Marmaduke the Multi-coloured Dragon

Jennifer sat up in bed. Something had made a noise. A scratchy, squeezy noise.
It was dark and she pulled the duvet a little bit closer under her chin. Mum always told her that nothing – nothing – could get you if you were under the duvet.

But mum was downstairs. And the noise was up here, just behind her curtains, by the window. There was a small gap between her bed and the wall, and that wall had the window in it. Mum usually left it open a bit – “Fresh air is good for you! It helps you sleep better.” – and this summer Jennifer had come to love the sleepy noises from the garden as she snuggled down and drifted off – the distant drone of cars, the tiny twirls of wind that let the trees at the bottom of the garden murmur to her, the crows calling rustily to each other as they all settled down too…

But this noise, this noise was different. And it was here, coming into her bedroom! She held more tightly onto Mr Devil. She’d had Mr Devil for as long as she could remember. She’d taken him into school for show-and-tell once, and all the boys thought she was cool because it turned out that Mr Devil was, in fact, their favourite football team’s mascot. He was a little red devil, but dad said that when mum got him from the charity shop she hadn’t known anything about that, she just knew he’d be Jennifer’s best friend as soon as she got born. And he was. He was just the right size, no matter how big she grew (and boy! Had she grown this summer!). And he was red with two little black horns and a lovely little red tail. And two red ears which she stroked as she went to sleep every night. And, of course, he was her best friend. She told him everything.

“Jennifer! You’re squeezing me too hard!” he whispered now. He only ever talked to her when grown-ups weren’t around. It was a Toy Thing.

“Sorry,” Jennifer tried to whisper back. But the scratchy, wriggly sound came again and Jennifer squeezed her eyes shut tight and buried her head more deeply in Mr Devil’s fur. “Verre’s fumpfing verre!” she muttered into Mr Devil.

They both lay very still.

“Er-oomph!” came a little, squished voice. “Ooh. Help.” it muttered to itself, “I’m stuck.”

The curtains wriggled, then they billowed a little. Jennifer knew, because by now she’d dared to open one eye and peer over Mr Devil’s head. Then the window made a clicky noise as the latch keeping it open came off the hook, and with a yelp and a clang, and a bigger billowing, into her room tumbled…

A flashing, wriggling, squeaking brilliant blaze of colours. They twisted in mid-air, just like a cat might, arched their back and organised themselves into a sensible shape so that they fell, feet first, onto the bed.

I say ‘fell’ but actually, some of the colours spread themselves out just in the nick of time and flapped just enough to make sure their owner fluttered down onto the duvet with all the dignity he could muster (it didn’t quite come off).

Marmaduke stretched his long back, shook his wings out and tucked them away neatly on his sides, making sure the sapphire on the wings lined up just so with the blue on his ribs, and the gold and silver rippled just right to make a perfect pattern with the azure and jade. He was small for a dragon just now, but his scales were brilliant – blazing red and deep purple, bright orange and delicate pink, each tiny scale a perfect piece of living colour. His long snout was finished off with black, curling whiskers (which he was very proud of) and he kept his claws just long enough to click whenever he walked on a hard floor. Not that he did much walking. He was usually much too busy playing and flying, or basking and sleeping.

He didn’t look a bit like a picture-book dragon. Jennifer had seen lots of those in her books. He wasn’t fat, he didn’t have a round tummy, and he wasn’t ginormous either, with fire belching out around dangerous-looking fangs. No, Marmaduke was a proper dragon, with a long body a bit like a dachshund, a long tail with a fluffy bit on the end, mobile ears that he could swivel round to listen to different conversations or, more likely, show he was definitely not listening to YOU (he tended to use this when he was having a sulk). He had four strong, short legs and a muzzle. He had bright black and yellow eyes with long eyelashes and altogether Jennifer was sure it was the sweetest, kindest, most curious face she’d ever seen.

“Marmaduke!” she exclaimed now, leaping forwards to grab him in a hug. “Where have you been?” she laughed as she snuggled back on the pillow and Mr Devil tried to hug the wriggling dragon too. His short, stumpy paws didn’t go far round but he nuzzled his face deep into whichever bits of Marmaduke he could reach.

