"Mistress!" exclaimed Leprechaun, thoroughly shocked, "You cannot mean to put it in the attic!"
Noggin smiled grimly. "That's exactly what I mean, now go and stop Minion No. 8 setting fire to the Christmas tree."
Leprechaun shot one last reproachful look at his mistress and scuttled off to do as she said. Noggin turned back to Gremlin and Cretin to see them grinning broadly at her and rolled her eyes, collapsing theatrically into her throne, recently unearthed by Crouton from the black hole like storeroom of the Creators.
In honour of the festive holiday, Noggin had resolved to don her comfiest pair of trousers and her favourite T-shirt. This course of actions had proved to be too much for some of the gnomes who were now lying in their room fretting over the sanity of their beloved mistress. Leprechaun's attempts at dissuading her from this madness had failed miserably and the gnomes were resigned to the fact that at least this irrational behaviour would not outlive the night and that their Master would consequently never bear witness to it.
Over in corner, Minions No. 3 & 4 were putting the finishing touches to the last of their Christmas carols and in the kitchen both Minions and gnomes were scurrying to and fro preparing dinner. Crouton and Flower however were nowhere to be seen.
When Gremlin pointed this out to the other two, Cretin shrugged unconcernedly and said that they were probably still asleep.
"On Christmas Eve?" asked Gremlin incredulously.
Cretin frowned slightly but said, "I'm sure they'll turn up eventually."
Right on cue, Flower herself appeared, humming the twelve days of Christmas under her breath.
"Flower, is Crouton upstairs?"
"No, she left early to run an errand or something," replied Flower vaguely.
"An errand?"
"Yes, Eric went with her."
"Is he still here?" asked Gremlin, slightly puzzled.
Flower nodded and settled herself on a wooden beam above the plotting table. Cretin glanced at the clock and grinned, "Only half an hour till Christmas!"
Soon after this announcement, Minions No. 3 & 4 declared that they were ready to give a rendition of their newest composition. Creators, Minions, gnomes and gods alike gathered round to hear it. Minion No. 3 played a few chords on her guitar and the song began. It went as follows:
In the twelve days of Christmas
My true love sent to me
Twelve lackeys leaping
Eleven comrades dealing
Ten pixies peeping
Nine strangers strolling
Eight gnomes a-fishing
Seven minions singing
Six sheep a-squatting
Five magic spells
Four grumpy gods
Three crazed Creators
Two warped invaders
And a HQ in an oak tree.
During the course of the song, Crouton and Eric entered the room, snow dusting their cloaks and parcels held in their arms.
"Where've you been?" asked Gremlin once the clamour had died down.
"Collecting our post," answered Crouton, depositing the parcels under the tree with the rest of the presents.
"Post?"
"Yes. Mr Claus is lamentably far too obese to squeeze himself into the narrow passageways of our HQ and as we have no chimney he can't use his magic to deliver the presents via that route. He sent a note to say we were to collect them from Bracken Lodge."
Gremlin was about to inquire why she had never heard of this arrangement when the grandfather clock chimed midnight and the whole assembly were silent until the twelfth stroke. As the last chime faded away, the noise of fast approaching footsteps could be heard.
The Creators glanced apprehensively at each other. As far as they knew, they weren't expecting any visitors. The footsteps stopped and there was a sharp knock at the door. After a moment's hesitation, Crouton strode over to the door and opened it a fraction, peering around it curiously.
After a few seconds conversation she turned back to the expectant company and said casually to Noggin, "It's a someone with a message for you."
Noggin frowned, slid off her throne and walked over to the door in mystification. She pushed open the door and stared at the figure in the shadows. Gremlin and Cretin exchanged fleeting baffled looks but were saved the trouble of asking who it was by Noggin's sudden exclamation.
"Darcy!"
The gnomes leapt to attention, faces glowing with delight though the more alert amongst them cast worried glances at each other, fearing their master's anger at his wife's obvious disregard for any form of ladylike behaviour.
The Minions also had mixed reactions. They had all of course by now heard of the infamous Mr Darcy; the man who, according Cretin and Gremlin had stolen Noggin's heart and was holding it to ransom in a far away tower and who, according to Crouton, was the love of Noggin's life and lived happily with her at Pemberley.
The older Minions; those who remembered a time when Darcy was a still a member of Seventh Heaven, shuffled cautiously out of the kitchen and tried to peer into the shadows of the passageway without attracting Cretin and Gremlin's attention. The other Minions, who had only heard the tale of the legendary Mr Darcy shoved them out of the way and stared past Noggin, trying to catch a glimpse of the mythical visitor.
