The Adventures of Hari the Gnome

Hari was a perfectly average gnome by general gnome standards, of which there were many. He was no taller than a tree stump with a red steepled hat on his head, and his tiny legs shuffled more so than walked. 

But Hari was unmatched by all of his siblings, of which there were thirty-four, and considerably above average at getting himself into trouble. His curiosity was like a sugared plum, sweet on his tongue and sure to cause a headache. 

Hari slipped out the front door, his ruddy cheeks looked gray in the dim light of the moon. The door scraped against the dirt as he closed it and held his breath, but Sanctuary was as still as the stars above. His family lived inside the base of a massive oak. 

A rucksack, tethered to the end of a twig, and bound by red cloth was thrown over his shoulder. It was the only thing Hari decided he would need for this adventure. He shuffled away from the halo of mushroom trees and houses thatched with leaves. If he continued north he’d find grass so high, according to gnome standards, that it was a forest, and just beyond that – giants! 

Last night, over porridge, his twenty sixth sibling, a brother, Thimble had said, “I heard they’re called hoomans. What kind of a name is that?” 

Their oldest sister lisped, “A scary one! I heard they eat animals.” 

A collective gasp echoed around the confined room. Siblings crowded every surface, sitting on the floor, the shelves, the chandelier, anywhere they could plop down and eat their dinner. Their parents, delayed and wizened, sat on either end of the popsicle shaped table and listened to the conversation below caterpillar eyebrows. 

Their mother craned her neck up, blinking against cataracts.

“Hoomans? Is that right? Did I hear someone say ‘hoomans’?” 

Their father yelled from the other end, “What?” 

Hari had turned to his oldest sister with wide eyes and asked, “Where can I find these hoomans?”

Their twentieth sibling interjected, “Find them? Why would you want to do that? We need you here in Sanctuary!” 

Hari ignored him. His oldest sister swallowed a fistful of porridge and wiped her mouth with the back of her patchworked sleeve.

“Old Squeak told me he heard their footfalls – as loud as drums, they were! – just beyond the forest of high grass, but I reckon you all should stay clear of them like Twenty says.” 

Hari decided that that last part was a suggestion and since he found suggestions too similar to opinions – unnecessary and better kept within – he’d decided to ignore it. Old Squeak was Sanctuary’s only gnome to have ever left its pebbled walls and returned – alive. Those missing were thought to have fallen prey to the mysterious creatures of the Old Woods. Creatures no one had ever seen, except for Old Squeak. 

Hari imagined the far off dragons and fairies and wizards from Old Squeak’s stories and wanted to see them for himself. Until last night he hadn’t realized how close to an adventure he was. Just north! It seemed a simple task, then. He didn’t question the distance or how far north, to him it seemed as simple as drinking water from an acorn.

Hari continued past the “SANCTUARY” sign carved into a rock at the entrance to town, and then through the fence of twigs. Branches rustled like cicadas far above and fractured the moon into shifting spiderwebs of light.  He’d never been to the tall grass in the north but he knew it was just beyond the puddle fields, of which Old Squeak said the water was healing, but hard to hold and that’s why he could never bring some back for anyone. 

Hari hummed a jolly tune as he made his way deeper into the Old Woods, passing nooks, nests, and whatever else stirred in the forest’s shadows. Adventuring wasn’t so hard, he thought to himself. There was a pleasant quietness he seldom found in Sanctuary and innumerable directions to head in. Hari smiled to himself and pushed his tunic sleeves to his elbows. This was going to be an adventure better than even Old Squeak’s. 

It occurred to him that one of the occupants of these nests might even know a shortcut he could take in his journey; a squirrel or mouse. Hari shuffled to the mouth of one hole and peered down. Nothing stirred. Just darkness. Hari cleared his throat and cupped his mouth with one hand. 

He called, “Excuse me, fine forest folk. I am a gnome traveling through these parts for the first time and wondered if you might show me a faster route to the tall grass?”

He waited. There was no answer.

“Heloooo!” He called again in a singsong voice. 

Only silence answered him. The forest folk were probably busy, Hari thought. He turned to continue on in the direction he presumed was north, but paused at the sound of beans skittering around inside a tin. Beans in a tin? He thought that was odd. 

A cold caress across his ankle yanked his gaze down. White and red scales glistened in the cracks of moonlight. A snake’s tail! He’d heard stories of them from Old Squeak. The tip of its tail was pinecone shaped and rattling. Hari yelped and tried to jump back but his tiny legs betrayed him. He landed on his back with a huff. His traveler sack was thrown to the right and swallowed by shadows. 

He rolled to his side as more tail emerged from the hole, sliding around his short frame. A pair of bright yellow eyes met his, slitted with black pupils. 

“Please! Snake, sir!” Hari hollered as the tail wrapped around his torso and arms, dragging him toward the black depths of the hole. “I am on an adventure!” 

“Sssso a gnome issss the one who wakessss me. What do you ssssay for yoursssself?” 

“I-I-I’m sorry, Snake, I-I was only looking for directions!” 

“Directionssss? Ha!” The snake lifted Hari’s body until he was dangling upside down, swaddled by tail. “I sssshould eat you now and have an early dinner.” 

