Tick had yet to find himself anything fun to do for the day. The seven inch tall gnome sat in a toadstool, muttering to himself of the many things he could be doing, but could not find a way to do them. He was too tall to play Toad Hop, a traditional gnome game where one jumped into toads, and too short to play the games of his larger cousins, the Pygmy Elves.
He sighed as he thought of the Union, they'd be having a lunch break about now, eating Toadstool cakes and beetle roasts. The Union was particular about only serving good food, Gnome-made food. He jumped to his feet and kicked a pebble. A sorry mistake to make when a pebble was the size of your foot.
The great centaur clopped along as he worriedly bit at a hangnail, trying to cut the skin without causing it to tear up his finger as was usually the case with such small yet incredibly painful nuisances. He was so immersed in his doings and thoughts that he never saw the frustrated gnome even as his large hoof connected with the small body and kicked it, accidentally of course.
Stumbling slightly from the slight obstruction of his hoof, Iorwerth stumbled and startled, his finger pulling away from his mouth and a thin strip of skin with it. He winced as he looked down to his hand and observe the tiny bead of blood beginning to form next to his nail-bed. "So much for that," he sighed disappointedly, before looking down to see what had caused him to trip.
When Tick found himself rolling from the contct with the hoof his fist thought was 'I'm going to die'. This was immediately followed by 'I'm going to need a really big stick'.
His first actions however were to sit up sputtering and shake his fist. As he looked upon the centaur however, he found himself rather cowed, as the creature could easily step on his and be done with it.
"Watch where ye walk ye daft son of draft horse!" Of course Tick Tockin was never one fore being smart, he was the impulsive gnome that every knew would one day end up on the wrong side of a shoe.
"Goodness gracious!" Iorwerth brayed in shock, his feet prancing in place out of nervous. "Are you quite alright? I certainly didn't see you there young master fairy. It's just that you are so petite and so low to the ground I never had a chance of seeing you. I really do apologize. Do you get this kind of thing a lot or do you manage to just fly off?"
Squinting downward at the tiny figure that squeaked and shook its fist at him, the centaur began to wonder if it would fly off at all. 'What if I hurt the poor thing? Oh dear, that won't do. No it won't do at all!'
"Did I crush your wings little fairy?"
Fairy? FAIRY?!
"I'm a Gnome you accursed fool, a Muse Gnome! We don't have wings and we live in boxes, not mushrooms and flowers!" Tick could not believe it, to be confused with a common fairy? It was outrageous! He stamped his foot, there was nothing much he could do to the big fellow, he was after all only seven inches tall.
The centaur's eyes widened in shock. He had meant no offense to the poor little sprite it was just that he was so very high up and the little elf was so very far down and hard to see. He blinked several times as he tried to take it all in but it was certainly sounding more ridiculous by the second.
'He lives in boxes? A...'
"...Muse gnome? I've never heard of such a thing. What exactly is it that you do, sir gnome?"
I took all Iorwerth had not to burst into a bout of chuckles when he saw the little foot stamping like a small child. He bit his lip hard but his face still crinkled together in amusement. The creature bent forward at the waist some to be closer to the gnome and to allow for better hearing.
'Poor fellow must really be craning his neck to have this conversation with me.'
"I, sir, am a Muse Gnome, we are castors of Muse Magic, without us bards and poets would never get anywhere, when you find a sock, or other such item, missing from your home after you get struck by muse, it means a Muse Gnome has come and gone." Tick shook his head irritably. He did however appreciate the centaur bending down a bit. Gnomes are very sensitive about their size, not because they feel small but because world feels too big.
Iorwerth's mouth dropped open as his lips moved in silent speech, repeating the words he was hearing from the little gnome. So excited was he at this knowledge that he nearly trampled the poor creature with his excited hoof-prancing. Hasty apologies were muttered before the great beast flopped down onto his belly, four legs sprawling and forearms resting firmly on the ground.
