The Neighbor's House and Gnomid Law

She looked down the aisle, to see the weird guy from across the street. He was a weedy middle aged single fella that she in all honesty had never said two words to, but in a fashion similar to her own mother found creepy.

It wasn’t his fault, in any particular sense. He was just a very odd man, and for whatever reason they ended up frequenting the same stores, farmers markets and parks. At which Tamara had only ever seen him buy gardening supplies, milk and honey.

To be fair she wasn’t a clone of her mother, she had other things to concern herself with and really they lived in the same area, which would be good enough reason if she wasn’t already weirded out by him.

She thought to talk to him, to lambaste that little effervescent voice that said nasty things about her neighbor, but she didn’t. Instead, like with so many other issues she’d been having lately she just avoided it. 

She took her shopping and left for home. Only to be stopped up at her own doorstep. 

"It was just here!" Tamara shouted, frantically searching her pockets for her keys. It was just the last in a long list of inexplicable and disturbing things that had occurred to her as of late. 

It had been a boon to her a few weeks before, she’d been cleared for a housing loan and was able to buy her dream home with little fanfare.

She was so happy, but then she kept seeing things, little people in her garden, her house, her everywhere. And now she’s lost her keys. She couldn’t help but think “god I need an exterminator or something” as her shopping bag ripped and spilled.

She would have felt sorry thinking it, but the issue had too much in the way of similarity to other interludes with pestilences she’d been witness to. Whether squirrels or hay mice, she knew well enough how to handle rodents.

Trouble was, whether or not it would matter given the form of those little hellions.

Still, she was lucky she only got non-perishables that trip. She went to find her spares but was left with the recognition that they’d stolen those too. Tamara was a lot of things at that time but most of all she was angry, those little monsters just about locked her out of her own house, and she was stuck wondering if she’d locked her back door like single women oughta do.

Luckily she hadn’t, but knowing the little buggers they probably would’ve let just about anyone else in.

She soon settled herself down, to watch some television, she wasn’t going to give herself an aneurysm over some glorified chipmunks.

Then there was a knock on the door, which she, being rightly on edge, simply stared at. She wasn’t opening the door.

The knock repeated, calm and steady, nowhere near as urgent as an unexpected delivery or cop would be.

So she went back to watching her show, she wasn’t that invested but she wasn’t going to answer for anything less urgent.

Then there was a 'thunk' on the window.

“Fledge!”, she heard a man scream.

She finally looked in the direction of the door with more scrutiny, then to the window just beside the door.

There was her neighbor in all his too tall for most doors glory, cradling what had to be the biggest moth she’d ever seen. The creature perked up a little after that, no worse for wear but definitely humanoid. 

Tamara got up to let him in, thinking better of his possible creep status.

“What is that?”

“It’s Fledge, I’m taking him out for walks.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?” 

“Only when he flies too fast.”

“Oh.”, looking at the little creature, apparently male, she couldn’t help but see how pretty he was. His body was covered with lush hair, in pastel orange, with deep and blush red markings. “Why is his name fledge?”

“Well, a boy needs a nickname.”

“Right,” she looked again at the man, “Why were you knocking on my door?”

“Well, I do have my reasons.” he arranged his hand, guiding Fledge to his shoulder. “I was wondering, were you informed about the colony?”

“What colony? Do I have ants?”, she asks, at the thought of another creature infesting her home.

“No, the Gnomes. You seemed to be having trouble with your keys”

“I don’t know if losing them really counts as trouble,” Tamara thought back to her moving in. “So that’s what they are?” 

“Yes.”

“Can you get rid of them?”

“Not likely, they’ve been going strong for about as long as this house has been here.” 

“What use are you then? Those ‘Gnomes’ have been tormenting me for weeks.” She was stuck there thinking about her payments, she’d invested so much in her house already, and the thought of letting those monsters stay unfettered was just disgusting to her.

“I was thinking well. Better late than never, I’m not an exterminator, but I know well enough how to placate these kinds of critters.”

“Really?”

“Yes, I can get you a deal with them.”

“What’ll it cost me?”

“Nothing much. Just hospitality. And a small fee of course” he said, nary knowing the man she was ready for anything. He put the creature down on her coffee table. “You keep Fledge high and dry here while I fetch his mum. You should probably write your specific requests while I do that.”

