MacLarry had dreamed of meeting the great inventor, Archiemedes, since he was a child, and to have him stay in the village as an honored guest was just a cherry on the top of a sundae of blessings. Mere weeks ago, the prank feud between Scotland and Rome had still been waging; MacLarry had been the speccy black sheep of the village and a disappointment to his father, Chog Norrius, the leader of the Barber-barians. Now, there was peace, and, now, everyone saw worth in MacLarry's contraptions.
As for Archiemedes, this was a vacation of sorts. He had been previously employed by Emperor Pompous Maximus, but he had been thrown into prison for refusing to build a bridge machine to help the Romans hurt their Scottish enemies. He and his cucumber assistant, Ryanicus, had managed to escape the dungeon, and on learning of the emperor tricking MacLarry into building the machine, Archiemedes had made the long trek to right the wrong himself. Fortunately, by the time he reached MacLarry's village, peace was well underway. Now, he and Ryanicus had taken up residence in the hut which was reserved for visiting clan leaders, since MacLarry's dad was grateful they had refused to build a device that could have made them vulnerable to pranks. The macaroni and cheese — Dad's favorite, celebratory dish — flowed like rivers in their honor.
MacLarry spent hours in their temporary workshop, listening to Archiemedes' stories, asking for his advice, and sampling a tasty Greek dessert which they called "cheesecake." Sometimes, Archiemedes would send Ryanicus out on errands for his latest project, and MacLarry went with him to help.
Ryanicus was a nice guy; like MacLarry, he was on the quiet side but could blether away once something caught his interest, like a new invention or a library book. Some of the lasses in the village started sighing after him as soon as he showed up, charmed by his long, red locks and his big, white smile, which came with its own sound effects. (MacLarry was still trying to figure out how he pulled that off.)
One day, to MacLarry's delight, Archiemedes asked him to help with a new invention.
"I'm inspired by all this Caledonian flora," the asparagus declared, sweeping a rolled-up blueprint toward the meadow, dotted with purple flowers, on the wooded mountain slope just outside the village walls. "Your friends have been telling me stories about your flowers."
MacLarry chuckled. "Yeah, we're proud of our thistles. Dad used to say that if the Romans ever got over the gorge, the thistles would protect us — except Emperor Pompous knew about them in advance and took the main road," he clarified, wincing at the memory.
"But your father is certainly right about their potential," Archiemedes grinned. "That's why I want to invent something for home security, based on the thistle's design. Would you go with Ryanicus and collect samples in pots? I'll also need botanical illustrations; he'll show you how to do them."
MacLarry found his friend with a wheelbarrow of tiny flower pots at the village gate, surrounded by a few of his female admirers. The aroma of baked goods like shortbread, black buns, Dundee cakes, and bilberry tarts waltzed on the morning breeze, and Ryanicus' cheeks seemed perpetually bulged with food as the lasses kept shoving their treats in front of him to sample.
Leaning against the opposite post, MacTunia, MacLarry's childhood friend, watched Ryanicus with amusement. She greeted MacLarry with a bonnie smile as he approached.
"Look at Mr. Popular," she giggled to him. "I can't remember the last time our village had a flour shortage from so much baking."
MacLarry laughed with her. For a village as small as theirs, fresh blood was a welcomed gift for those interested in marriage.
"I should probably go rescue him, huh?" he said airily.
"His stomach will thank you, at any rate."
MacLarry quickly retrieved the stuffed cucumber, reminding him of the task which his master had assigned. The lasses groaned at his words, but no one seriously tried to stop MacLarry. After all, he was Chog Norrius' son as well as their heroic inventor.
Ryanicus looked a little green as he thanked MacLarry.
"Mom always said never turn down food when it's offered to you," he explained, pushing his wheelbarrow down the dirt road, "so I have trouble saying no to a good cook. My room is already crammed with more leftovers than I can invent with."
"The kids in the villages will help you eat up the sweets," MacLarry grinned as they turned toward the woodland meadow.
MacTunia, to his surprise, tagged along. Her eyes sparkled at MacLarry's questioning look.
"Ryanicus invited me to help," she explained. "I figured it was about time I tried some of this science stuff you two go on about."
That was news to MacLarry. Although MacTunia had been sympathetic toward him even in his more awkward days, he had long ago given up trying to get her interested in his hobbies.
He slowed, studying her carefully. "You sure, Tunia?"
"Hey, maybe I'll invent something to save the village someday," she laughed. "Besides, who knows more about thistles than me? I was always able to handle them without pricking my fingers."
"That's true," MacLarry grinned. "You bandaged me up when we were kids."
"Because you kept tripping whenever we played Tag," she teased.
"Guilty."
He was happy for her company and for her help. While she was the bonniest lass for miles (at least MacLarry thought so), she was hardly a delicate flower. A tomboy with a dash of lipstick, she had earned a place among the Barber-barian elite, back in the days of the prank feud, able to keep pace with the village pranksters. MacLarry's dad often joked that MacTunia was "as Caledonian as thistles — and twice as prickly, if you get on her bad side." With her help, the three of them were sure to get enough thistles for Archiemedes in no time.
They soon came to the lush meadow of purple flowers, and they got to work. Ryanicus handed out digging tools, and he divided the flower pots between the three of them, stacking them like cups. MacTunia accepted her portion, and a gleam appeared in her eyes.
"Maybe we can make this more interesting," she smirked. "Whoever finishes first gets a prize from the losers."
