“This is your fault,” Chevy accused Chris, after the witch disappeared into the broom closet with the mop and pail.

Chris stared at him in disbelief, as the others gathered around them

Walter flew over and landed on Rosa’s shoulder.  “I never trusted him.  He doesn’t have beady eyes.”  The penguins nodded in agreement.

“Do you think you’re too good to make a wish,” asked Gretel.

“See,” Chris told to Rosa, while ignoring Walter.  “I told you she’d turn into a shrew.  Ouch!  Watch that pan.”

“How many notches do goblin shins count as, I wonder,” posed Rosa.

“This does seem like a good time to make your wish,” his uncle added.  The others nodded in agreement.

“And what if the goblins come back? “ Chris asked.

“Wish us all to England,” suggested Randolph.

“What if we end up in the middle of the Thames, or worst – the Bloody Tower?”

“Are you swearing, again?” asked Rosa.

“No.  That’s what they call it, ‘The Bloody Tower’.”

“He means the Tower of London,” Randolph informed them.

“My wish really wasn’t all that bad,” insisted Hombre.

“He just wants to keep it for himself.  I say we throw him out,” said Walter, hopping down from his perch.

“First court marshal him,” suggested the penguin sergeant.

Chris found it hard to believe that he could be thrown so far by ten penguins and a chicken after they ripped a button off his shirt as a sign of his court marshal.  It was a good thing it was snowing again, he thought, as he landed in a soft bank.  His former friends slammed the castle door shut behind him.

“It’s sure hard to keep clothes clean in this wish,” he said to himself, although that brought a lump to his throat because it reminded him of Rosa.

 “I, for one, am glad to get rid of him,” Rosa said to the others before she started crying and ran up the stairs.  Knowing that she wanted to be alone, the others followed her immediately.

“Look,” said Chevy.  “These rooms are numbered 1001A, 1001B, 1002A, 1002B, 1003A…Here’s 1003B.  Irving must be thirteen floors above us.”

“But this is the second floor,” said the little penguin.

“Not in England,” said Randolph.  “In England, the floor on the bottom is called the ‘ground floor’ and the floor right above it is called the ‘first floor’, and so forth.”

“Oh,” answered the penguin, embarrassed by his lack of knowledge.  “We don’t have that many floors in igloos.”

“That’s right,” the sergeant supported him.  “There’s no need for him to get uppity,” the others agreed.

“Let’s throw him out in the snow,” suggested one of the fours, who clearly enjoyed the last tussle.  The other penguins began moving towards Randolph.

“Look,” said Gretel, in a timely fashion.  “Stairs.”

“Thirteen flights is a long way,” huffed Rosa, as they finally arrived at a landing.  “Especially when you have a chicken riding on your shoulder.  How much do you weigh?”

“Hey,” retorted Walter.  “How would you like it if I asked you that question?”

“How would you like it if, for my next meal, I cooked chicken and waffles.”

“Technically,” said Walter, hopping down, “I’m a rooster.  But I think I’ll walk now.”

“Penguins are quite tough and hard to chew,” one of them felt compelled to tell her, while the others nodded in agreement.  “I don’t think they sell penguin seasoning around here, anyway.” added another.

“Hey,” said Chevy, when they push open the stairwell door and walked out onto the floor.  “This is the fifteenth floor.”

“I’m confused,” said the little penguin to Randolph.  “Did we start counting from the first floor on the ground, or the second floor that you call the first floor?”

“We never have this problem in igloos,” one of the fours muttered.

“Oh, dear,” said Gretel.

“Let’s go down and count again,” said Randolph.

“Now this is the first floor,” said Randolph, after they returned to their starting point.

The penguins looked at him skeptically.

“It doesn’t get any easier the second time,” said Rosa huffing again, as they stood before the stairwell door.

“Wait a minute,” said Walter breathlessly, as he hopped up another step.  “Why am I doing this?  I can fly.”

“Blimey!  It’s the fifteenth floor again.”

“I think Randy made up all this ground floor nonsense,” said the little penguin.  “I say we throw him out a fifteenth floor window.”

“This time we find the twelfth floor and then just go up two more,” suggested Randolph, as they returned to their starting point again.

“I need to rest,” said Llywarch, as he sat on the bottom step.  The penguins marched around either side of him as they headed back up.  Colleen, Hombre, and Walter elected to stay with him.

“This is floor number twelve,” said Randolph.  “See 1201A, and 1201B.”  Everyone nodded in agreement, although with Llywarch absent, most of them were guessing what he said.

Two floors later.  “Blimey!  Maybe the fourteenth floor doesn’t exist.”