"You can really do that? Help with bardic muse?" he asked, eyes wide with the wonder of a child. "You're the reason for my incredible inspiration or rather yours? Oh please, please great master of whit and lore share with me what you know! I am your humble servant, Iorwerth. I long to know of the tales I'm sure you have saved for just an occasion. Please!"
The centaur was being shameless but in light of his excitement, he did not care. It was not everyday you were blessed with the presence of such a creature. In fact he doubted he would ever have the opportunity again and swore to glean all he could from the little creature. If only the gnome would stay and assist him.
'I wonder if I could keep him? I could carry him around in a hat or something. All the stories he could share!' As a rule, Iorwerth was not a greedy person. His only vices were song and story. The idea that he could have them all the days of his life made him avarice. Hopefully though, he would realize the folly of such actions before they came to fruition.
Tick was taken aback by the Centaur's excitement. "Muse Gnomes do not write the stories, they provide Muse and inspiration through the use of Muse Magic." The little fellow did a quick little dance, his feet moving faster than the eye could see. The dance over the Muse Gnome waited, the magic would take effect quickly, but sometimes the target would take some time to feel it. Muse Gnomes love a good dance and enjoy music, however the whole lot of them were tone deaf and devoid of any talent for writing or story telling. Their dancing however was second to none in their opinion.
"Yes yes yes, I understand," Iorwerth chattered, not really understanding at all. "Lend me your muse then dear friend. I long for a glimpse of such prowess." The centaur's words trailed off though as he watched in awe, the gnome begin to dance. It was an incredibly beautiful sight and lightened his art while entrancing it.
He wished he could join in but feared the very act of breathing would send the creature skittering away, the dance half done. As it was when the other finished, his heart felt heavy and sad to see it done so soon.
"Magnificent!" he praised, clapping his great hands vigorously. "Simply wonderful! You are a true master of dance as well as muse good friend. If I had but an ounce of your ability I would be all the talk of the centaurs. You are truly a wonder. I bow to your superiority," Iorwerth stated reverently, doing just that.
"Now if you consider me not so ignorant, how exactly does passing on the muse work? Is there a price? I have some coin should you wish it, although I'm afraid I'm all out of socks. A bit inconvenient, those if you know what I mean."
The gnome looked at the centaur, realizing that such a creature had no use for socks. Sighing he shrugged. "No need for pay, a gnome's pride is in his work, I'll give you this for free then, the magic works for a few days. However could you sing me a song or tell a tale? We gnomes love a good story!"
For a brief moment the centaur felt quite guilty. As much as he loved his job, he still needed it in order to pay for his survival. To deny another for services rendered felt cruel. Even if they were given freely by the gnome, Iorwerth felt that he was getting something worth far more than a sock he did not even own to over. Surely he could convince the muse gnome to take something else in return for the great he had been bestowed.
"You're sure you don't want anything else, sir? I mean you have been cheated out of your normal fair and while I have nothing against sharing a tale or two or three even I feel that not giving something more is cheating you. Is there someplace you're headed to? I could take you there or..um...I don't really know what else...whatever it is, just speak. I am in your debt!"
Realization dawned on Iorwerth and snorted in exasperation at himself. "Forgive me gentle and kind gnome. I have been quite rude. I am Iorwerth, the bardic centaur, at your service," he stated humbly, bowing his upper body in as regal a bow as he could manage given his recumbent position. "Might I ask the name of the most generous and wonderful muse gnome whose gift I have been graciously bestowed with?"
Tick nodded slowly, quite full of himself as all muse gnomes are. "I'll accept a story as payment, its a fair trade, we gnomes hold high value to the arts."
The little fellow bowed back after the belated introduction. "Tick Tockin, at your service."
(Its a bleh post but my muse gnomes are on strike again...)
"Well met Sir Tick Tockin! It is truly an honor to make your acquaintance. I frankly, I don't know where to begin. I find myself with the greatest audience I could possibly ever earn and am immediately stuck dumb. Um, any particular story you would care to hear dear friend? I have many and would be tickled pink to share any one of them with you. Just a matter of where to begin."
