Colin, and the Stench of Woe

Colin, and the Stench of Woe

A curious tale for all ages

By Ashley Paddon

Copyright 2011 Ashley Paddon

Smashwords Edition

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Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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Table of Contents

Chapter 1 – Yaks, and the wisdom of cheese.

Chapter 2 – The journey begins

Chapter 3 – Trombones in the night

Chapter 4 – The cheese breaks its silence

Chapter 5 – Free ale at the free house

Chapter 6 – Bananas in the darkness

Chapter 7 – Wetshirt the Brave

Chapter 8 – Choices, choices, choices

Chapter 9 – The miscellany of a madman

Chapter 10 – A very sorry state of affairs

Chapter 11 – Gone

Chapter 12 – What you need to know about eggs

Chapter 13 – Nothing seems to last forever

Chapter 14 – Happy to be happy, and nothing more

Chapter 15 – Things that go ‘roar’ in the dark

Chapter 16 – The mystery continues

Chapter 17 – Klebb makes an appearance

Chapter 18 – Battle rabbits

Chapter 19 – Sadness, woe, and pictures on stones

Chapter 20 – A nice cup of tea

Chapter 21 – The Wonder Skunk

Chapter 22 – The doors of Fivecakes

Chapter 23 – Have faith in your feet

Chapter 24 – A very unfriendly neighbourhood

Chapter 25 – Rustling in the poplars

Chapter 26 – The secrets of the landlord’s box

Chapter 27 – The big unveiling

Chapter 28 – Into the alley of darkness

Chapter 29 – The battle commences

Chapter 30 – Wetshirt’s journey

Chapter 31 – One last time with Mrs. Hatpaddle

Chapter 32 – The Canal Street incident

Chapter 33 – A very happy day

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Chapter 1 – Yaks, and the wisdom of cheese.

‘Curious!’, thought Colin to himself, as he pulled himself out of his hole, dusted off his coat, and emptied the biscuits from his boots. It had clearly been a strange night, and not one which he immediately recollected in his current state of being. There was a niggling thought in the back of his mind that something may have taken place involving aquatic mammals and a trombone, although that seemed a little less than feasible, as he was in the centre of what appeared to be a rather large desert. Quite how he got there was also as yet unknown, as he lived in a mostly rural area which was rife with green vegetation, and not a bit desert-like. Still, rather than dwell on the mysteries of his current whereabouts, he decided to adjust his attire, clear his head, and concoct some kind of plan that might enable him to get back to his village, and return to normality.

The sun was slowly beginning to rise, warming up the morning sky nicely, and bringing an end to the coolness that the night had provided. Up ahead, he could see what appeared to be a large collection of tents, but still being half asleep, he couldn’t be sure. Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t. Either way, it was the only visible thing other than desert, so off he went. As he approached, he could hear music and what appeared to be some kind of celebration. For what, he had no idea, but it didn’t seem to matter. If they were having a good time, they would be highly unlikely to want to do him any harm, he thought. As accurate as his assumption seemed to be, he soon realised, that although this may ring true for people, the same could not always be applied to some of the other participants of the animal kingdom. A faint rumbling sound was rapidly growing louder, and before he knew it, a vast stampede of yaks was bearing down upon him. Diving out of the way, he came to the conclusion that today was quite possibly going to be the most eventual and bewildering day he had experienced for quite some time.

Dusting off his coat and picking himself up for the second time, he carried along his way. What previously seemed to be tents were now confirmed as definitely tents, and the celebrations were still underway. This gave him a good feeling, and he smiled his first smile of the day. He could hear the music loud and clear, and there was singing - much singing. Some kind of festival? A wedding? Whatever it was, it smelled good. Aromas like he had never before experienced were wafting their way into the desert, and for a moment, Colin’s head had emptied of all thoughts. His stomach was now in full control, and food was now not only top of, but the only thing on the agenda.

As he approached the festivities, he saw a small and rather confused looking old man, sat on a boulder and muttering things in what appeared to be a variety of languages, while repeatedly stabbing at the sand with a stick. He was about to walk on by, when something caught his attention. The old man was holding in his non-stabbing hand, what looked to be a fish with a yellow ribbon tied around its middle, and dangling a few inches below this, was a small wooden box. The box itself, was ornately decorated with carvings and gold leaf and looked very important. Excuse me. said Colin, slightly nervously. The old man grunted, and carried on stabbing at the sand. Colin knelt down in front of the him and noticed that underneath the large brim of the old man’s hat, there was quite an impressive handlebar moustache, and a patch over one eye. Excuse me! said Colin once more, in a slightly elevated voice. The old man stopped his stabbing momentarily, raised his head, and looked at Colin with his one good eye. There will be plenty before it is done!, he said in hushed tones. Plenty what? asked Colin. The old man looked up once more. Plenty!. Colin scratched his head for a moment and stood up. He looked back down at the old man, but he, along with the fish, had vanished.

The box however, had not vanished. Carefully, he picked the box up, and tried to open it. It was locked, and there didn’t seem to be a key for it anywhere, so he slipped it inside his coat and carried on. He had seen some strange things in his life so far, but this was by far the strangest, and by his reckoning, it was only about half past ten.

As he walked past the first couple of tents, he found himself in an opening of considerable size. There was indeed a festival taking place, and wherever he looked, good times were rolling. There were various stalls dotted about here and there which were selling their wares, and a variety of entertainment for all to enjoy. There were no sad faces, just those of joy, and then it hit him – that wonderful smell again. What was it, and where was it coming from? He made his way through the crowds, and came to what he could only describe as a wonderland of pies, aided slightly by the sign above the stall which read ‘Mrs. Hatpaddle’s Wonderland of Pies’.

