“I’m eternally grateful, Mrs. Bluebell and Miss Elizabeth Ivy. Without your help, I don’t know what I’d do.”
“Oh tosh, Mr. Dorro, our pleasure,” sighed Mrs. Bluebell, taking her daughter’s arm, “We’re happy to do our part. Thimble Down is but a small village, and our Sheriff works hard for what I’d guess is very little income. And we’ve been blessed, thanks to my husband’s bustling shop and our perfect daughter.”
“Oh mother!” Elizabeth Ivy blushed, but of course, loved the attention. “When should we return?”
“I’d say every three or four hours,” added the bookmaster. “Just make sure Forgo is comfortable and has cool towels on his head. But Nurse Pym indicated the Sheriff might not wake up for many days—he’s in a deep sleep, which is why it’s called the Grippe. Once it has you, you may never awaken. Let’s hope that’s not the case, surely.”
At that, mother and daughter left for home. Dorro was lucky to have found them and even offered to pay for their nursing skills; Mrs. Bluebell declined, but suggested that Dorro make a small donation to her garden society next Spring during its daffodil celebration. He agreed immediately and the deal was struck.
Sheriff Forgo, meanwhile, hadn’t awakened at all, but was still feverish. He would stay that way until his body fought off the Grippe or …. Dorro didn’t want to think about that part.
His next plan of action was to make a public announcement in front of the Bumbling Badger tavern. He still hadn’t fully come to terms with being the Sheriff, but in a way, Dorro was quietly pleased to have this responsibility bestowed upon him.
Think of what my parents would say! He giggled to himself. Our little Dorro, Sheriff of Thimble Down.
His father would laugh and slap him on the back, while his mother would pinch his cheek and cry. He missed them, but heard their voices from time to time, reassuring him that everything would turn out all right.
Dorro checked on Forgo once more (He doesn’t look good, he rued), and bolted out the door towards the Bumbling Badger. If all was set to plan, Gadget Pinkle should have been working the lanes for the past hour, spreading the word and setting things up in front of the tavern.
At eleven o’clock, Dorro arrived and found a small group of Thimble Downers milling about outside, wondering what all this fuss was about. He’d hoped there would have been more folks present, but he couldn’t argue. And for moral support, there were Wyll, Cheeryup, Mr. Shoe, and the ever-present Mr. Timmo. Well, there’s no time but the present, thought Dorro as he climbed on top of a wooden crate.
“Hear ye, hear ye!” intoned the bookmaster a mite too formally.
“Oh aye, we hear ye just fine, Young Dorro!” crowed Farmer Duck, drawing laughs from the crowd. Now more folks were ambling out of the Bumbling Badger to see what the amusement was.
“Folks, we have some announcements today and it’s important that you listen up and spread the word.”
“Why should we listen to you, Dorro? You run the stinkin’ library!” cried Poe Stitchwicket, a loud shepherd. More howls of laughter ensued.
“Because, Poe, our dear Sheriff Forgo has the Grippe and is knocking on death’s door!” The tittering stopped in a heartbeat. “I know this is a shock to many of you and, you may laugh some more, but the Mayor—against my wishes, I’ll have you know—has made me Sheriff Pro Tempore, which means, I’ll be doing Forgo’s job until he’s well again.”
“If he gets well again,” said the gloomy Bog the Blacksmith.
“Let’s hope he does, Bog; otherwise, you’ll be stuck with me until a new sheriff is appointed,” continued Dorro, finally finding his confidence. “Now, on to business. We all know about the Grippe. Take care to wash your hands a lot and take care of your families. We don’t know how it spreads, but it’s going around the village quickly. And sadly, this Pie Thief is still at it, though he steals more than pies.”
“He took my best shovel!” shouted Farmer Duck. “If I find him, I’ll dig his grave with it!”
“No, Duck, if you find him you will come tell me. Speaking of help, I need any tips or clues you may have. If anyone helps up capture the villain, the Mayor has offered a reward of two gold coins!” The crowd gasped at the exorbitant sum and started thinking of clues on the spot. A pair of gold coins would set any Halfling up quite nicely for a while.
“Lastly, I want to let you know that I’m not doing this alone. Gadget Pinkle will serve as my deputy, so let him know any clues. And I’m also deputizing Mr. Timmo, effective immediately.”
“Yay, Timmo, me boy!” shouted out Duck, who clearly had already downed a pint or two of ale, despite the early hour. Timmo, for his part, opened his eyes as wide as possible, not sure if he’d heard his friend Dorro correctly. He assumed there’d been a mistake.
“Gadget and Timmo will help form the backbone of the constabulary in the village until Sheriff Forgo has recovered. Any questions?”
Shyly, Mr. Timmo raised his hand.
“What?” barked Dorro, in a gruff voice that sounded remarkably like Forgo’s.
“Did you really mean to deputize me? I mean … me?”
