The Rumour of the Blue Jacket & the Yellow Cap

[version 1.2]

It was nigh-midnight, and the moon was full upon the Garden. The Gardeners, being Gnomes, had to be rather quick - lest they be discovered, and then (conceivably) cooked into a stew, to be had for dinner. This was Gnown to have happened to Other Gnomes in the past, and in other places.1

The first Gnome (who had a ratty, blue jacket, green pants, brown boots, orange cap, and white beard) turned to the second Gnome (who had a green coat, red pants, black boots, fancy yellow cap, and red beard), and said in an urgent whisper, "Hurry up!! For the Havens' sake, the Bugbears will be back at any moment!"

His companion, who was furious-digging with a small tin spade (small spades being normal-sized to a Gnome) looked up, already panicking, and hissed back in an irritated, counter-whisper, "I am digging as quick as I can! Keep your voice down- there are Bugbears about, you gnow!"

The first (Ratty Blue Jacket) waved his pudgy arms in exasperation, "Yes, yes. I gnow all about the Bugbears! I am the one who told you about them!". Ratty Blue had the Sacred Seed Pouch ready - there was but one spade betwixt them (spades being in short supply, most having recently been remade into swords). Being unable to help with the digging, Ratty Blue (or Mr. Jacket, to me or you) just chose instead to hop around in an agitated way, at how much time Fancy Yellow (Ms. Cap, to any other fellow) was taking to dig the hole.

"Stop your hopping around!" Fancy shot back, still trying to keep quiet, "You'll attract an Owl! Do you have the Seeds ready? Be ready with the Seeds!"

Ratty had the Seeds, of course - Of course he had the seeds. That had been his whole job, holding them all this time. He bristled at the thought that Fancy might think that he had not. The idea of an Owl being nearby... it made his blood run suddenly cold. He had heard so many stories of Owls, and how they stole and swooped off with Gnomes, to put them in pots to cook them in stews. He tried not to think about it. "Of course I have the Seeds! What do you think I have been holding all this time, while you've been digging? Are you not done digging yet?!"

He could barely manage his terror - this Garden was Gnown for its Owls and Foxes and Cats and Bugbears, and even Bees. He had become altogether weak in the knees.3

"It's done", announced Fancy Yellow Cap, with satisfaction. She had counted exactly seventy-seven small spadefuls - the depth felt correct as well. They would both only gnow for certain, of course, seventy-seven years later, whether they had planted things properly. By then, they would both be either older, or else both long ago made into a stew of some sort.

Fancy Yellow straightened, rubbed her sore back briefly, and motioned for Ratty Blue to drop in the Seeds. "Remember, precisely three, no more, no less".

"Yes, yes" answered Ratty, already aware, "I gnow, of course. I can count, you gnow." Still, he counted three seeds, with great care, as he pulled them from the ancient, canvas pouch. One at a time, like they were precious pearls. One, then two, then three.

He held them out in his chubby palm. Each was about the size of a grape. They were illuminated in the moonlight, and they began to hum softly.

In spite of the grave dangers about, the two Gardeners stood in silence for an extra moment, in reverence of what they had been entrusted with - and then they looked at each other, and nodded in unison. Ratty Blue Jacket dropped the first one in the hole, with a plop. Then the second, with a plunk.

Then, third seed extended between his pudgy fingers, Ratty paused, transfixed.

"What is it??" Fancy said, waiting impatient with the spade, glancing around for dangers she Gnew were close. "Hurry up! Drop it in!"

But Ratty was holding the third Seed aloft, toward the moonlight - it had an unusual cast, and its hum was... off. He held it toward his companion, and said, "I think this one is sour".

"What do you mean, sour?" And she leaned in for a closer look.

Just then, a loud sound like a cracking log jolted them both, and Mr. Jacket fumbled, and Ms. Cap dropped her spade while they both scrambled to catch the falling Seed, but it evaded their many pudgy, fumbling fingers, and fell into the hole with the others, with a wee thud. The tin spade hit a small stone and rang out.

Both Gnomes, frantic, looked around for the source of the nearby noise - something was causing the ground to tremble! It was the weight of a large creature trying to be quiet, while searching for ingredients to put in a pot. Gnomes Gnew these noises well.

Fancy hissed, "Quick! Leave it - we must go!", and she began hurried-kicking the soil back over the hole, having forgotten her spade in her rising panic. Ratty Blue, pale with fright, fell to his knees and began shovelling soil with his arms, and all of his remaining might.

Something large and foul crashed through the brush and into the moonlit garden - its bulbous upper body borne upon long and spindly legs, and big ears a'twitch, nostrils flaring, sniffing the night air in great huffs. Its hatchet caught the moonlight as it stumbled about, and it gave a great and threatening growl....

But being a creature of no great imagination, the Bugbear did not consider looking up, into the boughs of the old elm overlooking the Garden, and it instead followed its nose toward the smell of savoury flesh coming from across the hedge on the far side of the garden. It galloped off through the hedge, where it would find a fish, and wolf it down in greedy gulps, tossing aside the ratty cloth which it had been wrapped in.

Along the nearby river, two Gnomes - one in a yellow cap, and the other in green pants (and no jacket to speak of), ran headlong for the safety of the Hill. They kept running, without a word, until they found a large stone halfway up the Hill, and, needing to rest, both threw themselves down behind it, where the moonlight was least bright. For a long time the two just recovered their breath, and felt their own parts, to see if any were missing. Fancy regretted the loss of her spade, which she now remembered forgetting in the Bugbear's Garden.

She looked at her companion, seeing them in a new light, and said, "It was lucky that you had that fish still in your pocket. I will not tease you for carrying food in your pockets any more. Or for not being a strict vegetarian."

Lucky Green Pants nodded absently, tugging at her flimsy undershirt and feeling the night chill. She missed her jacket already. It had been threadbare and full of patches for a long time, but it had become a part of who she had been, through all the adventures. But she and Fancy were still alive - and the Seeds had been planted. Never mind the sour one. Neither of them would mention that again, until Seventy-eight years later.

B.B. Butterwell's Compendium Allegoriian by B.B. Butterwell is marked with CC0 1.0 Universal

Footnotes

At least, these ones had heard the stories of those - and Gardening Gnomes, as with all but one other kind of Gnome2, took stories particularly serious. ↩

We can talk about those ones later. Not my favourite subject. ↩

Blue Jackets were famously Gnown for having allergies to Bee stings. Ratty had heard so many terrifying stories of the malaises, hallucinations, and deathly illnesses that could be visited upon the unfortunately stung. Several among his kin had Gnown a Gnome who had seen or heard it happen. ↩