Meeting Niggling Nigel

Dog tired and in dire need of of hot bath, the group approached the next village in hope of securing accommodation for the evening.  Last nights camp had proven to be a complete failure and never to be mentioned again were the tales of the two headed bear, the leaky bivouac and the damp wood that provided many failed attempts at lighting a fire.  They each shuddered in retrospect.

This village, almost a town except it wasn’t resident to a large expensive statue in the center. There wasn’t a library either, often associated with the larger towns.  Towns across the ocean of course though, the land of the wealthy and educated. Books were something Old King Merlot wanted to introduce at some point, he’d often heard about them but had never actually read one in his life.  Books were a mystery to many, they were flown in by a ship from another planet but their whereabouts beforehand were unknown by the majority.

They passed by many Inns and residences, all displaying No Vacancies.  There was one place with availability but there was a herd of Harlots outside trying to entice them in.  It was mutually agreed that they didn’t need to be carrying any illnesses on their journey so they avoided like one would the plague. Upon closer inspection though, the notice had actually read ‘no vaccinations’ They hurried along.

A little further away, tucked around a corner, was an Inn that glowed the colour of warmth if you could imagine such a colour.  The aroma of home cooked food was escaping from every crevice.  Their heads peered around the door trying to go unnoticed. The whole huddle inside had stopped to have a look at them.

“Erm, have you a room for the night?” quizzed Fyn nervously.

“We do but not for animals, even the ones that can talk” boomed the landlady. She was rather round in shape and her tiny pig nose snorted as she gestures to a sign on the door ‘Gide Draguns Only’

“We have a stable that may be suitable but it’s 10 shrabnl per animal per night”  Milo was about to protest. “Can you read sir?” quizzed the moon shaped lady.

Milo shook his head. “Well then, you have no advantage over that of an animal” she replied.  They could see she was clearly in a bad mood, it was likely the whole population of the Inn were unable to spell out the word ‘idiot’ between them, but they were tired and didn’t want to sleep under the stars again. “We’ll take it” snapped Fyn. He would think of some way to get revenge on the great spherical one.

It was dank and depressing in the stable, the walls were a crumbling down and the trough was half filled with hay. This was presumably their bath. 

They each found an area and tried to make themselves comfortable. At least the roof wasn’t leaking.  Twain was in his element, he’d never seen so many spiders in his life.  He spied a particularly juicy one which he pounced on and - without hesitation,  committed it’s body to his mouth.  He slurped once and the body disappeared, all that was left was eight dangly legs jiggling about desperately clinging to it’s last breath of life. By the second slurp it was gone.

“What a most disgusting display you have put on for us Twain” snapped Fyn.  “How could you even consider eating something like that, you don’t know where it’s been”

“A spiderweb somewhere is possible” replied a satisfied Twain.  He hated himself everytime he ate one but they had strangely turned into somewhat of a delicacy for him.

Twain was now amusing himself with a mouse that had sneaked into the stable.  He was dangling it over the trough and occasionally dipping it into the water and popping it’s little head  into his mouth now and then to absorb the moisture.

The mouse was wearing the tiniest pair of boots which you’d think rather odd but anything was accepted on planet Yarn.

This gave Fyn a devilish idea.

After darkness and indeed silence had fallen, he crept out of the stable and towards the Inn clutching the tiny rodent between his teeth, it didn’t taste good.He skulked along the stairway and made his way quietly into the chamber of the great circlet where he placed the mouse under her bedclothes.

He slipped out as quickly as a unicorn/bull could and quietly dashed down to the dank stable. He waited in silence, he almost sniggered.  Suddenly came a bloody curdling scream.

“Oohhhhhhh Somebody help me help me pleeeeease!” it was the landlady, obviously discovered the little intruder” Fyn was holding back the tears of laughter, he let out a little squeak as he tried to conceal his delight.

“An intruder in my chamber. A man A man!” she squealed like a pig.

“There was quite a commotion outside the stable. It woke the others who were intrigued by Fyns light heartedness.  “I got her good” he chuckled. “I crept ever so slowly and placed a mouse in her chamber” Twain looked disappointed. The mouse was his property.

“A Mouse, a mouse!” shouted a whiny voice that  belonged to a man. “I was turned into a mouse!”  There were a couple of  hasty footsteps alongside the stable door, this was followed by the ‘thud thud thud’ of angry feet like a herd of angry antelope.  They could hear voices outside the door.

“He’s gone, we scared him off” the footsteps disappeared towards the taverns entrance.

All had gone quiet again.  Fyn would sleep well tonight, though he didn’t remember seeing any man in the landlady’s chamber. Oh well he thought to himself. It couldn’t have happened to a nicer lady.

They were suddenly rudely awoken what felt like a few moments later by the terrible sound of Twain shrieking. “Ack Ack Ack” he was shrieking like a banshee.

There was an intruder in their stable and he was dunking Twains head in and out of the water”

“Not very pleasant  is it mouser?” The others watched, they wanted to intervene but were frozen solid to the ground like statues.

He threw Twain to the floor (he landed on his feet of course) and he stepped forwards to introduce himself.

“My name is Nigel, no need to introduce yourselves to me for I know all of your names anyway. I was in here earlier. The Chameleon, a man  I know you’re all familiar with, turned me into a mouse not so long ago.  He stated that I moaned too much and was too picky.”

“You wasn’t a moment ago when you were in little miss piggy's chamber were you?” teased Fyn.

“Well!” spat Nigel. “It’s clear to see why The Chameleon would turn you into such a ridiculous looking creature, you’ll soon go the way of the dodo” Fyn lowered his horns and edged towards Nigel.

Nigel, in a panic stricken state, stood there in one instance and was next a heap of clothing on the floor. A mouse scurried out of his dressings and straight into the paws of Twain who looked delighted.

“We shall christen you Niggling Nigel” he said and with that he dipped the mouses head under the water for a few seconds.

The others laughed, the night of tomfoolery had possibly united them , even for just a short while