Elliot and the Goblin War

  Elliot turned back to the smoky pile of rubble. "When I said I'd become king, I didn't know things would go this far. I'm just a kid. I can't protect myself from the Goblins. Now it looks as if I can't protect my family. I can't save the Brownies either."

  "I have to tell you something," Mr. Willimaker muttered nervously. "Something I should have told you at the very start. The truth is that Queen Bipsy didn't exactly give me your name. She told me to choose the king, and I was the one who wrote in your name, because you saved Patches three Halloweens ago. I never thought the Brownies would let a human become king. I never thought any of this would happen."

  "So I'm not really the king?" Elliot asked.

  "Not if you don't want to be."

  Elliot shrugged. "I'm just not sure if I'm right for the job. But I have to finish what the Goblins started. After that, I'll decide whether I'll stay as king."

  "But what are you going to do?" Mr. Willimaker knotted his fingers together. If he twisted his hands any longer, he might never get them apart again.

  Elliot pushed his jaw forward. "If I can't go to the Underworld, then I'm bringing the Underworld here. We're going to rescue Patches. Then we'll find out who is helping the Goblins. Then we're going to teach the Goblins a lesson once and for all."

  Mr. Willimaker bowed low to Elliot. "At least for now, my friend, I'm very glad that you're our king."

  Elliot's father wasn't as angry as Elliot had expected him to be about their blown-up house. Or maybe he was just in shock.

  "The staircase had a squeak in it," he said, staring at where the staircase used to be. "I guess that's not a problem now. But that's all right if we don't have a staircase, since there's no more upstairs. If anyone did try to go up the staircase, they'd just fall off at the top."

  On the other hand, Elliot's mother just shook her head and about every ten seconds would mumble, "Oh dear, oh dear." Elliot also noticed she had stopped blinking. That probably wasn't good.

  The police had been at the house for three hours trying to figure out why it blew up. Uncle Rufus confessed that maybe his passing gas had somehow blown up the house, but the police said they were sure that wasn't the cause. Passing gas has only been rumored to blow up a house one time in Sprite's Hollow, and that was supposedly after the owner gorged on some very spicy chili for an entire year. Elliot knew that unless the police had Goblins on their list of suspects, they'd never find the real answer.

  Wendy shambled by Elliot with a pitcher of water in her hands. Elliot wondered where she'd found it. "You thirsty?" she asked him.

  "Nah. Sorry about what I said before, about you burning our food."

  Wendy smiled. "Don't worry about it. I'll be burning our food again in no time." Then she hurried over to offer their mother a drink.

  "I can't believe it!" Agatha said, walking up behind Elliot. "Why, this is unexpected. I don't remember cursing your house."

  Elliot sighed. "It wasn't you, Agatha. The Goblins did this."

  "Oh. I hoped I had cursed your house to explode. Then I'd know I had my powers back."

  "You've always had them," Elliot said. "You just weren't doing your rhymes correctly."

  Agatha tilted her head toward Elliot. "What do you mean?"

  "The last words in all your curses. They're not the right words. You say 'sung to by a pea' when you mean 'stung by a bee.' Or 'eat something hairy' when you mean 'meet something scary."

  Agatha drew back. "I meant something hairy. Like a Yeti."

  "Yetis aren't real."

  Agatha laughed in a way that made Elliot think maybe she knew something he didn't. A shiver ran down his spine, and he said, "Anyway, the only time you got the rhyme right is when you cursed me to meet the Goblin leader alone. I figure that's still going to happen."

  Agatha's voice softened. "Everyone gets cursed at times in their life, Elliot. The trick is, can you look past the cursing? Can you see it for what it is? Take your house, for example. Beyond the exploded pieces, what do you see?"

  Elliot shrugged. "I guess I'm really lucky that nobody got blown up inside my house. And it wasn't that great a house anyway, so we haven't lost much." He sat up straight as an idea came to him. "And maybe it'll help me end this war. I know what I have to do!" He turned back to Agatha, and his eyes widened.

  She was still Agatha, but her tattered dress was flowing and perfectly white. Her knotted gray hair was gone, replaced by long, silky blonde curls that waved softly in the breeze. Her warty, oatmeal skin was now creamy and soft. He couldn't tell how old she was, because she was ageless. Uncle Rufus was right. She looked like an angel.