“Yes, Timmo, I very well did mean you. Sorry there was no head’s up, but things are moving fast. And that’s the end of this announcement. Again—wash your hands, and if you know anything about the Pie Thief, let me, Gadget, or Timmo know. That is all!”
There was a small cheer, though Dorro didn’t know if that was for the reward or the fact that he was finished, but the deed was done. Dorro Fox Winderiver had just completed his first official act as Sheriff. And he liked it!
* * *
After villagers had gone back to their respective tasks, Wyll, Cheeryup, and Orli decided to go for a walk in the Great Wood.
The two Halflings were gathering materials for terrariums, constructed in old ceramic bowls with sheets of glass carefully laid atop. They were going to instruct some of the smaller village lads and lasses how to make these miniature worlds under glass, so they needed lots of mosses and lichens, tiny plants, and an array of interesting rocks and bits of bark.
Orli had no idea what a terrarium was—indeed he couldn’t even pronounce the word (“Terbarium? Tumariam?” he announced to chuckles from Wyll and Cheeryup), but was eager to help anyway.
They were climbing a rocky scree when a big deer bolted from nearby undergrowth. It vaulted straight for the children and nearly ran them down when Orli leapt in front and waved his arms manically. The buck didn’t know what to make of this burly creature, but took a hard right at the last second and disappeared into the bush as if it had never been there.
“Are you alright?” yelled Wyll, grabbing Cheeryup by the arm. “I barely saw him coming!” The girl was visibly shaken, as was Wyll, though Orli didn’t think anything of it.
“It’s strange for a big beast like that to be lying about in the day hours—he should be foraging at this time of year,” announced the Dwarf boy. “Let’s track him.” Figuring that they’d already gathered enough materials for a terrarium, Wyll and Cheeryup agreed.
It didn’t take long for them to find the big buck, as he was lying on turf-laden ground about one hundred yards away. The beast was also quite dead, his once-glistening eyes now opaque and still.
“What happened to him?” squealed Cheeryup, running up to the felled beast, sadness in her voice. “He was such a majestic, strong creature. Did a hunter shoot him with an arrow?”
Wyll and Orli looked around the animal’s corpse for signs of a wound, but there was nothing.
“No, it wasn’t a hunter that took this fine animal,” said a queer little voice behind the trio. They all jumped, yet were not surprised to find Dalbo Dall lingering on the gorse. “Look closer at his mouth and nostrils. That will tell all ye need to know.”
The children moved closer and noticed black marks around the creatures eyes, nose, mouth, and ears. “Is that the Grippe, Mr. Dalbo?”
“Aye, it affects animals, too, Wyll. This chap was already dying when you startled it back yonder,” murmured the village wanderer. “In a sense you did him a kindness. He could have just lain there for days, dying a slow death, but when you frightened him, he ran his last race until his heart burst. We should be thankful the beautiful buck died quickly. I am grateful to you.”
“Oh, Mr. Dalbo, what are we to do?” said Cheeryup, her eyes tearing up. “So many folks in the village are ill with the Grippe, even Sheriff Forgo.”
“My Uncle is worried he might die,” fretted Wyll. “Yet the Dwarves don’t have it, have they Orli?”
“No, we’re immune, I guess. I wonder why, but perhaps because we’re around it our whole lives.”
“I’m not a Halfling of science, of course,” added Dalbo, “but I’d pin my suspicions on the smeltery and the minerals they’re breaking up and boiling in there. Say lad, do you know what kinds of rocks are being used to heat the furnaces there?”
“Those are our black stones, a’course,” said the boy flatly.
“What kind of black rocks, might I kindly ask?”
“They’re mined deep in the mountains of the North and have magical burning powers. We used them to fuel our forges and furnaces, and now Mr. Bindlestiff is importing them to Thimble Down. Otherwise, he’d have to cut down half your Great Wood to power a forge that large.”
“Black stones, eh?” Dalbo Dall scratched his left ear and thought for a moment. “’Tis clear this is part of our problem. Black stones, black smoke, black marks on the deer’s face—I think ye rocks are releasing something into our air that we can’t see, yet is making us sick.”
“But we can’t prove that, Mr. Dalbo,” said Cheeryup.
“You are right, young lady—without proof, we have nothing to go by. If only we could get inside the smeltery and have a look-see around ol’ Bindlestiff’s office. But we’d get caught in a heartbeat.”
“I wouldn’t!”
“Eh? What did you say, laddie?”
“I said, I wouldn’t get caught,” coughed Orli with a little pride. “I work a few hours there every day, and the folks are used to seeing me go up and down the stairs by Mr. Bindlestiff’s office. He likes to see everything, so they built his office well off the ground, using wooden posts and iron joists. I use the stairs to run errands for Mr. Fibbhook. And the door is usually open.”
A big, toothless grin spread over Dalbo Dall’s face. “Aye, young ones, I think ye have the beginnings of a plan. Maybe thy pie-snatcher won’t be the only thief in town.”
Wyll noticed that Cheeryup also broke into a big smile—the kind she wore when danger was afoot.