“Mumph ibble thwarping…” Marmaduke tried to say, as he struggled to get his nose free of fur and pyjamas and duvet.

Giggling, Jennifer let go a little, and settled for stroking his back, admiring the way he twinkled as his sides moved in and out when he breathed. Marmaduke stretched against her hand, then curled up like a cat and settled down to enjoy being with his favourite human. It’s as good as being a cat, he thought. If I could purr, I would! But of course, being a real, fire-breathing dragon, all he could do was growl. And roar. And burn fire – at least, he thought he might be able to, if he kept on practising.

“No!” he suddenly yelped, and leaped up.

“Ouch!” shouted Jennifer.

“Eeek!” squeaked Mr Devil.

When they’d all sorted themselves out, and Jennifer had rubbed Mr Devil’s fur better – the bit where Marmaduke’s claws had dug in to leap off – Marmaduke stood right in front of Jennifer, the better to impress on her the importance of what he was saying.

“You’ve got to come! Right away! Come on!!”

“Why?” she asked, “What’s happening?”

“Oh! You’ve simply got to see this. It’s amazing. There’s a whole bunch of ‘em, and I’m not sure they know where they’re going, and what if the others come out? And I’ve never seen so many, even the little ones, and I know it’s dark and you’re not supposed to get out of bed, but I really need you, and…” Marmaduke got so excited by what he was trying to say his scales had all begun to stick out and he was rising in little jerks off the bed. His tail was whipping to and fro and Mr Devil was trying to slide back under the duvet in case it came his way by accident.

“Marmaduke! Marmaduke!” protested Jennifer. “Who’s come out? And where are they going? And if you don’t calm down you’ll catch fire, you know.” She caught hold of a claw as it bounced past her nose and pulled him gently back down. “Now, darling dragon. Settle down and tell me properly.”

“Okay,” he said, and paused. “Actually, I can’t. You’ve just got to come. Come on!” he whisked round and dashed up the curtains, balancing on the edge of the window, holding it open and beckoning with a free leg. “Come on!” He was practically dancing with impatience, his claws clicking and clacking on the glass.

“Oh, okey-dokey!” said Jennifer, laughing. Wherever Marmaduke had been for the last few weeks didn’t really matter. He came and went as he pleased. But whenever he turned up, you could be sure she’d have a marvellous adventure. It wasn’t that he was Trouble, but when he was there, the world was different. Jennifer saw and heard things her parents would never believe. No-one would ever believe.

Quickly, she tied up her hair in a bobble – her hair was long and thick and the colour of a chestnut. If she was going to be with Marmaduke, she’d need it tied out of the way so it didn’t blow in her eyes. She slipped on her trainers and her dressing gown, grabbed Mr Devil and quickly stuffed him into her pocket.

Then she reached up to the window – it was one of those tiny, child-proof affairs much too small for even a toddler to climb out of.

“Hurry up, Marmaduke!” She called softly, “I can’t get through here.”

Quick as a whisker, Marmaduke blew on Jennifer and touched her shoulder just so. Without even really noticing what was happening, Jennifer shinned up the last few inches and stood on the edge. She’d become exactly the right size and weight to climb up the curtains. Marmaduke was hovering just outside. She grabbed hold of his neck and – now that she was as small as him – launched herself outwards, swinging her legs over his back as he swept upwards into the night sky.

“Wheee!” she yelled. Flying with Marmaduke was always exciting. He swooped and swerved and banked and soared – he never just flew straight.

“Whooo!” yelled Mr Devil, peeking out of her pocket – for he too had shrunk and still fitted Jennifer perfectly.

Marmaduke had set off over the housing estate, past the main road and on towards the dip into the valley. A little further on were the allotments. Her dad had one, so she spent lots of time there, hunting for frogs and picking ripe strawberries in the summer, rescuing worms as dad dug over the soil and tucking them safely under the likeliest-looking sods. He’d given her a patch of her own where she was growing potatoes – at least, she hoped the potatoes were growing. She had lots of green leaves above, but didn’t know if there were any potatoes below. You just had to wait and see.

