Following the Pancakes, we sit back with our a pair of Mimosas, a drink of crush Oranges mixed with the elixir of trampled spirits. I have to say that while troll cuisine involves painful references, it tastes great. We both watch the flight of the gnome from Spot, Larry's dog.
The gnome is quite agile.
Spot, is, well, dogged in his pursuit of pancake goodness.
"I hate you!" the gnome screams each time he runs past the patio. There is less pancake and syrup on him each time.
"You know, you should talk to Ismie," Larry says after a while.
"You mean the witch who has a habit of turning hapless idiots into various inconvenient forms?"
I say, thinking Larry must be joking. "Witches turn Prince's into frogs."
"Only if they deserve it," Larry remarks as Srogsgu- races by for the fifth time.
"It's not Sprogsgu-!" the gnome screams at me, he suddenly stops, points a stubby finger at me. "My name is is really Sprogsgu-" as the dog chomps down on his head and carries him off for a good licking (as it turns out).
"I didn't deserve to get turned into a frog," I remark.
"That's couldn't have been Ismie," Larry says as the slurping commences from the bushes. "It's not her style."
I shrug, the memories of being a frog are still fresh and uncomfortable.
"It does sound like Callendra though," Larry says. "That old hag has no sense of humor."
For some reason, I feel better.
I nod.
"Sounds like her." Larry muses. "You must be the unfortunate son of King Devon, then?"
I must look shocked.
Larry laughs.
I look confused.
"Trolls work for Witches from time to time. It's how I met Ismie, actually- during that whole Wizard War debacle. I was out dodging wizard spells and ended up having tea with her while hiding in a trench. She told me about your dad and Ralph the semi-stupendous and how you are a girl but your dad wanted a son and all that."
Wow.
"Also Ismie has a thing for Ralph- even though, at the time he was trying to kill her."
Double wow.
"Magic-users are that way about love, they tell me," Larry says and gets us another Mimosa.
"Anyway, I suspect that Ismie would like you," Larry continues, "I doubt she will turn you into anything."
Very reassuring.
"It's what I do," Larry says.
So there you have it.
An hour later, I find myself standing back in front of the Parasite Inn.
"You could cut your losses and take me back to Stonehaven with you, instead."
I look down.
There is a much cleaner gnome looking up at me.
Sprogsgu- smiles up at me.
I reconsider my choices.
"Actually my name isn't Sprogsgu-. It's Sprogsgu-!"
I didn't kick him. I swear.
"Oh look it's the Garden Gnome."
Ismie looks down at the petrified Gnome.
"Have you learned your lesson?" She asks so sweetly you can hear Sprogsgu-'s teeth chattering in terror.
I look at Ismie who just suddenly popped out of thin air.
"Close your mouth dear, " Ismie smiles, she is so beautiful with her perfect green hair, green eyes, green skin, perfect figure and purple hat and dress I want to cry or giggle or both.
"What a nice thing to say about me," Ismie says. "Shall we go in for a bite?'
We leave the petrified Gnome on the stoop. I glance back at him as we go in.
"Oh, he'll thaw out in a day or two," Ismie says as she takes me by the arm.
She smells great, like soap and fresh sugar cookies.
The gnome is quite agile.
Spot, is, well, dogged in his pursuit of pancake goodness.
"I hate you!" the gnome screams each time he runs past the patio. There is less pancake and syrup on him each time.
"You know, you should talk to Ismie," Larry says after a while.
"You mean the witch who has a habit of turning hapless idiots into various inconvenient forms?"
I say, thinking Larry must be joking. "Witches turn Prince's into frogs."
"Only if they deserve it," Larry remarks as Srogsgu- races by for the fifth time.
"It's not Sprogsgu-!" the gnome screams at me, he suddenly stops, points a stubby finger at me. "My name is is really Sprogsgu-" as the dog chomps down on his head and carries him off for a good licking (as it turns out).
"I didn't deserve to get turned into a frog," I remark.
"That's couldn't have been Ismie," Larry says as the slurping commences from the bushes. "It's not her style."
I shrug, the memories of being a frog are still fresh and uncomfortable.
"It does sound like Callendra though," Larry says. "That old hag has no sense of humor."
For some reason, I feel better.
I nod.
"Sounds like her." Larry muses. "You must be the unfortunate son of King Devon, then?"
I must look shocked.
Larry laughs.
I look confused.
"Trolls work for Witches from time to time. It's how I met Ismie, actually- during that whole Wizard War debacle. I was out dodging wizard spells and ended up having tea with her while hiding in a trench. She told me about your dad and Ralph the semi-stupendous and how you are a girl but your dad wanted a son and all that."
Wow.
"Also Ismie has a thing for Ralph- even though, at the time he was trying to kill her."
Double wow.
"Magic-users are that way about love, they tell me," Larry says and gets us another Mimosa.
"Anyway, I suspect that Ismie would like you," Larry continues, "I doubt she will turn you into anything."
Very reassuring.
"It's what I do," Larry says.
So there you have it.
An hour later, I find myself standing back in front of the Parasite Inn.
"You could cut your losses and take me back to Stonehaven with you, instead."
I look down.
There is a much cleaner gnome looking up at me.
Sprogsgu- smiles up at me.
I reconsider my choices.
"Actually my name isn't Sprogsgu-. It's Sprogsgu-!"
I didn't kick him. I swear.
"Oh look it's the Garden Gnome."
Ismie looks down at the petrified Gnome.
"Have you learned your lesson?" She asks so sweetly you can hear Sprogsgu-'s teeth chattering in terror.
I look at Ismie who just suddenly popped out of thin air.
"Close your mouth dear, " Ismie smiles, she is so beautiful with her perfect green hair, green eyes, green skin, perfect figure and purple hat and dress I want to cry or giggle or both.
"What a nice thing to say about me," Ismie says. "Shall we go in for a bite?'
We leave the petrified Gnome on the stoop. I glance back at him as we go in.
"Oh, he'll thaw out in a day or two," Ismie says as she takes me by the arm.
She smells great, like soap and fresh sugar cookies.
