As she watched the Elf walk away, Maria had so many questions. Quite ironic, being in the library and all, surrounded by answers.
“Finally,” the Gnome huffed as Gramps turned to him. The flower atop his bowler hat was snarling. Maria didn’t even bother saying ‘What the fuck?’ and the Gnome continued. “How can I direct you?”
“We aren’t here looking for books,” Gramps answered, leaning down to be eye level with the Gnome, which resulted in him being on his knees. The Gnome did not look amused. Gramps’s hand absentmindedly stroked the back of Sherlock’s neck. There was no growling; hell, not even any sniffing. The Gnome had won the battle before it had even started.
“If you’re not looking for books, sir, you’re in the wrong place.”
Gramps shook his head.
Maria stepped up to Gramps. “Please get on with it. I don’t think Gnomes are very patient creatures.”
The Gnome put his hands on his hips. “ ‘Creature’? Who are you calling a creature? Never seen a Gnome before?” He said this all in the same nasally voice that Maria had heard from the first Gnome. It was déjà vu, except this time, the flower atop the Gnome’s hat hissed at them and bared its teeth. She suddenly hoped Joe would not bring her more flowers when she met him for their first date, and that the flowers currently sitting in a vase of water back at Salem’s never grew fangs. Then again, she supposed anything was possible.
“No, I haven’t. Sorry. Didn’t mean to offend. This is all pretty new to me.” She couldn’t help but think the Gnome resembled one of the Munchkins from The Wizard of Oz, but she didn’t dare say that.
The Gnome ignored her and looked back to Gramps. “Well, if you don’t need a book, then I must be going. My time is as valuable as anyone’s.”
“I need access to the vault,” Gramps said, his voice deadly serious.
“The vault? Now, sir, you know it is forbidden for anyone but my kind to venture back there.”
“So that rule is still in effect?” Gramps said. He stood up, his knees popping and his spine echoing. “I thought that much.” He reached into his pocket and brought out a gold coin. Maria instantly recognized it, because it wasn’t a gold coin at all. It was one of those circular pieces of chocolate wrapped to look like a gold coin, and judging by its limpness, the chocolate was well on its way to melting.
The Gnome eyed it cautiously. “A bribe?” he asked. “I’m sure you know I can report you for this…”
“Aw, you and I both know you won’t. A nice Gnome like you loves gold, don’t you? Well I got plenty more of these from where I come from.”
Suddenly, the Gnome’s mouth dropped open, revealing its little sharp teeth. “Earth?” he said breathlessly.
Gramps nodded. “Silver and copper, too.” He fished out a couple nickels and a few pennies—most of them dirty, but the Gnome was drawn to them regardless.
Sherlock had taken to sniffing the gold chocolate coin in Gramps’s other hand. Maria leaned down and whispered so the Gnome wouldn’t hear, “What are you doing? You know how sick you get when you eat chocolate. It’s not worth the pain, trust me. Plus, I don’t know if I have it in me to clean up after you. Where does vomit even end up in an invisible castle?”
I know what it does to me. This isn’t out of enjoyment.
He snatched the coin gently from Gramps’s hand, much to the Gnome’s displeasure. The Gnome was shaking in anger, and both he and his flower were in disarray.
“Sherlock, no! Bad dog!”
It’s suicide, Sherlock continued. But I’m gonna do it! I swear I am. His red eyes were watery.
“Suicide? Why?”
Because I’ve failed. I’ve made my wolf ancestors turn over in their graves. If my balls weren’t already gone, they would be now.
“Sherlock, what the heck are you on about? You’re being fucking crazy.”
Says the girl who’s talking to a dog.
“Even when you’re sad, you feel the need to belittle me. I see, Sherlock. Oh, well; if you wanna die, be my guest. But that isn’t going to kill you. It’s just gonna make you sick.”
The Bloodhound hung his head, and then looked back up, and dropping the chocolate coin on the library’s floor. The Gnome breathed a sigh of relief and went for it, but not before Gramps snatched it back and wiped the Sherlock drool off on his shirt.
“Not so fast,” Gramps said. “Do we have a deal?”
The Gnome bounced from foot to foot, sending the flower swaying and, if Maria wasn’t crazy—she wasn’t sure yet—whining, despite the fundamental fact that flowers typically don’t make noises. At least not on Earth.
Maria leaned down next to Sherlock and started petting him. Right then, she was more worried about her dog than about trying to bribe information out of a fairy-tale creature; even if said information could save an entire village that was stuck in the world in between.
The truth was, if the Gnome wasn’t going to give them the information they needed, Maria would find another way to get it. She was not one for giving up, no matter how tired, scared, or worried she felt.
“What’s wrong, buddy?” she asked Sherlock in a low voice.
It’s him, Sherlock answered, tilting his head to the Gnome. It’s that damn Gnome.
“What do you mean?”
I’m too afraid to eat him.
Maria couldn’t help herself anymore. She had to laugh.
Sherlock furrowed his brow. What? The only reason I came was because—
“Oh, not because you cared about Gramps and me, but because you wanted to eat a Gnome?” Maria gasped.
The Gnome looked at Maria and Sherlock as they conversed a few steps from he and Gramps. Gramps snapped his fingers to get the Gnome’s attention back on him and asked, “Do we have a deal here?”
“Did that thing just say it wanted to eat me?” the Gnome asked.
“Not important,” Gramps said.
“Sorry,”