Walter showed up accompanied by Polly, the raven.  “I found the problem,” he said in Spanish.  “The castle doesn’t have a thirteenth floor.  They consider it bad luck.”

Off to a side, the penguins had opened their backpacks and were showing drawings of the igloos they grew up in to Gretel.

“Did Polly tell you that?” asked Rosa.

“Not exactly.  All she says is…”

“Nevermore,” quote the Raven.

“I think she’s been hurt in love,” Walter replied.

“Irving, are you in there?” Chevy asked when they at last reached the fourteenth floor.

“Chevy, is that you?” answered Irving.

“We can understand each other,” said Chevy.  “We must be in love!”

“Silly, I’ve known that since the meadow.  Why do you think I washed your mouth out with soap?”

“Where did Polly go?” asked Walter, looking around.

Just then the Snow Queen showed up.  “Polly told me you were here,’ she informed them.  “I sent her to spy.”  But, since no one spoke Laplander, no one understood her.

“Where did Polly go?” asked Walter again.  “I think she liked me.”

“I have you cornered,” continued the Queen.  “All I have to do to make you fall to the dungeon is go over to the wall and push that…”  But before she could finish, the penguins picked her up and tossed her out the window.  She shrieked “knob!” all the way down to a pile of snow.

The stairwell door opened and Hombre arrived, holding Colleen in one arm and Llywarch in the other, just as Walter was saying, “I wonder what she was trying to tell us?  That’s a pretty knob she was pointing at.”  And he went over and pecked it.

When the dust settled, they found themselves in the dungeon staring eye-to-eye with the off duty goblins, who were playing poker.

“Gee whiz!” said Geowulf.  “Next time give us some warning.  We’re not even dressed.”  The goblins had shed the elf clothing and were sitting around in flannel long johns.  One was white, another was red, one was plaid, and one was a pale pink.  “It got washed with the red one,” the goblin insisted, embarrassed.

They folded their cards and rushed over to put on their shorts.  Geowulf sloshed water as he ran.  He had been nursing his cold, soaking his feet in a tub of hot water.  He had a thermometer in his mouth and a towel over his head.

“I was winning that hand,” Gary complained, as he sucked in his stomach and fastened the shorts over his long johns.

A small creature that looked like a real elf came in with a food tray.  It was overloaded with meats, cakes, and puddings.

“Er…This is Jerry, the goblin,” Geowulf told them.

“But Jerry starts with a ‘J’, said Gretel.

“See!” said Jerry.  “I told you that someone would know how to spell it.”

“He’s not an elf,” Geowulf insisted.  “Helga eats elves.”

“He’s a good cook,” said another goblin, defensively.  “He likes to clean and do laundry,” said another.  “He can make shoes,” Gary told them.  “But the Queen won’t let us wear them.”

Geowulf looked over the tray.  “You couldn’t find anything to make chicken soup with, I see.” he said, as he hooked a donut with a calloused finger.  Walter hid behind Rosa’s skirt.  “I’m sorry we don’t have enough to share,” he informed the visitors, pointing to the abundantly ladened tray.  “But you didn’t call first.”

“That’s okay,” they replied.  “We’re not hungry,” as several stomachs rumbled.

“Why do you call Irving ‘Princess’?” asked Chevy.

“Because she is.  This is her castle.  The old woman up there isn’t really the Snow Queen.  The Snow Queen was Princess Georgette’s mother.  That old hag was the nursemaid.”

“Oh dear,” said Gretel.  “What happen?”

“Those were better days,” Geowulf sighed.  “Back then there were real elves working in the castle.  And goblins did the gardens.”

“Not a lot of gardening to do in the snow,” said Gary.

“We loved it,” added another goblin.

“The Princess’s birth was hard on Georgette’s mother.  She died shortly afterward.  Her heart just gave out on her.  She died with her little girl in her arms.”

“Georgette looks like her mother,” added another goblin.

“After that everything went bad,” interjected Jerry.

“The hag passed it around that Georgette’s father killed his wife.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” said Rosa.

“Well, just about then some guy wrote a play about something like that.  We had a touring group here from England.  Othello, I think it was call.  We have it here in a book.”  He pointed to a dusty book case that had a few tattered books and some pictures of female goblins dressed in long johns, with the top button undone.  Colleen punched Hombre when he looked at one too closely.  “You ever heard of it.”

“That sounds like a new poet named William Shakespeare,” Randolph replied.

