“Aye, Hem, what’s bringin’ you about my inn this morning?” Blom adjusted his large square spectacles and peered at the short lil’ guy who pushed his way into the Ragged Maiden. Behind him, outside, a drizzle was starting amidst the gray gloom. Autumn Storms. Nice soothing sound starting out there. Reminded Blom of Meia and the way her eyes —

“Mornin’ Blom,” Hem shrugged with a sheepish gesture aimed at shirking everything. “Aww me ma hollerin’ like a heeber on account of me spreadin’ seeds out in the yard.”

“Well come on in, have a seat.” Blom gestured to his empty counter where no one sat on the seats that sat at the counter which was empty of all patrons at the moment.

Hem trotted on in and looked around the common room as he passed through it. “No Glen, aye?”

Blom’s eyes narrowed a split second before answering. “No Glen, by the noose. You got somethin’ on your mind?”

“BORED,” said Hem in a direct sort of way, loud and straight. “I’m ready to leave this town.”

“Now why’s that, lad? What’s got your grackler in a pabble?”

“I ain’t likin’ it here.”

“Ma’s on your head again?”

“Nay. Aye. I ain’t certain.” Hem sighed and looked down. He liked talking to Blom. Sometimes he could get stories of the Old Days out of him. Before the Ragged Maiden.

“Now now, lad,” admonished Blom as he looked down at the dishes he had to clean RIGHT NOW, “that’s not the way to go about it. Have yourself some boiled apple water. Not to worry, on the head this time.” He passed the beverage across the counter over to the lil’ lad.

“Aye.” Hem took the tankard of BOILED APPLE WATER in measured gratitude and sipped it. It was pretty good. Tasted like apples in the sun. He liked this stuff but it also reminded him of what else was OUT THERE beyond Gilba Gilba. Surely there were other BEVERAGES or inns or innkeeps or adventures worth havin’?

“I know what’s in your mind, laddie,” Blom said, staring at Hem Slonnigum like he’d been scattering seeds all wild-like, which he was just a few minutes ago, and therefore deserving of the look. “Ain’t all the romance yer makin’ it to be.”

“Well that ain’t how Glen tells it,” muttered Hem. “Glen’s got stories on stories.”

“Aye Glen likes to tell ‘em, he does,” Blom said sourly. “Not all his stories need ears, I warrant.”

“Well why’s that?”

“Ain’t got the minutes or the dockets, or even if I did, then the inclination to fill you in on what’s been transpirin’ in the mind of Glen Blomgrin, understand?”

“Where’s he been, hey? His face been noticeable absent these past few times.”

“Oh and don’t I know it, laddie. Let’s put that unsettlin’ question aside for now and turn our ears to sunnier subjects. How’s your da be farin’ of late? Oh he and I go back into the past, we do. Why, once when I was marooned off the Croblakkerkcxyxmerk Islands…”