Ryanicus grinned, and that ping sounded. "I suppose we could do that."
"Within reason," MacLarry said firmly, pushing up his glasses as he faced MacTunia. "You can't make me run across a muddy field in my bunny slippers again. It took me forever to get the stains out."
"Your bonnie bunny baffies will be safe," she promised him, tapping his shoulder with the edge of her stack of pots. "So, how about it? Winner gets a prize. Agreed?"
Ryanicus looked amused. "You're awfully confident. You really think you're going to win?"
Her slim stalk shifted into a sassy pose. "Have you met me?"
"Okay then, but Archiemedes' flowers can't get damaged; otherwise, you have to redo the pots. Get it?"
"Got it."
"Good."
They formed a line, and Ryanicus counted down from ten. At "Go!", MacTunia burst forward, zipping to her first target like a shooting star. By the time Ryanicus and MacLarry had finished their first flowerpots, she was on her third.
"She's a belter," MacLarry chuckled to himself.
Her enthusiasm was infectious. Ryanicus smoothly glided from flower to flower like one of Archiemedes' machines, and even MacLarry, who was not particularly athletic, quickened his pace. Still, MacTunia kept filling her pots, and MacLarry found himself watching her more than his own work, admiring her stamina, her skillful footwork over a rocky patch, her cute look of determination, her flame-like hair glinting in the sun…
Something connected with his foot, yanking him out of his thoughts, and he let out a yelp, tripping face first onto an extra-prickly cluster of thistles.
"OWWWWWW!"
His friends immediately dropped their work in alarm. The two rushed to him, but he rolled on his side, lifting his head.
"It's not serious!" he assured them, wincing from the blossoms now attached to his cheek like sandspurs.
His friends sighed with relief, although MacTunia inspected MacLarry's wounds for herself. Seeing he was not too hurt, she met his eyes with a smile, and she turned calmly towards the wheelbarrow.
"I'll get the First-Aid kit," she hummed.
MacLarry sat very still for her, just as he had when they were little. Her gentle manipulation of the tweezers coaxed out the spines so that he barely felt anything, but he drew back when she fished out the spray bottle of disinfectant.
"That's the stuff that stings," he protested, regarding the label warily.
"You can squeeze my hand if it hurts."
"I'm not sure if that's gonna work."
"Then squeeze this instead," she recommended, picking up a nearby rock.
He accepted it and braced himself as she spritzed his face. Pain erupted on his green skin, and he let out a yelp despite squeezing the rock like a lemon.
"Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow!"
"Here, I got you."
MacTunia grabbed hold of his face, dipping her head close, and blew gently on his smarting cheek. The pain at once lessened under her cool breath, and it steadily grew manageable so that MacLarry could open his eyes. She held onto him, and her gaze glowed with warmth.
"See? What did I tell you?"
MacLarry smiled gratefully. "What would I do without you?"
She put the cap back on the disinfectant and playfully poked him with it in the chest.
"Don't go out of your way to find out."
With fresh bandaids on his cheek and his clothes free of thistles, MacLarry rejoined the race, but MacTunia already had a staggering lead, and she soon let out a whoop, waving her last potted flower in victory.
"Canny lass," MacLarry grinned as he shoveled his final specimen.
She winked at him before she drew herself, raising her head like a queen. "So, who will give me a prize?"
"I can try my hand at it," Ryanicus offered. "What would you like?"
Her eyes gleamed. "How about one of your inventions?"
MacLarry jolted, doing a double take. "An invention?"
Ryanicus looked suddenly shy. "Oh, I'm still studying under Archiemedes. I'm not a master yet."
"Try anyway!" MacTunia urged. "It'll be fun."
MacLarry adjusted his glasses. "I could, uh, make you an invention instead, Tunia."
"But I've seen your inventions before," she chuckled. She gave Ryanicus a wink. "Now, I want to see what Mr. Popular can come up with."
Ryanicus rolled his shoulders. "I can try, but inventing is often about meeting a need. What sort of things do you need help with?"
"My backhand, mostly," she quipped. "Ever since our tennis instructor moved to a different village, I haven't been able to practice the way I used to. Got any inventions to fix that?"
"I'll play around with some ideas later."
"You're a belter, Ryanicus," she beamed, looking positively radiant.
MacLarry struggled to process what he had just witnessed. He had often tried to get MacTunia interested in his inventions, but even though she respected his skills now, she had never asked him to build her something special. Yet she had just asked the new guy to invent something just for her.
He tried turning that over in his head to analyze, but Ryanicus had to move on to botanical illustrations, and he needed MacLarry's help sketching the ones still in the wild before they took their haul back to the village. MacLarry followed him reluctantly toward the nearest of the remaining purple flowers, trying to ignore the sudden constriction in his chest.
Ryanicus handed him a blank notebook and showed him how Archiemedes preferred them to write their observations on a clean page opposite of a drawing. He made a quick sketch of a thistle to demonstrate, and he nodded his approval at MacLarry's attempt.
"Speaking of flowers," he said casually, "that MacTunia is quite a lady."
MacLarry glanced at him. "You think so?"
Ryanicus nodded, looking over his shoulder. MacTunia lingered by the wheelbarrow, straightening the flower pots.
"Does she have a boyfriend?" he asked.
MacLarry looked back at his sketch, adding a few more details.
