With that, it seemed that Sherlock smiled slightly.
“There he is. Yeah, just think of dead squirrels, if it makes you feel better; though I have no idea why it would,” Maria continued.
You’re right. I have to accept that I’m afraid of the Gnome. It’s kind of like when I was younger and I was always barking at cars going down the road.
“God, I remember that. Those were some tough school days, after your barking kept me up all night.”
If I’d caught a car, I don’t know what the hell I would do with it, Maria. The same goes for Gnomes. I caught one, and I have no idea what to do with it besides put my tail between my legs and whimper.
“I wouldn’t say you caught one, but don’t be too hard on yourself, Sherlock.”
Thank you, Maria. I will learn to accept the Gnomes. I will make the Gnomes my friend.
“I wouldn’t go that far, buddy.” She ruffled the fur behind his ears, and he began to wag his tail. It was a good sign. They didn’t really have time to worry about a suicidal dog while also trying to find a way to get the village out of the world in between. Maria could handle a lot, she knew, but that was just too much.
They walked back over to Gramps and the Gnome. As they stopped, they overhead the Gnome say, “No deal,” while he waved his stubby arms back and forth. “I’m sorry. This is wrong. I can’t give you access to our secrets just for some shiny Earth coins. I may not have much left in my measly life of helping Elves find cookbooks and ‘how-to-file-down-my-too-pointy-ears’ manuals, but I still have my pride!”
With that, the Gnome pirouetted and disappeared down the maze of stacks, his small stature swallowed up by the shadows.
Gramps sighed. “Dammit, I almost had him. Why’d you have to go and say you wanted to eat him, Sherlock!?" He paused. "I'm sorry, Sherlock. I should've known it was worthless to try to bribe a Gnome. Back when I lived they wouldn't so much as sniff a bribe. Thought maybe times were a-changing.”
Maria said it!
Of course Gramps couldn’t understand what Sherlock was trying to say, only Maria could, and trying to judge a Bloodhound’s mood by his features often proved quite hard. So Maria said, “He says he’s sorry, too, Gramps,” instead.
Sherlock gave her his best death stare.
Not cool.
“Payback is a bitch,” Maria said.
More like ‘payback is a Maria.’
Maria laughed loud enough for a nearby Gnome to tell her to be quiet.
Ah, libraries. Some things are universal.
She murmured, “Sorry,” and waved at the Gnome, who only rolled his eyes, adjusted the flower atop his bowler hat, and went back to doing whatever it was that Gnomes did in the Light Elves’ library.
“Now what?” she asked Gramps.
Gramps narrowed his eyes and looked around the stacks. “Maybe we just got the wrong Gnome. At least one of these little buggers can be corrupted by cash.”
“Yeah,” Maria said, looking at the coins in Gramps’s palm, “a whole fifty-two cents. They could put a down payment on a candy bar back on Earth.”
“It’s not about the monetary value. It’s about the shininess.”
“In that case, we could just bring a bunch of aluminum foil to Oriceran next time, and get whatever we wanted.”
Gramps patted her on the back. “Now you’re thinking, Maria!”
“I was jo—”
“Psst,” someone said from behind them.
Maria and Gramps turned around. Standing in the shadows of the monumental shelves was a half-horse, half-man—a Centaur. This Centaur looked, for lack of a better word, sketchy—the type of Centaur you might see slinking around alleys in the dead of night, trying to push Oriceran drugs for a living.
“You looking for secrets?” the Centaur said.
Maria was about to say ‘no, thanks’ on instinct, but Gramps shushed her.
“Who wants to know?” Gramps said slyly.
“Uh, I do?” the Centaur said. He furrowed his brow.
“Is that so?”
“Look, buddy, you want my help or not? You can spend the rest of eternity trying to shake down the Gnomes here for information, but we all know they’ll never talk…at least not these Gnomes,” the creature said.
“What are you doing in the library, friend?” Gramps asked. “Centaurs roam in packs. Where is the rest of yours? I’ve never known a Centaur to spend any time in the library, let alone read.”
The Centaur raised an eyebrow. “You of all people shouldn’t be too quick to judge any creature, Ignatius Mangood.”
“Then we’re well-met, Centaur,” Gramps said, sticking out his hand. But before the two could shake a Gnome passed by and said, “Quiet in the library!” The Centaur pressed his body up against the shelf, letting the shadows hide him.
Say ‘please,’ asshole, Sherlock grumbled.
The Gnome stopped near Sherlock and looked him up and down, both he and his flower grimacing.
“Beasts such as these should be outlawed,” the Gnome said.
Sherlock lunged forward, growling. The Gnome shrieked and waddled away.
“That’s my boy!” Maria praised him.
Sherlock’s tail wagged, and he looked younger.
Man, that felt good! He even let out a bark, tempting another Gnome to try and shush him.
Instead, Maria did. “Now don’t push your luck, buddy. We still have business to attend to here. Don’t wanna get thrown out.”
“About that business,” the Centaur said, “do you want the information or not?”
“What’s the price?” Maria said, stepping forward. She loved her grandfather, but sometimes he could get off-track. If she didn’t take charge here, she wouldn’t put it past him to invite the Centaur to the Elvish bar and have a few drinks while a village of people were stuck somewhere in the world in between, and the Earth clock ticked closer to Maria and Joe’s first date.
“No price,” the Centaur answered. “Just a friendly tip for a famous man.” He smiled at Gramps. Gramps smiled
