Chapter 2: The Gnome

Alban

Alban held his breath, staring at the adorable gnome who had followed him under the tavern’s table. He held up his finger to his lips, begging her with a look to keep quiet.

Her golden brown eyes were wide, fixed on his with a mixture of horror and confusion, but she remained silent.

“Alexandros!” the soldier shouted, calling again for the owner of the tavern.

Alban heard a shuffling come from the stairway behind him as the elderly innkeeper made his way into the dining area.

“What is all this about?”

“We’ve had reports that the missing heir is here,” a second soldier replied.

Alban carefully peeked around the table legs to where his boss was standing.

Alexandros looked around the restaurant in confusion. “You can see there is no one here— heir or otherwise,” he said, shrugging.

“There’s no one upstairs, then?”

“Georgios, dear boy. You know me better than to suggest I’d be hiding a fugitive.”

“Of course not, sir,” the soldier said meekly, before clearing his throat and attempting a show of bravado. “I mean, you had better not be!”

Alban smirked and glanced back to the cute gnome. But her skin was white as a lily, her knuckles straining as she gripped the strap of her pack.

“Come on, Georgios,” he heard one of the soldiers say. “We knew this would be yet another false sighting. The emperor has been looking for years.”

“Yeah, alright. Tell us if you see anything suspicious, Alexandros,” Georgios said.

“Yes, yes. Of course. And you tell your father I said hello,” the innkeeper replied as the soldiers made their way back out to the road.

Alban frowned down at the gnome, whose eyes were still wide and staring at him seemingly unseeing.

“Alright, Alban,” Alexandros called. “They’re gone, you can come out now.”

“Thanks, Alex,” Alban replied, keeping his gaze on the gnome. “I’ve got things handled down here.”

Listening while the old man made his way back upstairs, Alban whispered to the gnome, “Thank you for not blowing my cover.”

She only gave him a confused look, her head tilting slightly.

“You said you were looking for something,” Alban said, referring to the gnome’s previous enigmatic explanation of her presence at the Pea Tavern. “Well, I’m hiding from something.”

He hoped he was right about her— that she valued her own privacy and wouldn’t pry into his.

When she didn’t reply, he said, “Are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a few lemures.”

She looked at him in silence for three heart beats before smiling ever so slightly and saying, “I haven’t seen any spirits yet. But,” She paused again and took a deep breath. “Maybe I’m hiding, too.”

“Ah, so we’re partners in crime, then,” he said, grinning and holding out his hand. “I’m Alban. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Her small, soft hand slipped into his and his heart stuttered in his chest. “I’m Ph—” she stopped, eyes wide. Then, cleared her throat and finished with a smile, “Fauna. I’m Fauna. Nice to meet you, Alban.”

“Fauna, eh? You were named after the Goddess of the Forest?” What were the chances of that, he thought. Not high. “It’s a beautiful name.”

A charming blush rose to her cheeks. But she only rolled her eyes as she pulled her hand away from his, which made her even more adorable to Alban.

“Well, what do you say we get out from under this table, Fee?” he asked.

“Fee?” She raised an eyebrow.

“I give a nickname to everyone I like. Get used to it.” He rose and held out his hand to her again, but she ignored it and Alban watched as she scrambled to her feet on her own.

The gnome calling herself Fauna was wearing a typical woolen tunic of the working class, but the deep blue shawl draped over her shoulder was different, somehow. It was also wool, but not quite the same as what he saw Roman women wearing those days. It was clearly old, showing wear along the edges, but seemed to be well cared for. Especially considering the worn and dirty state of her sandals and tunic hem. Alban wanted to ask her about it, but he was fairly certain whatever answer she gave him would be an untruth.

As these thoughts were going through his head, the gnome cleared her throat and crossed her arms over the shawl, startling him from his reverie. Alban realized he’d been staring at her chest and quickly looked up to meet her glaring eyes.

“Uh, your shawl is very… pretty,” he stammered.