Iorwerth chuckled nervously to the point of sounding like he was braying and rubbed his hands together to try and put himself at ease. None of it was working of course. Instead it simply made him more anxious.
"Um would you care to uh gain a better seat perhaps?" he suggested, clapping his hands together before lowering one to the forest floor. "Given that this is a private showing I can offer you the best seats in the house, or rather on the centaur." The centaur brayed again before wincing at the sound. "Shoulder, head, back, hand, you name it, it's yours. I am at your service good fellow!"
Tick looked up. "We Gnomes like to keep our feet firmly on the ground. Except for my cousin Eric, but he's half brownie, a bit of an oddball. This stump here will do fine for a seat, and calm yourself, Theres no reason to be nervous around me."
The little gnome (who was actually large for his kind) sat on the stump he had mentioned and looked up awaiting a story, any story, even a joke would suffice, the gnome did after all love a good joke, particularly at the expense of larger peoples, like humans.
Horse-like features pouted slightly at not being able to provide a seat for the gnome but soon were back to smiling as he chuckled softly. "A brownie you say? That must provide some interesting tales. Perhaps when I am through and if you are in the mood good friend, you could tell me a fair few of them. I do however," he quickly interjected, raising a hand, palm outward in apology, "demand and ask nothing of you. You have already been gifted with so much by being able to story-tell in your presence.
But," Iorwerth continued with a slight bow, "without further ado let me tickle your fancy with a tale that I have recently come by from a new and dear friend of my heart."
The centaur cleared his throat and rubbed under his nose with the back of his forefinger in preparation. Then with all the poise and practice of a born and weathered weaver of tales, he divulged the trials and tribulations, the ups and downs, the love and heartbreak of a young widow he had met in Ketra who had big dreams.
She had been the wife of a huntsman and the mother of two when she suddenly became a widow. While her tale started out tragic it was filled with scheming and comedic failures as the mother attempted get her eldest noticed by a nobleman in hopes of having her married off while both the children did everything they could to sabotage their mother's efforts.
"...of course it all worked out in the end, or at least it had when last I saw them," Iorwerth laughed. "The children, of course they're grown now and can hardly be called children, are each married and if the rumor mill is true the youngest was expecting her first. Then again you know how reliable those can be when it comes to our art..." he trailed off, and bowed his head.
For a moment the centaur had forgotten who he had been recounting this tale to. He only hoped he had pleased Tick as he feared what could come from squandering his present as well as irritating such an honorable and respected individual. Unconsciously Iorwerth gnawed on his lower lip, waiting for a sign of approval or disdain, praying it would be the former and not the latter.
Tick listened closely to the story. Upon finding out that it was a story based on actual event's he applauded.
"The best stories are the ones we find in real life. You wove the tale with exceptional skill and embellished the otherwise boring parts with attention to detail. You have a great talent my friend, you truly deserved the dance." The Gnome beamed at the centaur. "Now it is my turn, though I'm no bard, I will tell you ho my cousin came to be born a half brownie."
The tale started like many others, with a young lady of noble birth who wanted nothing to do with her arranged marriage. The little brownie lady ran away from home, and after a number of misadventures found herself in the care of a Muse Gnome family, and in particular, a Muse Gnome adventurer who had recently come back from a trip with a bard and a band of warriors seeking a golden chalice.
The brownie noble and the Muse Gnome adventurer fell in love and had three children together.
Here Tick stopped. "My cousin is the eldest of the three siblings, and the two are quite happy, though having Brownie nobles as in-laws has certainly put a strain on my uncles nerves. They are actually trying for a fourth child."
Iorwerth brayed in laughter, shaking his head in a very horse-like fashion. "Noble in-laws seem to be a pain for any married in commoner from the tales I've heard. I'm sure brownies are no different, unless of course they tend to be a more vindictive family of individuals. I have to say I have not as of yet had the honor of making an acquaintance with a brownie, Tick."