Bloom and Depp exchanged grins and looked eagerly towards the door. Alan on the other hand assumed his usual expression of bewilderment and wondered what all the fuss was about.
Crouton glanced apprehensively at Gremlin who was glaring daggers at her and sighed. If the Creators were allowed to have their gods around at Christmas, she saw no reason for Noggin not to be permitted to see her husband.
Flower, on her perch in the rafters, peered down through the leaves and grinned at the speechless Creators. Above her, the branch moved slightly and two black capped heads poked out from amongst the leaves, looking worriedly down at the scene below them.
Cretin, who had been frozen in her seat out of shock suddenly jumped out of her chair and bolted across the room, slamming the door in Darcy's face.
"We don't want double glazing thanks very much!"
"Hey!" cried Noggin, staring at her friend. "What are you doing? Open the door immediately!"
"Shan't," scowled Cretin. "We haven't got windows, ergo, we don't need double glazing."
"Cretin.." warned Noggin.
"What?! There's no reason for it to be opened. There's no one there. You're hallucinating. You're all hallucinating. This is nothing but a dream." She started waving her hands in what she considered to be a suitably mystical way and looked hopeful.
"Stop being so childish and open the door," demanded Noggin, completely unimpressed by Cretin's antics.
"But-" protested Cretin, feverishly trying to think of an excuse to keep it shut. "But, um, but..."
"But it won't," said Gremlin, appearing suddenly by her side.
"It won't?" asked Noggin sceptically.
"No, it's the damp," apologised Gremlin, smiling weakly. "Happens all the time. Door swells up - we can't shift it. It gets stuck for ages sometimes, isn't that right Cretin?" She prompted, elbowing her companion in the ribs.
"What? Oh, yes. Yes, the damp, terrible. Can't budge the door for days I'm afraid. Ices up completely. We'll have to wait till Spring - see it thaws out then."
"Then of course it'll be a while till the damp dries out." Gremlin sighed theatrically, "No, my friend, I'm sorry to say we won't be getting this door open till at least a few weeks into Summer. Such a shame, but these things happen you know."
Noggin gave her two colleagues a stern look and said firmly, "Look, I know you don't like Darcy but this is ridiculous. If that door isn't open in ten seconds, I'll set the gnomes on you. Ten..."
"But it's the damp!" protested Gremlin.
"Nine..."
"It's completely iced up!" said Cretin earnestly.
"Eight..."
"Summer's only six months away!"
"Seven..."
"No, six."
"Six..."
"She was referring to how long we've got Cret," scowled Gremlin.
"Five..."
"I knew that!" snapped Cretin, looking sheepish.
"Four..." continued Noggin, resolutely.
"But he'll ruin everything!"
"Three..."
"He'll take you away again!"
"Two..."
"This is all your fault Crouton!"
"One.."
"How is it my fault? I didn't ask him to come," objected Crouton, looking hurt.
"Zero. Now move, or else."
"But-"
"Now!"
Very reluctantly, Gremlin and Cretin shuffled a few grudging inches away from the doorway and Noggin pushed open the door to reveal rather a bemused Darcy standing on the stairs. The gnomes scurried around his feet as he entered the room so that he was hardly able to move.
He looked amusedly down at their beaming faces then up at Noggin. "Happy Christmas."
Noggin grinned and hugged him, scattering gnomes left, right and centre. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"
Darcy frowned, "I did, or at least I sent a message. Didn't you get it?"
Noggin shook her head, "Who did you send?"
"Jude, Julian and Sebastian. I wonder where they got to.."
In the sudden silence they heard a muffled squeak and a couple of brown leaves floated down high above them. Everyone looked up to see Flower sitting on a rafter, contriving to look as innocent as possible.
"Flower?" said Crouton suspiciously.
"Yes?"
"Where did you get that hat?"
Flower opened her mouth then shut it again. Eventually she said hopefully, "A Christmas present?"
"Funny, it looks exactly like one of the ones those pixies wear."
"Mmm.. Funny that," said Flower vaguely.
"Jude?" called Darcy, sighing. "Sebastian? You can come out now."
There was no answer.
"That was an order," he added in firmer tones.
Hesitantly, two small heads poked out of the tangled branches and gazed fearfully down at him.
"And Julian. Where is he?"
Jude and Sebastian exchanged nervous glances then Jude ventured, "He, um, had to go home. Felt sick."
