Gnomes1

GNOMES I HAVE KNOWN

Bertie Bitluck

Once upon a time of make believe, in the mushroom village of Mouthsport, there lived a gnome, whose name was Bertie Bitluck.

   Bertie's name was very appropriate because he had a bit of luck with everything he tried, and Bertie had tried a great many things. Bertie was a bit of an artist, a bit of a builder, a bit of a cook, and so on and so on, all the way to the Z's.(he was also a bit of a zoo keeper.) If you needed something done, chances are that Bertie could do it for you. He was, probably, the handiest gnome you could ever hope to meet.
   These days, however, Bertie was not a happy gnome. He spent a lot of time moping around his home, heaving great big, loud, windy sighs.

"What's your trouble, then?" asked his wife, Suzie. "You're driving me pilly-wonkers with that heavy breathing of yours."
   "I dunno." sighed Bert.
"Well, scoot yer snoot out the door, and find yerself summat to keep you busy." said Suzie.

"There's nothing to do." Bertie grumbled, but obediently, he grabbed his cap from where it hung on a nail, and jamming it down on his head, he stepped outside into the sunshine. "There's nothing to do." he repeated, looking around to see if something would put an idea into his mind.
Mouthsport was a busy village. It lay on the bank of Silvertip Stream, between the Great Pond and the Main Gate, in the Southwest corner of the Faerie Garden. It was a lovely village, and like all the other gnomes, Bertie was proud to live there, but no matter how busy it was, or how pretty it was, nothing Bertie was looking at, gave him any ideas.
Bertie sighed a long, mournful sounding sigh, and decided he might as well go for a walk, since it was such a lovely day, weather wise.

He hadn't gone very far before he heard," Oi there, Bert. How's yer, today?" It was his best friend, Drobbin Snaggle.
" Hey there,Drob." he replied.
"Where yer off to?" asked Drobbin.
"Particularly no place, but I guess I'll end up someplace." said Bert.
"Well" said Drobbin, lowering his voice a to just above a whisper," Forgive me fer sayin' it, but you do look a mite ferdraggled today. Try smiling a bit. Yer looks like yer just guzzled a gallon of bitter brine."
"Sorry," said Bertie, "I'm not good company today , Drob. I'm just trying to walk it off."
"Off you go,then, and I'll see you later.." said Drob, "Enjoy your walk."

Bertie walked here and there, hither and yon, this way and that, all around the village. Everyone who saw him wondered why Bertie had such a grumpy face.
He returned home, just before suppertime, and told Suzie he wasn't hungry.
" Think I'll go have a lie down." he said.
Suzie was not used to anyone refusing to eat her cooking. She was the best chef in the village, In fact she was the best cook in the entire faerie garden.
"Oh dear," she said to herself, "I'm flummoxed with what to do about this, but something's not right." She knew her Bertie, and this was not like him. Bertie loved to play his whistle, or his accordion. He liked to dance jigs. He always smiled, and he loved to eat more than anybody else Suzie knew.
"Oh dear, He's not well." she decided.
Wiping her hands on her apron, she toddled out the back door, and hurried two 'shrooms down to Drobbins place.
"Help me, Drobbin," she cried, " He's sick, and I don't know what to do."

Drobbin went straight to his hives, and attached notes to some of his bees, sending them in a bee-line to a number of his and Bertie's friends. All of the notes said the same thing:
"Come for post supper munchables to discuss matters of great importance about the healthability of our chum, Bert.
Signed; Gnomister Drobbin Snaggle."

Later that evening, Bertie's friends gathered to drink sweet honey mead, supplied by Drobbin, eat delicious munchables, supplied by Suzie, and discuss the ponderous poser of what to do about Bert.

They weren't getting any closer to solving the problem, when Sam Snaggle, Drobbin's son ,said, "It's his own fault."
"What yer talkin' about, lad?" asked Drobbin.
"It's is own fault, if he's got nothing to do." replied Sam.
"What kind of a palaver is this lad muttering?" asked Jackson Reidleaf.
"Explain yerself, lad" said Drobbin.
"What I mean is, he's already done it all." said Sam. "He's painted and plastered, sewed and mended, sawed and hammered, fixed and straightened everything in the village, and there's nothing left to do. So, you see, it's his own fault."
"Faith light me." said Jackson. "I think the lad has solved the riddle."
"Yer right." said Drobbin. "Old Bert's feeling unwanted.

The next morning, just as Bert sat down to breakfast, Jackson came by to see if he could help him fix some door hinges.
"Of course I can." said Bert.
A few minutes later, Tillie Twosis popped in to see if Bert would be able to unclog her sink.
Gnomes came looking for help with patching roofs, or fixing fences, and many other jobs for Bert.
When Drobbin came over to ask Bert to help him mend his boat, he found him tucking into a huge breakfast, eating and humming to himself, at the same time.
"G'morning, Drobber." he said, grinning from ear to ear. "Very fine morning, don't you think?"
"Extremely fine." answered Drobbin, nodding his head.
Then winking at Suzie, he whispered, "Our Bert's back.

