to follow it, but it went up, up into the trees where I could not follow.” He said this with a hint of sadness.
“Don’t fret, my boy,” said his father clapping him on the back. “I’m sure there will be more opportunities for you to hunt fairies in the forest.”
“Oh no, Father. I would never hunt them, I only want to watch them and learn what they do.”
“Quite right,” chimed in his godfather. “It wouldn’t do to go hunting fairies, you never know what might happen. They can be mighty mischievous. Why I know one story about a group of brownies who had something to say about the name and running of this inn.”
“I’ve never heard that one. Do tell it, Mr. Cyning,” said Alfred excitedly. His parents smiled, having heard the story many times before themselves.
Mr. Cyning, sat up straight and began the story, “The Broken Spoke had just been finished. It was not, however, called The Broken Spoke to begin with. Originally, it was called The Tarnished Bell. It was called Tarnished Bell because the tavern owner Henry Bucklin, great grandfather of the Mr. Bucklin who sold The Broken Spoke to Thomas Brandy nearly thirty-five years ago now, has it really been that long. . . Where was I?”
“It was named The Tarnished Bell because Henry Bucklin—”
“—Because Henry Bucklin used an old, lacklustre bell to let people know when the tavern was open. He hadn’t quite set on a name until he heard two of his patrons out and about in town say, ‘Oi, are you going to the tarnished bell this evening?’
“‘You know I am, Wilfred, we go there every evening and enjoy a few pints. I tell you, I don’t know what I’d do if it weren’t for the tarnished bell. I sometimes think I live to hear it ring in the evenings, work bein’ what it is and all. Well, I see you there after work Wilfred.’
“‘Right then, I’ll see you tonight, Franklin.’
“‘The Tarnished Bell,’ thought old Henry Bucklin to himself, ‘that isn’t a bad name for my tavern, not a bad name at all.’ So the next day Henry set about making the sign. He worked well into the evening to the point where he fell asleep with the sign unfinished.
“Now, there happened to be a group of brownies that lived near the tavern.”
“What exactly are brownies?” asked Alfred.
“Brownies are small creatures, not more than six inches high, most of them. They’ve got little mouse like tales and long whiskers on their faces. Other than that they look much like miniature versions of people. Now, the thing about brownies is they don’t have proper surnames when they’re born.”
“Why not?” asked Alfred.
“It’s just the way brownies are, they’re proud folk and prefer to make it on their own. So, instead of each father passing his surname on to his children, the young brownies must find their own surname. And before you ask how, I’ll tell you. Brownies have to earn their surnames by doing something for a human. I see you’re still confused. Have you ever heard the story about the old cobbler who was working on a fancy pair of shoes and fell asleep with them unfinished?”
“Yes,” replied Alfred.
“Well, as most people tell the story who is it that helps the old cobbler?”
“Elves, I always heard it was elves.”
“And that is where everyone gets it wrong, it was not elves that helped the old cobbler, but brownies and that old cobbler was more then likely none other than Alfgar’s father. You remember Alfgar, the lad in the story about the goblin attack on this very city. Very good. Anyway, on top of all this Father Christmas’s helpers aren’t elves, elves aren’t even tiny, no, Father Christmas’s helpers are brownies.”
“Really?” said Alfred with excitement in his eyes.
“Yes, really. Now then, the brownies had been watching for some time to see if there wasn’t a way they could earn their names, and this was it. “The old man has finished carving the sign, it simply needs to be painted we could become Painters and have our surnames, finally,” said Alan, who was the leader of this small group of brownies. The brownies agreed that this was their best chance, so after Henry Bucklin fell asleep they sneaked into his room in the tavern and finished painting the sign for him. They toiled all through the night creating beautiful colors as only a brownie can. You see brownies, as soon as they set to a task, become extremely efficient at it. It’s why a brownie must choose carefully what job they want to do, because once they choose they’ll only be good at that job and it is very hard for them to change vocations, but that is a story for another time.
“The following morning, when Henry awoke, he looked down and saw the finished sign. ‘I must have finished it during the night and have forgotten about it,’ said Henry to himself. Now this greatly angered the brownies—”
“Why?” asked Alfred.
“Well, you see lad, there are actually two parts to a brownie’s receiving his surname. The first is doing something helpful for a human. The second, however, is the human thanking the brownie or brownies involved by acknowledging their work as their own, or simple confusion over who has done all the work for him. When Henry did neither, but assumed he had finished the work, the brownies grew outraged because they had notreceived their surnames. ‘All right lads,’ said Alan in a hushed voice. ‘If this old codger isn’t going to recognize us as the finishers of his work then we’ll have to cause him some mischief.’
“I highly recommend, if you can ever help it, lad, never anger a brownie. He takes on many impish tendencies when you do and he will find a way to cause you harm or at least extreme annoyance.
“Well, for the first week or so after the brownies had finished Henry’s sign, things went well for him, people were frequenting the Tarnished Bell, travellers liked the rooms enough to recommend them to others, everything was running smoothly. It was at the height of his success that the brownies struck.
“It started with a few horses getting knots in their tails, right outside the Tarnished Bell. Then horses’ shoes would come loose while they were tied up outside of the Tarnished Bell. When this did not produce the desired effect, the brownies decided to make matters worse. ‘Here’s what we’ll do,’ said little Alan the brownie, ‘we’ll start breaking the wheels of both passing and standing carts in front of the tavern,’ and break them they did. Men would come out of the tavern and find all of their spokes broken. Carts that were driven past the tavern would first have their horses spooked and then the cart would come crashing down as the wheels shattered under their own weight. Upon inspection, they would notice tiny little nicks in the spokes. The brownies used the little knives that all brownies keep to do the dirty work.”
“Why do brownies keep little knives?” asked Alfred.
“They keep the knives much like we do pocketknives, you never know when one might come in handy. The only difference is that a brownie’s knife is much stronger and sharper than our pocketknives and can cut through almost. anything. Now where was I?”
“The brownies were using their knives to cut the spokes of cartwheels.”
“Ah yes, this caused Henry much trouble, as he was unsure as to the reason of these occurrences. On top of that, patrons of the tavern visited less often and most. spoke of the tavern as the home of the broken spokes.
“Henry
