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Tranquil Toadstool Tavern

by Bill Tiepelman

Tranquil Toadstool Tavern

Deep in the heart of the Old Widdershins Woods, where the cell service was nonexistent, and the mushrooms grew big enough to warrant their own zip code, there was a spot few humans had ever laid eyes on. It was neither a pub nor a picnic area but something far more mysterious and slightly questionable: the Tranquil Toadstool Tavern. Its bartender? A gnome named Garvin, though his friends called him "Garvin the Gnarly" due to his propensity for dispensing unsolicited advice with the subtlety of a sledgehammer. Garvin didnโ€™t much care for adventurers, and he really didnโ€™t care for tourists who stumbled into the forest in search of โ€œauthentic gnome experiences.โ€ Heโ€™d seen enough neon-t-shirted hikers poking at moss with selfie sticks to develop a permanent eye twitch. So, on the rare day a human stumbled upon his spot, Garvin usually hid in the bushes. But today, he was exhausted. A Sip of Solitude Wearing his favorite moss-lined hat (which doubled as camouflage for napping), Garvin settled onto his favorite mushroom stool, grabbed his Corona Extra, and sighed. Finally, he was alone. No bothersome trolls hawking โ€œenchanted rock carvings.โ€ No elves with their lute-playing and glitter-shedding. Just him, his beer, and the comforting smell of damp forest floor. โ€œHereโ€™s to peace and quiet,โ€ he muttered, tipping his Corona in a toast to absolutely no one. The bottle was almost as tall as his torso, and it took both hands to keep it steady. But he didnโ€™t mindโ€”it was a small price to pay for tranquility. Enter the Unwanted Company Just as he took his first, refreshing swig, a loud rustling erupted from the undergrowth. He spat out a mouthful of beer. โ€œOh, for the love of fungus. Canโ€™t a gnome get a moment to himself?โ€ A squirrel the size of a large house catโ€”furry, overfed, and glaringโ€”sauntered over, sniffing the air. It was Poppy, the unofficial tavern pest and a bit of a freeloader. She always knew when Garvin cracked open a beer, and she had the audacity to judge him for it. โ€œIsnโ€™t it a little early for that?โ€ she chittered, nose twitching with disapproval. โ€œItโ€™s five oโ€™clock somewhere,โ€ Garvin shot back, rolling his eyes. โ€œBesides, arenโ€™t you supposed to be hoarding acorns or whatever it is you oversized rodents do?โ€ โ€œFirst of all, Iโ€™m a squirrel, not a rodent,โ€ Poppy said, standing on her hind legs, looking indignant. โ€œSecond, I have a reputation to uphold. Canโ€™t have the local humans thinking all forest creatures are lazy drunkards.โ€ โ€œYouโ€™re lecturing me on reputations?โ€ Garvin scoffed, gesturing to Poppyโ€™s expanding waistline. โ€œAnyway, this is my break. Just me, my beer, and absolutely no small talk.โ€ โ€œYouโ€™re doing an excellent job at it,โ€ she retorted, before scurrying off in a huff. The Arrival of the Toadstool Regulars As Garvin raised his bottle again, the usual cast of woodland misfits ambled into view. First, there was Cedric, the fox who considered himself a sommelier, though his idea of โ€œfine wineโ€ was any liquid that didnโ€™t outright poison him. Then came Elowen, the owl who had convinced herself she was a poet despite her only two topics of expertise being night and rodents. โ€œWhatโ€™s that, Garv? Corona again?โ€ Cedric asked with a smirk, sniffing the air. โ€œIโ€™d have thought a worldly gnome like you would go for something more refined.โ€ โ€œItโ€™s a classic!โ€ Garvin grumbled. โ€œNot all of us are born with taste buds that can detect notes of oak and pretentiousness.โ€ โ€œYou could at least squeeze a lime in it, dear,โ€ Elowen cooed, perched on a low branch, feathers rustling with amusement. โ€œA little citrus, a little panache, you know?โ€ โ€œLime? This is beer, not some alchemistโ€™s elixir!โ€ Garvin grunted, taking another sip. โ€œBesides, I donโ€™t see either of you bringing anything to share.โ€ They both looked at each other, slightly embarrassed. Cedric muttered something about a โ€œwine shortageโ€ while Elowen claimed she was โ€œsaving her inspirationโ€ for a reading that night. The Buzzkill Bunny Just as Garvin thought his suffering was complete, yet another figure appeared: Bernie the Rabbit. A self-appointed health coach, Bernieโ€™s entire personality could be summed up in two words: unsolicited advice. โ€œGarvin!โ€ Bernie hopped over, looking mortified at the beer. โ€œYou know alcohol isnโ€™t good for you, right? It dehydrates and ages you.โ€ Garvin stared at the bottle, then looked at Bernie, raising an eyebrow. โ€œBernie, Iโ€™m a hundred and fifty-seven years old and have been drinking since before you were a dust bunny. I think Iโ€™ll be fine.โ€ Bernie frowned, twitching his nose with exaggerated concern. โ€œMaybe switch to kombucha? I hear itโ€™s all the rage with forest influencers.โ€ Garvin gave him a withering look. โ€œLet me make this clear, carrot-muncher: Iโ€™m not switching to kombucha. If I wanted to drink fermented swamp water, Iโ€™d visit the bog witch.โ€ โ€œSuit yourself,โ€ Bernie shrugged, hopping away with an air of judgment so thick you could cut it with a butter knife. A Moment of (Finally) Peace At last, the critters dispersed, leaving Garvin alone once more. He took a final, savoring sip, enjoying the earthy quiet that enveloped him. The soft glow of the sun filtered through the leaves, casting an almost magical light over the forest floor. โ€œAhhh,โ€ he sighed, content. โ€œThereโ€™s nothing quite like a cold one and some quiet.โ€ Then, from somewhere in the forest, he heard an unmistakable rustle, followed by a voice shouting, โ€œHey! I think I see a gnome! Quick, get the camera!โ€ Garvinโ€™s eyes widened as he pulled his hat low over his face, muttering, โ€œNope. Iโ€™m done. Forestโ€™s closed. Everyone go home.โ€ And with one swift motion, he slipped behind the largest toadstool, blending seamlessly into the mossy undergrowth, determined to preserve his peaceโ€”even if it meant playing hide-and-seek with every selfie-stick wielding intruder until winter. Some days, being a gnome wasnโ€™t easy. But Garvin wouldnโ€™t trade his little corner of the woods for all the kombucha in the kingdom. ย ย  Bring a Bit of Gnome Magic Home If Garvin's woodland sanctuary speaks to your heart, why not bring a little "Tranquil Toadstool Tavern" magic into your own space? Weโ€™ve got a cozy collection of products featuring this whimsical scene, perfect for gnome lovers and forest dreamers alike: Tranquil Toadstool Tavern Tapestry - Transform any wall into a gnomeโ€™s retreat with this vibrant tapestry that brings the forest right to your home. Tranquil Toadstool Tavern Puzzle - Piece together this cozy scene, one mushroom and mossy detail at a time. Tranquil Toadstool Tavern Wood Print - Add a rustic touch to your decor with this print on wood, perfect for any nature-inspired space. Tranquil Toadstool Tavern Beach Towel - Bring a bit of the forest with you to the beach or poolside! And for true gnome aficionados, donโ€™t miss our brand new 2025 "My Gnomies" Calendar. It's packed with charming gnome scenes to keep you company all year long. After all, Garvin may need his peace and quiet, but your walls could use a bit of that gnome magic!

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