  "You're beautiful," Elliot whispered.

  "I always was," she replied. "You just didn't know it until now."

  "I need you to stay with me, please, Agatha. I have to fight the Goblins, and I need your help."

  "No, you don't. All you need is the Brownies, and all they need is you. You are their king and you will save them." With that, she clapped her hands together and began to walk away.

  "Where are you going?" Elliot asked.

  "To say good-bye to your Uncle Rufus. Now that I can curse again, I have places to go."

  "Hey, if you happen to see this boy named Tubs Lawless, give him an extra curse for me," he called after her.

  Agatha pressed her lips together and then said, "A boy like Tubs doesn't need me to curse him. He has enough problems."

  Elliot shook his head. Tubs didn't have problems. He was the problem. "Yeah? What problems does he have?"

  Agatha turned and her clear, green eyes pierced straight through to Elliot's mind. "His problem is that one day you'll figure out who you are. Then he won't be able to bully you anymore, Your Highness."

  Agatha gave Elliot a gentle bow and then walked over and spoke to Rufus. He looked sad for only a moment until she reached up and kissed his cheek. Then his face lit up. He beamed and wished her a warm good-bye.

  Reed came to stand beside Elliot as they watched Agatha leave. "I'm glad she's going," Reed whispered. "I know letting her stay with us was the right thing to do, but she was the scariest-looking thing I've ever seen."

  "She's not scary," Elliot said. "She's a beautiful young woman. I was lucky to have met her. We all were."

  Reed chuckled. "Careful. Whatever's the matter with Uncle Rufus, it looks like you're catching it too."

  After Agatha was out of sight, Uncle Rufus ran a hand across his head and then marched over to two policemen and talked with them. A few minutes later, they all walked over to Elliot's parents.

  "What did you steal now?" Mother said to Uncle Rufus. "We've got a bigger problem to deal with here."

  "No, it's good news this time," Uncle Rufus said. "These nice officers have arrested me so many times we've become quite good friends. They want to help us with our blown-up house. They said the jail is nearly empty tonight, so if we want to stay there for a day or two, they'll let us stay for free."

  Mother shook her head, but Rufus added, "The meals are good, and the beds aren't too bad. The only fellow in the jail right now is another friend of mine. Perfectly harmless."

  "What's he in jail for?" Father asked.

  "He steals the wool off sheep. Sneaks into their pen and shears them in the middle of the night. So as long as we don't bring any sheep into the jail, we'll be fine."

  Father shrugged. Mother sighed. Then Rufus smiled and clapped his hands together. "Okay! The Penster family is going to jail!"

  "Yay!" Cole and Kyle gave each other high fives.

  "Er, I'm going to stay with friends tonight," Elliot said. His friends were the Brownies, but he didn't think his parents needed that detail.

  Mother folded her arms the way all moms do when they're not sure something is a good idea. "Do I know these friends?"

  "They've been to our house a lot lately," Elliot said, quite truthfully.

  Father brushed a hand over Elliot's hair the way dads do when they're trying to get Mom's permission. "Just tell your friends that your family is i
n jail and to call if there are any problems."

  Mother smiled. "Elliot's just an eleven-year-old kid, dear. I don't think he'll have any problems tonight."

  Elliot didn't think so either. Not unless the Goblins succeeded in destroying all the Brownies and also got rid of him. That would definitely be considered a problem.

  Father said, "Okay, but it sounds as if you'll miss out on quite an adventure with us."

  "Don't worry," Elliot said. "I'm sure I'll have an adventure of my own." As soon as his family left, Elliot sat down with Mr. Willimaker in the woods. "How many Brownies can come here?"

  Mr. Willimaker sighed. "I can't get them to come. What Fudd told you before was true. I am a joke in Burrowsville. The last time I tried to warn everyone of danger, it turned out to be nothing but a little mouse. They won't listen to me this time."

  Elliot leaned in to Mr. Willimaker. "You have to make them listen. Maybe you were a joke before, but now you have a message straight from the king. I know you can do this."

  Mr. Willimaker smiled. "You're right. I can do it. I will do it." He began counting on his fingers. "A few will need to stay behind and look after the young ones. I suppose we might close the shops early and that will spare some more." He looked up at Elliot. "Would a couple hundred Brownies be enough?"

