Of Mice and Dwarfs

The King Dwarf tipped back his head, dug his fists into his hips, and laughed a laugh that sounded like rocks tumbling into a mine shaft. “And if you find a dwarf with an amber bead, do you think that dwarf will share the amber with you? With a rabbit?”

 

“I think so,” said Szerykl. “Yes. If I say please.”

 

She stood on a sunny sidewalk in Wrocław, Poland’s city of dwarfs. Sheri and Michael were elsewhere in the town doing what Michael called “research.” Something about history and protests and a bunch of artists called The Orange Alternative. Alternately, Szerykl’s mission was to find a dwarf with a bead of amber, one of the four beads the Rabbit Prince needed so he could become Rabbit King. Wrocław had so many dwarfs – hundreds – that Szerykl didn’t know where to begin her search. She decided that a dwarf king might know best how to find a rabbit king’s amber.

 

The King Dwarf laughed again. “Does the ocean give up its amber to ‘please’? Do the earthen depths give up their salt to ‘please’? No, little rabbit, even if you can find a dwarf with an amber bead, don’t expect them to part with it because you say, ‘please.’ ”

 

“Who are you calling little?”

 

The King Dwarf laughed. “I like you, little spunky rabbit. But then, we dwarfs have an affinity for digging, tunneling little things. Rabbits, worms, cicada larvae. We keep them as pets. Will you be my pet?”

 

“Not even if you say please.”

 

The King Dwarf laughed again. Tumbling rocks. An avalanche of boulders. Crunkle crunkle.

 

“My experience,” said Szerykl, “is that Polish people much appreciate the word please. ‘Please take this seat,’ they say. ‘Please enjoy your food. Please tell me what you want.’ And then, when you say thank you, they don’t say you’re welcome. They answer please...!”

 

“Polish dwarfs are not Polish people,” said the King Dwarf. “We have our own ways! Fare well, little rabbit! When you find a dwarf with an amber bead, PLEASE remember what I told you! Crunkle crunkle...”

 

As she hopped away, Szerykl could hear the echoes of his laugh. Fortunately, in Wrocław, dwarfs showed themselves in front of nearly every shop or office door, rain or shine. Over and again Szerykl stopped to ask a dwarf about an amber bead. She asked a detective dwarf, a radio operator dwarf, a plein air painting dwarf, a dwarf protesting for a woman’s right to vote ...

 

None knew a thing about any dwarf with an amber bead.

 

Then she came upon two performing dwarfs: one sang while the other danced ballet.

 

“Very nice form,” Szerykl said to the Ballerina Dwarf. “Almost as good as my friend, E.”

 

“Your friend must be quite the dancer,” said the Ballerina Dwarf.

“She sent me these clothes.”

 

“Not a good dancing outfit.”

 

Szerykl explained that she wasn’t in Wrocław to dance but instead to find an amber bead. Upon hearing that, the Opera Dwarf bellowed in a stone-shaking bass:

 

“THE TRASH OF THIS WORLD IS BECOME THE TREASURE OF THIS WORLD!”

 

The Ballerina Dwarf pirouetted.

 

“Which means what?” asked Szerykl. Instead of clarifying, the Opera Dwarf offered a switcheroo.

 

“THE TREASURE OF THIS WORLD IS BECOME THE TRASH OF THIS WORLD!”

 

“Which means...?”

 

“Which means,” said the Ballerina Dwarf, “go search the garbage.” She pointed across the street where a Sanitation Worker Dwarf was emptying bins.

 

Hoppity-hop-hop.

 

As rude as the King Dwarf had been, the Sanitation Worker Dwarf was kind. “Of course,” he said. “Please do search the bin. If you find something helpful, please feel free to take it. Reuse and recycle!”

 

Szerykl hauled herself up to the tippy-edge of the bin and nearly fell in as she searched. Such marvelous garbage! A broken pickaxe, wilted spinach, several mismatched and holey socks, wet cigarette butts, and then ...

 

“Are you sure?” Szerykl said. “I can take this bead of amber?”

 

“Please,” said the Sanitation Worker Dwarf. “I think the King Dwarf threw it out. Can’t be worth much. He’s as greedy as they come.”