"No," he answered, "but she's not interested in intellectual lads who don't do push ups. My dad has set a pretty high bar for husbands in the village."
Ryanicus chuckled. "Hey, I work out a little, buddy."
MacLarry's pencil stilled on the page. A funny feeling arose in his chest.
"You do?" he asked warily.
His friend jerked a good-natured nod.
"Sure! In Greece, we value both intellectual and athletic pursuits! Why, one philosopher, Platato, is a champion boxer — that's how he wins so many debates," he added.
MacLarry's face fell. "So… Greeks are smart… and good at sports?"
"Well, I try to be," Ryanicus answered modestly, "but wait til the next Olympics roll around! Master Archiemedes always buys tickets for his staff. You ain't seen nothing like it!"
MacLarry tried not to make a face. "I'm not really a sports kinda guy."
"Aw, you'll find something you enjoy, buddy," Ryanicus assured him. "Races, pole vaulting, swimming, extreme skateboarding — there's a lot to choose from."
"Maybe," MacLarry answered noncommittally.
"And maybe MacTunia would like to go when the time comes around," Ryanicus added thoughtfully. "Say, I could invite her to join me on my morning jogs. Worth a try."
MacLarry looked at his notebook.
"That'd be right up her alley," he said softly.
Ryanicus grinned, causing an audible tinkle to erupt as the sun caught his teeth.
"Thanks for your help, bud! I owe ya one."
"Yeah," MacLarry said flatly as his friend turned and started for the wheelbarrow (and MacTunia) with a spring in his step.
Ryanicus' admirers descended on him as soon as he came within an arrow's shot from the walls. Sizzling entrees, slices of pizza, and other goodies were shoved in front of his long nose, nearly splattering his chiton with sauces and crumbs. MacLarry barely grabbed the wheelbarrow from him in time to keep Archiemedes' flowers from being damaged.
MacTunia shot MacLarry a knowing look before she maneuvered around the mob, strolling toward the gate. She whistled and jerked her head in a summoning motion, and in moments MacJimmy and MacNezzer appeared. The two large men muscled their way into the crowd of fangirls, lifted the beleaguered cucumber onto their shoulders, and carried him into the village, much to the sorrow of the admirers. MacTunia winked at MacLarry before she sauntered after the trio, her air rather like a cat with its tail in the air.
That left MacLarry with the wheelbarrow, which he quickly deposited at Archiemedes' empty hut. The inventor had already gone to lunch at the newly rebuilt longhall — the local hangout where juice boxes were plentiful and where MacBob hosted bingo tournaments. From the sounds of it, most of the village had gathered there, and MacLarry's father, loudest of all, led the merrymakers in "My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean."
Although MacLarry had skipped breakfast, he found he did not have much of an appetite. He trekked back toward his thatched hut and sat on the stone wall outside his dusty yard, gazing out at the green lawn. He pulled out his notebook, wanting to jot down a few thoughts about what he had learned that day about botany, but he caught sight of movement, and his heart twisted a little.
MacTunia and Ryanicus had left MacJimmy and MacNezzer, and now they wandered along the curved wall. MacTunia held a rock and a large stick, and from the way she swung the latter, she seemed to be discussing her tennis needs with the young inventor. Ryanicus nodded repeatedly, and then he formed a dazzling smile, sending a ping echoing over the field.
Near them, a few of the older ladies who typically did not frequent the longhall sat in rocking chairs outside their huts, watching the pair with interest. From the way they smirked, the whole village would be likely abuzz later with speculations of wedding plans.
MacLarry sighed, closing his notebook. He could not concentrate anyway.
"Oh, bring back my bonnie to me," he sang along with the cluster of voices coming from the longhall.
Almost at once, he shook himself. Who was he fooling? Him and MacTunia? They had always been friends, but even as kids, they had been opposites. MacTunia liked pranks and sports while MacLarry preferred reading and quiet study. She got antsy if she sat too long; he fell down if he ran too fast. Not exactly a match made in Heaven.
But did she have to ask for an invention? he sighed to himself. And why couldn't it have been from me?
But it made sense, didn't it? MacLarry had had to gain his current skills through trial and error — a lot of error — but Ryanicus had been privately tutored by Archiemedes himself, who could catch his mistakes before anything blew up or left a hole in somebody's house. Ryanicus had reached a level which MacLarry was only just now beginning to approach, and he continued to advance. Who wouldn't want one of his inventions?
Annoyance crept into MacLarry, but he pushed it down. Ryanicus was his friend. If MacLarry had been brave enough to admit he liked MacTunia, Ryanicus probably would have backed off. MacLarry did not want to lose a good friendship from sulking like a little brat. Then there was MacTunia herself. A number of guys had fought over her in the past, and when she found out, she had been livid.
"I chose who I end up with!" she had declared. "And I won't pick someone who thinks they can make my choice for me by beating up other guys."
MacTunia did not like bullies or men who felt entitled to her affections, and she would not be impressed with MacLarry if he let bitterness poison his heart.
…But it was hard to remember that, especially when another ping rang through the air.
MacLarry groaned and slumped over his notebook.
"Am I interrupting, son?" came a posh voice.
The cucumber sat up quickly and formed a quick smile for his mentor. Archiemedes sauntered closer, a content expression on his elongated, green face.
"I saw you fellows left the thistles at my abode," he told MacLarry. "Thank you for all your help these past few weeks, lad."
"My pleasure," MacLarry said sincerely. "I've been learning a lot from you guys."