It was a rather cloudy night, but she could see one or two stars where the clouds thinned a little. It was cool, but she tucked her hands behind Marmaduke’s ears, where his scales had evolved into such fine filaments to allow his ears to swivel, it was more like fur or fine silk. It was lovely and warm just there. He’d grown a bit so she could fit easily on his shoulders. She hugged on tight with her knees and felt his heart surging, strong and sure. Just behind her ankles, his wings beat quickly, the multi-coloured scales thinned to feathering, flashing and scything through the air.

One particularly stomach-wrenching swoop, one sudden sweep to the left, and just before Jennifer felt sure she’d be swung off, he back-pedalled (back-flapped? She was never sure about dragon terminology) and brought them down quickly and quietly under a rhubarb leaf on Cyril’s allotment.

“Phew!” she gulped, laughing. “That was brilliant!”

“Shush!” he hissed. He peered out from under the leaf, looking right and left. Then, gesturing with his foreclaw for her to follow, scrabbled quickly out, over a bank of dug-out soil, and began pattering down a furrow. Jennifer paused long enough to check Mr Devil was hiding safely in her pocket and set off after him. She could easily follow his wriggling, glittering back. Even in such dim moonlight little sparks seemed to fly off as he moved, sliding between stalks of sprouts, disappearing down alleys formed by rows of cabbages, and coming abruptly to a halt underneath the old raspberry canes.

Jennifer had been concentrating on avoiding a bit of dead cabbage leaf which was wrinkled and brown and smelly. She bumped into him rather hard and sat down suddenly. “Ouf!”

“Oof!” Came a tiny echo from her pocket, as Mr Devil, still only a couple of inches tall, bounced up and disappeared back inside before he had time to blink. “Uurgh!” He added.

“Sorry!” whispered Marmaduke. He unkinked his back, flicked his tail out and hunkered down, “Look!”

Jennifer looked where he was pointing and saw a line of – what? Lots of them. All going the same way, in a long winding trail. Some were carrying tiny lights, some were carrying sticks – and all of them looked very determined.

“Are those…?” asked Jennifer. She could hardly believe her eyes. “What are they?” she asked with mounting excitement. “Are they pixies?”

Lots of them had little hats on. The colours they wore were mostly brown and green. There were girl ones and boy ones and some which weren’t really one or the other. And some older ones, looking rather fierce. They were definitely people – except they were tiny. The pumpkins, which the line was just beginning to skirt around, towered over them all.

“Pixies!!” snorted Marmaduke, “For goodness sake, don’t let them hear you call them that! Don’t you know an elf when you see one?”

Jennifer shrugged a duh-silly-me shrug and pulled a face that only Mr Devil could see.

“What’s wrong with him?” asked Marmaduke crossly, as a series of muffled giggles wriggled out of Jennifer’s pocket.

“Um, I expect he’s a bit travel-sick,” said Jennifer quickly, “And I’m sorry, but I didn’t know they were elves. What is the difference between an elf and a pixie, anyway?”

“Tch! I’ll tell you later,” scolded Marmaduke, looking slightly worried. Jennifer suspected he wasn’t quite sure himself. “What’s important is what they’re doing out here. It’s far too late, and there’s practically the whole village there! Oh my goodness! Look!!”

And he gestured at the tallest elf, who was in the band at the very front. This elf carried a stick that looked remarkably like a tiny spear. She had a piece of bark hewn into a shield, which she held in front of her and she was followed closely by three or four other strong elves, similarly armoured. Their hats looked more like helmets and their expressions were fearsome.

Just then, an elf who had clearly been on look-out duty, scurried up to the leader and muttered something in her ear. The leader stopped suddenly, spun round and without so much as pausing a heart-beat, flung his spear – right at where Marmaduke and Jennifer were hiding!

“Yikes!” yelped Marmaduke, scrambling backwards as the spear thudded into the ground just where he’d been crouching a split second before. “Don’t kill me! I give up!!”

In seconds they were surrounded by a circle of elves, all pointing their spears at them. The tallest one strode forwards and peered carefully at them.

“Marmaduke?” She asked, “Is that you?”

“Yes,” huffed Marmaduke, settling his scales back into order. “And it’s nice to see you again, too, Ma’am.”

