Story #1478

Prompt: Alvenheim paced back and forth in his small office, reading through the disappointing letters from vendors across the kingdom. Each one praised Fickler's inventions as brilliant, marvelous, ingenious even, but none had placed an order. The self-stirring teapot was too expensive. The automatic boot-tier required rare components. The singing doorbell, while delightful, cost more than most families earned in a month. He sighed and walked to Fickler's workshop, where the gnome inventor was already tinkering with a new contraption involving springs and tiny bells. When Alvenheim explained the situation, Fickler's pointed ears drooped with disappointment, but he nodded thoughtfully. Perhaps it was time to think differently, to create something people truly needed rather than merely wanted. Over the following days, Alvenheim gently steered their conversations toward more practical inventions. What if they could create something that solved a real problem? Something that would make daily life easier for ordinary folk? The breakthrough came when Alvenheim suggested a flying carpet or perhaps a flying chair, something that could transport people from place to place without the need for horses or long walks. Fickler's eyes lit up immediately, his mind already racing with possibilities. He sketched designs late into the night, calculating weight distributions and propulsion methods. But after a week of failed prototypes, he had to admit the harsh truth: flying contraptions required not just clever engineering and quality materials, but also magic. Real, powerful magic. And neither of them was a wizard. It was the baker's wife who mentioned the goblin wizard living atop Mount Grimrock, a few days' walk from the village. Flakey, she called him, though she admitted she had never met him herself. The stories said he had lived alone up there for decades, studying ancient spells and brewing strange potions. Most villagers considered him either a myth or a hermit best left undisturbed. But Alvenheim saw opportunity where others saw obstacles, and Fickler was desperate enough to try anything. They packed supplies for the journey, hired a guide for the first day, and set off toward the distant peak that loomed gray and forbidding against the sky. The climb up Mount Grimrock was far worse than either of them had imagined. The path, barely more than a goat track, wound along cliff edges where one misstep would mean a fatal fall. Loose rocks skittered beneath their boots, and cold winds howled through the passes, carrying the threat of storms. Alvenheim, who prided himself on his business acumen and negotiation skills, found himself clinging to rock faces and wondering if any deal was worth this terror. Fickler, shorter and more agile, fared somewhat better but still complained bitterly about the lack of proper handholds. By the third day, both were exhausted, bruised, and more convinced than ever that the world desperately needed a flying people transporter. If they survived this mountain, they would make it their life's mission to ensure no one else had to endure such a journey. They found Flakey's tower just as the sun was setting on the third day, a crooked stone structure that seemed to grow organically from the mountain itself. The goblin wizard who answered their knock was not at all what they expected. Small and green-skinned, with wild white hair that stuck out in all directions, Flakey blinked at them with enormous yellow eyes as if he had forgotten what other people looked like. He wore mismatched robes, one sleeve purple and one sleeve orange, and his pointed ears were adorned with tiny bells that jingled when he moved his head. He stared at them for a long moment, then suddenly grinned, revealing a mouthful of crooked teeth. Visitors! Actual visitors! He ushered them inside with such enthusiasm that he tripped over his own robes twice, chattering excitedly about how lonely it had been and how he had so much to show them, though his thoughts seemed to scatter like startled birds, jumping from topic to topic without warning. Alvenheim and Fickler exchanged glances, wondering if they had made a terrible mistake, but they had come too far to turn back now.