The Fool on the Hill

"We'll keep killing," Augustus Theobald said.

His voice echoed around the mountains in the late afternoon breeze. Clouds were gathering and the evening was fast approaching as the hateful man led his allies up the steep slope to his small hut high up in the mountain ranges.

"How long until people catch on to what we're doing though? That's if the news of the Tree Gnome Village fire hasn't spread like fire, for all we know the Ardougnese authorities will start hunting us," replied a scrawnier man with greying hair and a bow under his right arm.

"And how will they do that Matthew? Now we have our little friend here."

Augustus grinned, indicating the sack from which squeals and wrustling came, as something inside kicked and fidgeted.

"Are you sure it's him? For all we know it's not a double, all gnomes look the same," Matthew grumbled, lashing the sack with his bow.

"It's definitely him, I could remember his smell," said a stocky man carrying a small steel helmet, far too little to fit his round head underneath his left arm, and clenching a blood soaked sword in his right hand.

"You'll get a good price for that helmet, it's still in pretty good nick," Augustus said, looking at te stocky man's trophy.

"I'm more interested in our godsend in the bag," the stocky man said.

"What shall we do with him?" asked Matthew.

"Let's think of something imaginative," Augustus grinned as they continued their journey.