 

Szerykl thanked him and hurried back to the hotel where she was staying with Michael and Sheri. Along the way, she saw the King Dwarf through the window of a jewelery shop. He was getting his crown polished. When he glimpsed her through the window, Szerykl raised the bead of amber so the king could see. He winked, then threw back his head and laughed.

 

***

 

Back in Kraków, Szerykl asked Gummy the Spider where she might find the Rabbit Prince.

 

“He’s awaiting you in a field of daffodils,” said Gummy, “at the park with statues of famous Polish people. Happy spring!”

 

At the park, Szerykl hopped from daffodil patch to daffodil patch until she found the Rabbit Prince. He looked happy. Szerykl could tell because of a shine in his eyes.

 

“It’s happening!” said the Rabbit Prince. “You gathered an amber bead from the Stone Knight and now from a dwarf. That’s two.”

 

“Only half, though” said Szerykl. “We still need amber beads from mice and a dragon.”

 

“Not the mice,” he said.

 

Then he wiggled his ears, and Szerykl noticed between them an amber bead that pulsed as if it held all the get-up-and-go of spring, and around them suddenly the world was only daffodils, daffodils, daffodils!

 

“Cool, huh?” said the prince.

 

“How?” asked Szerykl.

 

The Rabbit Prince shrugged. “I know a rabbit who knows a guy who knows a guy who knows some mice. I had to call a number to reach a mouse who had me talk to another mouse who told me where to meet them and what to bring. That’s how I found myself in a meadow under a full moon, dragging a bag of cheese by my teeth. Sketchy, but it worked.”

 

“So now, all that’s left is one amber bead from the dragon. Easy-peasy. I’ve met a dragon. They’re chill.”

 

The Rabbit Prince bunny-hopped toward a park path, away from the daffodil fields. “You know,” he said, “one dragon is not the same as all dragons. It’s like someone saying, ‘I met this rabbit, and rabbits speak all the world’s languages.’ ”

 

“They don’t?”

 

He turned to Szerykl. “I don’t.”

 

“So: not all dragons are chill?”

“I’ve met some bad boys. And this Kraków dragon who guards the amber bead is the worst. You know what they say about him: ‘Eating heroic knights like popcorn since the Middle Ages.’ ”

 

“There aren’t so many heroic knights around, though.”

 

“Because the dragon has eaten all of them.”

 

Szerykl shuddered. She followed the prince, who had hopped up onto a pedestal next to a tree stump.

 

“I’ve got a friend who will help us, though. We can feel pretty brave with him alongside us in the dragon’s lair. He’s called Wojtek.”

 

“I know that name,” said Szerykl, pronouncing it. “VOY-tek means, roughly, ‘Happy in Battle.’ ”

 

“And so I have been,” came a deep, woodsy voice from high above them, a voice that thrummed in Szerykl’s ears down into her bunny chest. “That was the name given me during World War II when Polish soldiers raised me from a cub, and I joined their small army. Oh what fun to wrestle them and learn how to salute and to stand guard. Soon, though I’d grown up – seven feet tall!”

 

Suddenly, Szerykl understood. What she’d thought of as a massive tree stump was actually the back paw of a gigantic and fearsome bear who loomed over them.

 

“We fought the Germans in Italy,” said the bear. “My job was to lug heavy crates of shells from supply trucks to the artillery men. But that was long ago. Yes, I am a happy warrior, but in times of peace I am happiest, so then I prefer other names. You can call me Charley Bear.”

 

“Nice to meet you Charley Bear,” Szerykl said.

 

The Rabbit Prince wiggled his ears. “What do you say, friends? Ready to face a knight-eating dragon?”

 

“Maybe sort of not,” said Szerykl. Then, Charley Bear reached down and lifted her to his shoulder. Szerykl shut her eyes and gritted her little teeth.

 

“How about now?” Charley Bear asked.

 

Szerykl opened her eyes. She relaxed her jaw. Yes, this was different. Charley Bear was a tower, and Charley Bear’s muscle and strength flowed into her as if it were her own, and down below Szerykl saw the Rabbit Prince ready to leap from the pedestal into adventure, and, yes, his bravery became her own. After all, wasn’t Szerykl a Magic Rabbit? Hadn’t she already confronted a Stone Knight and talked to a spider and escaped an amber prison and found treasure in the garbage?

 

Szerykl knew: she could do anything.

 

“Please,” she said. “Onward!”

"Please!" Szerykl said. "Onward!"