A May storm was blowing in Lapland, sending snow and hail down upon them as they huddle under the carpet for protection.  It was too dark and thick to fly.  Even if they could have risen above it, they couldn’t see the ground to navigate, and the dazed carpet was not to be trusted to guide itself.

“We’re really sorry,” the ladies kept saying.  “We didn’t realize we hit it that hard.”

Rex and Harley were comfortably bedded down in a nearby snow bank.  “I bet Gisele would be comfortable out there, too,” said Llywarch.

“If you try being funny, claiming William would give odds, I’ll pinch you,” Rosa threatened Chris.  “Why didn’t you use the genie’s wishes?”

“I don’t believe in them,” said Chris.  “People need to make their own luck.  That’s what William does.  Have you ever seen one go right?”

 “William wished for loaded dice,” argued Rosa.  “And I’m not sure that cheating is the same thing as making your own luck.  You don’t believe Hansel’s wish for Gretel’s happiness was wrong do you?”

“Something will go wrong.  It always does,” insisted Chris.  “Probably she’ll become a shrew and make Randolph’s life miserable.  What about the sailors almost drowning or Hombre ruining the bees?  And then there’s you.  You sent your father to the Inquisition!”

“I admit I’m not very good at it, but other people are!”

Chris hesitated, then continued, “When I was a boy, my dog got run over by a hay cart.  He was suffering.  I wished he could be better, but it didn’t happen.  I wasn’t old enough…I didn’t need it when I was twenty-one; I needed it then.  I ended Laddie’s suffering, myself.”  Chris’s voice quivered, but he covered it up with a cough.  “I vowed that I would never depend on wishes.  I don’t believe in them.  I say luck is what you make it!”

Rosa’s heart ached.  But she persisted, “What about Mimi and Hansel.  They’re happy.”

“She’ll probably die young!”

Randolph interrupted.  “Do you hear singing?  It’s coming from outside.”

“Oh dear,” said Gretel, feeling his forehead.  “You’re not getting delirious are you?”

 “No.  I really hear singing.  Listen!”

The others strained their ears, at first they could only hear the howling of the wind, but then…

 “Three French hens.  Two turtle-doves.  And a partridge in a pear tree.”

“Three French hens.  Two turtle-doves.  And a partridge in a pear tree.”

 “Where’s the rest of the song?” asked Chevy.  “And that’s being sung like a march.”

“It’s not Christmas, is it?” asked Colleen.  “I’ve been away too long.”

Suddenly from deep within William’s bag, the lines were echoed.  “Three French hens.  Two turtle-doves.  And a partridge in a pear tree.”

Chris tugged at the strings, and pulled opened the bag.  Out popped Walter.  “Boy, I’m hungry,” he said.  “Has anyone got an ear of corn?”  Outside the song continued.

“That’s not you, is it,” asked Gretel.  “You’re not throwing your voice without moving your lips?”

“No,” answered Walter.  “And they’re leaving out the best verses.  There’s something about geese and swans, I think.”

“What are you doing here?” asked Rosa.  “Where’s my pan?”

“Wait…wait…wait,” begged Walter.  “I’ve reformed.”  When everyone looked dubious, he pouted, “I’ve got no place else to go.  And it’s your fault,” he told Rosa.  “That boyfriend of yours got me fired.”

“William Morris is not my boyfriend.  He’s a boorish simpleton who is rude, disobedient, not at all funny, and he steals things!”

“Hey,” said Chris, crestfallen.  “I thought you felt that way about me.”

“At least he can kiss!”

The side of the carpet was thrown open to the wind and in marched ten emperor penguins, wearing backpacks, in double file singing at the top of their lungs.

“Yes, yes.  We know,” said Randolph.  “Three French Hens, a couple of doves, and some bird in a tree.  What are you doing here?  Penguins belong at the South Pole.”

“Sound off!” ordered the lead penguin.  “One!”

“Two!  Three!  Four!   …No, I’m Four!  …I am!   …Only because you cut.   Four!  Four!  Six!  Seven!  Eight!  Nine!  Ten!”

“Parade rest!”

Randolph repeated, “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for pebbles, sir!” responded the leader.

 “Looking for pebbles, sir!” responded the rest of the penguins.