The centaur smiled and bobbed his head happily. Telling and hearing stories always seemed to put him in the best of moods. The fact he had nearly stepped on the poor muse gnome earlier was long forgotten by him.
"So my good friend do you have a family of your own? Children and a wife to head home to?"
Tick was surprised by the question. "I do not. I wanted to get out and see the world before I settled down, like my father did. Besides I'm very tall for my kind and it intimidates most of our women. I'm a full head and a half taller than the typical Muse Gnome."
(sorry its so short, i'm dog sitting for a friend and their dogs crave attention like crack addicts)
"Oh, I see! My apologies then. I didn't mean to pry. Although, I can admit that I do understand your problem, height-wise that is," the centaur began to ramble. "I'm not exactly a um, house-friendly size for humans, or even my kind for that matter."
Iorwerth shrugged, shaking his head. "But, enough about that. Have you manage to go on many adventures since leaving home, or are you still in the process of one?"
Tick welcomed the change of topic. "I have seen Connlaoth's capitol, and been turned into a rat by an angry wizard. So far I'm having quite a wonderful time. I was thinking to head north and see the frozen tundra."
The Gnome sighed happily. "I've already seen more than most Muse Gnomes see in their whole lives and I've only been journeying for a year."
Iorwerth smiled. It warmed his heart to see such happiness on the face of the small passerby. He knew what it was like to feel that sense of accomplishment in having done what those around you had not or claimed you could not. It was one of the reasons he was a bard after all. The centaur loved traveling and hearing tales of far-off places. It made his occupation perfect for him and did not regret going against the hearsay of others for a second.
"It sounds amazing friend. I commend you in being so accomplished in so little an amount of time. You must be quite proud and with good cause. Although this story of being turned into a rat while sounding like some nasty business also happens to peak my interest. Might I hear the tale? I would be greatly honored if you were to do so."
Tick grinned. "Aye, it is fine tale. I was sneaking through an old castle I'd stumbled over and found my way into an old mages workshop. I poked around and looked into things, just to satisfy my curiosity, when the old mage who apparently lived there caught me. He turned me into a rat with a simple Word and told me to leave before he did something worse. Of course I needed to be turned back into a Gnome or risk my life when cats were about. I exchanged Muse for the spell that turned me back. The Mage was inspired and made a potion that temporarily reverses balding."
"Oh dear! That does sound frightening. I'm glad you made it out of that situation right quick enough though. No worse for wear I hope? No cats maimed you in the process?" Iorwerth bit on his thumbnail worriedly, while eying the gnome speculatively. He certainly did not look hurt but it was not as if the centaur would be able to really know that without knowing what a gnome and a muse one in particular, looked like.
"So your muse, uh powers? Gifts? They work on everyone for everything? I don't think I have ever heard of a case where the muse has worked for something other than the arts. This idea is rather fascinating though. Could you possibly share more or is that a trade secret?" he grinned, while giving up a horse-like laugh.
Tick grinned. The Bard was asking the right questions. "Muse Gnomes were once called Inspiration Faeries, but a few centuries ago someone finally realized we were Gnomes. The term Muse Gnome had a certain ring to it and my ancestors decided it would be the common name of our people. In our language we call ourselves 'Siis Gnar' which translates into Ballad Tinkers. So while most call us Muse gnomes our power is actually simple inspiration. We inspire people and unlock their deeper mind, the subconscious where dreams come from. In short our magic works only a well as your imagination does."
Iorwerth winced at Tick's people's initial name. He suspected it might not have been a very well-received name given the way the centaur had mistakenly called the gnome a dwarf. Taking interest in the species name in its native gnomish tongue, he found himself butchering the pronunciation moments before flushing darkly and apologizing quietly to his companion.
"Ballad Tinkers is a marvelous name! I truly admire it, and even find myself a bit jealous. Why if I could be renamed as a bard I think the Ballad or Bard Tinker would have made a fine one indeed. Your explanation though of unlocking a mind's deeper subconscious is fascinating. To have such a broad scope of talent that touches so many lives," Iorwerth sighed happily.
