Read Tales From a Second Hand Wand Shop- Book 1: They Were the Best of Gnomes. They Were the Worst of Gnomes. Page 39
Chapter Twenty-Six and a Half
Wherein Marjory and Spitz are Discussed
Marjory Belladonna was the Mistress of Herbs (with a minor in Bryology) for Cool Springs- a town in southern Orcistan along the Emerald Forest in an area called The Wilds- and had been since turning sixteen years old. She had set up shop near the outskirts of town; closer to the herbs, lichens, and fungi that constituted her inventory. As Fate would have it (Fate always got her way), the town’s butcher also had set up business at the outskirts of town- closer to deer and rabbit (and Orcs while their ears were in fashion) which constituted his inventory. Theirs was a whirlwind romance that spawned several songs and one mostly inappropriate limerick. On the day she became of legal age (18; they may have lived in The Wilds, but they weren’t savages), they wed. It was a grand affair that the entire town of Cool Springs celebrated as one. Except for a minor incident involving a water tower and two participants of the wedding party, it was a gala event.20 Even a good number of Orcs showed up. Unfortunately, the revelry was short lived. It was soon after the wedding that Marjory discovered her husband- Spitz Finnish- was a werewolf.
Being an Herbalist, Marjory tried to suppress Spitz’s Lycan tendencies so that they could settle down and start a family. It was, she believed (correctly), difficult to put down roots when one was always worried that the townsfolk would come calling with torches and pitchforks the evening after a full moon after one’s husband had been out terrorizing said townsfolk. One had a difficult time buying curtains and good quality, long lasting, furniture when one may have to leave them all behind and run into the Emerald Forest to avoid being strung up and/or burned at the stake. It’s just not what one did. So, after many trials and errors, Marjory believed she had come up with a suitable concoction and began to give her beloved husband daily doses. With some concentration and breathing exercises on his part, and the potion on Marjory’s part, Spitz’s transformation to a Werewolf were very minor and very far between.
Since the Lycan-suppressing potion seemed to be working, the two put down roots. Curtains were bought. Heavy, high-quality furniture was purchased and assembled, all with the handy -included- allen wrench. A fence was even erected around the Finnish household.
Roots!
Soon Marjory was pregnant and all was well. For most of nine months at least. It was then that Fate once again visited the Finnish family. Struggling under the pangs of impending child birth, Marjory waddled her way to their wagon as Spitz harnessed the team. With time running short, Spitz was nudged by Fate (who was still hanging around because not much else was happening in Cool Springs) to decide that instead of going through the winding roads of Cool Springs to get to Midwife Braxy Hicks’ house, he would cut through the Emerald Forest. He was not concerned about losing his way because not only did he travel the forest often while stocking his hooks and smoke house, the moon was full and low in the sky. The forest was awash with moonlight and the paths practically glowed. A fresh dose of Lycan-inhibiting potion and they were off. The horses galloped swiftly, white foam flecking off them from their effort. Spitz coaxed them along the forest paths, cracking his whip while keeping an eye on his cherished Marjory. Realizing he would not make it to the Midwife in time, he pulled into a clearing to assist her as best he could. At this point, Fate was more than just loitering in the area; she was sitting in the wagon. The wagon which had stopped in a field of Monkshood. Blooming Monkshood.
“How can I help, my dearest?” Asked Spitz as he jumped (past Fate) to the back of the wagon. “What can I get to help your pains? Tell me what to look for and I’ll fetch it.”
Barely still in control of her senses, Marjory looked out from the back of the wagon hoping to spy a medicinal herb nearby. Her eyes got huge as she saw hundreds of blue and purple flowers with dark green leaves. The flowers all seemed to turn and meet her gaze of terror. “Move the cart, Spitz!” She begged, “MOVE THE CART!” But it was too late. The baby was coming and there was nothing that could be done. Marjory’s screams of panic and pain echoed through the forest as nature took its course. Thirty minutes later, she gave birth under the pale moonlight to a baby boy. Spitz took his son in his arms and began to clean him off. The child cried as his father scrubbed. “He’s a healthy boy. Are you alright, dearest?’ asked Spitz as he continued to rub down his sire. “It must the light” he said to no one in particular as he looked up at the moon.
He looked down again and saw his brindled son- he was sure it was caused by the moonlight passing through overhead branches. He looked up again and saw the full, clear moon above him. Eyes widening, he looked down again at his son. “Marjory! What has happened” his screams also echoing in the forest behind those of his wife’s. “What has happened to our son?”
“Wolfsbane” was all Marjory said before collapsing exhausted.
Spitz looked around the wagon, which now seemed to be spinning. On all sides, blue and purple flowers, hoods pulled back, seemed to stare at him and his son. Hopping to the front seat, he grabbed the reins with one hand, son in the crook of his other arm, and snapped the reins savagely. “Move!” He commanded the horses who took to a gallop almost immediately. Ignoring the moans of his wife and the cries -and to his horror- yelps of his son, he drove the horses from the meadow. As he entered the forest he stopped the wagon. He looked down on his son- even though the brindling was more pronounced because of the trees; he could see that it was too late. He screamed at the moon in rage. The scream began in the throat of a young, able bodied Butcher in love but ended as a howl in the throat of a tormented Wolf in anguish. Even a band of War Orcs who had come to see what was the cause of the commotion stopped when they heard the change in tone and returned home. When they got there, they bolted their doors and shutters.
SpitzWolf looked down at his young son. His pup. Large yellow eyes squinted as they met small yellow eyes. For long minutes, they looked at each other. Marjory’s potion, unable to keep The Change from happening, kept Spitz’s mind and wits in his Wolf head. He took the reins and led the horses home. Once there, he jumped to the back of the wagon, past the still laughing Fate, and picked up his wife in his other arm. He looked from his son to his wife and back and released another long-tormented howl. The nearby Orcs moved from their sitting rooms to their cellars. He moved her to their bed and placed his son beside her. SpitzWolf moved to the front room and collapsed in despair in front of the fireplace. In the morning, he awoke and was once again just Spitz. He went to Marjory and hoped beyond all hope that last night had just been a dream brought on by the potion losing its hold on him
Immediately, he saw that that not been the case. Marjory was sitting up in bed, a tan and brown tiger-striped bundle at her side. “He has his father’s eyes” she remarked.
Such began a life of trials and errors, laughter and tears.