Never Trust a Troll! (7 page)

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Authors: Kate McMullan

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“YOU HAVE MY WORD,” said the dragon.

“All right,” said Mordred. “I’ll have someone carry him outside.”

“Sir! No!” cried Wiglaf. “You can’t do that!”

“It wouldn’t be a fair fight!” called Erica.

“It would be shabby!” called Janice.

“For shame, Uncle Mordred!” called Angus.

“Oh, be quiet, you little goodie-goodies,” said Mordred. He chewed on his fingernails for a moment, thinking. “Listen, Bubbles,” he said at last. “I’ll get Sir Mort up. I’ll walk him around. Get a little java into him. He should be fit as a fiddle by tomorrow morning, and he’ll come out and fight you then. Do we have a deal?”

“NO,” thundered Bubbles. “HE MUST COME TONIGHT. BY MIDNIGHT.”

“Right-o!” said Mordred. “He’ll be here. Now, would you mind refilling the moat? Hate to lose my eels. My students refuse to eat anything else.”

“NO PROBLEM,” said Bubbles.

Mordred ran back into the castle.

The dragon bent down toward the moat. He opened up his mouth and a gusher flowed forth. In a very short time, the moat was full again. And the eels were jumping—this time, for joy.

Bubbles was Daisy-size again. He floated happily on the moat.

“More tricks, Bubbles!” called Dudwin.

“Give us another show!” called Bilge.

“Yeah,” called Maggot.

“We’re your fans, Bubbles!” called Aggie.

Bubbles smiled. He stretched out on his back and began doing the flutter kick.

The Class II lads and lasses retreated to the far side of the drawbridge to make a plan.

“We must get rid of Bubbles before midnight,” said Erica.

“Or Sir Mort is a goner,” added Janice.

“What can we do?” asked Angus.

Wiglaf spotted Grock peering out from behind the rock.

“Hey, buddy!” the troll called, hurrying toward him.

Wiglaf could smell the spicy scent of the troll before he reached them.

“What smells?” asked Erica.

“Grock,” whispered Wiglaf. “He smells like that when he gets scared.”

“Smells like pepper,” said Angus, and he sneezed:
AH-CHOO!

Pepper!
thought Wiglaf as Grock drew closer.
That’s exactly what Grock smells like.

Suddenly the parchment on the message tree came to mind again.

“That could be it,” Wiglaf murmured to himself.

“What could be it, Wiggie?” asked Erica.

“Tell you later,” said Wiglaf as Grock came closer.

Maybe, just maybe, Wiglaf understood what it meant when it said Bubbles’s secret weakness was
Ah-ah-ah-ah...

“I’m going back for my biggest lance,” said Janice.

“I’m going to get my deluxe edition Sir Lancelot sword,” said Erica.

“I’m going to get some stash,” said Angus.

The three jogged off toward the drawbridge.

“Look, buddy,” the troll said to Wiglaf.

He opened his hand. On his palm sat a huge spider.

“Me new pet, Webster,” said Grock. “Get it? Spider? Web-ster? Guh-huh! Guh-huh!”

“That’s what you were doing behind the rock?” said Wiglaf. “Looking for bugs?”

“Yah,” said Grock. “Found a friend for Crawler.”

Wiglaf heard the sound of Dudwin and the other Class I lads and lasses cheering. Bubbles must have finished another show.

“Grock,” said Wiglaf. “Are you afraid of dragons?”

“Don’t make me laugh,” said Grock. “Guh-huh! Guh-huh!”

“I am afraid of dragons,” said Wiglaf.

“Yah?” said Grock.

Wiglaf nodded. “Everybody is,” he said. “Except Erica, maybe,” he added. “But not everybody runs away and hides behind a rock.”

“I was looking for bugs, wasn’t I?” said Grock.

“Sure,” said Wiglaf. “What I’m saying is, you can be afraid and still fight a dragon. You can be a dragon slayer, Grock.”

“I know that, don’t I?” said Grock.

“You can be a dragon slayer tonight,” said Wiglaf.

Grock did not look so sure anymore.

“You can slay Bubbles, Grock,” said Wiglaf.