“Well, goodness me!” the tallest one smiled. “But you’re not alone, I see.” The circle of elves, which had clearly been mollified by their leader recognising the dragon, turned a little, and pointed their spears at Jennifer and Mr Devil.

“Oh eek!” squealed Mr Devil and promptly disappeared back into the safety of Jennifer’s pocket.

“No ma’am!” said Marmaduke, “But it’s okay. She’s Jennifer.” He seemed to think this was all the explanation needed. The tallest elf paused a moment to see if Marmaduke planned to say anything more, and then, realising he didn’t, dipped her head slightly. “Madam.”

Jennifer swallowed and drew herself up to her full four inches: “How do you do,” she said, and bobbed her head too.

There was a pause, and both of them looked at Marmaduke. He raised his eyebrows and smiled. Then his smile wavered and he blinked.

“Ooh….er…pardon me ma’am!” He turned from Jennifer to the elf. “I mean Jennifer, I’d like to introduce Calder, chief of the Nearside Land elves. Chief Calder, this is my friend – Jennifer.”

Calder lowered her spear and all the other elves lowered theirs too and gathered closer in.

“Welcome! Welcome to both of you. It’s been too long since you’ve been this way, Marmaduke,” she added, and leaned over to stroke the scales on the back of Marmaduke’s neck. Marmaduke wriggled and squirmed and almost fell over with how good it felt. He knew Calder was adding a tiny bit of magic to emphasise how pleased she was that the dragon had come by. But then he shook himself and jumped up.

“But why are you here? What’s going on? Where are you going? And why…” he paused to take a breath, “why are you marching with your spears drawn?” He sat back down on his haunches, looking sternly at the band of warriors (at least, he hoped it was a stern look. He wasn’t very good at them. Grinning was more his style).

“Ah,” sighed Calder. “We’ve a problem. The Stream elves have been over. Something’s messing with their course – the stream’s damming up by the fence and every time they dig it out, by the end of the next night, it’s blocked again. It’s in danger of flooding the lower allotments. So we’re going down there to help them keep watch tonight and find out what’s happening.”

“Or who!” beamed Marmaduke. “Who’s happening!” He was so excited he bounced round in a tight little circle, nearly whipping off one poor elf’s cap. “There must be a ‘who’ doing the damming! And if they’re prepared to endanger everybody, then they’re a bad who. And bad whos don’t get away with it. Not in my back yard! They’ve got Marmaduke to reckon with now!”

“Just a moment,” protested Calder, “This is our fight. You can’t get a human involved – no,” she shook her head as Marmaduke opened his jaw to argue, “No, not even a small one.”

“But you need me!” insisted the dragon. “You know I can help. I can fly and I can dazzle and I can carry soldiers and I can whizz down and flatten anybody before they know it and squish ‘em with my claws and, and I can….”

There were murmurs now from Calder’s troops. One stepped forward. “Ma’am,” he said, bowing, “we could do with a hand – or a claw or two!”

“Yes,” said another joining the first, “and if this beast can fly, then wouldn’t that help?”

Calder nodded, pursing her lips as she thought it through. Then she turned to Jennifer.

“But what about you, young lady?” she asked, “Are you skilled in combat? What can you do?”

Although Jennifer hated it when grown-ups (even tiny ones) called her ‘young lady’, she was as keen as Marmaduke to join in this adventure. She thought quickly.

“I’m a very good runner. And mum says I’m the best treasure hunter – I mean finder – in the world. And I got a bow and arrow last Christmas and I’m not scared, and I’d keep quiet and I’d do exactly whatever you told me to, exactly.” She nodded her head for emphasis.

“Well,” said Calder, “I think we need as many as will fight with us. But she’s your responsibility, Marmaduke. You must make sure she remains unscathed.”

Jennifer didn’t quite know what being scathed was or why she wasn’t to have it, but Calder had looked very stern when she said it. And Marmaduke was taking it just as seriously.

“Oh yes!” he took a great breath and floated up to head height. “As my lady directs!” and he bowed his head low. Then he spoilt the effect by turning a somersault. “Totally! Brilliant! Hooray! We’re going to help the elves, Jennifer! Come on!”

