Tick Tock

Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock. Sproing!

“Bugga... Oi, Fizzul, pass da hamma. No, da hamma. Datz a spanna. Da hamma. Yez... datul do...”

Crunch. Ding. Ding. Ding.

Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick...

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

“Dammit. Ooz dat?”

“Open this door in the name of The Dark Lady!”

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

“I erd da bangin, alrite. I jus axd oo dat woz, iz all.”

“Open this door in the name of The Dark Lady!”

“Ya wot?!”

“Open this...”

“Yeh, yeh... I erd ya now mon.”

Clunk. Whirrrrrrrrrrrr. Thud! CRUNCH! Schlurp.

“Oi, Fizzul, go an get da mop an bukkit. No, da mop an bukkit...”

Creeeeeak.

“... an be quik, we dunt wonna be ere wen dey send mo a deze lot”

Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock.

"Bugga, an I juzt got settuld bak in..."

"Now den. Yu be stayin ere an... wot? Dunt be lookin like dat at me. Yu be performin an important funkshun."

The Gnome looked at the Troll with silent, rheumy eyes and blinked mournfully.

"Stop dat. An bugga off."

Shrugging the leprous assistant trundled off and began sweeping bits of paper and scraps of this and that. Rubbish you might call it. But some of it quivered and tried to oozily crawl away, other bits twitched and leaked.

All along the Troll gathered the most important books and scrolls, lumps and trinkets and carefully threw them in a massive battered trunk. His subordinate dutifully swept the room clean of detritus, everything in a pile. He stamped down the top, crunching and squelching the mound.

Adjusting his goggles the Troll looked around, and sighed. Once again forced to depart the 'City. Once again pestered by the servants of Her Upstairs. They just didn't understand, that was all. Or they didn't trust him. Which was wholly unreasonable, of course.

He was quite sure some of the tales were true, that the Royal Apothecaries were busy again with concoctions far more potent than his own. But then again, alchemy was only part of his work. He'd delved much deeper than mere chemicals and compounds.

Perhaps they knew something. Perhaps the Gnome had let slip something. How, he was unsure. The thing was mute (indeed he had no tongue). And it was unlikely it had the functions to write or make a mark more than an X. But the Guards had come calling. And he'd had to answer their enquiries. Bluntly. And in a permanent fashion.

Scratching at the scar on his chest he sighed. Not that it mattered now. He was going, and his assistant had one last duty to perform.

"Dats enuff ov dat... start da fiyah now."

Obligingly the Gnome jumped from the debris and lit a match. The rubbish caught quickly, it was time to go.
Grufftoof heaved his travelling chest through the shimmering portal that appeared on the floor. With a pop and smell of ozone and it was gone.

Finally he turned to the Gnome, it's eyes blindly reflecting the rapidly growing fire, and brought the cleaver down sharply.

And with another pop, he too was gone.