Elliot and the Goblin War (Underworld Chronicles 1)

Mr. Willimaker coughed. “That’d take a miracle, not magic.”

“Very impressive,” Fudd Fartwick said, coming forward from the shadows. “I must say the Goblins were no match for you, Your Highness.” He raised his voice loudly enough so the Goblins inside the trunk could hear him. “It appears the Goblins didn’t realize that Mr. Willimaker would tell you about the water. They should’ve planned something more foolproof.” He turned to Mr. Willimaker. “Go poof somewhere and get King Elliot a glass of water. I’m sure he’s thirsty.”

Elliot wasn’t. Half his room was soaked in water. But Mr. Willimaker was gone before he had a chance to say so. However, he quickly understood that Fudd was only trying to get Mr. Willimaker out of the room.

“Be careful of taking any advice from Mr. Willimaker,” Fudd warned. “In Burrowsville he’s nothing more than a joke. Not a joke as in, ‘Why did the giant cross the road? His foot was already on the other side.’ But still a joke.”

“Queen Bipsy trusted him enough to give him my name as king.”

“Only because nobody else was around at the time. Trust me instead. I’ll keep you safe.”

Elliot nodded. “Thank you, Fudd. I’m sure I’ll need your help too. But Mr. Willimaker has given me good advice so far. I don’t care what the rest of Burrowsville thinks of him. He’s my friend.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.” Mr. Willimaker stood behind Elliot with a glass of water in his hands. He lowered his eyes and said, “I am a joke in Burrowsville, that’s true. I made a big mistake about a field mouse invasion a few years ago, but I’ve learned a lot since then. If you want me to leave—”

“The Goblins would’ve gotten me tonight if it hadn’t been for you,” Elliot said. “No, Mr. Willimaker, I don’t want you to leave.”

Mr. Willimaker’s ears perked up. “Whether they laugh at me in Burrowsville or not, I’ll still serve you the best I can.”

“Your best isn’t good enough for Elliot,” Fudd said. He threw up his hands and kicked at the trunk, which bounced again on the floor. Then he looked at Elliot. “So you threw water on a few Goblins. Do you think that makes you prepared to be a king? Do you think you could fight off somebody like Kovol?”

The air in the room seemed to change when Fudd said that name, as if a cold wind of warning was blowing through. Then Elliot looked at the wafting curtains over Reed’s bed and shrugged. “Oh, the window’s open.” He shut it and asked, “Who’s Kovol?”

Mr. Willimaker’s eyes darted from side to side, and his voice shook when he spoke. “I’m sure Kovol is nothing to worry about, nothing at all. As long as he stays asleep, which I’m sure he will for another thousand years, then we’re fine.”

Kovol wouldn’t sleep for another night if the Brownies visited him as often as they visited Elliot’s house, Elliot thought with a yawn.

“Never mind about Kovol,” Fudd said. “You have enough trouble with the Goblins. Mr. Willimaker helped you tonight and you got lucky. I don’t think you’ll be so lucky next time.”

“Next time?” Elliot said.

“Oh, yes.” Fudd’s thin eyes widened until Elliot could almost see what color they were. Almost. “There will be a next time. And the next time will be far worse.”

Mr. Willimaker rubbed his hands together nervously. “In the meantime, Your Highness, perhaps I could have the Brownies help out downstairs. There’s a squeak on your staircase we could fix. Or how about a delicious breakfast of fried eggs?”

“No, thanks,” Elliot mumbled, moving from the trunk to his bed. “I’m not hungry anymore.” His trunk full of Goblins rattled again, reminding Elliot that, yes, they would be back. And, no, it wouldn’t be so easy the next time.

Down in her hole, Patches was getting hungry for another carrot. Happily, she didn’t have long to wait before another one was lowered to her on a rope, again held just out of her reach. It smelled of turnip juice, and Patches’s mouth watered.

Like me, Dear Reader, I’m sure your mouth began watering for some turnip juice when you read that. You should stop reading this book and get yourself some turnip juice right now. If someone in your family just drank the last cupful, then don’t be sad. You can make your own.

To make turnip juice, get the biggest pot in your kitchen and fill it with fresh turnips. If you wish to add any of your other favorite vegetables, such as asparagus or Brussels sprouts, that’s fine too. Boil until they’re tender, and then dump them out on your kitchen floor. Smash the soft turnips with your feet, and gather up any juice that squishes between your toes. It’s a treat your whole family will enjoy!

Patches wanted the carrot that had been boiled in turnip juice, but first she was ready to have some fun.

“I don’t care what happens to King Elliot anymore,” Patches said, trying to sound angry and tired. “Just get rid of him so I can go home.”

Actually, she wasn’t in too much of a hurry to get home. She had a lot of chores waiting for her there. Cleaning her room was the hardest job, since it was made of dirt and, therefore, was always dirty. Besides, the Goblins made very yummy carrots that she didn’t have to share with anyone.

“Tell me how to get rid of the king, then,” Grissel said. “The not foolproof plan didn’t work.”

“I was thinking about chocolate cake. It punishes Brownies, right? So it’s certain to punish a human.”

“Are you sure?” Grissel asked.

“Last time I was with the humans, I saw a mother put a chocolate cake on the table. She said it was bad for her diet and she shouldn’t have any. She finally took some, probably so her children wouldn’t have to eat it all. But I heard her say she only wanted a very small piece. It must have been awful for her.”

Grissel smugly folded his arms. “Chocolate cake it is. And without the frosting or milk, of course.”