And with that he nosed her back onto his shoulders and set off, scampering in the direction the elf column had been heading before they all met. Calder shrugged, shouldered her spear and motioned her men onwards.

They soon settled into a quiet march, steadily heading down towards the stream that ran past the end of the allotments. Even Mr Devil peeked over the pocket. But he decided to stay stumm. Just in case.

Gradually the quiet march became stealthy and even Marmaduke crouched down, padding along low-bellied, eyes squinting warily for any sign of – well, of anything, really.

After they’d passed the end of the raspberry canes, there was a dip which led onto the untilled earth that bordered the allotments. They were very near the stream now and could hear it splashing along in the dark. Marmaduke had dropped back to allow Calder to lead the way and after she’d climbed around a last large clump of nettles, Calder held her hand up, signalling her troops to stop.

There was a moment’s silence. Everyone listened hard. Everyone hunkered down just a little bit, peering anxiously into the dark.

“Calder!” came a quiet call, and out of the night emerged another dozen elves. Their chief greeted Calder warmly. He was much stumpier than Calder, and all his elves had beards. Calder and her troops were slightly taller and thinner. But all of them looked strong and determined.

The two chiefs talked quietly for a few moments, and then they began to send elves to the various points along the stream-bank where they could keep a look-out. They agreed the calls to alert each other if anything happened – a small mouse-squeak for ‘movement but no danger’, a fox growl for ‘something’s up’ and an owl screech for ‘come quick’.

Jennifer and Mr Devil watched all the preparations breathlessly. Marmaduke was breathless too, but while they managed to stay still and quiet, he kept squeaking with excitement and squirming about.

But eventually Calder turned to the three of them. “Okay,” she said, “Marmaduke, take Jennifer over to that rock on the other side, the flattish one. She can keep watch there with, with…” he didn’t know who Mr Devil was or how to describe him. “Take them both there and then come back. I’ll need you to ferry these other soldiers further upstream.”

“Yessir!” grinned the little dragon, and in no more time than it took to shake the soil off his tail, Marmaduke had pushed Jennifer and Mr D back onto his shoulders and had flipped over the stream to the rock. He barely paused to let her give him a quick hug before he whizzed off back to help Calder.

Jennifer and Mr Devil settled down. They had no idea what they were watching for, but every now and then they glimpsed movement – elves getting into position, or Marmaduke flitting about quietly. He could when he wanted to, you know.

Then everybody settled down too. The night pressed in – cool and a little damp, skitterings and little noises in the undergrowth, splashings and quiet plops from the stream. The clouds thickened overhead and the dark seemed closer, a little bit scarier.

Mr Devil snuggled tight under Jennifer’s chin and she rubbed his ear for comfort. Without warning someone hissed in her ear.

“Look! Over there!” It was Marmaduke! He’d sneaked up from behind them – totally invisible and absolutely silent. “There’s something…”

Jennifer looked where he was gesturing with his snout. Something was definitely moving, doing something. Then she realised – it wasn’t a something, not like a leaf turning in the breeze or a ripple splashing against a stone: it was a someone. Or at least…

She was still trying to decide what she’d half-seen, what had made the movement, when she heard a fox barking. Marmaduke tensed and leaned forward. Another fox answered downstream and then she realised – it was the elf army, alerting everyone to the whatever-it-was. Everyone was watching the movement.

Gradually, it came forward through the dark. Jennifer squished herself even smaller. Then the shadow became clearer. It was something bulky, with hands – or claws – and it was pushing at a clod of earth, rolling it slowly towards the riverbank. It had a large, muscular-looking back but its face was hidden in the dark.

“What is it?” breathed Jennifer into Marmaduke’s ear. He shook his head slightly. They both held their breath. The elf signallers had fallen silent too, as Calder and her troops concentrated on discovering what or who their enemy was.

Then a second shape joined the first and together they made one last effort. The huge piece of earth tipped over the edge of the stream-bank and landed with a muffled splash in the water, blocking a good part of it, forcing the water to tunnel through a much narrower way. On the other side, they could see, even through the gloom, that the surge of water was undermining the far bank and after only a few seconds that bank collapsed into the stream.