“No! No, please. I have only just left Sanctuary and I need to see the hoomans!” 

The snake hissed,  “Then you’re even more of a fool than the other gnomesss I’ve eaten.” 

The snake’s pointed face emerged from the hole like a vignette, the edges hazy. The corners of its jaw clicked as it unhinged itself and daggers of teeth opened beneath Hari. 

Hari screamed and wiggled but to no avail. 

A pebble shot through the night and struck the snake on the side of his head. His whole body jerked and dropped Hari to the ground, before wheeling to the left. Its hungry eyes scoured the forest. The rattle of its tail grew louder, fueled by fury.  

A gnome with a fat nose, a white beard that tumbled to his knees, and a steepled hat, taller than most steepled hats – by general gnome standards – entered a slant of light. His grizzled face peeked out from below the brim of his too big hat, which threatened to engulf his whole head.  It was Old Squeak, complete with a pipe between his lips and a twig thrust out like a sword. 

He glared up at the snake, who was readjusting its jaw, its red tongue peeking out. He commanded, “Slither! Leave him be, or shall I remind you of the last time we met?” 

“Old Squeak?” Hari squeaked. 

“Thissss little morssssel tried to invade my home. He’ssss fair game.” 

“Did you know it was his home?” Old Squeak directed the question at Hari, who was still sitting frozen between the gnome and snake, too fascinated by the turn of events to move. 

Hari blinked, “No, I thought maybe a rabbit lived there or a mouse. I just wondered if there was a shortcut to the tall grass.” 

Old Squeak’s eyebrows creased and Hari noticed the once over his eyes performed before turning back to Slither, “See? He meant you no harm, he’s just another daft gnome. They don’t know any better.” 

Hari’s mouth opened to protest. ‘Daft’ was not how he would describe his fellow gnomes. Small, yes. Naive, yes. But daft? Hari decided he didn’t like the ease at which Old Squeak had made that comment, as if he had made it many times before. 

Slither’s fangs flashed as his lips parted in a smile. “Then I sssshall have two daft gnomesss for dinner.” 

The snake darted like lightning towards Old Squeak. Hari’s hands shot up to shield his head and he watched between his fingers as Old Squeak ripped the pipe from his lips and smacked it to the end of his twig. A fire burst to life just as Slither collided with the old gnome.

Their figures intertwined and vanished into the shadows of the forest, followed by grunts and hissing. Hari could only make out the orange glow of Old Squeak’s twig, bobbing and weaving, and then nothing. Hari breathed hard, afraid to lower his hands, lest he see a gaping maw lined with spikes dart towards him. He gulped, heartbeat pounding in his ears. 

The crunch of the forest floor stilled his breathing. Hari lowered his hands, scrambling to his feet, shuffling backwards. The point of a hat pierced the dark, then the hat tilted back to reveal Old Squeak glowering at Hari. 

“You’re alive! I thought – ” 

Old Squeak grabbed Hari by the collar of his tunic and yanked. “You fool. I’m taking you back to Sanctuary.”  

“W-what? No, I can’t go back yet.” Hari struggled against Old Squeak’s grasp, “I have to see the tall grass and the hoomans.” 

Old Squeak blinked then shoved Hari back with a harsh laugh. “Hoomans? You were almost dinner for Slither and you think you can make it far north to see humans?” 

Hari liked the way that Old Squeak said ‘humans’ as if they were men created with different hues of color. They sounded pretty. He wondered if they were pretty.  Hari forced himself to focus on Old Squeak’s words.

“No, I’m bringing you back and telling the elders to keep an eye on you. It’s too dangerous for daft gnomes in the Old Woods.”

Hari shook free at last, “I’m not daft!” Old Squeak rolled his eyes at that, but Hari continued, “And I’m not going back to Sanctuary, not until I’ve seen the world.” 

“Well take a good look,” Old Squeak barked with his arms thrown wide, “because this is all you’re ever going to see.” 

He made a move to grab Hari again, but Hari shuffled out of reach. They stared hard at each other, Hari with his jaw set and Old Squeak with his hands on his hips.  

“Look, it’s my job to keep you all safe and I can’t do that if you don’t listen to me.”

“If you take me back I’m just going to leave again. I need to do this. Every day I collect dewdrops and acorns for Sanctuary, and everyday I dream of what life would be like somewhere else. Like it is in your stories!” 

“My stories,” Old Squeak shook his head, “aren’t meant to be adventurous! They’re cautionary. What fool would want to see evil wizards and merciless giants?” 

“Stop calling me a fool.”

Old Squeak sighed, and dragged the same pipe from earlier from his pocket, he examined the empty chamber. Then tossed it to the side and grunted, “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll guide you to the tall grass and you can see your fill of the humans, but after that you will return to Sanctuary and never leave its walls again.” 

Hari’s eyes widened. To see the humans…he would finally have his own adventure. He frowned. He would only be allowed one adventure, though. Could he make it to the tall grass alone? The sound of Slither’s rattle skittered across his thoughts. Hari considered lying to Old Squeak, but it was against general gnome standards to lie. He pursed his lips and decided that general gnome standards were similar to opinions. 

“You have yourself a deal,” Hari replied, hand outstretched for a handshake.