… 

Nadua had really only knocked himself silly, flying to the neighbor's house and While it would likely be more than embarrassing to most fairies, he was luckily safer than most even if he was stuck in Jerry’s care.

Before he knew it, they’d crossed the threshold of the Gnome house, his eyes peering at the sealing while Jerry kept his attention to the owner. According to his mom, excluding the impaired, humans had better distance vision, and a better perception of depth and texture.

She’d said before, “human’s feel with their eyes.” And when she said it, that’s what she meant. Usually with the rather immediate caveat of Jerry’s vision, that was apparently what his frames were for.

He remembers leaving handprints on the spares when he was smaller, and how his mom would talk about her host, “he’s too big, so you should be careful.” she’d say, while leading him throughout the house. He always knew where he was in their house, it was really the safest option for them if they didn’t want to damage each other.

It would sound odd to other fairies, but it was just one of the normal things about living in a human home.

That being said, he honestly didn’t know what was up in this new house. Nadua could smell others, unlike himself or his mother, and about a century's worth of cats, dogs and other common beasts. That he was sure of, even clinging to Jerry’s hand.

Soon he was offered a shoulder ride, and he climbed from Jerry’s hand. Things were good, even if the gnome host possessed a voice just high enough to worry his nerves.

Now he was looking up at the owner of the gnome house while sitting on what felt like the shortest table ever. The gnome host didn’t really try to engage him at all, only the rare look over at his fluff and markings. It was all rather embarrassing.

It was pretty much his first time under the scrutiny of another unfamiliar entity. It didn’t help that she seemed to be an unpleasant sort, at least in regards to critters like him, at least if he’d read the room right.

Still she left him alone, and he satisfied himself with the strange new smells that made the room so deafening. Nadua tried to count the different odors, and guess at how many of each kind of thing there’d been.

It was pretty much a bust parsing out the cats and dogs from a distance, but he scented at least five gnome trails on the table itself.

There was an asymmetry to the demographics also. He didn’t quite remember how gnomes ordered themselves, but they smelled mostly male.

Then he saw one walking to the table, he looked over the edge, seeing the fairy, whom he realized was a gnome walking up toward him specifically. He let go of heckled chirps, as they did so.

… 

Nayden had been having a lovely time by herself, Jerry had set a bath dish out for her along with some paprika spiced honey-milk. She knew the plan was a bit underhanded, but it was also a good test for her son. It was a credit to his education, what with the rather excessive smells released by gnomid colonies.

Jerry’s anxiety over it was just a side benefit. She was luckily done with her drink and her bath by the time he returned to her, quickly offering his shoulder and passage into the hostess’s house.

Which to her surprise, presently was filled with the ever-languid secretions of a Gnomid Queen along with a less than tidy but well ordered delegation of males.

Seeing the conjugation of gnomes Nayden had come to the conclusion that her son may in fact be a cad.

“I think I tamed the host!”, Nadua bragged, from the shoulder of the hostess, who was distressed by the abundance of Gnomes on and around her coffee table.

Or just as likely the proximity of Jerry’s body to her own.

“Ah, good.” she said, seeing the flitting form of the Queen far below her feet, her Harem hissing with distress. “Can you please explain why the gnome queen is boiling in infatuation?”

Nadua deflected, “That isn’t my will’s doing, her desire would be inconsiderate if that were the case.”

“A likely story. Did you think seducing the poor creature would make this any easier?”

“No, have you seen me mother? It’s a Pash at best just like the hostess!”

“What it must be to possess such cheek.” She said, before turning over toward the Hostess waiting for whatever distraction being had between the humans to finish.

The Hostess passed a paper over to Jerry, who set her down alongside it. Shooing away the Gnomes, who seemed ready to allow that space in every other respect.

They weren’t even hissing.

Nayden read the note quietly, as the Gnome queen seemed to size her up a bit too coolly.

How do I put this? They’ve been a collective menace to my peaceful enjoyment, and I’d be as amiable to their extermination as much as to an agreement. I am a lone woman, and if I can’t rely on my home or its locks or go about my business without these monsters stealing my keys I could get hurt.