Greetings, traveller, a small and fairly croaky voice said from somewhere inside the stall, and what can I be tempting you with today?. This was quite unlike any other stall that Colin had ever happened across, as it seemed to stretch back as far as the eye could see, and then further still. There were pies everywhere. Small ones that would probably be good for a small child, right through to some which looked like they could easily feed a family of six for a whole week. While he was still deciding, the owner of the small and fairly croaky voice emerged from the shadows. This was Mrs. Hatpaddle herself, well renowned, and considered by some to be the best pie maker the world had ever seen. She was a little under five foot in height, with hair that was as white as chalk, and a smile and eyes which looked as welcoming as a big fat comfy settee after a hard day’s work.

Half an hour and one medium sized chicken, leek, and cheese pie later, and Colin felt like a new man. He had eaten the best pie he could remember, washed down with a tankard of ale, and his stomach was no longer showing signs of anger. For the first time today, things had actually made sense. Colin decided that he should go back and thank Mrs. Hatpaddle for such a wonderful meal. This seemed like a good idea at the time, but given the previous events which had transpired that day, he should probably have reconsidered, and just moved along.

He wandered back to Mrs. Hatpaddle’s stall to thank her, but instead of the little white haired lady he expected, he found a large tattooed young man. You after Hatpaddle? asked the man in a reasonably burly manner. Colin confirmed that he was indeed after Mrs. Hatpaddle, and the tattooed man led him to the back of her stall, and through some curtains, where he found her sat at a large round table adorned with candles. Welcome, she said, will you join me?. Colin sat down at the table, and she began to speak.

There is a long and sometimes dangerous path ahead of you. Deep within the Mountains of Frozen Souls, lies the village of Graap the Protector. It is written, that on this very day, a stranger will arrive who will end the curse, and release the souls, so the dead may be at peace. For centuries now, Graap has been guarding the magical thrimble. You must take ownership of the thrimble. Then, and only then, will you be able to return home. Colin looked bemused by this and was about to speak, when she continued. You will meet friends along the way, and you will meet foes. Some will help, and some will not. For now, trust nobody, but yourself and the cheese, for the cheese is wise and will not deceive you. There is one other who can be trusted. His ways may seem strange at first, but he will not let you down, and will prove to be a valuable ally in your quest. Go now, and begin your journey. These will help. The large tattooed man handed Colin a small sack. How will I know when I have found Graap? he asked. He carries with him a stench. A foul one, unlike any other. Heed the wisdom of the cheese, and follow your instincts, and remember – trust only yourself and your ally!

A number of things had now become very clear, mainly that this was certainly no ordinary day. He stopped for a minute to gather his thoughts and came to the conclusion that he was probably dreaming this, and would soon wake up to find a nice cup of coffee and a fried breakfast waiting for him on his kitchen table. Yaks in the desert, old men who disappear into nothingness taking with them a fish, but leaving behind a small locked box, a curious old woman who sells pies and talks of cheese, mountains, and thrimbles? He was quite sure he had never heard of a thrimble before, nor did he know what one looked like, and yet he was going to have to find and take ownership of one before he could get back home. If this was not a dream, thought Colin, he was about to embark on a very long journey. He opened the sack which the large tattooed man had passed to him and arranged the contents neatly on the sand.

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Chapter 2 – The journey begins.

The sun was now at full strength, and sitting high in the sky above him. He thought considering he was in the centre of what seemed to be a never ending desert, that he would have been uncomfortably hot, but there was a refreshingly cool breeze blowing which seemed to keep the temperature down nicely. He looked down at the sand, and at the contents of the sack that he had laid out before him. There was a large canteen – although no liquid was to be found within, a compass, a leather purse full of coins, a length of rope, a lantern, a pick axe, a large loaf of bread – slightly stale around the edges, a telescope, a deck of playing cards, a smallish dagger with a handle carved in the shape of a lion with a hole where the lion’s eye should have been, a rather antiquated and quite basic map, and some cheese. He gathered everything but the purse, map, compass, and canteen, back into the sack, and aside from stopping briefly to fill the canteen with water, started to make his way northeast. The map was not the most comprehensive he had ever seen, but it did appear to be of some use.

With the sounds of the festival now far behind him, a small wooden box, and a sack containing an assortment of items, he started retracing the steps of the previous evening – or at least what he could remember of it. The last thing he could recall was leaving the pub, where he and a few chums had thrown a sending off party for two of their friends. They had recently got married and were off to spend the rest of their years, along with their lottery winnings, on an island somewhere off the coast of Australia. He had walked as far as the Post Office, and then nothing.

As he had continued on his way, he noticed the sand seemed to be getting a little firmer underfoot. He stopped for a moment to look around, and at this point realised he had been walking ever so slightly uphill. Up ahead the sand started to be interspersed with grass, and Colin thought he could hear the sound of water. It was very faint, and he had to listen very carefully, but it was definitely a very watery sound. He picked up his pace, and what he found next was far beyond any place he could have dreamt up in a million years. Not only was the desert now officially behind him, but he appeared to have stumbled on some kind of utopian fantasy world which looked as if it had come straight from the pages of a child’s book of fairy tales.

A stream flowed away from a magnificent waterfall, and wound its way between two of the lushest, greenest meadows Colin had ever seen. Dragonflies and butterflies flitted about on the banks of the stream, a variety of fishes in all manner