“You’re looking for pebbles in Lapland?” asked Gretel.

Colleen made sure hers was safe.

“We got lost, Ma’am!” answered the leader.

“We got lost, Ma’am!” answered the rest of the penguins.

Randolph snarled.  “Stand at attention when you’re in the presence of a superior officer!”

“Yes, sir!  Captain, sir!” said the leader penguin.

“Yes, sir!  Captain, sir!” said the rest of the penguins.

“How did you know he was a captain?” asked Chevy

“Because he was polite when he gave the order,” answered the smallest penguin, from the back of the line.  “Sergeants are much meaner.”

“Thank you,” said the lead penguin.

Walter snickered, “You don’t have any kernels do you?  Ouch!  Who pinched me?”

“How can you end up in Lapland – all the way from the South Pole?” asked Gretel.

“Well, what are you doing here?” responded the sergeant.

“Oh.  I see what you mean.  We’re lost too.”

“I didn’t know penguins could talk,” said Irving.  “And what are you doing so far north?”

“We talk, Ma’am.  But usually its just name, rank, and serial number.”

The smallest continued.  “We wanted to find pebbles for our sweethearts for Christmas.”  Colleen nudged Hombre in approval. ”We kept finding better ones farther and farther away.  And before you know it – five months later – we’re in Lapland and we’re lost.  Did you know the North Star doesn’t move?”

“If you have sweethearts, why are you singing about other birds?” asked Rosa.  “Do you even know a partridge?”

The penguins hung their heads.  “It gets lonely,” said one of the number fours.  “We’re just marching to it,” insisted the other four.

“I’ve met a French hen, once,” Walter interjected.  “Oh, la, la!”

“Walter, shut up!” said Rosa.

“Yes, dear.”

The storm died down and the wind ceased to howl.  After it stopped snowing, everyone stuck their heads out of the carpet to watch the Northern lights.  The waves of color filled the sky, arching far to the south.

“The Aurora,” said Chevy, giving them their scientific name, “occur when the solar winds collide with the earth’s atmosphere and magnetic fields.  But I like to think of them as the Man in the Moon sweeping up star dust.”

“The Norse have a legend about them,” said Gretel.  “They’re supposed to be light bouncing off the shields of messengers from Odin, as they go on errands.”

“Penguins believe it’s the spirits of their ancestors dancing,” said the smallest one.

“What kind of dance are they doing?” asked Irving.

“I’ve always thought it looked like a square dance.”

Another penguin interjected, “Penguins love to square dance.”

“It’s so romantic,” sighed a number four.

“I think it looks like a hornpipe,” said Chris.

“I heard that the Northern Lights were the sounds of little people playing ninepins,” said Llywarch.  When everyone looked at him skeptically, he added, “Or maybe Van Winkle was talking about thunder.”

“Leprechauns think of them as the beasties Patrick drove from Ireland.”

“I’ve always heard that they were campfires of distant dwarfs,”

THUNK!

An enormous battle axe sank deep into the log that was sheltering them from the wind.

“You’re wrong.  The Northern Lights are the campfires of distant goblins,” came a voice from out of the dark.

“You make a sharp point.” said Chris. 

Rosa pinched him.  “What did I tell you about trying to be funny?”

Hombre, Randolph, and Chris quickly threw off the carpet, scattering snow in small flurries.  They stood and drew their swords.  But with another mighty swing, the swords were knocked away – where they stuck, handle up, quivering in the snowy ground.

A torch was lit and the ugly creature holding it was revealed to have pig like ears and a snout, with two protruding lower teeth.  He was a few inches taller than Hombre, but twice as muscular.  He was dressed oddly, wearing blue shorts with brass buttons connected to red suspenders.  One button was missing, leaving a suspender dangling.  The shorts were too small for him, causing the seams to stretch almost to the point of bursting.  His white shirt was, also, too small.  A pin was stuck through it to hold it together.  A bow tie hung unknotted.  On top his head was a tiny beanie.  His feet were sopping wet, and covered with what looked like purple slippers.

In the light of the torch, everyone’s breath could be seen hanging frozen in the air.

“W…who are you?” asked Gretel.

