Andrew Buckley - Stiltskin

“It’s not easy to talk about,” growled Lily.

“Aye, but I’ll wager that the Historian has a loose tongue.”

“As far as Robert is concerned,” said Lily changing the subject, “he was born here in Thiside but his mother was an Othasider.”

General Gnarly sighed. “The man I assume is his father was well-known, wasn’t he?”

Robert guessed that Lily must have nodded as Gnarly continued, “I encountered him around forty years ago. We were hunting food through the Southern edge of the Dark Forest and all of a sudden, he was there. Standing as if he was expecting us. He’s a strange character and I can only assume by his long life that he’s not human?”

“It’s hard to explain, and even I don’t fully understand it. He’s a sort of human but something to do with the way his mind works causes a discontinuity in his life cycle.”

“You’re right, that doesn’t make much sense.”

“It does to him, and that’s all that matters, I suppose.”

“So Robert is his son. And very much his father’s boy, from what I saw today.”

“We’ve watched him for some time. He’s survived in Othaside for all this time even through all the strange events that come naturally to him.”

“Why watch him? He’s not the first kid to be born here and grow up in Othaside.”

“You know where his father currently resides. There was always the concern that he would go the same way, but his personality turned out to be quite boring. All the weirdness surrounded him and affected people and the environment around him but never actually touched him.”

“Until he came here,” said General Gnarly.

“Wow, this is interesting stuff, isn’t it!” shouted the voice in Robert’s head.

Robert made a sound of surprise, something of a bwehar kind of sound, jumped to his feet, tripped over a tree root, and fell backward.

“Robert!” said Lily and stared sternly.

Robert struggled to his feet. “What the hell is going on?”

“Don’t get hysterical, Darkly,” said General Gnarly.

“Hysterical? Why would I be hysterical? Because you know something about me that I don’t know? That there’s something weird about you too? And you, well, you’re a Gnome, aren’t you? ‘Nuff said about that. And don’t mention your short stature, although it’s plainly obvious.” Robert was breathing heavily.

“Robert,” said Lily, “you’re hyperventilating. Try and calm down.”

Robert sat himself down and tried to control his breathing.

General Gnarly shook his head and headed back to where they had left Gnick. “We should be going soon; don’t take too long.”

Lily crouched down next to Robert and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Why can’t you tell me about my father?” asked Robert.

“I’ve been ordered not to. And to be honest, it’s not important as far as our current mission is concerned.”

“And what about your secret?”

“Even less important. Come on, we need to get to the Archives and speak to the Historian, otherwise Rumpelstiltskin’s trail will be too cold to follow.”

And with that, she stood and walked away, leaving Robert sitting on the forest floor more confused than he felt he had any right to be.

A little-known fact about Dwarves is that they’re short. And not just short in the terms of stature but they are also short-tempered, short on patience, and constantly short of deodorant, thus coining the well-known phrase, “It smells like a Dwarf in here.” Dwarves didn’t believe in body odour and chose to ignore any such way of remedying that which they didn’t believe in and had no reason to acknowledge. Another little-known fact about Dwarves is that they have a tremendous lung capacity, which makes them amazing miners. They require very little oxygen to function as almost everything about them is anatomically smaller than that of a human.

They could survive in deep tunnels where the oxygen is thin for hours upon end where a human would simply pass out and die, wishing that he had been born a Dwarf and probably contemplating why he had even considered entering such a deep tunnel in the first place.

It was this increased lung capacity that had allowed Rumpelstiltskin to lay as if dead, unmoving beneath the ground, surrounded by angry plants, for the better part of an hour. The plants had begun to drift off to sleep and slowly moved apart, back to their original rooted spots. Rumpelstiltskin took the opportunity to thrust forth his hatchet and break the ground above him before scrambling out. He’d taken some good swipes at the over-articulated bush before he was overcome and dragged into the earth. His face was bleeding in several places where he’d been slashed with vines and he was almost certain that a particularly strong lavender bush had succeeded in dislocating his right shoulder.

He was also covered in leaves, dirt and matted blood, and looked a lot like a man from Liverpool after he’s had a good solid night out on the town. Or, in Thiside, a man from the Three Fairy Islands who’d just visited the Dockside district of the City of Oz. Rumpelstiltskin walked to the edge of the garden and leaned against the wall. It was at times like this he wished he had control over his own magic. But all the wishing in the world would do him no good, at least not while he was the one doing the wishing.

The evil Dwarf headed along the edge of the garden, being careful to stay away from the slumbering plants. He pushed open a door set into the emerald wall at the back of the garden and found himself in a long courtyard crisscrossed with lines of laundry; wizard’s hats and robes and colourful pairs of underwear hung everywhere. Wizards believed in colourful underwear the same way that water believed it was wet. It was just natural.

Rumpelstiltskin looked toward the Eastern tower where he believed he would find the wizard he was looking for. Niggle was a member of the Wizards’ Council who suffered from a nervous disposition that made him stutter uncontrollably. He’d also had the misfortune of having his life saved by Rumpelstiltskin not long before the Dwarf was incarcerated in the Tower.

It was by the Dwarf’s own hand that the then-apprentice wizard Niggle found himself in peril. Rumpelstiltskin had been looking for an apprentice wizard whom he could manipulate and control, and Niggle had turned out to be the perfect victim. Rumpelstiltskin set up an elaborate trap by which he could save the wizard and have him in his debt. At his request, the wizard had then performed a spell for Rumpelstiltskin that allowed him to continue with his plan. Not long after the spell casting, the Dwarf was apprehended and escorted to the Tower by the Agency. That was the last time Niggle had seen him. Until today.

The wizard Niggle was not a particularly good wizard, although that was not to say he didn’t have the skill. It was more that he had a very comprehensive fear of everything, including his own powers. As a result, he spent a lot of time locked in his chambers trying to avoid the practice of magic. He held the opinion that the fact wizards spent all their time practicing magic was a clear indication that they shouldn’t be using it at all. As soon as Niggle passed his final exams and was admitted into the Wizards’ Council, he resolved to attend council meetings only when absolutely necessary and remained locked in his apartment chamber passing the hours by reading books and trying different types of tea. He was called upon to work magic only once, a few years ago, to magically reinforce a cell of particular importance in the basement of the Tower prison. Since then, most people seemed satisfied just to leave him be and keep their distance.