Grissel knew exactly what Fudd’s next move would be. He’d hurry back to Burrowsville and tell the Brownies the sad news about Elliot. Maybe he’d pretend to cry over Elliot’s death for a minute or two, and then he’d wipe away his fake tears and declare himself king. It would be perfect.
Except Fudd wouldn’t be able to do any of that, because the hole Grissel had tunneled out for Fudd was even deeper than the one Patches was in. With Fudd out of the way and no Brownie king to lead them, it would be a simple thing to defeat the Brownies once and for all. He smacked his thin lips just thinking about his delicious victory.
Grissel handed some rope to the other Goblins, who climbed up on Elliot’s bed. They rolled him around in his blanket, surprised that the human could sleep so deeply. They tied the rope in a double knot, then a triple knot, then finally, in the never-before-untied four-way knot. There was no going back now.
They lifted his body into the air and tossed it toward Grissel, who already had a large trunk at the foot of Elliot’s bed open and empty. Elliot could wait in the trunk until they had a chance to get rid of him properly. Most of him landed inside the trunk, except for his legs, which fell limp onto the floor.
Grissel walked over and kicked at Elliot’s legs. They rustled softly, something Grissel didn’t think human legs normally did. Then his lip curled in anger. He bared his sharp teeth and bit through the knots around the blanket. He pulled the blanket wide and growled. These weren’t legs! They were pants stuffed with bags of rice.
“What is the meaning of this?” Grissel yelled. “We’ve been tricked!”
The Goblins jumped onto the floor beside the trunk and pulled the rope away from the rest of the blanket. They couldn’t have been tricked. Not by a human child!
“Aha!” a voice yelled behind them. They turned just in time to be splashed in the face with a bucket of icy water.
The Goblins yelped and screamed and fell backward into the trunk. All except for Grissel, who had escaped the worst of the water by hiding behind the other Goblins. He poofed back to Flog with only three water welts on his arm.
Elliot darted forward and slammed the lid to his trunk closed, locked it, and then sat on it. This was very difficult to do, because the Goblins were beating against the inside of it very angrily. More than once, they nearly tipped Elliot and his trunk sideways onto the floor.
“Quiet down in there, Elliot,” his father called from the bedroom down the hall. “You should be sleeping, not playing.”
“Sorry,” Elliot called back, although none of the playing he’d ever done before involved real Goblins trying to stuff him in a trunk.
The trunk rumbled again. “Are you sure they’re stuck in there?” Elliot asked Mr. Willimaker, who had just tiptoed out from his hiding place in the closet.
“You’re a king in the Underworld,” Mr. Willimaker said. “Command them to stay in there and they must, until you release them.”
Elliot’s eyes widened. “I just say ‘stay in the trunk’ and they have to do it?”
Mr. Willimaker shrugged. “You could wave your arm around so it looks fancy, but only if you want to. It doesn’t really matter, because as long as you say the words, they have to obey.”
“Can I command them to do anything I want?”
“Not with Brownie magic. Possibly you can command them to sing your favorite song in three-part harmony. But unless you want your ears to shatter, I’d recommend against it. All you can do is command them to remain as your prisoners and not poof away. Since you rule in the Underworld, they’re bound by your command to stay.”
“It’s still pretty cool.” Elliot waved his arms the way he’d seen a wizard in a movie do it once, then said, “Hey, you Goblins in the trunk. Stay in there.”
The pounding got louder, but the trunk stopped banging around as much. “I don’t think they liked my command,” Elliot said.
“They’ll give up after a while and go to sleep,” Mr. Willimaker said. “They’ll be fine until we figure out what to do with them.”
“Was that magic?” Elliot asked. “Can I do magic now?”
“I do
n’t know.” Mr. Willimaker stretched out his arms then flicked his fingers apart. In his palm was a small puff of smoke that swirled in the air and disappeared. “Can you do that?”
Elliot stretched his arms and flicked his fingers apart. Mr. Willimaker looked at his palms and said, “Oh, my!”
“What do you see?” Elliot asked.
“Dirty hands. You should’ve used some of the water you threw on the Goblins for yourself.”
Elliot looked at his hands and then shoved them in his pockets.
“You don’t have magic,” Mr. Willimaker said. “But as long as you are king, your command for a prisoner to remain where he is must be obeyed.”
Elliot thought of his younger twin brothers. “I wish I could make Kyle and Cole obey my commands.”