“I’m Geowulf, the Gobl…er...  That’s not right.  I’m Eddie, the Elf!

“Geowulf, the gobbler – are you a turkey?” Walter asked.  “You’re the ugliest turkey I’ve ever seen…unless you count Theresa.  Last blind date I’ll ever go on.”

“I’m Eddie, the Elf!” the goblin insisted.

 “Is Eddie short for Edward?” Gretel asked.

“I don’t know,” responded the creature.  “Eddie’s all it says on the shirt.”  He twisted his neck around, and tried to read the laundry mark.

“I say you’re a goblin,” said Randolph.

“No, no!” responded Eddie.  “The Snow Queen doesn’t hire goblins.  She only hires elves…I’m an elf.”

“What happened to the original Eddie?” asked Rosa.

“Something he disagreed with ate him.”

“You mean something he ate disagreed with him.

Eddie thought for a moment.  “No.  I think I had it right.  That reminds me, I should warn you not to let our housekeeper offer you a bath.”  To everyone’s surprise, he turned and bowed to Irving, saying.  “Welcome home, Princess.  The Queen wants to see you.  Follow me.”

*     *     *

“Blasted wood sprites!” muttered Eddie, for the third time, as he mistook the light of the sprites for the windows of the Snow Queen’s Castle.  The wood sprites, mischievous forest dwellers, who delighted in showing false lights to lead travelers astray, were out in full force, making it difficult for Eddie to find the way back to the castle.  He was the only one who fell into the icy steam this time.  The others had learned to stay a few steps behind him.  The carpet was left rolled up in the back of the cart, still recuperating.

“How do you know this guy?” Chevy asked Irving.  “And why does he call you Princess?”

Irving just shrugged and pushed her glasses back up her nose.  “The dwarfs used to call me Princess, but I’m sure that was only a term of affection.”

After a few more minor mishaps involving falling down a gully, running into a tree covered with snow, and stubbing his slippers on a stone hidden in a snow bank, Eddie at last found the castle.  Red-faced and complaining under his breath, he stopped and pointed to the towering structure.  “There it is!  Right where I thought it would be.”  He glared at them, daring them to dispute him.

Rosa said.  “It’s made out of granite.”  She gazed up at the spires and towers.  “I thought a Snow Queen would have an Ice Castle.”

“Blimey!” said Eddie.  “Don’t go giving that old woman any ideas.  It’s cold enough as it is.  You aren’t walking around in wet slippers with your belly exposed!” he grumbled.

A strangely familiar woman came out to meet them.  Gretel gasped.  “She looks like the Wicked Witch from the Gingerbread House.”

“What, the one with the dwarfs?”  Randolph went to draw his sword before he remembered it was stuck back in the snow.

“So you’ve met my niece.  I’m Helga.  And no matter what Aberdeen says, she was named after me.  You must be the Princess,” she added, feeling Irving’s arms.  “Yes.  You’re fattening up quite nicely.  Come in.  Come in.  Wipe your feet.  Would any of you care for a bath?”

“There’s a cat,” said the penguins, recoiling in horror.

“Really?” said Walter.  “I love cat food.”  An orange tabby took one look at Walter, then ran and hid behind Helga’s skirts.

“Let me show you to your rooms,” she said, as they came inside.  She looked distressed when they stamped their feet and shook the snow from their clothing, leaving muddy puddles on her clean slate floors.

Eddie was beginning to sniffle and sneeze. “Ouch!  Blasted button,” could be heard.

Helga informed them, “The Snow Queen will see you first thing in the morning.”

Lighting two candles, she lead them up a flight of stone stairs.  A candle was left with the women in one room, and the other was left with the men in the room just across from it.  “You think a castle this size would have a honeymoon suite,” Randolph was complaining as he blew out the candle, when, suddenly, the sun came up.

“Oh, right,” said Llywarch.  “This close to the Artic Circle, you only get a few hours of darkness this time of year.  At mid-summer, sun doesn’t go down at all.

“Worst honeymoon I ever had,” muttered Randolph, as he pulled back on his boots.

