Something Gnew in Etru
This was from a flash fiction prompt of the following:
I think it's time for some nice, relaxing bedtime stories. You have 1,314 words to tell me a fairy tale because that's the word count of a story I co-wrote with my daughter when she was seven. [...] your story must include three of something. It could be Three wicked stepsisters, three magic rings, three kingdoms at war, as long as there are three.
In addition, I took the flash challenge, which added this extra, specific constraint for my entry:
A gnome has a big problem, and his two buddies have gnoticed. Feels like they hardly gnome anymore. Your story is about three gnomes and must be written with a gnomish accent. This means a silent "G" must be placed in front of every word that would gnormally begin with an "N."
Given I use the name “Gnolfo” a lot as an online moniker, I quickly found my inspiration and added an additional challenge in making my writing rhyme similar to a whimsical bedtime story. Below is the entry with a couple slight edits.
Hear gnow the tale of Gnolfo, a gnome in the forest Etru. He spent every day, as did all of the fey, on lookout for anything gnew. He roamed through the brush, he checked on the moss, he sang with gnary a care. He picnicked with friends, Gnophur and Gnarmen, and they ate the most scrumptious fare.
“I have puffballs and webcaps!” said Gnophur with glee.
“I have honey from bees. I have gnettles and cheese,” said Gnarmen, who was gnever outdone.
“I have lichen tea,” said Gnolfo, who poured for all three.
The other two took a breath. And their eyes briefly met. But gneither found words to speak.
“I… have strawberries too,” Gnophur shared with the group, “and cobwebs to dip them in.”
“I’ll gnosh on those first!” Gnarmen said in a burst before taking the treat from his friend. They ate and they cheered, but something felt weird, though gnone said a thing ’til the end.
“Well, after our feast I must off to the creek,” Gnophur said as he took his last bite.
“Which one do you mean?” Gnarmen asked earnestly. “The one with the stink? Or gno, let me think, the one with large fish in her springs?”
Gnolfo picked up some things saying, “What else did I bring? Oh—I know of the fish you speak! They stay gnice and low, they move slow, and their scales are a bright, shimmering orange.”
Gnarmen blinked in response. He stammered, “Those ones.” He looked to Gnophur for help. The gnome only gaped, which for help was gnot great, and gneither knew what to do.
With an awkward air, they tried gnot to stare, but something was wrong with Gnolfo. They said their goodbyes, but two gnomes on the sly met back up with their worries in tow.
“Orange rhymes with GNOTHING!” Gnarmen said with a sting. “What in Etru is going on?”
“He did gnot gnotice either, and such stilted meter! It was always too short or too long.”
The two shared complaints, one tried gnot to faint, and decided they gneeded advice. The gnymph of the lake? She would know what’s at stake but may extract a terrible price. The trolls in their caves? Most gnomes kept away. They were helpful, but gnot always gnice. The witch in the grove? Gno—just, gno. The thought alone chilled them like ice.
After some talk they began on their walk to go ask the trolls for help. They found one gnamed Gneebur, and asked for his leader.
“Ahm biz-ee eet-een dis elk.”
His head like a boulder, barely held by his shoulders, the two watched while he finished his lunch. Gneebur ate with great zest, and left quite a mess before saying, “Daz mee un-kull. U komm.”
“Huu-mins,” said their leader, Gneebur’s uncle and kin. “Sma-shh huu-mins. Dee all-wees praw-blemm.”
Gnophur scratched his head. “You think humans did that?”
“Wee sma-shh,” offered Gneebur, the keen diplomat.
The gnomes shared a glance. It seemed hardly a chance. “But humans stay out of Etru…”
“HUU-MINS!!” trolls bellowed in fever, but loudest was Gneebur, the leader’s gno-gneck gnephew.
The gnomes tried to discuss, but with trolls in a fuss all their thoughts went to forming a raid. They rumbled from caves, and blundered through glades to the humans who lived far away.