"And I've been learning a lot in these fair hills." He swept his gaze over the surrounding woodlands, green slopes, and rocky cliffs. He added fondly, "My wife would love all this wilderness. I had wanted to send for her, but Loveymedes was hesitant about bringing the children such a long distance."
MacLarry nodded sympathetically. "You haven't seen your family in a while, huh?"
He shook his head. "Fortunately, after the emperor arrested me, they were able to get out of town and head back to Greece. Loveymedes had to travel without any help, but she got the children safely to her mother's."
"Sounds like a belter," MacLarry grinned.
"I keep hearing that word around the village," Archiemedes chuckled. "I trust it means something good?"
"Very good," MacLarry assured him. "You know, excellent, neat, cool, awesome, stuff like that."
Archiemedes smiled, sinking onto the wall next to him. "Then, yes, Loveymedes is quite a belter. Which is why I have to be leaving soon."
MacLarry turned in his seat. "You are?"
"I have responsibilities at home," Archiemedes said plainly. "A family, pets, a workshop, unpaid parking tickets. Now it's time to go back."
"I understand," MacLarry nodded. He hesitated, then asked, "And Ryanicus will go with you?"
Archiemedes smiled. "Actually, I'm hoping he won't."
MacLarry's heart sank, although he tried to ignore it.
"Why?"
"Ryanicus has been my apprentice since he was a little boy. He's learned much, but sooner or later he has to branch out on his own. Make his own mistakes, manage his own workshop, grow outside of my shadow. If Chog Norrius agrees, I'd like him to stay here and open his own shop."
"Here?"
"Without the convenience of city life, it will force him to be resourceful," Archiemedes declared. "Why, look at what you've been able to accomplish as an autodidactic scholar, my boy. Ryanicus needs similar experiences if he's to ever become a master in his own right."
MacLarry had to admit he had a point.
"Sure, I could show him the ropes of wilderness inventing," he said as graciously as he could manage. "We can run the shop together if he wants."
Archiemedes shifted on the wall. "Actually, that brings me to my next item of business, son. With Ryanicus operating his own shop, that will leave a vacancy for a new assistant. Any interest?"
MacLarry sat bolt upright. "Me? Your assistant?"
"You've proven yourself to have much potential. I could use a resourceful lad who is already familiar with my style of work."
MacLarry's face shone. Although he no longer felt like a barely tolerated member of the village, his dream of working with his hero had not faded, and his mind was nearly overwhelmed with the possibilities: the inventions, the university lectures, the grand libraries, the expeditions to other lands for research, the sampling of other flavors of cheesecake!
In the midst of his delirium, however, an unpleasant fact needled its way into his mind: he would be leaving, and Ryanicus would be staying.
With MacTunia.
As if to drive home that fact, another ping echoed over the enclosure, now on the other side of the nearby huts.
He sobered a little. "Thanks, sir. I'll have to think about it."
"But of course. Talk it over with your father, but you'll be a welcomed addition to my staff, son."
MacLarry nodded. Not feeling up for more conversation at the moment, he thanked Archiemedes again, gathered his things, and headed down the dirt road.
MacLarry did not get a chance to mention Archiemedes' invitation to his dad that day, since several people needed his help or opinion on various things, and Dad left early the next morning to go see a clan leader on the other side of the mountain.
MacLarry had not been idle during that time though. Over supper, he had inspiration for a perfect present for MacTunia. He finished it before he left his hut the next morning, and he found just the right wrapping paper and bow.
With a spring in his step, MacLarry went to the longhall for breakfast, but he started to cough from all the smoke which bombarded him when he opened the door. Many young women had monopolized the cooking fires, stirring things in big cauldrons or shoving each other to find a place to bake their cakes. MacLarry had to maneuver around them, doing his best not to trip over heart-shaped cake pans, just to get to the continental buffet that some of the older women put out each morning.
He grabbed an orange juice and a bagel, maneuvered around the cooks again to reach the long tables, where he found MacTunia by an open window, munching on some dry toast. He had not noticed her before due to all the smoke, but the sight of her made him forget all other discomfort.
She looked up as he approached, meeting MacLarry's eyes. She glanced deliberately at the women, then shook her head, dabbing her lips with a napkin to conceal her smile.
"Poor Ryanicus," she tittered.
"At least he won't go hungry," MacLarry countered, spreading a packet of cream cheese onto one bagel slice.
"And once he picks a girl, we'll have plenty of cooking supplies back in stock."
"Not that you cook."
"Nope!" she said cheerfully. "Not unless it's for something I'm really interested in, like a Super Bowl party or a movie marathon."
MacLarry smiled a little. At least MacTunia would not be elbowing her way to cook Ryanicus a tempting lunch any time soon.
"Speaking of interesting things," MacLarry said, reaching behind his back to pull out her gift. "I made you something."
She sat up, intrigued. "A new invention?"
"Not quite," he smiled. "I remembered what you told me last week, about wanting to remodel your hut to have a sports theme. I got an idea for a knickknack to help you get started."
He pushed towards her, and she accepted it, eyes dancing. Tearing away the wrapping paper, she let out a little laugh.
"Tennis balls on swings?"
"It's my Norrius cradle," he vouchsafed, pleased to see her respond so favorably, "but instead of rocks, I put tennis balls. Now, watch."
