“The accordion’s melting, Jason,” sobbed Carter.
“. . . one, two, forward . . . bean setting!”
The accordion wheezed. The elves pressed in. Out of the corner of his eye Jason saw a dozen grinning, fascinated faces.
“Jason!”
“. . . one, two . . . Carter into the middle . . . one, two, spin. . .”
Seven pairs of boots thudded down . . .
“Jason!”
“. . . one, two . . . spin . . . ready . . . one, two . . . back . . . back . . . one, two . . . turn . . . KILL . . . and back, one, two. . .”
The inn was a wreck. The elves had stripped it of everything edible and rolled out every barrel, although a couple of rogue cheeses in the cellar had put up quite a fight.
The table had collapsed. Lobster claws and candlesticks lay among the ruined meal.
Nothing moved.
Then someone sneezed, and some soot fell into the empty grate, followed by Nanny Ogg and, eventually, by the small, black, and irate figure of Casanunda.
“Yuk,” said Nanny, looking around at the debris. “This really is the pips.”
“You should have let me fight them!”
“There were too many of them, my lad.”
Casanunda threw his sword on the floor in disgust.
“We were just getting to know one another properly and fifty elves burst into the place! Damn! This kind of thing happens to me all the time!”
“That’s the best thing about black, it doesn’t show the soot,” said Nanny Ogg vaguely, dusting herself off. “They managed it, then. Esme was right. Wonder where she is? Oh, well. Come on.”
“Where’re we going?” said the dwarf.
“Down to my cottage.”
“Ah!”
“To get my broomstick,” said Nanny Ogg firmly. “I ain’t having the Queen of the Fairies ruling my children. So we’d better get some help. This has gone too far.”
“We could go up into the mountains,” said Casanunda, as they crept down the stairs. “There’s thousands of dwarfs up there.”
“No,” said Nanny Ogg. “Esme won’t thank me for this, but I’m the one who has to wave the bag o’ sweets when she overreaches herself . . . and I’m thinking about someone who really hates the Queen.”
“You won’t find anyone who hates her worse than dwarfs do,” said Casanunda.
“Oh, you will,” said Nanny Ogg, “if you knows where to look.”
The elves had been into Nanny Ogg’s cottage, too. There weren’t two pieces of furniture left whole.
“What they don’t take they smash,” said Nanny Ogg.
She stirred the debris with her foot. Glass tinkled.
“That vase was a present from Esme,” she said, to the unfeeling world in general. “Never liked it much.”
“Why’d they do it?” said Casanunda, looking around.
“Oh, they’d smash the world if they thought it’d make a pretty noise,” said Nanny She stepped outside again and felt around under the eaves of the low thatched roof, and pulled out her broomstick with a small grunt of triumph.
“I always shove it up there,” she said, “otherwise the kids nick it and go joy-riding. You ride behind me, and I say this against my better judgement.”
Casanunda shuddered. Dwarfs are generally scared of heights, since they don’t often have the opportunity to get used to them.
Nanny scratched her chin, making a sandpapery sound.
“And we’ll need a crowbar,” she said. “There’ll be one in Jason’s forge. Hop on, my lad.”
“I really wasn’t expecting this,” said Casanunda, feeling his way on to the broomstick with his eyes shut. “I was looking forward to a convivial evening, just me and you.”
“It is just me and you.”
“Yes, but I hadn’t assumed there’d be a broomstick involved.”
The stick left the ground slowly Casanunda clung miserably to the bristles.
“Where’re we going?” he said weakly
“Place I know, up in the hills,” said Nanny “Ages since I’ve been there. Esme won’t go near it, and Magrat’s too young to be tole. I used to go there a lot, though. When I was a girl. Girls used to go up there if they wanted to get-oh, bugger. . .”
“What?”
“Thought I saw something fly across the moon, and I’m damn sure it wasn’t Esme.”
Casanunda tried to look around while keeping his eyes shut.
“Elves can’t fly,” he muttered.
“That’s all you know,” said Nanny. “They ride yarrow stalks.”
“Yarrow stalks?”