By: S.E.G. (Nanaborg)

Drobbin Snaggle

"Masterfully Mulled Mead", "Beautifully Blended Brew". Drobbin looked at what he had written, and tried to come up with other, fancy sounding, phrases.
He wanted to paint a new sign, for his lawn, that, he hoped, would entice more customers, but the task was more difficult than he thought it would be.

Drobbin Snaggle raised honey bees, and owned the Bumble Brewery, in the mushroom village of Mouthsport, where he brewed Heavenly Honey Mead, a favourite of all the grown-up gnomes, and Bumblebop, a type of soda pop, which was the favourite of all the young gnomes.
He had just finished his latest batch of brew, and wanted everyone to know about it, but Drobbin was never very good at making signs.
"Snazzlefratz!" exclaimed Drobbin, "I don't know what to put on this sign."

Drobbin

Putting the sign aside, Drobbin decided to go and see if lunch was ready. Maybe with a little something in his stomach, his mind would work better.
"Marster's home, woman," he said to his wife, as he walked into the kitchen, "And he's lookin' fer fillin' an empty craw."
"Marster is it? Well, I hopes yer can marster yer own lunch then, coz I got me hands full." said his wife, Lillia, with a grin. "Why are you so early?" she asked.
"Stuck on me sign." replied Drobbin. "Dunno what ter say."
"Well, I've got fresh bakery buns, and there's cheese and fresh fruit in the larder." said Lillia. "You should be able to fix yerself a fine feast out of all that."
"You not coming to sit with me, then?" asked Drobbin
"Can't." replied Lillia, "You've finished with your brew, but I'm right in the middle of mine. Can't stop now."
"What yer got in this batch?" asked Drobbin.
""Honey Twists." said Lilia, "I've just started twisting them, so I'll be a while yet."

Lillia ran a small sweet shop, which she filled with all sorts of delicious goodies. Each treat had its own delightful taste, even though the main ingredient, in everything, was honey.

Drobbin headed for the larder to fix himself some lunch.
"Hey there, Drob! Are yer open fer business?" asked Jocksie Twosis, poking his head in the open window.
"Right. Right, Jock. What can I get yer?" said Drobbin.
"I think I'll be needing a couple of kegs o' the brew from yer." replied Jocksie.
"Right away." said Drobbin, hurrying off to fetch the kegs. "I've just finished a new batch."

When Jocksie had left with his brew, Drobbin went back to the task of preparing his lunch.
Just as he had everything laid out on the dining room table, his best friend, Bertie Bitluck, came in the back door.
"Sorry Drob. Didn't mean to interrupt yer lunch." said Bertie, "I was just wonderin' if yer needed me services s'arfternoon."
"I do need yer, Bert.' said Drobbin, "I've got kegs of mead, and crates of Bumblebop to stack, and I have to deliver a large order to the faerie castle."
"Finished the new batch then, did yer?" asked Bertie.
"Yep. Sit yer seat down, and join me fer a bite." said Drobbin, "We'll get started after we eat."
"I'll be wantin' a couple of kegs for meself." said Bertie, "and a crate of the Bop for my girls."
Drobbin told Bertie of his attempts at making a sign. "You're handy with things like that, Bert, maybe you can help me come up with summat." he added.

In the middle of their lunch, Jackson Reidleaf and Philibust Foglock walked into the dining room.
"Morning Drob....Bert." said Jackson, nodding his head to both gnomes. "Jocksie just told us you're finished a new batch Drob, and we'd like to grab a couple for each of us, if you don't mind."
"I'll take three of 'em." said Philibust.
Bertie helped Drobbin stack the kegs of brew, and the crates of Bumblebop, on the gnomes' carts, and they returned to the dining room.
"S'cuse me fer askin',Drob, but if we makes you a sign, will you have anything left to sell?" asked Bert. "It seems to me like this batch is moving itself ,out of here , pretty quick."
"It always moves quick." answered Drob, "But, a sign seems like the perfessional thing ter do."

Drobbin and Bert worked hard all afternoon, stacking and loading, kegs and crates, and loading up Drobbin's, four field mouse powered, delivery cart, for the delivery to the castle.
While Drobbin made out his receipts, and checked all of his paperwork, Bert went to work making the sign. When it was done, he hammered it into a prominent spot on the front lawn, and went to join Drobbin on the cart.
As they drove around to the front of Drobbin's place, he stopped to look at the sign Bertie had made. He also noticed his son, Sam, busy with a large number of customers.
"Looks like it's workin', already. You have a way with words, Bert." he said, looking back at the sign, which read,

"New Brew's Ready. Come and Get it."