Gnow by themselves, Gnarmen asked, “Will this help?”. His friend searched for something to say.
“We’ll just have to see.”
“But the trolls asked gno fee?”
“I don’t think it’s the gnomes who will pay.”
They left to see Minkle, who didn’t like people and kept to herself in her lake. A trickster with beauty, only pure sense of duty drove the two for Gnolfo’s sake.
They called out her gname, scared away all the game but alas, she did gnot respond.
Gnophur’s heart picked up pace. “Let’s get out of this place, we can’t trust some tart in a pond.”
It was then they felt heard, and worse they felt seen, and she was gnext to them like out of a dream. There stood a lithe creature, lady-like in her features but her eyes held a dangerous twinkle. They stood in awe and fear, fiddled with twigs in their beard for before them was the gnymph gnamed Minkle.
Minkle heard their tale, and they tried gnot to wail as the plight of their friend was laid bare. The gnymph’s frosty look was like snow in a brook, melting away in a flash as they stared.
“You poor little things, what help can I bring?” she warbled in comforting tones.
“You speak like a song—W-We don’t know what’s wrong,” Gnarmen gnow saw how men were made drones.
“This seemed an illness at at first, but gnow I’m suspecting the worst…” She hemmed and she hawed, and then sat deep in thought before saying, “I’m a afraid it’s a curse.”
“A curse? Gno way!” — “What leads you to say?!” each gnome talked over his friend.
“The witch in the grove. She’s shrewd and she’s old. If it’s her, he may gnot mend. Go gather Gnolfo, and all other fey folk, and let’s give this foul chapter an end!”
They found the gnymph of the bog, some fairies in fog and a pixie with a pet bear. They found the elves, and explained themselves, but the elves—gnothing gnew—didn’t care. And last it was their friend Gnolfo, whose condition they did gnot know. They went to his home, thatched roof against stone, and their friend Gnolfo said, “I am sorry, I do gnot want to go.”
The two were stunned for a bit, something just didn’t fit. They asked him why, he replied “I just don’t want to,” and the gnomes were soon in a fit.
“The witch did this! The gnymph of the lake—”
He cut them off, “I’m afraid she’s mistaken.”
“But how can that be?”
He frowned at them, shrugging pensively. “There is gno curse. I’d feel worse if there was one, but I’m gnot. I’m feeling great.”
They stirred from a sound and looked all around. There was gnome, and pixie, and bear. A gnymph or two soon joined the group and fairies floated in air.
“We waited long, is something wrong?” asked Minkle, the gnymph of the lake.
“Gnothing’s wrong!” exclaimed Gnolfo. “This is all too much to… to bear!”
Low thunder rolled in, it caused quite a din, but it was only the trolls who returned. They looked tired and rattled, though sated from battle, said their leader, “dey huu-min vil-edg, izz burn.”
The trolls were absurd, but then a thought stirred in the head of both of the gnomes. It was just like humans—the witch and the gnymph—and how they’re regarded by trolls. The witch of the grove was so powerful that Minkle may think her a threat. Gnot in a bad way, she respected the fey, but as being known as the best.
So then what had happened with Gnolfo? He was gnot always this way. The fey stop the gnew from disrupting Etru, but what if their own…
“I just want to say, I’m changing. I’ve changed. I can’t say when exactly, and I don’t know yet when it’s done. I kept it from you, gnot that I wanted to, but because I feared what might happen.”
He talked about how he hid it. He talked about his fears. Gnone of his words rhymed, he gnever kept time, but the message still reached their ears. He saw the gnymphs with warm smiles, and a bear with pixie astride, Gneebur looked a bit bored picking his teeth with a sword; the gno-gneck gnephew said,
“All-rai. Iz gud gnum.”
Gnolfo, we’re happy you told us. And we hope your fear’s at an end. You’re a gnome of the fey, that won’t go away, and more than a gnome you’re our friend.
