What would a Granny do for you?

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In a little place, far from ways where tall men no longer thread, in a forest which elves forsake, on the ground the short men abandoned, where the gnome's words held no sway there was a community of beings. 

Some would call them evil, but they just enjoyed life. 

Some would call them monsters, but others did far worse things and were called heroes. 

They fought for their land, they did what they had, to survive. To live. 

And if somewhere to say they were monsters for it, so be it. They didn’t care, they lived far from towns, far from other species and races. They were alone in the wild, in peace with each other and nature itself. There were countless numbers of them all over the world, but this place was their home, here they could return and not be hunted. 

Here they could be safe. 

Still some chose to leave, to hear the gnome's words and leave their paradise. Did you know? There was no crime in this community, no unhappiness or murder. There were no those without roof over their heads or those that did not fit in, they were all there. Living, enjoying life, enjoying the utopia they did not know they had. 

Still some chose to leave this place, and look for the ‘civilisation’ in the distant lands. For other races and people, who once haunted their own for pleasure and joy, for sprawling cities of millions. They left thinking the grass is greener on the other side, thinking they had it bad. When they only heard of other places and have not been there themselves. 

Many young people were like that. Many left, many did not come back. 

They must have liked it there, where they went. It must have been better there, since they did not return.

Still, others came back and spoke how they felt there. Ostracized, looked down upon, hunted and mocked for being what they are. They talked about the smoke filled skies, of endless jobs and needs, of stocks and moving people. Of starvation and people dying in the cold alone. 

Yet, they talked about their own who found themselves there, who soared there like a bird in the sky, raising. Who found companions among other races, even the Gnomes. Who heard their words and found truth in them, who swore to come back to this community and change it. 

Make it better. Bring civilization to it. 

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Grandma Bo wasn’t one of those who left and came back, well she did in a sense. But, not now. Before. She was old, you know. Very old. She hasn’t been exactly counting, but this should be her sixt- no, seve- or perhaps even more than that. There was of her young time, when she was on an adventure, then when she settled down, then when all that was uprooted, then the war, and the second war. 

Granny Bo, rose from her sofa as he thought swirled around in her head, pacing down and up her nap room. 

Then the skirmishes, then peace, followed by yet more war. 

Oh, there was that time she was stuck in a dungeon for a while as well. 

Counting all that … she shouldn’t be over her eightieth century? She wasn’t that old in fact, there was several old crones who were-

The sound of boiling kettle snapped her out of her thoughts, making her rush towards it. Of course, every good nap room has to have a place to boil water, otherwise wouldn’t you have to leave it to go get it? But, what has gotten Grandma Bo so worked up? Why is she stressed, what is wrong? 

As you might know today is the mail day, and Grandma Bo, like everyone else has gotten her mail. There were many happy ones, pictures and well wishes as well. Even that old cougar Larry has sent her something. 

A smelling fart, but even that is better than indifference. 

 Mary the Third is getting married to one of the Charlies’ get. 

Johans is having triplets. 

Lucy had advanced her career, while Filip lost his job. 

Albert sent her ‘mystery dirt’ from his adventure. 

And Filo the boy sent her a picture of the river delta far north. 

Andreson, Frank, Ivan, Zheng, Xio, Bu, Sun… all of them sent something this time. Even Larry. Even Frankie. 

Frankie was one of her get who left home young, taken by his adventuring parents who thought they could raise a child while the dwelled ancient ruins and dungeons. Fools, both of them. And more fools them, who hadn’t crossed all lines and stopped them. 

The tea spilled from her cup, she noticed. Her hand was shaking so bad, she barely managed to lower it to the table. In a hurry she grabbed a handkerchief to wipe few letter that tea got to, tea will mark them forever now. 

Oh those fools. 

Frankie's parents got killed. And he? Adopted by Gnomes!

She tried taking him back, of course. She rushed as soon as she heard, and she heard it very fast. But, alas it was too late, those Gnomes had gotten their sticky little paws into him already. He wouldn’t leave, not while their sweet and honeyed words dripped into his ears. And they were chasing her out, calling her wild. 

No matter, she will have her offspring one way or another.

So she created a distraction. 

And she got to spend time with her little Franky all by herself. No Gnomes and their silken lies, no their money clicking in their pocket, no their prestige radiating off of them like a halo. No divine intervention. Only her, and her grand grand son. Other family members were also nearby, offering support and encouragement to Franky, hoping to bring him home. 

He weavered at first, as all kids do, then he came back. 

It was the happiest moment the family had in a while. They might have lost Frankie's parents, but at least he is alive and well. And with them. 

Party didn’t even last a full month, before they noticed that Frankie was gone. Again.

He even left a letter. 

To the Gnomes. To those filthy cowering Gnomes he went. Leaving his family, his blood, his tribe. Leaving the goblins and their ways, having found himself there, he said. 

Of course she did not give up? Who would?

She tried and tried, but each time they talked it seemed they have gotten more and more of their perverted manipulation in his head. She kidnapped him, she kidnapped others and made him come, she got him by someone else, she killed, she tortured and still he wouldn’t come back. 

Can you believe? 

After Franky threatened to cut the sign of his Goblinhood off, she backed off. She had no other choice, she had to give him time. And prepare. That brainwashing wouldn’t be easy to cure, still there was time. Franky will make it. And as things were drawing to completion, she got a letter. From him.