*     *     *

The Great Hall of the Snow Queen’s castle was a splendid room.  Despite Eddie’s complaints, it was warm.  Large fireplaces dominated two of the walls.  Full coal scuttles showed that, in Lapland at least, it was plentiful.  A brilliant crystal chandelier reflected the glow of the fires.  High windows let in the morning light.  Comfortable couches and chairs were arranged for conversation.  End tables stood beside them, displaying artfully arranged flower displays in vases.  Wall tapestries echoed the colors of the Aurora.  Scattered here and there in the corners and along the walls were suits of armor, shields, and short swords.

In the center, on a raised dais, was an intricately engraved throne, inlaid with gold and covered with satin cushions.  On it sat the Snow Queen.

 “Blimey!” said Llywarch, when they were ushered into the Snow Queen’s presence.  “She looks like the old hag from the Pirate Carnival.

“So you’ve met my niece,” said the Snow Queen, grinning so they could see her one gold tooth.  She made use of a spittoon sitting next to the throne.  Tobacco juice was splattered all over her crimson robes.  “I call her ‘Denise’.  She’s got a brother there somewhere.  I call him ‘Da nephew’.”  She gave a hideous a chuckle.

“Why don’t you pinch her?” Walter asked.

“How did you know we were here?” asked Gretel

“Oh,” smiled the old woman.  “A little birdie told me.”  A black raven flew down from the ceiling beams and perched on her boney shoulder.  “Polly want a cracker?” she asked, as she fed the bird a wafer.

“That bird’s name’s Polly?” asked Llywarch

“Yes.  And we win the ‘Polly Want a Cracker’ contest every April.”

“What do you want with us?” demanded Randolph, feeling helplessly for his sword.

“Not you!  Her!  Princess Georgette!”  The Queen pointed to Irving.  She turned to Eddie and said, “You were supposed to kill her when she was a baby, and bring me back her heart – still beating.”

 “Achoo!  Are you sure it’s her,” asked the goblin, defensively.  “Everyone here calls her Irving.”

Llywarch said, “No, Georgette’s really her name.  She just likes to be called Irving.”

“Uncle Larry,” Chris whispered.  “Hush.”

“Oh…you’re right.  Forget I said that.”

“I knew it.  Eddie!  What did you do with her before?”

Eddie ducked his head.  “I give her to Helga’s niece.  She was visiting at the time, and I bribed her to take the Princess away”

“And what did you, in your perfidy, bribe her with?”

“Huh?  Oh, you mean what did I pay her?”  He brightened up.  “It wasn’t much…a few bags of coal and a copy of my mother’s gingerbread recipe.

 “And what of the heart?” shrieked the Queen.  “I held something beating in a box.  What was it, a pig’s heart?”

Hombre gasped in horror.

“N…no,” Eddie was shuffling his feet.  “It was a sugar beet.  I cut a hole in the bottom of the box, and I was thumping it with my finger to make it move.”

“You mean I gave a sugar beet to Helga to keep safe all those years ago.”

“I thought it tasted sweet,” the witch said.

“This time, I’ll take care of it myself.”

“Don’t look at me,” said Helga.  “Thanks to you I’ve developed a sweet tooth.  Too bad we don’t have any more of those cute little elves.”

“Guards!” the old lady commanded.  “Take her away and put her in the dungeon until I can think of what to do with her.”

All over the hall, hidden doors sprung open and out rushed goblins.  They were dressed similar to Eddie; in shorts too small for them held up by various assortments of  belts, ropes, and suspenders, little beanies, shirts that would not button, and purple slippers.

“Where did you say you wanted to put her?” asked Eddie.

“The dungeon, fool!”

“But that’s were we live.”

“Pretty crowded there already,” one of the guards muttered.

“What about the Tower?

“Polly lives there.”

“Kitchen?”

“That’s where I live,” Helga muttered.

“Well, what does anyone suggest?”

Eddie took a folded sheet of paper out of his shirt pocket and looked at it.  “Garath, Galen, Gerick, Gary,” he commanded.  “I mean Edwin, Egbert, Elliot, and Elrod, put the Princess room 1403B and lock her up.”

Gary checked the back of his shirt.  “I’m Elroy today.  Elrod’s shirt’s in the wash.  Ouch!  What’s that lady swinging?”

“Watch out!” said Eddie.  “It looks like a frying pan.”

