PREVIOUSLY in Chasing Gnomes... [in the voice of EllJay the gobbit]

So we've been trying to get hold of this jewel called Hexapussy. Apparently, she's the ultimate ring-piece, but people always laugh when I say that so I stopped. The lady boss - Rozlyn (she's my hero) - rounded up some peeps she used to do dodgy jobs with, and we all set off chasing this crime lord guy North, 'cause he's got Hexapussy. Oh, and we need it to pay off another dodgy crime guy so the lady boss doesn't become the dead boss.

Anyway, we was almost caught up with the target, when we heard some horrible screaming. Rozlyn made the call that we should go and help whoever is was, even though that meant losing our transport and maybe never getting hold of Hexapussy. She's so brave! I know I'm only little and everything, but I'm really excited to be helping rescue someone.

When I go to the rainbow in the sky, I want to have done something better than just picking locks.

AND NOW, in Chasing Gnomes...


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We surveyed the forest clearing from a small outcrop above the location, flat on our stomachs. I'd be tempted to say it was not a pretty scene but I've lived long enough to know there are people who can find anything pretty. Yes, even when 'anything' is a collection of small humanoids being beaten, tormented and cooked by a group of burly men over an open fire.

"Is it wrong that this is mekkin' me a beet hungry?" muttered Harry.

"Yes!" said Little-John. "What are those little people? I mean, I thought I was small but they make me feel monstrous."

"They're gnomes." Lindon shifted as though uncomfortable. "I'd have thought you'd know that, of all people! They are the only true, natural magic users."

I snorted. "Making you a decidedly unnatural magic user - I can go with that description."

"Elven magic still comes from gnomes." Lindon's face was flushed bright red. Other than risking a forest fire with his face, though, he didn't seem willing to elaborate.

EllJay sniffed. "I never met my dad. Mum said he disappeared in a puff of rainbow smoke after their dalliance. I just thought she'd been hitting the Hobbit Baccy a bit too hard."

"I want to hit things," mumbled Terence.

We shuffled back from the vantage point so we could talk without sounding like we were in a convent library.

"Okay." I used a stick to sketch out the scene below. "We have six humans which we can assume are from the patrol Lindon lost track of this morning. One of them is cooking, two are tormenting gnomes, one is standing watch, and the other two look like they're asleep. They have horses tethered at one side of the clearing and seven gnomes tied together at the other side. With one gnome over the fire in the middle and two being tortured, that makes ten victims. So," I cast my gaze around my companions. "What's our best play?"

Lindon had been nodding along. "We can probably still catch the wagon and the Harries, and continue our nice, safe-in-a-wagon journey North. I think that should be option one."

I silenced him with a glare. "Elljay, are you any good with a sling? There are plenty of pebbles for ammo."

The gobbit rolled his eyes. "You listen to too many fanciful ballads. Just because I'm a short person, I must be good with a sling. Harry's a dwarf, so I suppose he has an affinity with the ground and likes tunnels and gold. Terence is a big dumb barbarian, good for hitting stuff and not much else. And Lindon, he's ... well, he's Lindon, but yeah."

"And yet, in your entire diatribe of true and accurate statements, you still didn't answer my question."

"Yes," he said, sighing. "I'm pretty good with a sling."

"Good, because in a melee you'd be as much use as an ice cream sundial." I indicated him and Lindon. "You two attack from up here with sling and magic."

"Err," said Lindon. "I can't use magic with gnomes around. It's kind of bad form." He drew a short sword from his belt. "I'll have to make do with this."

I did a quick mental assessment of the arguments and explanations I'd have to endure if I asked for more details and settled on not bothering. Instead, I fixed my glare on his weapon. "That's a particularly small sword."

"Ah, but it's a Short Sword +1." He had a genuinely happy expression on his face.

"Plus one what?"

The 'happy' faded a little. "Just plus one, you know? Other people just have a sword. When they're in the middle of a fight and the sword's not enough, they're stuck. But mine's got that little bit extra."

"I just ... can't. You bought that from Benchmark in Pennylast, didn't you?"

"Yes - I thought I'd need some new hardware if we were teaming up again. I mentioned your name and he said he had something special for me."

Terence waved a broadsword in the air that must have been a foot wide and five times as long in the blade. "Broadsword of Bashing," he said. "Won it in the Barbarian's Fighting Contest."

