31 - The 4-Minute Work Week and Other Advantages of Being a Toddler
Deep in the Woods, Around Dinner Time
Jonathan bounded through the woods gleefully, pointing out all the colors he could spot. Tim bounced on the hulking three-year-old's back and felt slightly more nauseous with each step. Even though Babalador had slowed the poison, it was still getting more painful with each passing moment. His iron dwarf constitution would only get him so far, and he was hoping to find these lizerdlings soon.
Meanwhile, Jonathan was having the time of his life with his new playmate. The elder fairy seemed interested in all the things a three-year-old would like, such as colors, shapes, and numbers. So, naturally, numbers were a big hit.
Thus, at one point, Babalador asked if Jonathan would like him to count while the kid jumped. Jonathan hopped down the path, and Babalador was at 1,432 when Tim couldn't take it anymore and cried out, "Okay, okay! Please stop before I lose the tiny bit that is left in my stomach."
The fae one huffed and said, "You have to know how to play with children. They need your constant attention, or they will go wandering into a Willowby Bear's maw."
Babalador was correct about the attention part. While they walked, all the plants and animals that seemed threatening to Tim were swiftly dealt with by the fairy. The silver grass that had nearly dragged Tim into the depths let go of the kid with some soft music from their guide. The yellow-scaled gecko was chased away with a stick. The trees that would rumble when they got close were soothed. Even the reverse griffon creature that seemed to be giving Tim the eye nodded at Babalador and said, "Sup."
"It's amazing you got him to this age," the elder fairy commented to Tim. "What's he? Forty-seven? How long do humans live? The last lord had me in servitude for 30 years... Do your minds just evolve late? Seems like there is not a lot of time between youth and death for you folks."
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
"There will be way less time if you don't get me to that necromancer," Tim said between winces.
"Always rushing about. Never taking a moment to appreciate life. It's not the length of time you are given, but how you spend it that counts."
"You're not helping."
"Been around for thirteen millennia, but will anyone listen to my advice? Oh, no, they all think they know better. There, up ahead, the village of the lizerdlings."
Jonathan dropped Tim and yelled, "Green, they are all green!"
"That's right, they are green!"
Tim forced himself to sit up and observed that they were on the edge of a city built into the forest. All the vegetation had been cleared away except for the trees with trunks the size of a house. In every one, there was a door carved into the base. Mighty one-eyed ogres lumbered through the town, chatting with each other, chewing on pig carcasses, and doing their chores, like cutting new doors or weaving baskets, just about every profession a villager could ever need.
Tim saw one of the creatures trade a barrel of a white goopy substance with another in exchange for a new leather belt pouch. The tanner opened the barrel and had a taste of what was inside. His significant other smacked him over the head, and the tanner quickly put the barrel cover back on.
"Right, then," Babalador said. "Here we go. One, two, let's go. Pick up your friend."
Jonathan again hefted Tim over his shoulder, and they walked into the village, unaware that lizerdlings were better known for their ability to smash things with clubs than negotiation skills.