He lifted one green ball and let it drop. It swung into its neighbor, and the ball on the opposite end leapt out. Falling back, it knocked into its own neighbor, which made the original ball fly out, and the process started again.
"How cute!" MacTunia trilled. "This is just the sort of thing I wanted for my redecorating!"
"Great!"
The clank of pots and shouts from the cooks interrupted them just then. Two women had reached for the same ladle, and now they wrestled to claim it. Vicious name calling erupted, and the cooking fires belched more unpleasant smoke. Shaking her head, MacTunia stood with her present.
"Well, it's too smoky here. Wanna finish breakfast at my place? Then you can help me find a place for my tennis cradle."
He was not about to turn down an invitation to spend time with her. He gathered their plates and cups, and followed her out into the clean air and sunshine, just as a carrot in a red kilt and a referee shirt came rushing to the arguing rivals, blowing a whistle.
I hope I don't ever fight like that over someone, MacLarry thought, but immediately his heart smote him. Hadn't he been struggling with bitterness just yesterday because MacTunia showed interest in another inventor, one who was good at sports and had his own sound effects? Didn't MacLarry recreate his Norrius' cradle just to get a little of her attention for himself? How was he any better when he wanted to upstage Ryanicus with inventions instead of cooking?
He mulled over these troubling thoughts while MacTunia led the way to her hut. Humming, she held up her gift, admiring it from different angles.
"You really have a gift, MacLarry," she complimented. Then she sobered slightly. "I just wished I could have seen it earlier."
"You apologized already," he reminded her, "and I forgave you."
"Yeah, but I do appreciate your work now," she returned. "I just wanted to let you know."
MacLarry brightened. "You do?"
"Well, of course," she said, halting to face him. "You're incredibly resourceful, you know. And the way you took charge with the Cheese of Atila, organizing everybody, risking your life, climbing up the bridge machine like an athlete—"
"I did?" he laughed.
"You did."
"You sure you got the right guy?"
"I kept an eye on you to make sure you didn't get hurt," she admitted, "but you went up the rope like a superhero."
MacLarry thought about it. In the heat of the moment, he had been so focused on turning the bridge machine into a catapult that he had not been paying attention to what his nonexistent limbs were doing.
"I guess it's because I had to climb a lot when I was building the bridge machine," he decided. "So when there was an emergency, I just went up without thinking about it."
"Maybe," she replied. "It sure was cool to watch though."
MacLarry grinned. After a pause, he dared to take a step toward her, closing the gap between them.
"You're pretty cool, too," he said. "I've always thought so, even when we were kids."
She smiled. "Yeah?"
He took another step, willing himself to be as brave as he had been during the cheese emergency, though it was a little hard to remember what he wanted to say when he met her sweet eyes.
"In fact," he said slowly, "I would say you're even cooler than cool because, see, I actually, uh, I actually—"
"Psst!"
The two jumped, whirling around toward the sudden noise. They had been walking past Archiemedes' guest hut, but both the yard and the dirt road were void of people.
"Psst! MacTunia! MacLarry!"
Only then did MacLarry see the long nose sticking out of a bush beside the stone wall and the large eyes peeking out imploringly.
"Ryanicus?" MacLarry took a hop toward him, squinting. "What are you doing in there?"
He furtively stuck his head out, his eyes darting down the road.
"Is the coast clear?" he whispered.
MacTunia smirked. "All your admirers are in the hall at the moment, whipping up another feast."
"I could open a food pantry for the poor with what I got already." He groaned a little, then nodded. "At least that gives us some time. This way!"
He led them to the green field behind the guest hut and made them wait by a low boulder. MacLarry laid down the breakfast things, intrigued despite the interruption of a would-be pivotal moment. Minutes later, Ryanicus wheeled out an object a little taller than himself, covered in a sheet. He positioned it near the rock.
"As promised," he said, "here is my latest invention!"
He shot MacTunia a smile, accompanied by his trademark sound effect, and with a drum roll, he flung off the sheet.
MacLarry stared.
Atop a squat, wooden base, Ryanicus had mounted a large wicker basket loaded with tennis balls. Beneath this ran a small chute, which ended just a few feet above the ground. Below that was an axle. Ryanicus had stuck gloved hands onto rods and had attached the rods to one end of the axle like spokes on a wheel. The other end had gears and a crank.
Ryanicus offered a racket to MacTunia, who laid MacLarry's gift on the boulder for safekeeping, and Ryanicus directed her to stand at a certain point while he stood by the machine.
"Now, just get a good friend to turn the handle, and watch her go!"
He cranked the gears as he spoke, and the gloved hands began to spin. A tennis ball rolled down the chute, dropping right into the path of a whirling palm, and the palm launched it straight at MacTunia. She easily swung her racket, sending the ball flying over the green.
"Oooh!" Her face shone. "Again! Again!"
Ryanicus beamed, causing yet another ping to erupt. He adjusted the dial, and this time two balls rolled out mere seconds apart. MacTunia handled them like a pro, practically dancing.
"Wonderful!" she squealed. "You're amazing!"
"Yes, I'll go down in history as the man who launched a ball," he joked. He leaned against his invention, shrugging modestly. "With a teacher like Archiemedes, anybody can invent anything."
They went through the whole basket, then set off together to collect the balls.
"Maybe that can be your next invention," MacTunia joked. "A doodad that retrieves the balls afterwards."
MacLarry hung back. His gaze trailed to the rock where MacTunia's present sat, forgotten and neglected. He squeezed his eyes shut. They felt hot — he told himself he needed to clean his glasses, but his heart knew better.