  Elliot smiled. "Yes, but I need them right away. We have a lot to do before dark. Tell everyone to wear work clothes."

  Mr. Willimaker straightened his back, making him at least a half-inch taller, which is a lot for a Brownie. He stuck out his chest and said, "Work clothes are a Brownies' only clothes. Even if I lose my voice, I won't stop talking until they agree to come."

  "I also need to meet with my royal advisors," Elliot said, then added, "Do I have any royal advisors?"

  "Just Fudd Fartwick, I suppose," Mr. Willimaker said. "He was Queen Bipsy's closest advisor."

  "I want to speak with him, then," Elliot said. "And you as well. You have been my closest advisor."

  Mr. Willimaker bowed very low and then poofed himself gone. While he waited, Elliot sat down on the ground to think about his plan. He hadn't done so much thinking since learning double-digit multiplication. This thinking was so much work that Elliot didn't hear the footsteps creep up behind him.

  A hand grabbed Elliot's shoulder. He heard Tubs Lawless snarling at him in his usual mean voice, "Okay, Penster, now you're gonna get what's coming to you!"

  When Tubs Lawless tells a kid he's going to get what's coming to him, that's usually a sign that the kid will need several bandages. But Elliot's bandages were somewhere in the blown-up house, so all he could do was turn around slowly and hope he didn't end up wishing he had been in the blown-up house.

  Tubs stretched out his hands toward Elliot, but in them was something Elliot hadn't expected. A lemon pie.

  "My mom said that we have to bring this to you, since your house blew up," Tubs said. "I hope you're happy. This was supposed to be my dessert tonight."

  "Er, thanks." Elliot kept waiting for Tubs to do whatever he'd really come to do, like push the pie in Elliot's face and laugh, or run away when Elliot reached for it.

  "Do you want the pie or not?" Tubs asked.

  Elliot shrugged and took it. "Smells good."

  "I wouldn't know. I haven't been able to smell anything since I was five years old and shoved a bunch of chocolate candies up my nose."

  Maybe the candies had worked their way up to Tubs's brain. It would explain a lot. But Elliot only said, "Well, tell your mom thanks."

  Tubs began walking away but then turned back and said, "You know, since you just took my family's dessert, I should probably take something from you too."

  Elliot waved his hand toward the pile of his blown-up house. "Take whatever you want." It didn't matter to him.

  Tubs kicked around a few wooden boards and then pointed to a trunk. It wasn't just any trunk. This one had been in Elliot's room until the other night when it started making noises again. Elliot had dragged it into the hallway so he could sleep. The trunk was dented from the explosion and one of the handles had come off, but it was still in one piece. "I'm going to take that."

  It had been making noise because it still had three Goblins in it. "Not that trunk," Elliot said, jumping up. "I meant you could take anything else."

  Tubs held up a fist. Elliot had seen that fist up close plenty of times and stopped in place.

  "Don't tell me what I can or can't take of yours," Tubs said. "Enjoy my mom's pie--or else!" With that, he picked up the trunk and dragged it behind him, huffing and puffing.

  Elliot started to go after him but was stopped by Mr. Willimaker returning with Fudd Fartwick.

  "Will the Goblins hurt Tubs?" Elliot asked.

  Mr. Willimaker stared after Tubs. "Hard to say. They'll either be so happy to get out of the trunk that they'll barely hurt him at all. Or they'll be so mad about having been locked in the trunk that they'll chew his arms off." Mr. Willimaker shrugged. "He'll probably be fine."

  "I hope so," Elliot said. "Or else everyone will call him Tubs Armless instead. Ha! Now tell me about the Brownies. Did you talk to them?"

  Mr. Willimaker nodded. It hadn't gone well at first. It had started with him poofing to the center of Burrowsville and announcing that the Brownies were in danger. The Brownies only laughed at him and asked if it was another field mouse invasion.

  Then Mr. Willimaker did something so extreme, so out of his usual character that all the Brownies had to listen: he loosened his bow tie.

  He loosened his bow tie to make it easier to jump up and down, which messed up his neatly combed hair. Then he yelled, "Burrowsville needs you! Your king needs you! You will listen to me because for once in our lives the Brownies are going to fight back!"

