Day 9: ANOTHER Self-Imposed 30-Day Writing Challenge

Day 9.  Two dwarves.  One mission.  To make a special delivery to a realm called Earth.  Let’s see how this scene from Charlie Weaver goes:  (The italicized portion is from the Day 8 post.  I needed a running start……)

“I would have much rather stayed at home and tended my garden.  But did I?  No.  Instead I’m here, risking my life for you.”  Sherbert turned her back to him and jumped down from the step.

“Well, I don’t need your help,” Herbert snapped.  “I’ve been on plenty of missions.  I could have done this one by myself.”

Sherbert scowled. “Fine.  If you don’t want me here, then I’m leaving.”

Before she could storm off, the thick, wooden door swung open.  A baritone voice cut through the silence of the night.  “Great horny toads!  Who the dickens are you?  And why are you bothering me in the middle of the night?”

Both dwarves stopped talking and stared at the curious figure on the porch.  A large man with long gray hair, bushy dark brows and a grizzled beard bent down and scowled at them.  Was this the Guardian that they were seeking?  He bore no resemblance to the dignified persona each dwarf had envisioned.

“Your caterwauling is going to wake up the entire neighborhood,” he boomed, waving one large, beefy hand at them.  “Move, critters.”

Herbert barely squeaked out his question.  “Move?”

“Yes.  MOVE, critter.  MOVE,” the man bellowed, waving one large, beefy hand at them.  “Quit yammering and move inside the house before someone spots you.”

Completely flustered, Herbert picked up the basket and walked into the house without protest.  Even Sherbert, who was normally unruffled by anything, failed to point out the sloping landscape that surrounded the house.  The closest neighbor was at least one mile away.  Intimidated, she followed her brother inside.

The man waved them into a large room.  Embers crackled in the fireplace, giving the room a warm, cozy glow.  Tan walls were decorated with colorful tapestries.  There was one large sofa and an arm chair by the fireplace.  Herbert and Sherbert exchanged uncertain glances.

“Well, don’t just stand there gawking at me like a bunch of pop-eyed toads.  Sit down,” the man boomed, pointing to the sofa.  “Sit, sit.”

Gingerly, Sherbert climbed onto the sofa.  Herbert gently placed the basket by the arm chair, before started his formal introduction speech.  “Greetings Sir,” Herbert started, squaring his shoulders.  “On behalf of the Elders Council, allow me…..”

“Elders Council?”  The man guffawed, reaching into a box on a table next to the arm chair.  He pulled out a pipe.  “What the hell is an Elders Council?”  The man struck a match, lit the end of the pipe and puffed three perfect rings of smoke before glaring at Herbert.

This wasn’t how this first meeting was supposed to go.  Not at all.  Especially not when such an important delivery was at stake.  Herbert had no idea how to proceed when a recipient didn’t follow protocol.  Floored, he looked helplessly at Sherbert.

Sighing, Sherbert hopped down from the sofa.  It was time to take charge.  “Sir, it would help if you didn’t yell at us.”

“Yell?” The man bellowed in a voice that echoed from the rafters of the house.  “I’m not yelling.  Quit stalling and get to the point, Missy.  Who are you and what’s your business here?”

“Lanka is under attack,” Herbert blurted out and immediately regretted it.  So much for following protocol and gently approaching the recipient about the delivery.

Well, that news silenced the man.  He actually appeared stunned for a moment, as he processed Herbert’s statement.

 

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