“Oh my gosh!” exclaimed Jennifer under her breath.

The enemy had blocked the stream entirely! With one well-placed sod of earth they had calculated exactly how to divert the stream. Because now, as the water gushed into the dead-end they’d created, it began to rise up over the sides, and one part of one side had been dug out a little – just enough to persuade the stream that this was the weakest point, this was the way to flow.

Within minutes the stream had found itself a new course. Or rather, it had found the new course The Enemy had created for it. And it was nowhere near the Stream Elves’ land. What would they do without the stream? How would they ply their little leaf-boats to find the nourishing roots and bulbs they needed? How would their villages reach each other? Over centuries the Stream Elves had evolved so that they could not, simply could not, survive without living alongside a stream.

Jennifer was still taking in the awfulness of what had just happened, when one of the shadows – which until now had been watching the diverting stream – stiffened and reared up. It – he? – muttered something in a low growl to his companion who also stood up and began staring round.

Then Marmaduke felt a rapid and irregular tapping on his back. The elf just upstream from him had reached over and was using the special code they’d developed for just this sort of battle – the code used before your enemy knew you were there, used to give orders.

Now Marmaduke knew what Calder wanted him to do, and when to do it. He leant over and whispered in Jennifer’s ear.

“Stay here, Jen,” he grinned at her, “I won’t be long!”

And with that he silently lifted into the air and swung over the stream, right at the two shadows. He glided right at them, but they hadn’t seen him – he’d shivered all his scales so they didn’t reflect even the littlest bit of moonlight. He was just a patch of black against a dark background.

He clicked out his claws, battle-ready. At the last moment he swung up, so that all four legs landed squarely on the nearest Enemy, claws gripping onto his head and back. Using all his muscles, he swung back into the air, his load now yelling with surprise, as Marmaduke flew away from the river-bank and then flung his package onto a bed of nettles.

Meanwhile, Calder had let a very scary battle-cry bring all her troops out of hiding. Most rushed at the remaining shadow – even though it towered over them buy at least two inches. The others headed quickly for the banks of the new course of the stream.

Jennifer couldn’t see exactly what happened next, but she heard lots of shouts and grunts and the big Enemy shadow fell over even as it began to swing out with its claws. She could see lots of elf-shapes clambering over it, shouting to each other, slinging ropes across, whacking the shape with their spears and hands, jumping on top of it, tying it down.

Other elves dashed over to the nettle clump and threw ropes across, trying to loop onto something attached to the second Enemy. This Enemy was squealing and squawking in astonishment and pain – nettles hurt bad enough when you’re child-sized, but when you’re about five or six inches high they hurt abominably. And it had already been discombobulated by Marmaduke’s grabbing it and flying it over the allotment.

While those elves concentrated on tying up the second Thing, Marmaduke flew back to the stream. He saw where elves were struggling to control and re-divert the current and began to dive repeatedly at the banks, slashing at the mud to break pieces into the stream.

Since both Enemies had been rounded up, Jennifer felt brave enough to come out of hiding. She ran over to the bank of the stream and began helping the effort to re-route it. Mr Devil, who didn’t like being washed, hopped out of her pocket as she set off, and decided he would keep a lookout since everybody else seemed to be fully occupied with Enemy One and Enemy Two or the stream.

It took a fair bit of time – though none of the elves noticed, and Jen and Marmaduke were busy slinging mud and stones where the Stream Elves directed, so it seemed like no time at all. A small band had been left guarding the Enemies who sat grumpily. The bigger one had been dragged out of the nettle-bed and some guards had torn up a dock-leaf, which they were busily rubbing over its nettle stings. Even though the Enemy had tried so hard to harm them, they were respectful of everyone and so long as the Enemy were safe, they were happy to treat them well.

Eventually the elves manoeuvred a couple of small logs into the stream just above where the water had been diverted. Several of the Stream elves clambered up on top of them and then, chanting to keep time, they took a step forward, their back foot forcing the back of the logs under, then another step, faster and faster as the logs began to turn, surging forwards till they got wedged across the stream, and dug into the bank so deep there was no chance of them coming out. The water couldn’t climb over the logs, so it took the easier course back where it had originally run. The log-spinners climbed off the logs onto the bank and together with the other elves, they continued shoring up the sides until they were certain things really were back to how they had been before.

