When You’re in the Mood for a Story
- about -
A Gnome
Named Gnikolas
No one really chose to work at the salt mines—they just ended up there. Gnikolas was born in the mines, and there he had stayed. Some in the village whispered behind Gnikolas’s back that they felt sorry for the young gnome—he didn’t seem to possess any special magic. His stitches were uneven and his clothes were patchy. His loaves were lumpy at best. He had no head for numbers; and he was too gentle for politics. He couldn’t even grow bush beans.
And so that was why Gnikolas never strayed from the salt mines. The only other gnome who entered the caverns was Gnewt—the foreman. He chose to work there because he liked being the top of the pile. He liked bossing Gnikolas around. He liked feeling clever. And, he liked making money.
“Gnikolas, what on earth are you doing?!” Gnewt bellowed into the cave entrance, his words bouncing and echoing against the hard rock walls.
Gnikolas, who wasn’t doing anything in particular, looked up with confusion. It seemed that Gnewt was, once again, in one of his moods.
“I’m not doing anything in particular, sir,” Gnikolas replied, standing and straightening his red, cone-shaped hat. It was a bother to have cone-shaped hats in fashion. Working in a mine, it kept bumping into the low tunnel ceilings.
Gnewt furrowed his brow. “Well, then, why were you just crouching there, staring at the floor, instead of working?!”
“Oh, that. I was just helping someone. You see, there’s a spider I discovered with a bad leg, so I was fashioning him a splint, and it took a little more time than I anticipated. Spider legs have many joints, you see, so I needed to—”
“What?” Gnewt interrupted. “You were helping a spider?! Was it this one?” Gnewt brought his thick black boot to the ground in a convincing smack and twisted his toe menacingly. “Now you’re free of distractions. GET BACK TO WORK!”
With that, Gnewt turned on his heel and headed further into the mine.
“Oh dear,” Gnikolas said, watching him leave. “Good thing Gnewt doesn’t see too well down here.”
Gnikolas kicked aside the pebble that Gnewt had mistaken for an arachnid. He opened his fist and stared at the spider hiding there.
“There you go, Little Fella,” Gnikolas said as he gently lowered the spider to the ground. “You’d better scoot. Who knows when he’ll be back.”
The spider hobbled over to the crack in the wall and disappeared. Gnikolas sighed as he watched him go. He didn’t get much company down in the mines..