The words were hardly out of his mouth when a blast of peppery scent rose from the troll. Grock was afraid.

Wiglaf glanced up at the sky. A full moon was rising over the DSA castle. A few stars were popping out. Good. It would be easier to carry out the plan he had in mind if there was a little light.

“Stay here, Grock,” said Wiglaf. “I’ll be right back.”

“I be over here,” Grock said, and he scurried behind the rock again.

Wiglaf found the Class I lads and lasses watching Bubbles’s latest water ballet performance.

“Hi, Wiggie,” said Dudwin. “Watch Bubbles!”

“He’s great!” shouted Bilge.

“Yeah!” shouted Maggot.

“You should see his clamshell dive,” Aggie said. “Amazing.”

Wiglaf watched the blue dragon curl up in a tuck position and do a series of somersaults just under the surface of the water.

As Bubbles spun, Wiglaf tapped Aggie on the shoulder. She turned toward him, and he put his finger to his lips.

Aggie nodded. She didn’t say a word.

Wiglaf beckoned her over toward the woods. Quickly, he explained his plan to her.

Aggie smiled. “Help Grock? Sure. You can count on me!” she said.

“This plan may not work,” said Wiglaf. “But we must try it-to save Sir Mort.”

Aggie nodded. “I shall make it work!” she said.

The two of them went back and watched the grand finale of Bubbles’s show.

“Thank you, thank you,” said Bubbles as they clapped for him.

Now Wiglaf cupped his hands to his mouth and called, “Bubbles?”

“Yes?” said the dragon.

“How about playing some music on your horn?” asked Wiglaf.

“Happy to,” the dragon said. “Any requests?”

“‘Blue Dragon,”’ said Wiglaf.

Bubbles smiled. “Oh, I love that song! It’s my favorite.”

“Mine, too,” Aggie said. “Mind if I sing along?”

Bubbles didn’t answer. He was already playing the bluesy tune softly on his horn.

Aggie started singing the words:

“Once I was a fierce young dragon,
All the world was mine!
Once I was a lucky dragon,
Back then life was fine.

“Then I fell for you,
And when you said, ‘We’re through.’
What could I do?
But be blue, oh, so blue.
Now I’m a blue blue dragon...”

As quietly as he could, Wiglaf backed away, then he sneaked over to Grock’s rock.

“Grock!” he whispered. “Come slay Bubbles.”

“Nah, buddy,” said Grock. “Not tonight.”

“This is your one and only chance to become a dragon slayer,” said Wiglaf.

Grock shook his head.

“Please! You have to!” said Wiglaf. “I—I’ll give you something. Anything!”

Grock’s little yellow eyes lit up. “What, buddy?”

Wiglaf had no pennies. He did not have much.

“Angus is bringing down some of his stash,” said Wiglaf. “You like candy?”

“Nah,” said Grock. “I like eyeballs, don’t I?”

Wiglaf’s mind was spinning. He had to think of something.

“My book!” he blurted out. “The one Brother Dave gave me.”

“Is it a good book, buddy?” asked Grock.

“It’s the best book ever,” said Wiglaf. He couldn’t stand to think of Grock taking a big bite out of
The Knight and His Dragon.
But he was desperate. He had to save Sir Mort.

“Mmmm, a good book,” said Grock. He began to drool. “Okay, buddy, deal. What I have to do?”

“Sneak up on Bubbles while he’s playing his horn,” said Wiglaf. “Get really close.”

The peppery smell began to rise from the troll.

“Will you do it, Grock?” asked Wiglaf.

“Yah, sure. I promise, buddy,” said Grock. “Gimme yer book.”

Wiglaf slipped
The Knight and His Dragon
from his belt. Now he’d never know how it ended. This book had belonged to Brother Dave’s great-great-grandfather. How sad that it was going to end up as a troll snack.

Wiglaf held up the book. “You get this after you deal with Bubbles,” he said.

“Nah,” said the troll. “Now!”

“First the dragon,” Wiglaf said firmly. “Then the book.”

Chapter 10

W
iglaf stuck his book back under his belt. He grabbed Grock’s hairy hand and led him quietly toward the moat.