“I’ve been wondering.  Can you make waffles with that thing?” asked Walter.

“Surround the Princess,” Eddie ordered.

Quickly they had Irving encircled with their battle axes raised.  “Ouch!” said Egbert and Elliot together.  They moved apart, reducing the chances of one swing hitting both of them again.

Eddie and Elroy grabbed Irving by an arm, and started backing towards a door, while Egbert and Elliot did their best to fend off Rosa’s attack.  Slowly they gave ground as Rosa pressed her assault.

The other travelers ran to the walls to grab what weapons they could.  But the short swords were no match for the battle axes and they were quickly knocked aside to clatter on floors or stick in furniture.

“I just had that couch reupholstered,” complained Helga.

Walter flew into a suit of armor and was adding to the pandemonium by playing in the helmet.  He kept poking his head in and out.  “Coo!  Coo!” he called.

 “Blimey!” said Eddie, as he tripped over a couch and hit an end table – sending a flower vase crashing on the floor.  The tumbling table knocked Randolph off his feet.

“Blasted goblins,” muttered Helga, as she grabbed a broom and dustpan from a closet.  “Why can’t they take their battles outdoors?”

The tabby cat darted out from under the upturned sofa and raced to hide behind the throne.

Eddie stooped and picked up the sheet of paper that fell out of his pocket.

Randolph stooped and picked up the sheet of paper that fell out of his pocket

Irving almost escaped when Eddie let go of her during his fall, but she tripped over Walter, who had rushed forward attracted by the glitter of the broken pieces of vase, and she was quickly recaptured.

“Get out of my way, you blasted chicken,” Helga muttered, as she started to sweep up the mess.

“Attent-hup!” commanded the sergeant, who wanted to be helpful, and the penguins started countermarching about the room.

Walter fell in behind them, strutting impressively.  “Say,” he asked Rosa, as they passed.  “I couldn’t borrow your scarf, could I?”

Chris wrapped his arms around Chevy and held him as he was attempting a charge straight at the blades.

Gretel was beating at goblin feet with a fire poker.

“Blimey,” hopped Elroy.  “I hate these slippers.”

Llywarch came forward with a feather duster.

“I think I knew her,” Walter blanched, but kept marching.

The littlest penguin started throwing pebbles.

“What are you doing?” asked his sergeant.  “You were going to give those to your sweetheart.”

“I think I’m going to get her a pan, so she can fry me kippers.”

“That’s not all she can do…”  The sergeant whispered in his ear.

“She wouldn’t,” the little one gasped.  And he ran around trying to gather up his rocks.

Half the penguins were attempting a flanking maneuver around the left side of the circle of flailing axes, while Walter followed the other half around the right.  “Is that cat food?” he asked, and he came to a sudden stop by a bowl on the floor.  “Oh, well.  It’s time for me to take a break, anyway.”

“Watch yourself,” said Chris to Chevy, who was still struggling to impale himself on the axes.  “You can’t help her if you’re dead.”

“Wish her free, then!” said Chevy.  “You have one wish.  Wish her free.”

Chris blanched.  “You don’t know what you’re asking.  I can’t,” he said, as the door closed behind the two who had Irving.  The rest of the guards quickly dispersed, slamming doors behind them.

Then the Snow Queen pressed a knob on her throne and it disappeared into a hole in the floor, leaving a tabby cat and a wobbling spittoon in its wake.  Her evil chuckle could be heard echoing throughout the depths of the castle, as the stones of the floor slid back in place, hiding her from view.

Chevy tore himself free and ran to the wall where Irving had disappeared, looking for a way to reopen the door that had vanished into the cracks of the wall.  But everything appeared to be solid.  Banging returned no echo.  The others spread out knocking on every inch, while the penguins examining the floor.

 “How is it possible?” Chevy  asked.  He turned to Chris and accused, “This is your fault!”

Walter looked up from the cat’s dish.  Wiping tuna from his beak, he asked, “Did we win?”

In frustration, Randolph hurled the Queen’s spittoon against the spot where Irving disappeared.

“You’re not leaving here until you clean that up,” said Helga, holding out a mop and bucket.

“Oh dear,” said Gretel.