"Oh, yes he is. He is the worst of the worst - a filthy little Halfling thief."
I frowned. I couldn't be angry with her, but I felt she was being unkind to Jimmy. She wasn't giving him a chance to show his thoughtful side. I changed the subject. "So you were saying that this ring was a gift?"
"Yes, it's +5 Wisdom."
I nodded. "That's why I'm wearing it. I was so unwise before. My willpower save, though good, wasn't as good as it could be. And I didn't have a +5 wisdom stat item all. So you can see why I took it."
"You know what other quality it has?" She studied me carefully.
I shook my head. "I don't really understand – I think it was something called empathy? I'd never really heard of that before."
"No," she mused. "I bet you haven't."
I was in a dilemma. I really liked the ring. I admired how it sparkled as it caught the sun. But, then Biróg wanted it as a present for her friend. Maybe she'd told him, or maybe it was a surprise. Either way, it's wrong to disappoint people. Sadly, I said, "So do you want it back? The ring – for your friend the Ranger."
"I thought I did." She frowned. "But now I'm not so sure."
I went to take the ring off. "Here, have it."
But she stopped me before I could remove the ring from my finger. It was my turn to be puzzled now.
"Maybe you should keep it," she said. "It seems to have worked remarkable a change in you Harald Runestorm."
I nodded. "I feel so wonderful now." I gestured at the forest around me. "For the first time in years I see the true beauty of this place. We are so lucky to inhabit this world."
Biróg drained her tea and stood.
"What? Going so soon?" I stood out of politeness.
She said. "Yes I think I'll be on my way." She strolled through the garden gate towards the yellow brick road then turned. "You'd better keep the ring, Harald, but I'd love it if you'd send my cat back to me."
I frowned again. I knew it was what she really wanted, but to let Pussy Wussy go would break my heart in two.
She saw my hesitation. Kinder now she said, "Will you promise me you'll send her back, Harald ? I can see that you do love her, so maybe if you keep her until the end of the week?"
Only the end of the week. A tear welled up in my eye. But if Biróg really wanted little Pussy Wussy back then she should have her, no matter how hard it was for me. Lately, I'd realized true happiness only comes from serving others.
With Biróg gone, I mounted the stairs to my tower again and went to the library. I lay on the sofa of antique bear leather, and stroked Pussy Wussy as I looked out at the bluebirds flitting past the open windows of the tower. But I was unsettled. If the ring was really intended to be a gift for this Ranger then it was a terrible thing for me to have stolen it. I know she'd said I should keep it but my conscience wouldn't let me. I got an envelope from my writing desk and I whistled for a messenger. The dove fluttered through the open door and landed with a click of its claws on the desk waiting to take my letter.
I sighed. It was the least I could do to let Biróg have the ring back. I wrote Biróg's name and address: Biróg the Druid, Avalon Forest, The Greenwood. That should do it. I slipped the ring from my finger placed it in the envelope and sealed the envelope with my red wax seal. Then the dove took it winging its way back to Biróg.
#
A minute later, I had a headache. It must be something to do with taking off the fucking ring. I picked up a glass vase from the windowsill and hurled it at the wall, smashing it into a thousand splinters. The kitten that had been sitting on the leather sofa shrieked in alarm and ran off to hide.
I ran after it heaving the sofa over so I could get to it. The stinking pissing bag of mange was cowering, looking up at me with its big amber eyes. If it wanted mercy, it was staring at the wrong Runesmith. To think I'd liked this mangled moth-eaten, shitty ball of fur. I grabbed it by the scruff of its neck and held it up to my face and screamed at it. So, Biróg wanted her cat back. Well, she could have it back. I whistled for a dove.
This time I told it, it was parcel delivery. It sent for another dove to help it. I rummaged through my desk and brought out a wooden box. I placed the box on the table, and took the lid off and attempted to stuff the kitten into the box. But the thing squirmed and wriggled and the box was too small. I tried every which way, cursing at the fucking animal. Eventually, I realized what I had to do. I grabbed the cat and pressed it against the table with my left hand. With my right hand I pulled out Dazzler. The runes muttered in greedy anticipation. I raised the Runesword above my head and brought it down, cleaving the kitten in half. Now it was in pieces I managed to fit the cat into the box, and, wiping my bloodstained hands on my cloak, I wrote Biróg's address on the top of the box. The doves picked it up between them and fluttered away with it taking the dismembered cat to its mistress.
And that was that.
Except I promised to tell you of the life lesson I learned from this incident. There were two lessons in fact:
- the first is don't mess with Druid shit--it'll fuck up your head;
- and the second is, if you want to mail a kitten, remember to get a big enough box because if you have to cut them in half, the blood makes a real mess of your room.
Dear Reader,
Firstly, no kittens, dwarfs, or gnomes were harmed in the making of this story.
Secondly, if you liked the story, could you help me out by writing a positive review on Amazon?
If you didn't, that's a pity and I hope we can part as friends. I'm just a guy trying to entertain people, and if I didn't manage that, I'm sorry.
GW.
If you want to get advance notice of my new stories and stuff, why not join my mailing list?
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Other stories set in The World of the Greenwood MMO include:
A Player in the Greenwood (slightly more serious)
Not set in the Greenwood or LitRPG, but you might like my comedy fantasy
The Horrid Tragedy of the Counts Berok