Aggie and the dragon were still making music together. Wiglaf thought they sounded excellent.

“Once I was a happy dragon,
Flying through the clouds.
Once I was a snappy dragon,
Roaring oh so loud.”

When they got close to the moat, Grock stopped. “Changed me mind, didn’t I?” he said.

“You promised, Grock,” whispered Wiglaf.

“I be a troll!” Grock whispered back. “I never keep me promises!”

“You’re keeping this one, Grock,” said Wiglaf. He didn’t really need to ask—the peppery smell told him all he needed to know—but he did ask. “Are you afraid?”

Grock nodded. “Yah, buddy,” he said.

Wiglaf pulled the troll toward Bubbles. “Be afraid...” said Wiglaf. “Be very afraid!”

Aggie was still singing when they reached the edge of the moat. Bubbles’s eyes were closed. Wiglaf could tell he was really into playing.

“Once I was an angry dragon,
Lurking in my cave.
Once I was a fuming dragon,
Oh, how I did rave.”

Wiglaf gave Grock the nod. The troll lumbered slowly toward the dragon.

All at once, Bubbles’s nostrils started to twitch. But he kept on playing “Blue Dragon.” And Aggie kept singing:

“Once I was a wicked dragon,
How villagers did flee!
Once I was a vicious dragon,
Not one worse than me.

“Then 1 fell for you,
And when you said, ‘We’re through.’
What could I do?
But be blue, oh, so blue.”

Grock stepped into the shallow part of the moat. Bubbles’s whole snout was quivering now. But still he played his horn.

Grock stepped closer...and closer.

A few of the Class I lads and lasses sneezed.

Aggie belted out the “Blue Dragon” chorus, while Bubbles played a complicated riff on his horn:

“Now I’m a blue, blue dragon.
My spiky tail isn’t waggin’.
I need mead-pass the flagon,
’Cause I’m a blue blue dragon.”

Grock looked scared as he took another step toward Bubbles. He was waist-deep in the moat now. He couldn’t get much closer.

Suddenly, the horn playing stopped.

“Ah!” Bubbles shouted.

His eyes widened.

“Ah!” he shouted again.

His ears began to tremble.

“AH!” Bubbles shouted. Then he opened wide his jaws and out came: “AH-AH-AH-AH-CHOOOOOO!”

Wiglaf watched, amazed. It was as if all the air inside the dragon was expelled in that one huge sneeze. The sneeze sent Bubbles skimming backward on the water. And as he skimmed, he shrank down, down, down.

“Look!” cried Dudwin. “Bubbles is shrinking!”

“Fast!” said Bilge.

“Yeah,” said Maggot.

Grock saw what was happening, and it made him bold. He splashed toward the shrinking dragon.

Bubbles kept shrinking until he was no bigger than a teacup. Suddenly, his bright blue eyes grew fixed and stared straight ahead. His wings seemed to melt into his back. His webbed feet stopped paddling. All that was left of the very dangerous Bubbles was a tiny blue dragon bobbing on top of the water.

Grock picked him up. “He be a goner!”

“Hooray for Grock!” all the Class I lads and lasses shouted.

“Hooray for Aggie!” shouted Wiglaf, and everyone clapped for her.

“Thank you,” said Aggie, taking a bow. She turned to Wiglaf. “I don’t need dragon slaying as a backup career. I’m transferring to a school for wandering minstrels!”

The Class II lads and lasses came running down to the moat now. Sir Mort, in full armor, appeared on the drawbridge. His visor was up.

“What’s going on?” he muttered. “Where is Bubbles?”

Grock waded out of the water, proudly holding the little blue dragon as if it were a trophy.

“Now ye can call me Grock, the dragon slayer!” he cried.

“How did you do it, Grock?” asked Angus.

The troll shrugged.

“Tell us how!” said Janice.

“Come on, Grock!” said Erica.

“Yeah!” said Bilge and Maggot.

“Spill the beans, Grock,” said Dudwin.

Sir Mort clanked over to them. “What’s going on?”

Grock grinned. “Well, ye see,” he said, “I waded into the moat toward the terrible beast...”