him close, never forgetting that she would lose him otherwise.
Then she saw the other G’home Gnome.
At first, she thought she must be mistaken, that she was seeing things, a mirage formed by the damp and the mist, perhaps. She blinked to clear it away, but when she focused on it again, it was still there. A second G’home Gnome, right there in front of her. Watching her, no less. She couldn’t believe that this was happening. The only thing worse than one G’home Gnome was two.
She lifted herself up on one elbow for a better look. The Gnome raised one hand and wiggled his fingers at her. He was an unbelievably odd-looking fellow—there was no disputing that. He seemed to be younger than Poggwydd, less wrinkled and wizened looking, less hunched over. His ears were enormous appendages that stuck out from the sides of his head like bat wings. Thatches of reddish hair bristled from between them and in a few instances from inside them. The round blue eyes were in sharp contrast with the red hair, and the nose was a tiny black button that looked as if it belonged to someone else. He was short and squat, even for a G’home Gnome, and made up almost entirely of bulges.
He smiled rather bashfully and said nothing as she scrutinized him, seemingly waiting for something.
Then Poggwydd woke up and things really got weird.
“Shoopdiesel!” he screamed excitedly as he caught sight of the other. “You’re here!”
He gave a wild howl and leaped to his feet. The second Gnome jumped up, as well, and the two rushed at each other in a flurry of waving arms and wild exclamations. On reaching each other they went into a crouch, hands on knees, and began to chant:
One, two, three, together we’ll always be!
Three, four, five, as long as we’re alive!
Six, seven, eight, because we’re really great!
Eight, nine, ten, we’ll always be good friends!
Then they began clapping hands and thumping chests and exchanging bizarre, complicated handshakes in a practiced ritual that Mistaya was certain held no meaning for anyone but them. She stared at all this, fascinated. Several things occurred to her about what she was witnessing, but none of them required acting on, so she contented herself with just watching the show.
“Princess!” Poggwydd called to her when the show was over and the two G’home Gnomes were embracing warmly. “This is my greatest and most loyal friend in all the world. This, Princess, is Shoopdiesel!”
He said this in a way that suggested it was an important announcement and meant to be taken seriously. She did her best to carry it off. “Very nice to meet you, Shoopdiesel.”
The Gnome replied with a deep bow and a grin that consumed the entire lower portion of his lumpy face.
“Might one of you explain what that greeting was about?” she ventured, turning back to Poggwydd.
“That is our ritual secret greeting,” he replied, grinning almost as widely as his pal. “No one knows how to perform it except us. That way, no one can ever pretend to be us.”
He seemed to think that this was very clever, and she thought it would be heartless to point out that no one would ever
The newcomer whispered intently in Poggwydd’s ear for several long minutes before the other then turned to her and proclaimed, “It was a stroke of good fortune, Princess.”
Though she had every reason in the world to doubt this, she nevertheless listened while he explained that Shoopdiesel, having done little but worry about Poggwydd after his abrupt departure several weeks earlier, had come looking for him and found him yesterday sitting on the ground in a stand of Bonnie Blues with an old sheet clutched between his legs. Not certain how to approach him—which had something to do with Poggwydd’s leaving in the first place, although it was not made clear exactly what—he sat down to think things over. Then Mistaya had appeared and spoken with Poggwydd for a very long time, and afterward the pair had gone off together, walking south, away from the castle. Having nothing better to do with himself, he had followed them.
“It was difficult for him to keep up with us during the storm without letting us know he was there, but he managed it. He is very unsure of himself, Princess, very shy. It is a fault he is trying to correct, but he couldn’t overcome it at Sterling Silver. Then, this morning, he summoned the courage to come into our camp and reveal himself.”
He paused. “Besides, he doesn’t have any food and he’s hungry.” He gave Mistaya a toothy smile. “Can he have some of your food, Princess?”