I shared a despairing look with Harry, who winked and pointed to the axe on his belt.

I raised a fist in the air and waited until I had their attention. "Fine, sod the plan. We're here, they need us, and we're doing this. It's time to get some nuts!"

"Ahem," said Lindon, raising his hand sarcastically. "You're actually a girl, Roz. You don't have nuts."

I brought the raised fist down to tap it against my chest. "Mine are here." I heard what I was about to say but it was too late to change it. "I have Chest Nuts."

Terence looked down at himself and smiled. Before the others could rip the piss out of me, I carried on talking.

"Elljay, you stay here. If fighting starts, work on distraction. Hit anyone who looks like they have the drop on us. The rest of you, follow me. Let's see if we can win this the old fashioned way."

"Run away?" asked Lindon, a hopeful note in his voice.

"Talk," said Harry, and we left Little-John to prepare.

*****

"Halt!" The guy on watch moved to block our way as we approached the clearing. "This is private business. All of you move along." His words were confident but his gaze up at Terence's grinning mug was a little less so.

"What's going on here?" I asked, indicating the gnomes. "Did they have their way with your wives while you were off patrolling?"

"They stole from our employer, so they get hurt. If they don't fess up and tell us where they hid it, they get dead."

Harry growled. "That don't explain the cookin' fire, lad."

"We're gonna eat em. Heard there's good meat on a gnome."

I couldn't help laughing. "Where? They're so skinny, Terence could pick his teeth with them. Sorry, that metaphor was in poor taste. Oh no, I did it again!"

"Stop talking to them!" One of the others stopped dangling a gnome by one foot and, tossing it to the other tormentor, came to join the guard. This one had a lot more about him. "Who are you?"

I matched his gaze, leader to leader. "They call me Enigma."

"No they don't," said Lindon. "In all the time I've known you, nobody has ever called you Enigma."

"Don't undermine me when I'm in a battle of wills," I spat, keeping my eyes locked to the patrol leader's. "I'm trying to build a brand here."

"We're the Companions," said Harry with grim confidence.

The guy smirked. "Well, you're not our companions, so toddle off." He managed to make a walking gesture with his fingers look remarkably like something far ruder. "Or me and the boys'll make your corpses wish they weren't so pretty."

Nice. Tension saturated the air as we all brandished arms and the rest of the patrol drew swords. This pause often happens between threats and violence - at least, when alcohol isn't involved. It's the calm moment in which everybody there is realising there's no turning back but nobody wants to be the first to move. With everyone wound up tighter than a nun's whiskey bottle, the first person to attack usually gets it from all angles. It's in these moments, I reflected-

Terence stomped past me, breaking the calmness, and swung his huge broadsword down from over his head. The blade obliterated one side of the leader's face, sheared down through collarbone and ribs, and exited the opposite side at hip level. The once-confident patrol leader flopped in two, inner bits splashing on the floor like a cheap tavern breakfast.

The guard screamed but kept his wits, attacking Lindon with a manic swing of his sword. The elf's Short Sword +1 came up to meet it, and they danced away to one side. Terence stomped forwards with Broadsword of Bashing, roaring a battle cry as he moved. I was impressed when the two soldiers who'd been resting moved to engage him and nobody ran away - these guys hadn't come cheap.

"Aha!" shouted Harry, running at the guy holding two gnomes, his axe waggling around in the air.

That left me the wannabe chef, who was watching me approach with a steadily gripped sword and a deadly serious expression. I drew my dirks as I closed in, reminding myself to dodge more than usual. My armour - ridiculous as it was - had meant I could ignore certain strikes. Now, wearing only soft leather protection, I needed to be a dancer.

Or - you know - a shish kebab. The choice was mine.

"Why did you come here?" spat my intended. His face was a close toss-up between stubble and dirt, small eyes set beneath a greasy fringe. He was squat and muscled, clad in hard leather, and knew how to move.

I shrugged, holding my dirks out to my sides. "I guess we're just heroes."

A grin split his dark face in two. "Ain't no heroes, little lady. Just morons." With the last word, he launched forward, stabbing at my stomach. I swiped his blade aside with one weapon and swung at his face with the other. He skipped back nimbly, circling, and the dance was on.