CHAPTER 10
The next day Greebie had to avail himself to chop firewood and mend buckets and water the hedge and do all manner of property maintenance that satisfied the quirky thoughts of Mrs. Marjorie Pigleman when she was in a mood. She often got into moods. They were a distinct feature of her persona.
Bessie the goat had noticed these things as well. Only she heard the ‘Voice’ that mysteriously appeared (voices don’t normally appear usually they are sounds without form or body.) above the racket of Greebies chore doings.
The voice was a running commentary on each of the chores that Greebie did. It seemed to follow him around the garden and in and out of the wattle and daub building that Bessie was now chewing on.
Bessie had watched Mrs Pigleman take the washing down off the clothesline and wondered how stupid really Dwelfs were for if they did not want washing on the line why put it there in the first place. Bessie shook her head in disbelief and ate a little more of the wattle that poked out of the daub building.
Finally all the chores were done but it was now late in the afternoon and the shallow sunlight struggled to bend its way into Greebies bedroom. He was setting up his ink and parchments once again – Marjorie grunted and walked away from him. Greebie didn’t mind. His thoughts were flashing on memories tossing and splashing in his mind like an ocean inside his head.
Later that night;
“…and my feet were held fast to the floor by a powerful spell cast by that evil sorceress Te-Marze-Pam and I and the three Druids of Skard were all held captive in the Citadel of Mogodawn.” He finished dropping the quill onto the table in order to rub his eyes.
He had been writing for three hours this time and now it was mid evening. He yawned.
“God I’m tired!” he groaned under his breath but the God of just about everything was not listening at that time. In fact the God of just about everything couldn’t care less about the whole planet Anadam much less one tired and Re-Tired Druid.
Marjorie had ignored him all evening. She had been doing something much more practical making pickles for the Sunday fete. Greebie was too busy to notice. The Sunday Fete was days away yet and he had to complete these chapters before the memories flitted past the window of his mind. So he took up the quill once again dipped it into his homemade ink and began to scratch more documentation.
“..It was at this time that Druid Mogie entered the room. It was totally unexpected as it was assumed by everyone except Matilda that he was wandering about in deep meditation; roaming and thinking.
“Ah Hah!” He cried as he made his presence known.
Suddenly spinning around quickly Matilda replied in some form of shock.
“So Druid Mogie I assume.” She said .
“I see you have fallen for my trap as well. I’ll have all your clan before you know it!” she threatened meaning she would soon capture all twelve Druids.
“Not likely!” answered Druid Mogie. “I’ve had lots of time to think on the matter and I’ve thought of something that you are unaware of” he said with a sneer. “you see I’ve come prepared “ he said as he reached into the pocket of his Druids cloak and produced a small vial.
“You see I am aware of you and your dream states Miss Te-Marze-Pam or should I call you Normie Son of Normi. You see I have a vial of hair die and I know your little secret of snooze. How you bewildered the great and mighty Mogodawn. I know how you beguiled him with your hair and the fact you wear no clothes but your tricks wont work with me. I am Immuned to your treachery. I wont fall into your sleep state so easily “ he said confidently.
On seeing the vial of hair die, Matilda rolled back a pace in astonished fear.
“No! Not Hair Dye!” she yelped
“Yes Hair Die!” snapped Druid Mogie.
“What colour is it?” yelled Matilda the very thought filled her with dread.
“Colour?” puzzled Druid Mogie at a loss suddenly by this turn of attention.
“Yes colour! What colour is the hair dye?” she pressed for an answer.
“Why it’s…it’s a sort of clear liquid stammered the Druid completely bamboozled. He wondered what colour hair die should be. The witch who sold him the potion did not mention anything about colour. It was just hair die; sprinkled on the head it made the hair die and fall out leaving the person totally bald.
“you’ll not come near me with that Hair Dye!” shouted Matilda. “I’ll … I’ll” she stammered.
“You’ll what ?” interrupted Druid Mogie. “I’ll be making the threats now!” he said. “and you’ll obey else I’ll pour this hair die all over your head” he threatened.
“What do you want” said Matilda in a flat voice defeated by Druid Mogies presence.
“First you’ll free my friends and then you’ll allow us to leave without any hindrance.” He ordered.
“Very well, I’ll do as you command but just stay away from my hair with that vial of dye. Your friends are free to pass” she said as she gesticulated with a wave of her hand.
“Quick grabe the Mainshard!” cried Druid Lufgi Ufi as he sprang forward in an overbalanced push. Suddenly all the Druids were free to move.
On hearing Druid Lufgi Ufi’s command Greebie raced to the pedestal on which the Mother shard rested and grabbed at it in haste. Then he turned and quickly ran for the doorway to catch up with the other Druids who were in full flight; even sprightly old Druid Mogie . Staffs were waving wildly in the air as each of them ran across the courtyard.
Matilda was in shock. What had just happened she wondered as she brushed her precious hair with her shivering fingers. “Dye my hair!” she wept.
After this, the atmosphere went all wriggly and wavy and Greebie began to snore, head resting on the very parchment he was writing in.