Everyone sat for a few minutes as the team leaders checked the work was good, then they scrambled back across the logs to where the Enemy was tied up.

“Right!” said Esfor, the stream elves captain, “who are you and why are you diverting the stream?”

When the Enemy didn’t look as if they were going to volunteer any information, Marmaduke offered to singe their whiskers, but Mr Devil had a better idea. He’d stayed so well hidden, they’d not seen him. Now, without warning, he leapt out from behind his rock, squeaking his loudest and waving his stumpy red paws about, bouncing (he was pretty good at bouncing) and shot into the tummy of Enemy One.

Enemy One didn’t know what the monster was, but he knew he didn’t want it anywhere near him. This monster was at least twice the height of the elves and four times as fat – who knew what mischief it could do?

“Stop! Stop!” he yelled, “I’ll tell you everything!”

Mr Devil continued bouncing and squeaking and waving, and once or twice he accidentally-on-purpose bumped into Enemy Two, who was a scared as his mate.

Jen strode up and, in her deepest and most grow-up voice the better to impress the Enemy, commanded Mr Devil to ‘stop and desist’. She didn’t know what ‘desist’ meant but she’d heard mum using the phrase and thought it sounded suitably scary. “And if you try anything,” she added, looking each Enemy in turn in the eye, “I’ll allow him to sist as much as he wants!”

They knew when they were beaten. Slowly at first, they explained that they were outriders from a band of trolls which had been looking for a new camp. The allotments looked like a likely place – lots of places to shelter, good food for the taking, places they could burrow into the earth, rocks they could hide under.

“But this place is already taken,” said Esfor. “This is our home. And higher up, near the strawberry patch and the henhouse is where the garden elves live in the summer.” (They abandon the garden proper in the summer because too many humans spend too much time there and until now, no-one – no-one – had broken the age-old lore that humans should never see them. The allotments tended to get busy too, but allotmenteers don’t tend to rush about, but stay working in one place at a time, so the elves could easily slip away into the undergrowth, or hide by the water-tank.)

“Well, what can we do?” said Enemy Two. “We’ve got our job. We can’t go back to the pack without something!”

“What’s your name?” asked Calder. Then poked him when he set his lips in a thin, straight line. “Don’t make me ask Mr Devil to help,” she added quietly, and Mr Devil, who’d worn himself out and had been quietly nodding off, jumped up and puffed out his chest, looking as fierce as he could.

“No no no!” The Enemy protested as one. “I’m Holga and he’s Truffo,” finished the bigger of the two.

“Okay Holga,” said Calder, “Why do you need a new camp?”

“Because the humans have started earth works, laying foundations for a new row of houses where we live” they said, “They’d been talking about it for ages…”

“We have very good eavesdroppers” added Truffo.

“…but they’ve finally all agreed how many houses and just where to put them. Of course, once they’re built, we can move back quite easily – humans never notice us – but their foundations are dug right in where our grand hall used to be.”

“We’re lucky everyone got out in time,” added Truffo.

“So for the next year or two we’ve got to shift,” said Holga, “So we scouted out these allotments and decided that if the stream went over there” (he gestured to the west) “instead of down there” (another gesture towards the lower end of the allotments) “we could manage and then slip back under the houses once they’d finished faffing about.”

“Okay,” said Calder, “I see. But it’s wrong to mess up everyone else’s home just ‘cos you’ve got troubles.”

“Yeah, well,” said Holga, “We didn’t know.”

“And didn’t care, I bet,” said Esfor.

Holga and Truffo bridled – at least, they bridled as much as their bindings let them – and Esfor’s crack troops all crowded up to the trolls, pointing their spears meaningfully at them.

“Hang on,” said Calder, “Could your pack trek two days? You haven’t got any kits at this time of year, have you?” she added.