"Oh if only my own small talent could have even a tenth of the effect your own does, I would die happy."
Tick beamed. "We Muse Gnomes love it when you bigger folk try to inspire each other. You have to work at it and usually your inspiration comes from honest feelings. A Muse Gnome uses magic, but you use words and heart. I admit our weakness for love ballads is tremendous and our magic simply can't reproduce the feeling of Love, that is something you have to experience on your own in order to duplicate it in a song or story."
(sorry for the wait my muse hit holed itself up in a bunker...had to get FBI negotiator to talk it out.;))
"Try would be the key word though my friend," Iorwerth replied sadly. "It is the succeeding that is the difficult part. And even if we manage that sometimes it doesn't turn out the way we dream. Sometimes it is far more terrifying."
The Centaur shuddered as he thought of his own homeland. As much as he loved Connlaoth, that did not negate the horror of some of the treatment he had both suffered or witnessed by anti-magic fanatics. Some listened to his tales and later he would find that some atrocity or another had occurred and the bard was to blame.
"Enough of that though." Chuckling he gently prodded Tick in the belly. "Tell me, Tick. Have you ever known love? Personally?"
Tick stumbled back from the poke to the gut, it had happened before and he wasn't angry about it but it did startle him a bit. The question about love however made him stop from laughing.
"I haven't, well not really, I thought I was in love once, but it was a childish case of puppy love. I've seen it though in many, my favorite pair being and old blacksmith and his wife, after sixty years together they still have this spark to their eyes, its amazing really."
The centaur nodded his head in understanding. "Aye love most certainly a beautiful thing to see in those who have shared it for many decades. That spark, that twinkle of the eyes and secret smile when no one is looking," Iowerth sighed, a dreamy expression upon his equine-like face.
"Never known it personally, but perhaps one day. You never know," he added softly, his head still stuck in daydreams.
'Look at us, dreaming like a pair of lovelorn bachelors. Which we are of course.' Tick thought with a slight smile.
"You know, love is probably the most amazing thing out there. Everyone wants it, but no one can buy it, some of the poorest people have it in spades, whereas the richer folk find it fleeting and elusive."
((aahg! brain is turning to mush id put up more but ive hit a stump...))
"So true, so true," Iorwerth sighed, smiling thoughtfully. "You know friend I have just stumbled upon an idea. Would you happen to be busy right now? Or possibly have a set destination in mind? I recall you said you were a traveler and while I would hate to keep you from your business I would be honored to have you join me for a bit in my own journeys. If you'd be willing that is."
Tick took half a second to decide. "That sounds like a wonderful idea. I usually go where the tunnels take me, but i feel that traveling with you will bring about many glorious moments." The little gnome was completely smitten with the prospect, his own father had traveled with a bard for many years, and his father was considered something of a folk hero. "The life of a gnome is full of surprises and gifts."
Iorwerth clapped his hands in obvious delight. "How excellent then! Quite the pair of bachelors we make. We'll take the world by storm with our tales of that I am sure my good friend." Rubbing his hands together in thought, the centaur mused long and hard before smiling and once more addressing the little gnome."
"Where would you care to start Tick? The world awaits! Wherever you wish we shall go. There is no village too small nor no city too large for the likes of us!"
"South, it gets cold in the north, especially this close to winter solstice." Tick hated the cold, if only because it made people go inside when they could instead be out and about laughing and making tales and songs about the joys of life. Of course an Epic of worth involved and dangerous trek through winter storms facing off ravening packs of wild beasts.
"South we shall go then! I hope you don't mind skipping Connlaoth this time of year. My homeland tends to be quite cold on top of not being very welcoming to outsiders. Serendipity is nice this time of year though. Perhaps we could head towards Northwatch or Darken Vei," the centaur chattered on as he headed to the "door" of the meeting place that would lead to these areas. He was excited to start a new adventure and this time with a friend at his side. His brilliant smile could not be contained. After all, another story awaited just around the corner.