  Now, as he faced Elliot, Mr. Willimaker couldn't help but smile with pride. He bowed low and said, "I did it, Your Highness. The Brownies are coming."

  "I knew you could do it." Elliot turned to Fudd. "I'm glad you're here too."

  Fudd looked at Elliot, then at the house. Then back at Elliot. Of course, Fudd had known that the Goblins were going to blow up Elliot's house. He didn't realize Elliot would survive the explosion, though.

  Fudd's eyes got so wide they almost popped out of his head. "This is crazy! Couldn't they even blow up your house correctly?"

  "What?" Elliot and Mr. Willimaker both asked.

  Fudd paused and then said, "I meant, the Goblins must've been crazy to blow up your house. I assume you have a plan for revenge. Perhaps to throw that lemon pie you're holding at them."

  Elliot set the pie down and shook his head. "Revenge never makes things better. I just want to stop this war." He turned to Mr. Willimaker. "Get all the Brownies to dig a big circle in the clearing in the forest. Leave an island in the center." Mr. Willimaker bowed and scampered off.

  "What's the island for?" Fudd asked.

  "I'm going to lure all the Goblins to that island." Elliot pointed to a clump of trees at the edge of the woods. "I'll hide alone beside those trees. When the Goblins arrive, I'll trap them."

  Fudd nodded. "Very clever. What do you need me to do?"

  "I need you to go to the Goblins. Tell them they can surrender now and stop this war against me and the Brownies. If they don't, then I'll stop them myself."

  A sly smile crossed Fudd's face. "You'll stop them? Waiting all alone beside those trees?"

  "That's right."

  "Really? Just sitting there? Like you've got nothing better to do than wait for a bunch of angry Goblins?"

  Elliot shrugged. "I don't have anything better to do." He really didn't.

  Fudd gave his most evil laugh. He had put a lot of practice into his laugh, so for an evil Brownie, it was very impressive.

  "What was that?" Elliot asked.

  Fudd coughed. "Er, I meant to laugh like this." Then he gave a little giggle. "What about that one?"

  "Your other laugh was better. Use that one with the Goblins and they're sure to give up." Elliot picked up
the lemon pie. "By the way, do you want to have this?"

  "Your pie?"

  "Sure. It's not payment for helping me, because I know Brownies don't like that. So it's a gift. Not from a king to an advisor. Just friend to friend."

  Fudd took the pie and sniffed it deeply. "Are you sure? This whole pie for me?"

  "It's all yours," Elliot said. "Lemons give me the sniffles anyway."

  A tear welled up in Fudd's eye. He thought way back to his childhood, to the girl who had laughed when he had asked for a turn on the swing, even after he said "please." He'd never had a real friend since that day. Now there was someone who did want to be Fudd's friend, and of all the bad luck, it just happened to be someone Fudd was trying to kill. "Look at that. Your pie is giving me the sniffles too." He pushed it toward Elliot. "I can't accept this. You should give it to Mr. Willimaker. He's been a much better friend to you than I have."

  "But you're one of the Brownies, which makes you my friend too." Elliot looked back to the woods, then said to Fudd, "You'd better hurry to go talk to the Goblins. I'm almost ready for them here."

  "Thank you, King Elliot. I want you to know that if the Goblins ever do succeed in killing you, I'll always feel a little bad about that." With his arms around the pie, Fudd bowed and poofed himself away.

  "What else do you need?" Mr. Willimaker said, running up to Elliot. "The circle digging has begun."

  Elliot explained the rest of his plan to Mr. Willimaker and then put a hand on his shoulder and said, "I haven't forgotten about Patches. We'll get her back, okay?"

  Mr. Willimaker bowed gratefully. "I trust you, King Elliot. But how will you get the Goblins to come here?"

  Elliot pointed to Reed's very large jar of pickle relish. "Didn't you tell me that Goblins love pickles?"

  "Oh, yes."

  "What about pickle relish? I bet they love it too."

  Mr. Willimaker grinned. The jar was as tall as he was, a little bit wider, and far more see-through. Somewhere in Flog were hundreds of Goblins who had, in their wildest and craziest dreams, hoped to find a treasure like this one day. Every Goblin in Flog would come to eat as much as they could. They loved pickles more than anything else, and now pickles were going to be their downfall.