The trolls looked uncomfortable at home much Calder knew about them. They were a very secretive people and didn’t like anyone to know they only had baby trolls in the spring – it could have made them vulnerable to predators. Holga didn’t wait for them to reply – she didn’t get to be leader without knowing a good deal about almost everything.

“How about the Far Meadow, over by the Oak Wood?” she asked. “There are more wild animals out there – fox and badgers and suchlike – but I’m sure you can do a deal with them, especially if you’re only going to be there a couple of years. I think Old Man Badge needs a few new coppers for his sett, or maybe a bronze cup or two,” she added slyly, knowing how proud the trolls were of their metalwork, “and the foxes are always short of good armour for their claws. If we show you the way and escort you back to your pack, and we’d even promise to keep Mr Devil under control for a couple of days – until you’re well out of harms’ way…?”

The trolls had no choice really. They weren’t bad people, just selfish and uninterested in others. But they knew when they had been beaten and agreed readily enough to Calder’s and Esfor’s plan.

The elves set about lighting tiny fires and then the muddiest stripped off and ducked into the stream to wash. Others gathered up the muddy clothes and rinsed them out, then set them near the fires to dry. As elves clambered back out of the water, Marmaduke huffed warm air over them. Mostly he got it right and they dried out in no time. But occasionally his enthusiasm got the better of him and there was the odd yelp as an elf found their hair singed or the stones they were standing on became so hot they had to hop about – but they didn’t really mind because Marmaduke looked so funny as he raced up and down the bank panting in between huffing hot air. Jen couldn’t persuade Mr Devil to join them until Marmaduke heated up the water in a tiny eddy near the bank. Then he splashed about on his own for a minute or two and when he finally climbed out, Marmaduke took special care to dry him inside and out.

But then everyone else realised how warm the water was in the little backwash and they tumbled back in to play while the older elves set to bringing pots and making soup and producing loaves from back-packs. Jen eventually settled down by the fire furthest away from the trolls – she was still unsure just how far she could trust them – and held Mr Devil in her lap while they both toasted their toes. Marmaduke busied himself toasting crumpets instead. And Esfor and Calder finished discussing the Elf-Troll Treaty with Holga and Truffo, then signed it in elf-spit so it was absolutely binding.

And then everyone got stuck into a proper feast, which as everyone knows tastes better when eaten under the clear night sky and after a righteous battle has been fought and won (or honourably lost, in the trolls’ case).

They posted guards above the bank of the stream and down-river a little, so that the youngest could cat-nap for a couple of hours. Then, before anyone got stiff, they roused themselves, untied the trolls and the whole troop set off back up the allotments. At the top, the stream elves turned back, while the garden elves sent a small convoy with Holga and Truffo on to the troll camp.

Esfor and Calder turned to Jen, Mr Devil and Marmaduke. “Thank you all for your work with us tonight,” they said. “We are in your debt. If you ever need our help, tap out this message on your bedroom wall when the grown-ups have gone for the night,” and they tapped out a secret code, “and we’ll hear it. It doesn’t need to be loud, and we don’t need to be near, we’ll hear.”

Jen’s eyes got very big at that – this must be magic! But before she could ask, Marmaduke swept his wings back and bowed his muzzle down very low and said “Your Graces, we are deeply honoured that you trust us with this knowledge. We look forward to meeting with you all again.”

“Thank you,” said Jen, and “mump-oo” mumbled Mr Devil from deep in her pocket. Then she stepped lightly onto Marmaduke’s shoulders and hunkered down behind his ears. With a single nod to the elf leaders, Marmaduke flapped his wings once, twice, and the soared into the air, wheeled round and headed back to town and Jennifer’s house.

It took only a few moments, and they tumbled in through the window with almost no noise. Marmaduke breathed quietly on Jen as she began clambering back up her duvet and she found she was already at the top because she was herself again, full height. She snuggled down, and closed her eyes.

“Goodnight Marmaduke,” she murmured, “Don’t stay away so long next time. Love you.”

And Marmaduke, who’d been about to flip quietly back out of the window – he’d a tripled decker spin-and-twist planned – changed his mind, tiptoed quietly into the nest made by Jennifer’s arms and Mr Devil, turned round twice and settled down to sleep till dawn.

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