7. Baring the teeth

Will was walking aimlessly along the dark streets, grumbling to himself. 'I wasn't helping, was I? Don't see what I would have been needed for. That walking six-pack was taking matters in hand in a very all-embracing way. Ha, maybe expected me to carry his stupid chamomile tea…'

But if he was honest with himself he knew he was being silly. Paul with his broad shoulders and well-meaning expression was really just being kind. He was the type of person that was kind to little kittens or baby birds that had fallen out of their nest and probably even wounded pythons or depressed sabre tooth tigers …

Yeah, all right, he was probably being a bit ridiculous.

But he was not being jealous in any romantic, body-contact-involving kind of way …

A shout snapped him out off his daze: "Wilhelm! Over here!"

As he looked up, he saw Roland the town-mayor, silhouetted against the open door of a pub and waving madly.

When a moment later Wilhelm sat down at the table with the other citizens, a heavy hand fell onto his shoulder and Roland turned suddenly grave eyes on him: "Well, bloody great mess you've got us into."

Will was momentarily lost for words but, jumping up, he soon got his eloquence back. "Are you blaming us? My brother nearly got killed by your absolutely inadequate assembling of facts to the job. Only his incredible strength of mind and reaction senses honed to perfection by years of experience fighting the supernatural saved him from having his neck broken because of your failure to spot that someone stole the damn treasure. I mean, you gave us a task that was impossible to fulfil and made us risk our lives for nothing. We could very well demand compensation for this!"

The mayor, who had already been trying to sink so far into his chair that his enormous chin was nearly level with the seat, paled considerably. "You wouldn't …" he started with a nervous little laugh, that clearly was trying to state, that good old chums like them would not pettily ask each other for any stupid compensations.

Will's raised eyebrow managed to crush these hopes with a pin sharp transfer of two words: You bet!

Choking to a stop in his owner's throat the nervous little laugh took one look at said eyebrow, grabbed his spongebag and hurried off to make some good old chums elsewhere.

Preferably a long way off.

'Damn, I'm good.' Will thought to himself at the sight of the mayor faltering. 'Sometimes I wish I could press myself and glue me into my diary …

If I kept a diary that is.

Maybe Jake could glue me into that book of his. I'm certainly worth a legend. But actually, I suspect him of only pretending to write these stories down, but I think what he really puts down there are all his erotic fantasies that no one should no about in every detail. He always looks so absorbed writing in there …

So I wouldn't really want to be glued in the-… – hang on …' (1)

"Mr. Grimm?" the mayor waved a pudgy hand as politely as possible in front of the blond man, who had suddenly become very quiet, a glazed look in his eyes.

"What?" Will shook his head and tried to get on top of the situation again. "My dear Roland, no need to get all formal." Giving the mayor a toothy smile that somehow seemed to belong to a member of the cat family and not exactly the cute kitty side of it, Wilhelm sat down at the table again.

"Seeing as in your current situation of need and distress you will have to hire our services again, I think we shall come to an agreement. And I assure you, your previous little … blunder …, shall in no way persuade us to hesitate in rushing to your salvation." Another smile, that conveyed that while claws were not yet on display they were certainly a possibility and wasn't it just jolly-peachy that they didn't need to be, since everyone was so of one mind?

But this time an intractable voice from the far end of the table dammed the smooth flow of Wilhelm's triumphal procession: "No need for that really."

The smile turned into a frown of disbelief. "And why ever not?

"We have developed a cunning plan to deal with the Petermännchen already." Bertwin announced proudly. (2)

"Ah ja? And what plan is that?"

"Well, we are going to start this chess-club where every member is supposed to wear a funny hat and he will be allowed to use his magic powers to move the pieces." the man explained in absolute seriousness.

"I don't really think that is going to appease him now." Will stated.

Bertwin turned to his fellow citizens with a mixture of self-satisfaction and paternalism:

"See? I told you he must be allowed to cheat. You have to let evil spirits win."

"No way!" Karl declared resolutely. "I'm not going to loose just because some whiny evil dwarf cant think five meters ahead on his own."

"At least forgo your victory dance then."

"I've been working on the new choreography for weeks, forget it, Bertwin!"

"Well, then I'm afraid you can't join." Bertwin retorted in a strict voice. "We can't have you insult our cultural heritage, even if it comes in the form of a bloodthirsty maniac dwarf."

"Oh? Oh?" Standing up, Karl leaned in to his opponent over the table. "Well, I shan't then! Let's see how long your chess club is going to be popular then. I'll open my own one. Fridolin's joining, aren't you?"

"Sure thing."

Bertwin was positively appalled: "You can't do that!"

"Watch me laddie!"

The two men were now face to face, wrinkled obstinacy meeting red indignation.

"Please, friends, stop the fighting. We are all in this together, aren't we?" the mayor intervened.

"Yes, sorry, of course." Bertwin mumbled instantly.

"Yes, we're all in this together, but some of us happen to be in the cooler chess club." Karl added, grinning victoriously.

"Yes well … how about a round of ale and an Obstler for everybody?" Roland tried. "Wilhelm?"

Will didn't really feel like disputing any more. Watching Karl through an argument put you off that. 'I'll have Willibald smite them a bit for suggesting that he should join their club.' he thought. "Yeah, right." he agreed, accepting the big mug and the small, but surprisingly thick-walled shot glass.

Half an hour later he felt his head swimming. This Obstler was no weak stuff. Not that he was going to slump under the table or anything, he just started to feel a little dizzy.

A girl at the other end of the table smiled at him.

He smiled back, which was a very logical reaction since he was absolutely straight and certainly not interested in any blood relatives at all.

TBC

(1) About the little side-blow on the diary, I don't want imply that stories involving the diary thing aren't good or that mine is any better.

It's just that I personally always feel so embarrassed at the very thought of the person you've been writing some steaming things about stumbling over these writings.

I would never, ever put something like this down on paper and if I did I would be absolutely paranoid about someone reading it and would probably have to burn the lot after an hour or so, by what time I would have developed several neurotic twitches …

But that's just me.

(2) While I'm sure that the script writers for Blackadder don't have a patent on the phrase "I have a cunning plan.", I can't help thinking of the series whenever I use it, so I don't claim ownership of that line …