I could've invented something great if she had asked me, he told himself bitterly.
He visualized himself driving a giant, steam-powered version of Ryanicus' machine, completely squashing the inferior device with its large wheels. He could see MacTunia gazing at him in awe, and he could invite her to ride with him. She would hold onto him tight, pressing her sweet cheek against his shoulder. They would cruise along the meadows. Ryanicus would be left behind to stare sadly at his broken device, but MacLarry would be already on the other side of the mountain, and he would forever hold MacTunia's undivided attention.
A shrill whistle pierced through his dark contemplations, and he looked up to see the referee in a kilt chasing after the two rivals from earlier, still wrestling over the ladle. Ordinarily best friends, the veggie ladies shouted insults they would not be able to take back without a deep, heartfelt apology afterwards, but their stormy countenances said reconciliation was the furthest thing from their minds.
MacLarry's conscience pricked at the sight. He looked at the quarreling rivals as they disappeared among the trees, then back toward Ryanicus and MacTunia, who had paused to watch the scene in alarm.
I don't want to hurt Ryanicus with my inventions just to get a girl to like me, he told himself, even if it is MacTunia.
Sometimes, the best way to win a fight was not to participate. In order to preserve his friendship with both MacTunia and Ryanicus, maybe MacLarry had to remove himself from the picture for a while.
Without excusing himself, he turned back to the guest hut. In moments, he knocked and entered at Archiemedes' call of admittance. The asparagus looked up smilingly from a blueprint.
"Yes, son?"
Swallowing, MacLarry forced a smile and said, "I'm in."
Dad returned to the village the next day, and MacLarry found him in the longhall, playing checkers at the corner of a table with the visiting Emperor Pompous, who had shown up in the village an hour before. Mercifully, none of Ryanicus' admirers dared to usurp the kitchen while the great Chog Norrius was present.
MacBob refereed for the checker players, but the two hardly argued these days. Dad kept the root beer pouring, and they each consumed several bowls of macaroni. (Dad had discovered macaroni in his early days of friendship with Pompous, and he had always used it for special occasions, even during the prank feud. He had actually proposed to Mom with a giant bowl of the cheesy noodles, something only the great Chog Norrius could have gotten away with).
As MacLarry approached the table, Dad paused in his game to smile at him.
"Ah, there he is, my genius son!" he bragged, nudging Pompous. "MacDougal in the other village couldn't stop asking about his wonderful inventions."
"All right, we get it," Pompous chuckled, shaking his head. "The boy lives up to the family name, in his own way."
"He gets his smarts from his mam though, don't you, son?" Dad added, pulling out his wallet. "She taught you how to read when you were still a wean. Most of your books belonged to her."
Dad regularly rotated his collection of MacLarry's baby photos, and he had recently included a picture of him as a toddler, sitting on his smiling mother's lap. The front cover of The Book of Archiemedes was visible as she read to him. Mom's fondness for literature had been a large reason for why Dad had tolerated MacLarry being a bookworm, knowing the deep connection which they had shared.
A nostalgic look crept over MacLarry's countenance as he sat on his father's other side. "You think Mom would've liked my inventions?"
"Liked them? She probably would have encouraged you better than I did," Dad said, growing guilty.
"Oh, don't be hard on yourself, Chog," Pompous put in. "I think you did a much better job at being his dad than I would have, if Bonnie had picked me instead."
MacLarry stared at him. "Come again?"
Dad chuckled. "Eh, your mam was one of the many things me and Pomp fought over, back in the day. She was always traveling to Rome with me when I visited Max in order to learn to make macaroni, so the three of us spent a lot of time together."
"At least until I found out she only wanted to make macaroni to impress Chog," Pompous said, shaking his head. "In hindsight, I could have handled the rejection better."
"He booby-trapped the wedding ceremony with whoopie cushions," Dad explained for MacLarry. He turned back to his friend. "But she always wished we could reconcile, so I know she forgave you before she passed."
"So much wasted time though," Pompous sighed.
His somber tone reminded MacLarry of why he was there. The young cucumber took a seat by his father. Clearing his throat, he hesitantly started to tell him about Archiemedes' invitation. When Dad looked interested, MacLarry gained confidence and laid out his different hopes and goals for the venture into education.
"Ah, listen to my boy, Max!" Dad crowed. "He's a canny lad and going to study under a great inventor like ol' Archie!"
"Perhaps I can set up some kind of scholarship to pay for expenses, kiddo," Pompous offered. "Archie has a family to look after, so you'll need to be somewhat independent, financially speaking."
MacLarry thanked him, and he received congratulations from other listeners in the hall. MacBob offered to give him some of his spare pencils and papers to take with him.
"Your mam would've liked to see this!" Dad smiled, standing. With a pleased laugh, he pulled MacLarry into a bear hug, which his son returned.
"We can celebrate with macaroni tonight!" his father declared. "We'll invite the whole village and our Greek friends, and we'll feast until the sheep come home!"
MacLarry, however, drew back, looking away. A sudden, vivid image of Ryanicus and MacTunia sharing a bowl of noodles made his stomach lurch, completely ruining his appetite.
"If it's okay, Dad, could we maybe hold off on the celebration? I'm a little too tired for a big celebration right now."
