Chapter Eight
With a gasp, America snapped his eyes open. "Oh! You're awake!" Italy cried happily. America looked around. Sitting to the left of him were Germany, Italy, and Romano. America smiled at them all and they smiled back.
He stood up and dusted himself off. "What happened?" he asked as they rose to their feet.
Italy was only too happy to tell him. "Miss Hungary made her entrance with a 'Boom!' and beat them down with a frying pan. Germany was under some kind of mind trick."
"Maybe I that's why I couldn't see what was happening," America said. "You know, no brain and all."
"Uh-huh," said Italy.
"I was hallucinating," Germany explained. "What looked to be my brother offering food, shelter and beer turned out to be a trap."
"You know Prussia was really here, don't you?"
"Ja," Germany said. "He just seemed more benign."
"Anyway," Italy continued. "All those birds pulled the stuffing out of you. Hungary woke us up and we helped to put you back together."
"Wow," America said. "Thanks, you guys."
"No problem!" Italy said happily. They all stopped talking and looked to the house, which was now closer than before. They exchanged glances for a brief second, then smiled from ear to ear and broke out in a sprint for the house. Once at the door, America took hold of the giant knocker and knocked on the door. Of its own accord, the door swung open. Entering the foyer, the first thing they noticed was a massive table full of food. Hungry as they were, they were hesitant about eating it until Germany noticed a small card taped to the back of one of the three chairs.
Enjoy!
Needing no further direction, everyone sat down in a chair and messily helped themselves to whatever morsel of food was in their reach. At first, the meal was delightful. Each bite seemed a blessing from the angels above. However, when the pains of hunger had begun to fade, the meal became less delicious. The more they ate, the less they liked it, although America didn't mind as much as the others. Despite the food becoming seemingly less flavored, each person ate until not a bite was left. Italy and Romano still felt they had a little room, but certainly didn't want any more from this house. Satisfied, they leaned back in their chairs and sighed in contentment. Creak! They jumped at the sound of a door opening.
"Why have you three come here?" said a figure who was now standing at the top of the stairs.
"We… uh, we need a little help," said America.
"Why did you come here for help?" asked the figure.
"We were told a wizard lives here," answered Italy.
America stared intently at the figure. Whoever it was, they were dressed head to toe in a hooded mint-green robe with long sleeves. The hood was pulled down in such a way that the entire top half of the face was covered, showing only a pair of lips and a chin. Under the robe, the figure wore what looked to be a turtle neck shirt, or perhaps a scarf which was also mint green. America wondered if this could be the wizard.
"You were told correctly," said the figure.
"Are you the wizard?" Italy asked.
"What do you seek the wizard's help for?" the figure questioned.
"Hey, answer me," Italy grumped.
"If you want help, you answer my questions," the figure barked. "What do you want the wizard's help for?"
"Well, I need help getting home, America needs a brain, Germany needs a heart, and Romano needs courage," Italy explained, pointing to each of them as he spoke.
"And why should you get the help you ask for?"
"We came here to speak to the wizard, not some hooded prober!" Germany exclaimed. "If he chooses to decline our pleas, I wish to hear him say it with my own two ears, not from his cantankerous mouthpiece!"
The figure held back for a moment, then rested his chin in his hand in thought. "Fine," he said. "I will speak with the wizard and let you know if he is willing to see you. In the meantime, go into the rooms to your right. You'll find baths, cloths, polish and anything else you may need to get cleaned up. See that you're presentable enough for the great wizard." He turned sharply and stepped quietly up the stairs, disappearing through the large door he'd come from.
Once he'd left, the four travelers slipped into the room he'd mentioned. As he said, there were baths and cloths, but also things a scarecrow and a metal man would need. As Italy and Romano bathed, America set about repacking himself with newer straw, and Germany oiled his squeaky places. When he'd finished, he selected a can of tin polish and began to polish himself to a shine. America had been wrong about Germany being made of iron. Oh, well.
Italy had finished his bath, but remained in the tub to help Romano shampoo his mane. He changed into a different set of clothes that had been laid out for him, but had to use his old ones when Romano had gotten out of the tub on all fours and shook himself vigorously, spraying Italy with water, hair and shampoo bubbles.
When they'd all sufficiently spruced up, they made their way back to the foyer, where the table had been cleared and new dishes and utensils had been set out.
"Germany, my stomach hurts," moaned Italy.
"Mine, too," Romano complained.
"So does mine," Germany said. "Maybe it was the food. America, do you feel ill as well?"
"No, I'm good," said America.
"Go away!" thundered a voice from the stairs above them.
"What?" they all shouted.
"The wizard says to go away and to not come back!" screamed the figure in green.
"And just who gave you permission to dismiss us?" Germany yelled.
"The wizard himself!" shouted the figure. "Now go away or you will be forcibly removed!"
"I want to hear our dismissal from the wizard myself," Germany angrily insisted.
"No. Go away." With that, the figure huffily stormed away and slammed the door behind him.
Italy had never been more disappointed. Motionless, he stood in the foyer as tears came to his eyes. At the foot of the stairs, the sadness moved him to trembling.
"Italy… are you alright?" Germany asked carefully.
Italy sniffed and trembled a bit more, not wanting to say anything. Out of impulse, Germany placed his arm around Italy. America and Romano followed his example and they soon found themselves in a group hug. Italy stammered through the sobs he'd been trying to hold back. "I… I just really wanted to go… to go home. This was… the only… only… chance I had of going back home." Each pause had been a sniff of a sob, and the others struggled to comfort him.
America wanted to say something but didn't trust himself not to make things worse. Finally, after a few minutes of straining to hold them back, Italy's tear ducts gave way and he began to cry uncontrollably. Blindly, he reached for Germany, but America stepped between them and allowed Italy to cry on his shoulder, rather than let Germany's shoulder rust again. "It's okay, dude," he said as he patted Italy's back.
"We're still here," Germany said. "It's not like you'll be alone."
Italy, rather than speak, kept releasing streams of tears onto America's shoulder. America slowly sat down on a step and Italy followed him down. Sitting on the steps, each of them had a comforting hand on Italy.
"You really want to see him?" a voice behind them asked. They all turned around to face the figure, who had less of a stiff air and more of a sympathetic one. They all stared up at the figure and Italy nodded.
"Come with me, then," said the figure as he led them up the stairs.
Italy smiled and dried his tears as he and the others followed the figure into a long, dark hallway.