I waited a few moments, and then knocked again. “I said go away!” This time it was shouted, and I could tell the speaker was just on the other side of the door.
“I’m not leaving until I talk to you,” I shouted back. Then I waited. If the inhabitant of this hut was who I thought it was, and I was reasonably sure it was, he would recognize my voice. I didn’t think he’d turn me away, but he was unpredictable. And he hadn’t spoken to his own brother, my grandfather, for more than 50 years over some squabble so minor my gramps couldn’t even remember what it was.
The door opened a crack, and I saw his bottle-green eye peering out. “Well. I thought it was you. Run along. I don’t have time for you.” And then he slammed the door shut in my face.
I couldn’t help but laugh. Great-Uncle Elbert had a reputation for being a curmudgeonly hermit, and the reputation was well earned. I didn’t take it personally that he was refusing to see me. I’d gotten farther than most people would have, and I hadn’t given up yet.
I knocked again.
“Go away, Xan!” was the instantaneous reply.
“I have something for you,” I shouted back.
There was a pause this time. And then, “What do you have for me?”
“It’s from Aunt Edina. She says it’s something new. Can you open the door? All this shouting is bad for my throat.” There. I could have set no better trap for him. My Aunt Edina was Elbert’s favorite niece, much to my own mother’s dismay, in part because she supplied him with all the ingredients he needed for his work. Arcane and obscure herbs, mostly, that she either grew in her garden or foraged from the surrounding woods and grasslands. Elbert loved nothing more than when Edina came up with a new herb for him to experiment with. She didn’t do it very often, for fear that one of Elbert’s experiments would end up burning down his house or killing him, or both. But every now and then she sent him something interesting, something she hoped wouldn’t be too dangerous. It had been years since her last discovery, and while that one had burned off Elbert’s eyebrows, he’d also used it to make a near-miraculous salve to soothe the burns, so it wasn’t a total wash.
I waited five long breaths, and then the door opened again, this time slightly more. I could see Elbert’s eye again, and his nose and half of his mouth. “Show me,” he said. I could see the hunger in half of his face, and assumed it probably covered the whole thing.
“Let me in,” I replied.
He swore softly, and then opened the door the rest of the way, stepping back to let me in with a mocking flourish of his long, spindly arm. “Right this way, Xan. Do make yourself at home.” He snarled the words, but I could tell he was more curious than mad.
I stepped into the front room of the little two-room hut and looked for a place to sit, but every surface was covered with books, papers, bottles, bundles of dried herbs, and dirty plates. Rather than exhibit any hospitality, Elbert closed the door and rounded on me. “Well? What did she send?”
I tried to keep my smile off my face. “First, I need something from you. Some information. And also some advice.”
Elbert scowled. “I got out of the advice-giving business, Xan. It never goes well. You’re better off without it.”
“Maybe that’s been true in the past, but in this case, you’re the only one who can help me.” I paused to see how he’d react to this. His scowl relaxed only a hair, but I saw an eyebrow twitch up. Curiosity. Good.
“You’re the only one who can tell me where I should look. You see, your brother has gone missing.”
(This post is part of the 500 Words short story project.)
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