Dad nodded, understanding. "Eh, I know my boy. You can't eat when you're too excited, and you gotta get used to the idea of having an adventure first. All right, son. We'll save the macaroni and throw a huge blow-out right before you leave! We'll invite our family in the other villages, including your great aunt, MacRuth."
Pompous gasped. "She's still living?"
"Wonderful woman," MacBob complimented.
MacLarry murmured his agreement and managed to slip away while his dad and MacBob discussed the budget for the going-away party. Outside, he spotted MacTunia and Ryanicus approaching, strolling comfortably down the lane, but at their cheerful greeting, he only jerked a nod and swiveled away.
As he hurried off, he could hear his father booming, "MacTunia! Did you hear the news about my brilliant boy?"
MacLarry was glad when Archiemedes came by his hut that evening and gave him a do-it-yourself kit for building automatons.
"Just my way of saying, 'Welcome to the Team,'" the asparagus smiled. "Look, you can make a singing sheep that doubles as an alarm clock!"
It was tricky and intricate with a lot of wheels and screws: just the kind of project MacLarry needed right then to block out everything else.
An oil lamp flickered contently on his work table. MacLarry kept referring to the instructions, glad as he watched the assorted pieces slowly begin to resemble the picture on the box. After an hour or two, a sharp knock sounded at his door.
"It's open," he called without looking up.
The door creaked open and shut softly. A light footfall crossed over to his work table. The visitor gave a familiar "Ahem," causing him to look up, startled, at the face of MacTunia.
"Oh." He stood. "Hi."
"Hey," she said, but she did not have her usual pep. She held a rectangular tray with a round, plastic cover over something that fogged up the interior with steam. "I made extra for dinner and thought you might like some."
"That's kind of you, Tunia," he said, surprised. "I thought you didn't like cooking."
"I do, if I have a mind for it. Tonight, I did."
He quickly cleared the table for her to lay down the tray. She lifted the cover, and inside was a juice box, a serving of steamed veggies, and a generous portion of macaroni and cheese. His heart sank at the sight, remembering his dad's plans for his going-away party, but he graciously accepted the gift, knowing what it meant for MacTunia.
"Thanks, I'll save it for later," he said. "I've found my flow for this singing alarm clock that Archiemedes gave me."
She gazed at the half-formed automaton, and her face drooped a little.
"Yeah, Chog mentioned you were going on some journey. To Greece, was it?"
"Yeah," he said and explained in compendious terms Archiemedes' invitation.
She thinned her lips. "How long will you be gone?"
He shrugged. He had not really thought about it.
"As long as it takes me to be as good as Archiemedes, I guess."
"That could take years."
"Oh, haha."
"No, I meant, it takes years to study," she clarified apologetically. She searched his face. "Are you going to be okay being away from home for so long?"
"It's good for an inventor to expand his horizons once in a while," he answered. "I might get all sorts of ideas in Greece that I wouldn't get here."
Near his workplace stood a load-bearing post. She crossed over and leaned against it, studying him.
"So, you're really going all the way to Greece, on your own?"
"With Archiemedes, actually."
"But you'll be far away from the village. You won't know anybody else in town."
"I'll make new friends."
She turned her head toward the post, seeming to study the grains of the wood.
"Ryanicus says that Greek girls are awfully pretty," she remarked. "He says I'm prettier though. Isn't he silly?"
He reached for the juice box on the tray in order to hide his twisting face. He managed, however, to keep his tone mild: "If he offends you, just let my dad know, and he'll put a stop to that."
MacTunia chuckled. "That would be an extreme way to turn down a date."
MacLarry shrugged.
"Anyway, I hope you'll write," she said.
"I'll try my best," he said emotionlessly. "I don't know how busy I'll be yet."
"Then maybe I'll visit you instead," she offered. "I can crash on the couch."
MacLarry scoffed, stabbing the straw into his juice box.
"As if Ryanicus would like that…" he muttered.
"What was that?"
He promptly jerked the juice box in the air, gesturing as he talked in order to distract from his little slip.
"MacTunia, I can't have an unmarried woman travel all the way to Greece to stay with me, alone," he pointed out. "Think of what it would do to your reputation."
"Then I guess you'll have to marry me, now won't you?"
He had been just about to raise his straw to his lips, and he froze. He stood there, for a heartbeat or two, before he took a long — very long — quaff of juice.
He lowered the box.
He turned.
"Run that by me again?"
She shrugged. "If you're so worried about my reputation, you ought to do the responsible thing and marry me. Problem solved."
He stared at her. "I'm trying to follow the logic here."
"If we get married, I can visit you anytime I want. I could even move in with you, and no one would care."
She had to be pranking him. He adjusted his glasses, frowning.
"You do realize that would be permanent, right?" he deadpanned. "We don't believe in divorce around this village."
"That's the opposite of a problem."
"Why?"
She gave him an indignant look. "Are you going to make me say it first? I'd thought you'd take the initiative as Chong Norrius' son by now, but if I absolutely have to say it..."
"Say what?" he exhaled, tired of her game. "What am I supposed to say?"
"That you're in love with me, MacLarry Norrius."
The juice box fell from his grasp. His pulse spiked, leaking adrenaline into him, but he could barely move. She had to be yanking his chain: she would probably burst out with laughter once she got a rise out of him, but, strangely, something in her expression looked sincere.
He bent to grab his fallen drink, not looking at her.
"Am I?" he asked carefully.