“Yeah!  That’s it.  Billy Wigglestick, we called him.”  The goblins all giggled.  “He didn’t like that much.  He writes some nasty things about us in his plays.  Anyway, the people thought if it was in a book, it had to be true.  So the King was banished.  Then the hag decided to get rid of Georgette and make herself queen.  I couldn’t bring myself to kill the little tyke.  At the time, Helga-Aberdeen was visiting.  She was having problems.  She claimed something about her house being destroyed by children and she was going to take a job with a dwarf family.  It was easy to get her take Georgette off my hands.”

“Weren’t you afraid the witch would eat her?” asked Gretel.

“Oh, I promised a bag of coal every year at Christmas.  It was easy to slip that past the old woman.  Who ever heard of coal being delivered in a sled by flying reindeer?  Later, of course, the dwarfs got to love her.  They believed the tale about her being a long lost sister.  After that Helga-Aberdeen couldn’t eat her.  But I don’t know what’s going to happen to her here.”

“We’ve got to rescue her.  How do we get out of here,” Chevy asked.

“That’s easy enough,” replied Geowulf.  “See that door marked ‘Egress’…”

“There’s something peculiar about ‘egress’,” said Llywarch.  “I’m trying to remember what it is.”

They push open the door and fell into the snow next to someone buried head first in the snow, wearing crimson robes and striped stockings with her feet sticking straight up.  “Now I remember,” said Llywarch.  “It means ‘exit’.”

*     *     *

“These are enormous foot prints,” Chris said to himself, as he followed them.  “I wonder if there really is such thing as an Abominable Snowman.”  Wood sprites kept trying to lead him off the path, but getting someone to follow them in the day light was a lot more difficult.

It started to snow even though the sun was shining.  “That’s got to mean something,” said Chris.  The sprites just fumed.

Thump!

Christopher ran head long into a gray wall.  He grabbed hold of a rope attached to it to keep from falling.

“Hey, watch where you’re putting your hands,” said the elephant.

“I’ve been told that before,” Chris admitted.  “I wasn’t looking where I was going.  I thought I was following something…abominable.”

“I can’t help it if I have little ears,” said animal.  “I’m an Indian elephant.  You’re not that good looking yourself.  You’ve got a little nose!”

“I’ve been told that before, too,” admitted Chris.  “What’s your name?  And what are you doing here?”

“I’m called Ekaraj.  That means king in Hindu.  I’m a hermit.  My girlfriend was an African elephant, but she left me.  She said my ears were too small.  I’m running away from an unrequited love.”

“I had a friend with that problem.  Then they found they understood each other.  Couldn’t she understand you?”

Ekaraj gave him a look of exasperation.  “Elephants all speak the same language,” he said.

“But you understand English.”

“Well,” said Ekaraj.  “I have always been fascinated by the remote branches of the Indo-European language tree.”

The ground began to shake beneath them.

“Oh, oh!” said Ekaraj.  “I’ve been standing in one place too long.  Run for it!”  But before they could, the ground crumpled around them and they fell into a cave.

“Who are you,” asked Chris, when the dust settled.  He and Ekaraj were surrounded by a group of men.

“We’re hermits,” answered their leader.  “My name is Robin Hood.”

“Aren’t hermits supposed to live alone?” asked Chris.  “And dress in rags?”

“We’re not fanatical about it,” said another hermit.  “We’ve formed a club.

“You’re not all that well dressed yourself,” added another.

“I’m a hermit, too,” said Ekaraj.  “Can I join your club?”

“There’s nothing in the rules that says an elephant can’t join,” said Robin.  “Sure!  The more the merrier.”

“I told you I don’t believe all this talk about merry men,” protested one of the hermits.  “I, for one, am only mildly content.”

“The only rule is against hags,” continued Robin.  “You’re not a hag, are you?” he asked Chris.

“No,” answered Chris.  “I guess I’m an outcast.”

“Close enough,” said Robin.  “Pay us your dues.”

“But you didn’t ask Ekaraj for dues,” Chris complained.

“Ridiculous,” answered the other hermit.  “Who ever heard of an elephant paying dues?  If he’s going to be difficult, don’t let him join.  Let’s rob him, instead.”

“No,” said Robin.  “I never want the name Robin Hood associated with an outlaw.”

“It might be too late for that.  There’s this guy in England…” Chris started to tell him when he was interrupted.

“We could claim we gave it to the poor.”  Several of them laughed heartily.

“But I don’t have anything on me,” said Chris

“What about luggage?” asked another hermit.  “Did you bring any luggage?”

“The elephant’s got a trunk,” said someone in the crowd.  “Ouch!  Who pinched me?”

“I have to rescue Princess Georgette,” Chris said.  “The Snow Queen captured her and has her locked in room 1403B.  Can you help me?”

