Life With A Werewolf

How Khied Lost HIs Beard Part 3 - Of Gnomes and Men

          Days growing shorter and colder to a lawn gnome means more freedom. The less humans are about the more we can move and be free to do the things that are necessary for our own survival. The world may grow chilly and icy for you, but for a lawn gnome it’s all the same as a spring summer day. That’s the advantage of having ceramic instead of meat for flesh.

          But you meaty ones certainly can build more things than us, reach higher and farther. Your imagination and ingenuity are wonderful things that have gotten you far; those vehicles you ride around in to do various things being just one of the wonderful inventions you’ve built for yourselves. However, whether you have ceramic or meat for flesh, you can still covet.

          When what you covet burns into jealousy, it warps you. It becomes easier to harm those you know very little about. Less of a problem to hurt or kill them as long as you get when you want. I’ve heard it said that the love of gold be the root of evil. The front door into our hearts that swings open wide for evil and darkness to enter and take control. If that’s so, then coveting be the side door. Through covet you get jealousy. Through jealousy comes rage. From rage only comes death.

          No one knows just how long Faenie was sneaking into Ms. Smythe’s house at night. It was easy for her to do. Her spot in the day time was in Ms. Smythe’s very yard, close to the back of the hedge that divided the properties. She was out of sight of just about everyone in the village, so no one could watch her. Ms. Smythe was a trusting soul for a human. She never locked her doors, never had a dog or cat of any kind. It was easy for any gnome to slip inside and borrow and item or two before returning it if we needed. It was something we in the village had done plenty of times prior when we needed something. Though we always attempted to return it with a little extra.

          The days had grown short with the approach of winter. The village kept its nightly vigil against the dragons, Falkurk included. His watch was closer to dawn, just as the sun was preparing to break the horizon. On that night, he stood by the hedge at the edge of his lawn, eyes towards the sky, scanning in the manner that had been handed down in that position.

          “Falkurk,” Faenie whispered, pressing her head through the bush.

          There was a look of panic on her face that Falkurk had not seen before. “What is it Faenie?”

          She pulled her hat down off her head, and held it, fear caused her lip to tremble. “I need your help.”

          “I’ll be happy to give it to you,” Falkurk said. He swallowed and looked back to the sky. “But I’m on watch, I cannot leave this post.”

          “But Falkurk, I did something terrible. I need your help.”

          He looked down at her again, taking his eyes off the sky. “What did you do, Faenie?”

          She took a single shuttering breath, then expelled it. “I was seen, Falkurk. I was seen.”

          He stepped forward, away from his post. Falkurk later said his belief was that the dragon had made attempts last month, but hadn’t been seen for some time. That perhaps that particular dragon had moved on, going towards warmer, happier and easier targets in the south. He followed Faenie, who moved across the road, through the neatly trimmed hedge of Ms. Smythe’s front yard, and up the steps to her back porch.

          It was a wonderous world that he’d only ever glimpsed through windows. Wood carved into the floor, into the walls. The very ceiling upon the porch was made of wood! As he went through the back door, he saw counter tops made from a stone much harder than his ceramic. He saw furniture made again from wood, lights that required no fire; it was as if the humans had captured the very light from fire itself to illuminate their homes.

          Ms. Smythe lay in a heap on the stone floor. She rubbed her head, groaning in pain. “What happened,” she gasped, then looked up, setting her eyes on Faenie and Falkurk. She let cry a gasp of terror, then scooted back towards the wall. “Demons from hell,” she sputtered, “begone demons! Begone!”

          Falkurk gripped his hands into fists, then began drawing on the floor with a fingertip. There was nothing for him to draw with or in, but it was the motions that mattered, not if anyone could see it. He felt power begin to flow upwards from the Earth. It started flowing through the floorboards, through the very walls itself. His chest grew mighty and powerful with it. As he began to pull more to prepare to speak, Faenie whispered into his ear, “Do you trust me?”

          He almost faltered then, but nodded. Faenie whispered, “then draw more. Do not speak yet. Keep drawing in power. As much as you can hold.”

          Falkurk was confused, but he did as she asked. His eyes stayed on Ms. Smythe’s, whose grey hair now hung in ragged clumps. A red substance was running down her head, something that Falkurk didn’t recognize then. He’d recognize it now, though. “P…P..lease…” Ms. Smythe muttered, shivering as if cold.

          Faenie grasped Falkurk’s hand, and began to drag him over to the injured woman. She pressed it downward upon her ankle and shouted a single word, a command in gnomish which means RELEASE!

          The power flowed from Falkurk. It illuminated the entire living room, making every window shine like the noon day in summer. The energy flowed from his hand, into that ankle that Faenie touched his hand with. Then something began to happen. Ms. Smythe began to change.

          Her skin wrinkled, then cracked, she cried in pain and terror as the meat started to morph, pulling away from the old skin. It hardened, growing into ceramic. The change rolled up her leg and towards her torso. The terror on the old woman’s face over rode the pain she felt then. It rolled and roiled upwards, going through her chest, down her limbs and finally to her head.

          A white flash of light pulsed, followed by a shockwave. Every window in the house shattered outwards, every glass in the kitchen broke in a jangle of notes. The creature that was Ms. Smythe sat back, muttering. “Muh…muh…” Her eyes now black beady points instead of regular or gnomish eyes. She cast her eyes towards the windows in fear and terror. “D…d….” she began.

          “Yes!” Faenie cheered.

          “What happened,” Falkurk said dumbly. He shivered, for a moment, feeling cold from the loss of power, falling to one knee. “I was just trying to talk to her. Tell her not to tell anyone. Faenie, what did you do?”

          “D…d…”

          Faenie just shrugged, and walked over to her. “What we did is help her! She’ll live longer now! And she’s ours! She can be our pet, can’t you see? Isn’t this great, Falkurk?! Though, we’ll have to get this fixed,” Faenie tapped the old woman’s now ceramic head. There was a small crack in it.

          “Faenie, was that you?!”

          Faenie shrugged. “I had to keep her in the kitchen, so she wouldn’t lock the door. It’s not like I could tie her up. She’ll be okay, won’t you Ms. Smythe?”

          “D….d…” The creature that was Ms. Smythe continued to babble, staring out the window, a look of terror on her face.

          Falkurk rubbed an ear. “It was so bloomin loud, too! Like sticking your head in a thunder bolt.”

          He walked over to Faenie and snarled “I should shatter you.”

          Faenie smiled. “But you’re not, are ya?” then embraced Falkurk with a kiss.

          “D…d…” The creature that was Ms. Smythe said.

          “No, I suppose not,” Falkurk grumbled, as the kiss broke. His ears were slowly recovering. They both looked down at the creature that was Ms. Smythe, staring into her eyes. The beady eyes had a far away look of terror in them. “I’m sorry miss. I didn’t know,” Falkurk said dumbly.

          “D…d…” Ms. Smythe said again.

          “But now, you won’t be lonely,” Faenie said, smiling. “We’ll move the whole village in here. You’ll be happy with all of us now as new friends. You’ll see. We’ll have a grand old time, it will be like, harvest! Every day!”

          “Faenie,” Falkurk started, then heard a shout from outside. He rubbed an ear and looked over towards the window. “What was…” he began.

          “Dragon…” the creature that was Ms. Smythe whispered.