Note: These short stories are set in The Magical World of Zealandia, offering glimpses into its adventures and mysteries. While they can be enjoyed on their own, reading Zealandia: The Dreadstones Grasp will provide deeper context and enrich your experience!
Tom and Victoria sat on the damp forest floor, surrounded by the chittering of eager Penglos. The tiny creatures were bustling around them, waddling in and out of their mossy, mound-like homes, each carrying a new item to add to the growing pile.
Penglos were peculiar beings—part magical butler, part obsessive collector. About the size of a large loaf of bread, they resembled baby penguins, with glossy black-and-white feathers and bright, curious eyes. They loved all kinds of objects, from sparkling gemstones to simple household tools, and were known for their tendency to hoard anything they deemed interesting. Yet, despite their eccentric collections, Penglos were surprisingly fair traders, always willing to exchange something from their hoard for the right item.
“I can’t believe this is taking all day,” Tom grumbled, adjusting his position on the ground. His legs were falling asleep. “We just need one thing—one tiny gear for Gramps’ clock!”
Victoria rolled her eyes. “It’s not their fault. They don’t understand what a clock gear is. All they know is that we’re looking for something special, and now they’re showing us everything they think is special.”
Tom glanced at the latest addition to the pile: a perfectly ordinary spoon, slightly bent at the handle. He sighed. “How is that even remotely helpful?”
A Penglo chirped indignantly, fluttering its stubby wings as it placed a shiny glass marble on the pile.
Victoria gasped. “That’s gorgeous! Not useful, but gorgeous.”
The Penglo puffed out its chest with pride.
“Right,” Tom muttered, rubbing his temples. “Let’s try this again. We need something metal, small, and shaped like a circle, okay?” He mimed the shape with his hands.
The Penglos stared at him, unblinking.
Then, as if on cue, they all scurried back into their homes, disappearing through the shimmering arched doors.
“Do you think they understood?” Victoria asked.
Tom slumped back against a tree. “I think they’re just excited to show off their hoards again.”
Minutes later, the Penglos began returning, each carrying an item that they dropped ceremoniously at Tom and Victoria’s feet.
First came a button. Then a glittering gemstone. Then a set of silver tongs that were almost as big as the Penglo dragging them along the ground.
“Not. A. Gear,” Tom groaned, gesturing towards the steadily growing mountain of mismatched items.
Victoria, meanwhile, was sorting through the pile, her curiosity piqued. “Look at this one! It’s an old pocket watch. Maybe it’s broken, but we could—oh no, they’re gone again.”
Sure enough, the Penglos had scurried off to fetch more treasures.
“They’re adorable,” Victoria said with a grin, “but we’re going to be here forever.”
Just then, a Penglo emerged from its home, dragging something metallic and round. Tom sat up, hope flaring.
“Is that... is that a gear?”
The Penglo chirped triumphantly as it plopped the object down in front of them.
Victoria picked it up, inspecting it closely. “It’s a... bottle cap.”
Tom threw his hands in the air. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”
The Penglos huddled together, chittering amongst themselves. One of the larger ones, wearing a shiny necklace made of paperclips, waddled forward and gestured towards the pile of items Tom and Victoria had brought to trade.
“I think it’s asking us to try again,” Victoria said.
Tom sighed, reaching into his bag. “Fine, but this is my last offer.” He pulled out an old coin—from Gramps’ coin collection he had reluctantly allowed Tom to use. It gleamed faintly in the dappled sunlight.
The Penglos froze, their tiny eyes locking onto the coin. They chirped loudly, and suddenly, every single Penglo vanished into their homes.
“Did we offend them?” Tom asked nervously.
But moments later, they returned, each carrying an assortment of gears. Large gears, tiny gears, gears of every shape and colour.
Tom’s jaw dropped. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Where were these the whole time?”
Victoria laughed, sorting through the gears until she found one that looked just right. “Perfect!” she exclaimed, holding it up.
The Penglos chirped happily, clearly proud of themselves, as Tom handed over the coin.
“Thanks,” he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. “For a species of magical butlers, you’re not great at prioritising.”
The Penglo who had brought the bottle cap waddled up to him, nudging his hand with its head.
“All right, all right,” Tom said with a reluctant grin, giving it a gentle pat.
As the Penglos returned to their homes, Victoria and Tom began their trek back through the forest.
“You know,” Victoria said, turning the gear over in her hands, “I think they just wanted to make sure we worked for it.”
Tom smirked. “If that’s their idea of teaching patience, they’ve got a weird way of doing it.”
Behind them, the Penglos watched from their doorways, their shiny hoards gleaming in the fading sunlight.