“That’s a good room,” said a hermit.  “I was held there once.”

To Chris’s surprise, Robin turned pale.  He staggered for a moment.  Then tears came to his eyes.  “My daughter is alive?”

“You mean you’re the King?” asked the other hermits.

“Yes,” said Robin.  “I’ve kept it secret while I’m in hiding all these years.  As proof, here is my signet ring.”  He opened his shirt and showed them a heavily ornate ring hanging from a gold chain around his neck.

“I suppose now, he wants the top bunk,” someone complained.

The rest of the hermits went down on one knee and cried, “Hail to King Robin, and his daughter, the Princess Georgette.  Long live King Robin.”

“I guess it’s time to reclaim my throne,” said the King, “now that I have something to live for.”

“You know, I’m a king, too,” insisted Ekaraj.

*     *     *

Finding all the doors to the castle locked, the travelers left the snow bank with the half-buried hag and started wandering in circles.

“Gretel and I are okay, Larry.  We’re not hungry,” Rosa told Llywarch, as they foraged for food by the side of a stream.

Llywarch could smell coconut on her breath.  In vain, he felt his empty bag.

 “Are wood sprites edible,” asked Walter.  He had one captured by the wings.  Unfortunately for the sprite, Walter could talk without moving his beak.

“No,” insisted the sprite.  “And we’re an endangered species.”

Walter’s ears started to glow, after he swallowed the sprite in one gulp.

“Oh, dear,” said Gretel.

“I don’t feel sorry for it,” said Rosa.  “It’s the one that got us lost.”

“I kept saying there was no reason to follow that light in the daytime,” Randolph repeated, while his stomach rumbled.  “Blimey!  I’m hungry.”

“We know how to fish,” said the little penguin.

“That’s right,” said the sergeant.  “I forgot about that.  Attent-hup!  You all know what to do.”

The penguins spread out to perform their well practiced tasks.  Four of them pulled ice picks out of the backpacks and started chipping at the ice covering the stream.

“Can we have cocktails?” Walter asked, eyeing the shavings with interest.

Four others split up, sending two upstream, and two down to pound on the ice with their feet, driving fish towards the hole that was quickly opening.  The remaining two found a large stick and dug up a worm.

“I’d complain about my children being left orphans,” the worm said, “if it wasn’t for the fact that I’m a self-reproducer.”

Borrowing the string from Llywarch’s beard, the penguins set about catching fish after fish, handing them to Walter to pack in ice.

“We’re watching some real experts,” Randolph, the sea captain, told the others.

Finally, the hole was fished out.

“I’ll light a fire,” said Randolph.  “Walter, bring the fish over here… Walter?”

Walter was found, flat on his back, with his stomach engorged.  Surrounding him were piles of fish skeletons.  “I try to fight them off,” Walter informed them, raising his head wearily.  “But there were too many of them.  I think they were grizzly bears.”

“I hate fish bone soup,” Randolph complained, as they sat around the fire slurping it.  Even Gretel’s talents were not enough to do much with what was left.

“If I’m not telling the truth, may lightning strike me,” insisted Walter.  The others scooted away and looked up expectantly.

CRACK!

The fire had weakened the ice, and the slab they were sitting on started racing downstream leaving the cart and animals on the bank.  In the distance they heard the roar of a waterfall.

“Look!” claimed Walter.  “There are the grizzles,” as two polar bears watched them float by.

“Whoopee,” cried the penguins, who were sliding down the ice into the water, then hopping back up to do it again.

“Everybody jump!” shouted Randolph, as they neared the falls.  And he stood to do so.  But he slipped and before anyone could react the slab went over the precipice.

Down and down, they swirled in the churning water.  The ice broke to pieces, but they fortunately missed the boulders at the bottom of the falls.  The strong current tugged them under, sweeping them away until they were almost dead from lack of air.  Then came a sound of water gurgling, like a plug pulled from a bottle, and they were spewed through a narrow hole and flung into a cave, while the water disappeared below them into the depths of an underground stream.

Who are you,” asked Rosa, when the mud settled.  They were surrounded by a group of men, accompanied by Chris, and an elephant.

“I’m Christopher Morris,” answered Chris.  “Surely, you can’t have forgotten me already.”

“My name is Ekaraj,” said the Elephant.  “I’m a hermit.”

“We’re all hermits,” answered their leader.  “But really I am King.  My name is Robin Hood.  And you are beautiful.”

Rosa blushed.

“Aren’t hermits supposed to live alone?” asked Gretel.  “And dress in rags?”

“We’re not fanatical about it,” answered another hermit.