Bernard the Bus Driver's Badly Broken Bus

Interpreting the trolls' "QQqueeeuUUuUuRRGH!" as an aggressive encouragement for me to leave, I turned and continued my trek down the hill. A moment later, I felt a heavy tap on my shoulder. Ow! And I had less than half the ingredients for 'Binds The Broken Collarbone' too!
I turned back to face the trolls, my shoulder tingling with that strange 'pain' thingy again. Someone needed to work out a potion which permanently masked its effects, I decided. Perhaps I could do that very thing once I had finished my apprenticeship...
The larger troll stood before me with his hand held out, something spherical and red resting in the hollow of his palm and dripping slightly. He had a smile on his face, and was nodding encouragingly. ""FfffueeeuUUuUuRRGH!" I noticed behind him the smaller troll seemed to be in something of a sulk, and had one hand firmly clamped across his/her eye. Strange. Pollen, I thought. Can be such a pain up in these hills if you get it in your eyes. And 'Subdues Hay Fever' was a tricky one without any Fat Of Rat.
I gratefully accepted the Eye from the troll, and a second time turned away from the trolls to resume my walk. Turns out troll intonation was slightly different to human! How fascinating! I wonder if I could design a potion which eliminated such cultural faux-pas from happening. 'Hears The True Meaning' could be a good title for such a brew, I thought.
Being so close to the end of Myron's book was causing me to think about what next, it seemed. And so I spent the next three hours as I walked down the hill dreaming up potential potions I could develop and put into my own book with which I could torment generations of desperate apprentices... Oh, and help people, of course.

Eventually I reached the base of the hill. Strange that Myron had chosen to live so far away from people, when his particular form of magic seemed to be one of the most helpful and benevolent! Surely a potion-making magician would want to live somewhere urban, surrounded by crowds of adoring fans-I mean customers. Then he could sell plenty of product and become rich and successful! Myron had missed out on a potential goldmine, I decided. Flight and fireballs were cool, but they didn't have half the earning potential of a good stock of potions.

At the base of the hill there was a road, winding away in both directions as far as the eye could see, and then probably further. And on the near side of the road was a pole with a picture of a donkey towing a cart tied to its top with twine. At the base of the pole there was an empty bench.

A bus stop! Excellent! I sat down and waited for the next bus to arrive.

***

Three hours later, I saw a donkey towing a cart approaching slowly from far down the road. But the cart was traveling so slowly I decided to walk towards it, so I could board sooner. Upon reaching the bus, I noticed several things. Firstly, the only person on board was the driver. Secondly, the donkey was exhausted - a lather of sweat coated its grey hide, its tongue hung out in thirst and it barely had the strength to keep its wobbling legs walking forward. And thirdly, three of the bus's four wheels were, well... nonexistent. On three sides the bus was being dragged on its axles through the dry gravel of the road surface.
"Stop, you idiot! Can't you see you're killing the poor thing! And your donkey is pretty exhausted too!" I caught the driver's attention with a sharp and commanding shout.
He pulled the donkey to a stop and observed me through widening eyes. I quickly realised I was dealing with a man who had most likely never finished High School. Or Intermediate, Primary, and possibly struggled his way through Kindergarten too.
"We-ell, now who thinks he's the big Mr smarty-robe who knows how to run old Ber-nard's bus?"
I waited for a secondary comment, but none came.
"Ah, I do. My name's Omric, and I'm... almost a magician. One potion away actually, but who's counting! Ha!"
"We-ell, now who thinks he's the big Mr smarty-robe..."
"Yes yes allright, I heard you the first time. And again. I do. How about we get you some new wheels and your donkey a drink of water, hey? Then maybe we can speed up your operation and find you a few more customers."
"Things have been awful quiet lately." Bernard observed sagely. I chose not to comment on this blindingly obvious truth, and instead had a bit of a scout around the back of Bernard's cart for any useful implements.

An unused bag of Donkey Chow.
A socket set.
Three spare wheels.
A Jack.
These would have all been really useful things, had they been in the back of the cart. Instead, all I found was a dried up sponge and a dead cat.
Hmm...


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