"Well, aren't you?" she returned. "I'm in love with you, and frankly I don't like that you were going to move to a whole different country without saying something first. A lass won't wait forever, you know, even for someone cute."
He staggered back into his work table. He expected her to shout "Psych!" at his startled reaction, but she only looked at him earnestly, as if expecting him to take her words seriously.
"Rewind, please," he squeaked. "What was that first part you said?"
"What, that I'm in love with you?" she said. "I thought you would've noticed by now, Mr. Inventor."
"You're joking," he breathed.
She looked away. "Not about that."
MacLarry took a step toward her. A funny, eager expression took over his green face.
"You wouldn't?" His voice grew stronger. "Not about loving me, Tunia?"
"You think it's an easy matter to suggest becoming Chog Norrius' daughter-in-law?" she pointed out. "If I weren't interested in you, I wouldn't dream of leading you on. That would offend Chog. And I wasn't going to mention it at all, unless you said something first, but then I heard you were leaving… and…"
She raised her unhappy gaze. "Well… I wasn't going to let you leave without me."
Something clicked, and comprehension glimmered. From her perspective, she was doing the bravest thing imaginable by approaching their formidable leader's son, and the look on her face said he was worth the danger.
He could be brave too.
His smile widened. He leapt over, bringing himself right in front of her.
"It's a long way to Greece," he pointed out cheerfully. "I hope you won't get bored while you're there."
"Ryanicus says there are lots of sports. I'll find something to do. Besides, I'm really interested in those Olympics."
"Then I suppose I'll just have to take you to Greece." He sidled up to her, resting against the post like a school boy leaning on the locker of the girl he fancied. "And I'll have to tell Archiemedes I'll need bigger quarters so that I can take care of my bonnie wife."
She shifted back, pretending to look stern.
"Well, I might have suggested marriage, MacLarry Norrius, but I'm not going to propose," she insisted. "It's your turn to take the initiative."
"Sure, sure," he murmured, willing to play her way.
His mind searched for the right words, and then his gaze fell upon the untouched macaroni on the tray. He gingerly picked it up.
"When my dad proposed to my mom, he used a bowl of macaroni, because it was the most valuable thing he had at the time," he said. He laid it down again and straightened himself. "All I can offer you is a brain full of inventions and a heart that has always wanted you."
"It's enough," she said quietly.
"Then will you marry me?"
She turned her face away. "Hmm, I'll have to think about it."
"MacTunia!" he laughed.
"Done!" she chirped, spinning back with a giggle. "I will!"
Beaming, he pulled her close and kissed her cheek.
His going-away party was to double as a wedding, and his dad ordered the finest macaroni straight from Rome. When Emperor Pompous learned what it would be used for, he personally paid for the pasta, including shipping and handling, as a wedding present for his best friend's son.
"In a different life, I would've been that boy's uncle as he grew up," he explained. "At least I can do this for him."
Archiemedes was happy to accommodate his new apprentice and his future wife.
"Loveymedes will be glad to have another lady around the house," he said. "One of our daughters is a bit of a tomboy, so MacTunia will be a great help, if she can keep up with her."
"She can," MacLarry grinned.
Ryanicus looked stunned when he heard about the imminent marriage, but he congratulated MacLarry heartily.
"She turned me down when I asked her out," he admitted. "Now I know why!"
Unable to shake hands, the two bumped sides and promised to be friends forever.
When the day arrived, their kinfolk came from other villages to celebrate. Bagpipes echoed over the mountains as the merrymakers danced, and during the reception, Aunt MacRuth performed one of her famous puirt à beul numbers to welcome her new niece. Archiemedes came forward with his wedding present: a box which he had ordered from the Food Factory, which contained assorted slices of cheesecake.
"Thank you for being a friend," Archiemedes said sincerely.
"No, thank you, sir," MacLarry insisted.
MacTunia nodded, gazing lovingly at her husband while she addressed the asparagus. "We wouldn't be celebrating right now if it weren't for you."
Ryanicus also had a gift, which he handed to the groom. It was flat and teardrop shaped. MacLarry tore back the wrapper to find a tennis racket.
"Thanks," he said, mystified, "but I don't play."
"You should pick it up," Ryanicus replied. "If your wife is going to support you being an inventor, you should help her practice tennis once in a while."
MacLarry nodded, comprehending. "Yeah, that's a good point."
MacTunia grinned, bumping against her husband.
"Don't worry. I'll go easy on you, sweetie." She tickled his ear with the star-shaped gift bow. "Most of the time."
The next day, MacLarry, MacTunia, and Archiemedes loaded up their wagon and bade goodbye to their friends and loved ones.
To Ryanicus, Archiemedes asked, "Once we get to Greece, is there anything special you would like me to mail to you?"
"Tupperware," he answered without hesitating, "for all the leftovers in my hut!"
THE END
A/N: Archie & Lovey's children — On the album, Bob and Larry Go Country, the immigrant characters (Archibald, Oscar, and the French peas) do their rendition of "God Bless the USA" to celebrate Jean-Claude becoming a naturalized citizen. Archie takes the opening part, "If tomorrow all the things were gone I worked for all life/And I had to start again with just my children and my wife." That seems to imply that Archibald and Lovey had children off-screen. (Maybe that's why she retired from VT. She wanted to focus on being a good mum.)
The disinfectant scene was inspired by a similar moment in the Olsen twins' film, It Takes Two.
"Yes, I'll go down in history as the man who launched a ball" — Ever After reference