Bramblethwaite, Malinor, and Todd

by Christopher Degni

Bramblethwaite hadn’t expected the Chosen One to be so… greasy, but Chosen Ones came in all forms. He’d consulted the Oracle of Amatar multiple times; there was no chance of error. This young man holding a bag of Fritos in one hand and a Switch in the other while nestled in a pile of wrinkled clothes was exactly whom he sought. 

“You’re telling me you’re, like, a magician?” Todd popped another chip into his mouth and crunched away. 

“We have already discussed that,” said Bramblethwaite. In fact, they had been covering the same ground in this dank and odorous dormitory room for hours now. 

“Do me a solid, man,” said Todd, “and pretend like we haven’t.” 

Perhaps the boy’s specialness was hidden deep inside. 

“Observe me: I wear the robes of the Luminari,” said Bramblethwaite. “I bear the Grey Amulet. I wield the Staff of Power!”  

“I just thought you were British.” 

Quite deep inside indeed. 

“You do not read much, do you? There are many in your popular lore who resemble me in purpose and spirit. Have you heard not of Gandalf? Dumbledore? Merlin?” 

“Those sound like nerd things to me. Do I look like a nerd to you?” 

He did not. Perhaps a different tack. 

“I blew smoke rings—” 

“Oh yeah, that was cool!” 

“—and a smoke dragon that flew through the rings and breathed a small spark of flame!” 

Todd crunched another chip, then crumpled the bag and tossed it into the corner of the room. “I gotta be honest, man, I was kinda high when you were doing that. Can’t blame me for not realizing it was quote unquote real.” He made a gesture that Bramblethwaite did not appreciate. 

Bramblethwaite slammed his staff against the ground and deepened his voice. “Enough, you fool! We must begin your training! Are you not the least bit curious about your place in this whole tale? And the nature of my magic?” 

“Maaaagic,” said Todd. He giggled. “Do you, like, pull a rabbit out of that pointy hat?” 

“I am not that sort of magician.” Bramblethwaite thumped his staff on the floor as he paced the room. 

“Don’t tell me you do prop work,” said Todd with a roll of his eyes. “I remember there used to be this guy with a funny name, a watermelon, and a giant ham—” 

“Malinor is coming!” 

“Does he do prop work?” 

“He is the Dark Lord!” Bramblethwaite started mumbling to himself. 

“Oh geez, man, I don’t think you can say that. It’s kind of racist.” 

“I am not speaking of the color of his—never mind! Todd, even now, Malinor is amassing his power deep in the primal forests of Britain—” 

“I knew you were British!” 

“He is amassing his power, and soon both our worlds will be blanketed in twilight for eternity.” 

“Am assing,” Todd giggled. 

“Todd! Concentrate! You must be prepared to face him!” 

“Listen, Bristlewhistle—” 

“Bramblethwaite!” 

“—actually, this Molinar dude?” Todd started whispering conspiratorially. “He got to me first. He wanted me to drive you crazy. I didn’t think it would be this easy!” 

No, this could not be. Could this dimwit have outmaneuvered him so badly? 

 “He is a master of lies,” said Bramblethwaite. “What did he promise you to betray the forces of good?” 

“Haha, I’m just effing with you, man. Wow, are you sensitive!” 

This was quite enough. Bramblethwaite cast a softening spell to loosen up Todd’s mind. 

“Did you hear that?” said Todd. “It was like a popping sound inside my noggin.” 

That was strange; softening targets usually had no subjective experience of anything being amiss. Bramblethwaite cast a scrutinize spell to determine what effect his previous charm had had. 

Nothing. The boy seemed impervious to magic. 

“I feel bad about that whole Morinal prank,” said Todd. “I’ll make it up to you, B. My stash of weed is in the bottom drawer of my desk over there. Let’s—” 

“For the love of the Amatarii, could we simply—what are you doing now?” 

“I wanna put on the pointy hat, man.” Todd poked his grubby hands at Bramblethwaite’s head. “Gimme!” 

“Todd, stop.” Bramblethwaite slapped him away. “Stop it. Stop!” 

If he had to spend just one more moment with Todd, it would be the absolute death of him. A scintilla of an idea came to Bramblethwaite; he chuckled at his own cleverness. The death of him, indeed… He muttered a few words of power. Immediately, the air ripped open beside him. 

“Todd, behold!” 

“Whoa, man,” said Todd as he approached the rift, “my stash must be stronger than I thought.” 

“A step closer, my lad,” said Bramblethwaite. When Todd was mere feet from the opening, Bramblethwaite pushed him through and said a sealing incantation. The portal snapped shut. 

“Let us see how you like spending time with the Chosen One, Malinor.” 

Bramblethwaite ambled over to Todd’s desk. “Now, where did he say that stash was?”