“Right.”

Before he could say anything to get himself into even more trouble with her, a small noise seemed to emanate from the gnome’s chest. It sounded like a bird chirping, if the bird were disgruntled over his accommodations and had a thing or two to say about it. Alban desperately wanted to look down and investigate the sound but knew better than to glance anywhere near her bust again.

But when he saw from the corner of his eye a thin green vine snaking its way out of her shawl, he had to look. Sure enough, a plant was rising from behind her crossed arms. Leafy tendrils unfurled from the vine as if the creature were stretching after a long nap. The chirupping sounded again and the gnome gasped, trying to stuff the plant back into its nest.

The little thing evaded her hands and seemed to turn to look Alban in the eye. Or at least, that’s what it felt like it was doing. An impressive feat considering plants don’t have eyes.

“Well, hello there little guy,” Alban said, leaning down to greet the plant. He realized too late that he was now eye level with the gnome’s chest, but it felt rude to turn away from the friendly vine.

The plant reached out one of its tendrils toward Alban and he looked at it for a moment, unsure what to do. Then, reached up slowly and extended his finger to the plant. It seemed to be the right thing to do, because the plant stretched out and grasped his finger tip in a leafy attempt at a handshake.

Alban glanced up at the gnome’s face, who was slack jawed watching the interaction.

“Um,” she said, taking one step back.

Alban stood to his full height and also took a step back to give her space. “So,” he said.

“That’s— uh. I should go,” she said, backing away toward the door.

“What’s his name?” Alban asked.

“Huh? His— what? H–his name is Beanstalk.” She looked flustered and Alban couldn’t help but smile.

“You named a beanstalk Beanstalk?” he asked with a laugh.

“Well, I, uh… I call him Beans usually.”

“Oh, that makes it okay, then. Hello, Beans,” Alban said, addressing the plant again. “Is it alright if I call you Beans?”

The plant nodded the tip of its vine in agreement so Alban smiled and said, “My name is Alban. You can call me Al if you prefer.”

“He doesn’t really speak, you know,” the gnome said, looking at him with concern. As if he were the crazy one for talking to a sentient plant when she was the one who named him Beanstalk.

“Just because I don’t speak Stalkish doesn’t mean he can’t use a nickname when referring to me in his language.”

“I— Okay. Wait,” the gnome said. “How are— Why are you— This is a plant. You know that, right? Why are you talking to my plant? And you,” she said accusingly, looking down at Beans. “Why are you showing yourself to this man? Gods, you’re going to get us both killed.”

“Okay, okay. Let’s just take a seat and finish our wine,” Alban said to the crazed gnome, guiding her back to their table and holding her chair out.

She seemed to be too confused to argue and followed him dutifully back to her seat. He pushed her chair in, then sat down across from her, taking a sip of his now room temperature wine.

“So, you want to know if I know I was talking to a plant? The answer is yes. And you want to know why I was talking to him? That’s simple. He wanted to say hello and I’d like to think I was raised with decent enough manners.”

The gnome opened her mouth. Then shut it and frowned.

“I think what you also wanted to know,” Alban continued, “was why Beans chose to talk to me. I suppose he’s usually more discerning in his acquaintances and you’re probably wondering why he chose to befriend a lowly tavern boy?”

“I think befriend is a bit of a stretch. He just said ‘hi.’”

Alban threw his head back in laughter. “You’ve got me there,” he said between chuckles.

“What I actually want to know,” she said, lowering her voice and leaning toward him. “Is why a human like you isn’t surprised to meet a talking plant.”

Alban smirked, leaning back and crossing his arms, waiting for the gnome to put it together.

Her eyebrows knitted, as she watched him. “You’re— you’re not—?”

Alban wanted to tease her a bit longer, but she seemed like she could use a break. He reached up a hand to tuck his long hair behind his ear and watched with satisfaction as her eyes followed his hand and widened when they landed on his pointed ear.