Ник О'Донохью - Kender, Gully Dwarves, and Gnomes

“They are quite good at hiding,” said Groag as if it were too obvious to even mention. “You won’t spot them so easily.”

“I won’t, won’t I?” said Toede, straining his eyes even harder. “We’ll see about that!” He turned to his bodyguards. “You there,” he hissed at one of them, “circle around with some slaves! We’ll use them as beaters!”

“Yes, sire!” snapped back the hobgoblin, excited at the idea. He took several slaves and dogs, and off he went, spurring his pony and hoping to encircle the kender, wherever they were.

Toede glared at Groag, who averted his eyes. The rotund Highlord led the hunting party back into the center of the field so that he’d have a wide view of the forest perimeter. Grumbling to himself, he waited atop the impatient Galiot, who kept snorting and pawing at the ground with his small, front hooves.

When at last Toede heard the yelling of the distant beaters deep in the forest, he muttered, “Now, my little kender, the tables are about to be turned ...”

The shouts of the beaters and the dogs barking got louder. In trying to flee these beaters, plenty of other game now burst forth from the forest: rabbit, fox, grouse, even another stag, all hurried past Toede and his hunting party. Toede ignored them all, intent and filled with malicious glee. But two of his hobgoblin bodyguards couldn’t resist. They chased and felled the dashing stag with thrusts of their spears.

“Stop that!” shouted Toede, waving them back. “Prepare yourselves for the kender!”

The two hobgoblins looked at each other, then, if a little reluctantly, let the dead deer lay where it fell. They rode obediently back to Toede’s side.

Suddenly the dark hounds around Toede began barking furiously and straining at their leashes, testing the strength of the scrawny slaves holding them. Straight ahead, breaking from the forest with the other game, were two small beings running from the beaters and chattering to each other and not at all looking where they were going.

“What have we here?” Toede chuckled smugly, sticking his hand out for his bow and arrow; Groag handed them over. “The dogs shall have some kender meat tonight!” Toede nocked the arrow and drew back the bowstring. He squinted and aimed, sticking his red tongue out the corner of his mouth.

But just when the two kender were within range, Toede relaxed the bow. “No,” he said as a contorted smile spread across his face. “No, I have a better idea—a much better idea ...” He savored the thought a moment and nodded approvingly. He turned to his bodyguards. “Catch them!”

The bodyguards spurred their ponies and galloped off. They were almost on top of the kender before the little people knew what was happening. One of them had stopped to replace a button on his raiment, and the other was offering him a variety of choices from his pouches, so they were surprised by the onslaught.

But it wasn’t so easy catching those kender. They were very spry, and one of them kept swinging his hoopak, eliciting that whining scream. This scared the ponies, which, in turn, nearly trampled over the beaters as they themselves came forth from the woods. In the confusion, the kender nearly escaped as they bolted across the field. But they were chased down by two hobgoblins who held an outspread net between their ponies. The two kender were swooped up, the hoopak flying—with a final whine—from the hand of the kender who had held it.

Toede, watching this from a distance, nearly fell out of his saddle from excitement. “Bring them here! Bring them here!” he shouted hoarsely. He settled back on his saddle and began rubbing his pudgy hands expectantly. He leered at Groag, who nodded, if begrudgingly, to acknowledge his master’s accomplishment.

The two hobgoblins rode up to Toede, the snared kender dangling between their mounts. The dogs continued barking, straining at their leashes and snapping their jaws only a hand’s length from the net.

“Now what have we here?” said Toede, leaning down. Suddenly his beady eyes widened. “What’s this? Groag! Look who we’ve bagged!”

Groag leaned forward, and even he seemed impressed. “I do believe—goodness, could it be?”

“It could!” said Toede with great satisfaction. “The kender leader! Oh, won’t this impress the other Highlords!”

It was, indeed, Kronin Thistleknot. Except for a certain regal bearing and minnow-silver hair, he looked like an ordinary kender, although slightly taller and sturdier. Also, he had twice as many pouches and ornaments slung around his slender waist. In his company was a more youthful kender with a gap-toothed smile, as thrilled as could be to find himself in the middle of such an unusual experience as being captured by the great Toede.

“Good afternoon,” said Kronin casually, swinging in his net-hammock. “Fine day for hunting.”

“Fine day, indeed,” responded Toede with a sneer. “Mind you, my dear Kronin, the real hunting hasn’t even begun!”

Toede quickly looked about until he spotted the slain stag crumpled on the ground some dozen paces away. His eyes glinted with a notion. “Bring that here!” he ordered.

The two hobgoblins who had killed the animal hurried over to it on their ponies, chasing away some complaining jackals and buzzards that had already gathered there. They grabbed the buck by its antlers and dragged it back before Toede.

“Now,” said Toede, gesturing impatiently in the direction of his highly prized prisoners, “release them.”

The hobgoblins holding the net tilted it, and out plopped the two small beings. They dusted their similar red leggings and white tunics, and Kronin adjusted his furry vest.

“Now,” continued Toede, slowly unfolding his plan, “chain them to the carcass!”

The kender looked at each other in some confusion as two hobgoblins quickly obeyed, chaining a slender wrist from each kender to a separate broad antler. The kender raised their arms questioningly, hefting the head of the dead animal.

Toede slapped his hands together. “Now, then, my pointy eared pests, I will give you a head start.”

“A head start?” repeated Kronin.

“That’s right,” said Toede. “And when I feel you’ve gone a fair distance, I will release these hounds and hunt you down and kill you. What have you got to say to that?”

Kronin smiled broadly with realization. “Oh, I do love a good game,” he said, looking up at the fat hobgoblin who regarded him with such contempt.

“Then you’re in luck!” came back Toede, trying to sound as glib as the kender leader. “Now, you’d best be off, my friends. I won’t wait too long.”

“Oh, I’m sure of that,” said Kronin. “Until we meet ...” He bowed deeply. The other kender, who was a bit smaller than Kronin, did likewise. It seemed the polite thing to do.

“Bah!” snapped Toede. “You won’t be so smart-alecky when I get through with you!”

But Kronin ignored the Dragon Highlord and turned to his small friend. “Come, Talorin,” he said. “We must be off.”

The other kender grinned and jumped up and down in anticipation of the sport to begin. “Yes, sir, my liege!” he said. “Oh, I do love a good game, too!”

The two kender began to shuffle away, dragging the bloody stag carcass—which was bigger than both of them combined—across the field. At the edge of the forest they turned around, waved farewell to Toede, then disappeared through the underbrush, heroically tugging the deer carcass.

Toede drummed his fingers impatiently on his saddle pommel. Galiot snorted and pawed the ground nervously. The dogs yanked at their leashes. The slaves looked imploringly up at Toede, waiting for the command to release the beasts.

“Um, we shouldn’t wait too much longer,” said Groag, looking a bit concerned. “Kender are awfully tricky—”