“Yep. Tried it meself, once. You can get some lift out of ’em, but it plays merry hell with the gussets. Give me a nice bundle of bristles every time. Anyway,” she nudged Casanunda, “you should be right at home on one of these. Magrat says a broomstick is one of them sexual metaphor things.”[39]
Casanunda had opened one eye just long enough to see a rooftop drift silently below him. He felt sick.
“The difference being,” said Nanny Ogg, “that a broomstick stays up longer. And you can use it to keep the house clean, which is more than you can say for – are you all right?”
“I really don’t like this at all, Mrs. Ogg.”
“Just trying to cheer you up, Mr. Casanunda.”
“‘Cheer’ I like, Mrs. Ogg,” said the dwarf, “but can we avoid the ‘up’?”
“Soon be down.”
“That I like.”
Nanny Ogg’s boots scraped along the hard-packed mud of the smithy’s yard.
“I’ll leave the magic running, won’t be a mo,” she said. Ignoring the dwarfs bleat for help, she hopped off the stick and disappeared through the back door.
The elves hadn’t been there, at least. Too much iron. She pulled a crowbar from the toolbench and hurried out again.
“You can hold this,” she said to Casanunda. She hesitated. “Can’t have too much luck, can we?” she said, and scurried back into the forge. This time she was out again much faster, slipping something into her pocket.
“Ready?” she said. ‘ “No.”
“Then let’s go. And keep a look out. With your eyes open.”
“I’m looking for elves?” said Casanunda, as the stick rose into the moonlight.
“Could be. It wasn’t Esme, and the only other one ever flying around here is Mr. Ixolite the banshee, and he’s very good about slipping us a note under the door when he’s going to be about. For air traffic control, see?”
Most of the town was dark. The moonlight made a black and silver checkerboard across the country. After a while, Casanunda began to feel better about things. The motion of the broomstick was actually quite soothing.
“Carried lots of passengers, have you?” he said.
“On and off, yes,” said Nanny.
Casanunda appeared to be thinking about things. And then he said, in a voice dripping with scientific inquiry, “Tell me, has anyone ever tried to mak-”
“No,” said Nanny Ogg firmly. “You’d fall off.”
“You don’t know what I was going to ask.”
“Bet you half a dollar?”
They flew in silence for a couple of minutes, and then Casanunda tapped Nanny Ogg on the shoulder.
“Elves at three o’clock!”
“That’s all right, then. That’s hours away.”
“I mean they’re over there!”
Nanny squinted at the stars. Something ragged moved across the night.
“Oh, blast.”
“Can’t you outfly them?”
“Nope. They can put a girdle round the world in forty minutes.”
“Why? It’s not that fat,” said Casanunda, who was feeling in the mood for a handful of dried frog pills.
“I mean they’re fast. We can’t outrun ’em, even if we lost some weight.”
“I think I’m losing a tiny bit,” said Casanunda, as the broomstick dived toward the trees.
Leaves scraped on Nanny Ogg’s boots. Moonlight glinted briefly off ash-blond hair, away to her left. “Bugger, bugger, bugger.”
Three elves were keeping station with the broomstick. That was the thing about elves. They chased you till you dropped, until your blood was curdling with dread; if a dwarf wanted you dead, on the other hand, they’d simply cut you in half with an axe first chance they got. But that was because dwarfs were a lot nicer than elves.
“They’re gaming on us!” said Casanunda.
“Got the crowbar?”
“Yes!”
“Right. . .”
The broomstick zigzagged over the silent forest. One of the elves drew its sword and swung down. Knock them down into the trees, leave them alive as long as possible . . .
The broomstick went into reverse. Nanny Ogg’s head and legs went forward, so that partly she was sitting on her hands but mainly she was sitting on nothing. The elf swooped toward her, laughing-
Casanunda stuck out the crowbar.
There was a sound very like doioinng.
The broomstick jerked ahead again, dumping Nanny Ogg in Casanunda’s lap.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t mention it. In fact, do it again if you like.”
“Get him, did you?”
“Took his breath away.”
“Good. Where’re the others?”
“Can’t see them.” Casanunda grinned madly. “We showed them, eh?”
Something went zip and stuck into Nanny Ogg’s hat. “They know we’ve got iron,” she said. “They won’t come close again. They don’t need to,” she added bitterly.