Sebastian nodded, dropping onto the rafter and retrieving his cap from Flower's head. "Yeah, he ate something that disagreed with him."
Darcy sighed again. That was typical of Julian, he usually ate anything that disagreed with him - provided it was smaller than he was.
"Why didn't you deliver my message?"
The pixies squirmed awkwardly, unwilling to tell Darcy the truth - their joke didn't seem quite as funny anymore.
Gremlin made a sympathetic noise, "You just can't get the staff these days. You should get yourself some minions, Darcy. They've never failed us, have they Cretin?"
"Well actually- I mean, no, never."
Darcy smiled curtly and replied smoothly, "Yes, but you see, I prefers assistants who don't require straight jackets."
"At least ours have imaginations!" retorted Gremlin angrily. "They don't scurry around sucking up to people and forcing them to be someone they're not!"
"You'd rather they lazed about all day and never did any work?"
"Beats doing any work," pointed out Minion No. 3, watching the shouting match with interest.
Darcy shook his head in exasperation, "Let's just face it - you're jealous of my servants' loyalty."
"Minions are loyal," argued Cretin.
"Oh yes? Then why did they burn down the last HQ?"
"That was an accident!" said Cretin, Gremlin, Flower and all the minions, abruptly.
Darcy paused, staring at the tense, guilty faces that surrounding him. The whole assembly was still for a moment, not quite sure what to make of the situation.
Eventually Cretin broke the silence, mumbling quietly, "Yeah well, the minions would never have given Eric back his towel.."
"My cousin," said Crouton, waving a hand at the sheepish form of Eric.
Darcy gave Eric a suspicious look and asked, "He's not the Replacement is he?"
"Replacement?" asked Noggin, frowning.
"Yeah, Julian said there was someone called..." He furrowed his brow in recollection. "Rickworth?"
"Oh!" said Noggin, a smile of realisation dawning on her face. She smiled up at Darcy, completely oblivious to the small grins forming on the faces of her associates. "You mean Alan."
"Yeah, him," frowned Darcy. "I thought you were only allowed one god."
Noggin laughed, "Yeah but Alan's-"
"-her new true love," broke in Gremlin, appearing suddenly in front of her.
"Yeah, sorry Darcy. She's moved on," added Cretin, standing next Gremlin and smiling sympathetically.
Darcy hesitated, waiting for Noggin to protest or try to deny this. When she didn't, he asked slowly, "That's not true is it?"
"Of course it is, how dare you not believe us!" exclaimed Gremlin, looking hurt.
"Yeah, would we ever lie to you?" said Cretin, eyes wide.
"Noggin?" said Darcy, ignoring the two desperate Creators in front of him. When there was still no answer, Gremlin and Cretin grinned evilly.
"See, she was too embarrassed to tell you herself so she left it to us," said Gremlin sincerely.
"But-"
"Come on, there's no sense in you staying where you're not wanted," said Cretin hastily, pulling the door open. "Out you go."
Darcy looked condescendingly down at the Creators, a frown on his proud features. "Whoever this Alan is, he's not stealing my wife. I'll fight him for her."
"But-" began Cretin.
"You can't-" started Gremlin.
"No!" they shouted together.
"Why not? I love her and no one's going to take her away from me. Now where is this.. Alan?" He cast a glance around the room, trying to spot any unfamiliar male faces.
A few meters away, Bloom and Depp exchanged amused glances.
"Um, Darcy, he's not.. How shall I put it? Exactly what you might expect.." said Depp, an apprehensive look on his face.
"Yeah, he's quite a bit different from you," agreed Bloom, trying hard not to smirk at the thought of someone trying to explain to Alan that he had to fight Darcy.
Darcy scowled at them. "I'll do anything for the woman I love."
"Yes, but-"
Darcy wasn't listening, his attention had been caught by a small explosion that had just occurred on the other side of the room. He strode past the Creators and was about to march over to the source of the noise when he notice Noggin who was sitting on the floor, her shoulders shaking.
"Hey, are you alright?" he asked, falling to his knees and looking anxiously at his wife's tear-stained cheeks. "What's wrong?"
Noggin shook her head, biting her lip.
"What is it?" he persisted, gazing earnestly at her. "Is it him..?"
Noggin took a deep breath and looked directly at Darcy.
"Do you .. love him?" he asked quietly.
To Darcy's great surprise, Noggin burst out laughing.
"What's so funny?" he asked, slightly disconcerted.
