Puddlebrain

Chapter Eleven

All three witches turned towards the voice. They recognised it instantly. It had been taunting them for the past four years.

"Billy!" they cried together.

"What are you doing here?" said Puddlebrain excitedly.

"What do you think? I've come to save you useless ninnies. Think I'm going to let you get away with someone else punishing you? Not a chance. Besides, I'm hungry, and it's about time you threw me some of that slop you call food."

"Oh, bless you, Billy!" Edna said. "You can have all the slop you ever want!"

"Oh, don't be getting all fussy and all with me. And don't be offering me a whole swill of that so-called food. You want to make me sick? Just a few bits here and there are all I can stomach, so we'll leave it at that. You hear?"

"Anything you say, Billy. Anything at all." Naturally she knew he loved the food they gave him, and was certain he'd scoff any amount they tossed his way and complain with every mouthful. But that was Billy the Gnome. That was why they liked him. Besides, none of them were going to argue with the only person who would help them.

"Right," said the gnome. "Let's get you out of there before those knuckle heads come back. Don't want me being charcoal along with you lot."

Billy pulled a knife from under his tunic. It seemed too long for his small frame, but he held it comfortably as he scrambled over the wood surrounding the stake. Even though it shifted under his weight, he was sure-footed and in an instant was standing next to the witches.

"Now, I don't want you thanking me for none of this. I'm just thinking of myself here. Got that?"

"Got it," said Puddlebrain.

With a flick that was almost too fast to see, Billy cut the ropes that held the witches against the stake. Another couple of flicks severed the cords that bound their hands and feet. The sisters, once they had climbed down to more solid ground, rubbed their wrists and stamped their feet to get the feeling back. Gemini went to hug the gnome but he held his knife up in warning.

"We'll not have any of that foolishness," he snarled.

"Oh yes. Sorry." Gemini backed away.

"How did you know what was happening?" asked Edna.

"Yes," added Gemini. "And why did you help us? I thought you didn't like us."

"Well, I don't have any feelings either way, truth be told. As for the why-fore of it all, I've already explained myself there," said Billy, sliding his long knife back under his tunic. "As for the how-fore of it, I don't have ears like this for nowt!" He pulled on his large ears, stuck to the side his head like teacups – the big china ones that Brenda served her best tea to her best customers in. "Your welcoming party was making enough noise to wake a mish-mish bairn!"

The mish-mish was a small tribe of creatures vaguely resembling people with a little lizard thrown in for good measure. They lived in the mountains beyond the Aren Rush, a river that was so long it 'fair split the world in two' as some claimed. They had a thick coating of fur, which was shed during the three weeks of summer which blessed their mountain habitat. The mish-mish kept themselves to themselves and rarely ventured far from home, although many visitors passed through their village buying the coats and other knick-knacks woven from their discarded hair.

The mish-mish children had the unpleasant habit of crying constantly. Their voices were shrill and piercing and penetrated the thickest of earmuffs, causing the parents to take extreme measures to 'help' their young sleep. It meant they had developed extremely tough skulls, but the children certainly slept well.