1. They need to stop stealing my things.
2. They need to stop messing up my house.
3. They need to leave if they won’t be sensible.

Well, that was intimidating. She thought, between the greedy glare of the Gnome Queen, and the contents of what she just read. Nayden wasn’t sure of the seclusion between the Hostess’s requests and her rather extreme complaints, nor was she amiable to the Gnome Queen’s pheromone signature.

Considering from where each had sprung, she was uncertain of the ultimate conclusion of this dispute.

She wasn’t about to marry her son off for a human woman who was just as willing to see the gnomes dead. Still, it wasn’t worth it to translate the inflammatory portions, if they were in fact illegible to the Gnomes before her.

With a sigh she asked, “Are you too far to read?” 

“Why would I bother? We live on the land, in the foundation. We owe the Human no words.” The queen argued for her ignorance.

“So you can’t read?”

“No, I can’t.” The admission didn’t surprise her. Nayden knew the common perspective of fairies was often that, engaging with humans to any degree beyond usury was seen as strange, even to creatures that by their nature preferred their territories overlap.

“That’s quite alright. Do you mind hearing what’s been written?”

“I’d rather not. I’m under no delusions that it’d be kind.” she said coolly, in much clearer view than her congregation.

“Is that so?”

“Yes, I’m a Queen. I understand propaganda.”

“Still, it might behoove you to at least offer a rebuttal.”

“You come in on the shoulder of some human and you expect me to simply trust you?”

“I’m not quite sure what you expected me to ride in on.” Nayden pointed out, as discussion with most humans would be impossible without writing or interpreters.

“You seem to owe split loyalties, and I find that abhorrent.”

While Nayden might’ve seen the hypocrisy, the keeper of so many worrying about split loyalties, she had to remind herself that before her was a gnome and not a more reasonable kind of fairy. “It is not beyond my nature to hold fast to my Host. Besides that, did I offer you loyalty?”

“No.”

“And I assure you, I owe none to your Hostess either.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I’m here on request with payment. And I hope we can come to some sort of agreement.” 

… 

It was only a little while before, that she’d seen the blush-colored youth stranded lovely on the table, her curiosity piqued, she went over with some of her Consorts, only to be chirped at in distress. 

The youth was then picked up with little fanfare by the human. A careful hand, that he’d gone up to rather than her.

She climbed the table incensed by the refusal. She could spare the youth his distress, but refusing even her greeting while in her house? Crawling up to her foe in trusted confidence.

The cheek.

And yet his impetuous behaviour was tantalising. 

Sadly, she’d already scrambled up the table chirping back at him before she could stop herself. Her consorts following suit to appease her. Already a buzzing mess on the table before they’d been made to back away.

Now she was on the table across from another female fairy, who was arguing for the human interloper. She was seemingly of the same manner as the youth, though with a much darker coat.

The Queen thought back to the youth before, well distracted from her previous wants, vengeance for the lesser consort she’d lost beneath the human’s foot.

His brighter coat, the deeper reds of his pattern, and really the naivety of his response. She’d thought ever faintly before of their gap in appearance, “I’m really very happy to know his mother is so charitable.”

“Don’t confuse devotion for charity,” the female says, well aware of her intended offer, “My business is not with your collection. Please, would you contend with the subject at hand.”

“With the human?”

“The Hostess.” she corrected, offended for whatever reason. “The woman who bought the house. Do you want to end this amicably?”

“You think I wasn’t offering?”

“I owe no loyalty to the Hostess, and neither does my son,” She pointed out, “We are arguing for payment. What do you want?”

“It isn’t as simple as that.”

“If you think it can be solved by a boy who meets your fancy it probably is,” she dismissed, still agitated, “The duties of hospitality do not include precognition, nor do they excuse such vicious misbehavior.”

“Fair enough, but neither are an excuse for murder.”

“You’re right it isn’t,” she agreed, “Did you do your part in informing her of her crime? Or were you simply a nuisance these last few weeks?” 

“If my misbehavior is worth an attorney, you can hardly say I was only a nuisance.”

“You still did not inform her. You understand the purpose of protest and discourse don’t you?”

“There’s purpose in that?”

“Oy vey.”