The Goblin Adventures Read online

  “What can it mean?” asked Idunno.

  “Shall we ask him?” Dread Beard turned his face towards the window, “what does it mean Author?”

  “Idunno.”

  “Yes Author?” inquired Idunno.

  “No, I meant I don’t know, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have been so slovenly with my speech. I was thinking that the beginning had something to do with the number five, quint, maybe, or a bit like quintessential.”

  “Fancy getting us to use a word even you don’t know what it is,” burbled Ugbash.

  “Well help me then, let’s decide what it means together,” said I.

  “We’ll say quint means five,” said Idunno, “and teem could be like rain teeming down.”

  “So what have we got so far?” asked the Author, “five times raining fast? What about the erable?”

  “That’s us lot innit? said Wobble. The others looked at him, “Well, we’re a rabble in’t we?”

  The others all picked up the cushions they were sitting on and threw them at Wobble, who began to wobble.

  “As a whole,” said Dread Beard, “I think it should mean something like a most enjoyable and convivial experience’. And by the way, unless you pick up all of these cushions now, I will put on my sword attachment and show you why they call me the terror of the seven coves.”

  The goblins fell over themselves picking up and dusting off the cushions.

  “Now you have tidied up for me why don’t you look at the other collections I have amassed over the years,” said Dread Beard, “boats in bottles, things I have hunted and scrimmage.”

  “Scrimmage?” said Wibble, “Ain’t that summin’ t’ do wiv rugby?”

  “Noooo, it’s carving on walrus tusk.” He grabbed a piece from a shelf, “This piece tells the story of me hunting my first squink.”

  “It looks like you caught it in a cave,” noted Idunno.

  “Arr, that be true,” said Dread Beard.

  “Yes it is, not that be true,” remarked Ugbash.

  “You have your idiosyncratic way of speaking so don’t criticize me for mine, especially as I have just given you tea and crumpets. And I’m sure that a similar joke was in Blackadder II somewhere.”

  “Was Blackadder a goblin?”

  “No, but he acted like one.”

  “Good feller then, you’ll have to lend me the DVD’s.”

  “I don’t know you that well.” Just then a bell rang from the garden, “The Squink are up.”

  The goblins scrambled over themselves trying to get their gear for the hunt. When they got outside they saw the gnome ringing the bell.

  “Thanks Noggit,” said Dread Beard, “you can fish in my pond for now, but don’t catch anything.”

  The gnome smiled as the goblins filed onto the beach then he went into the house to finish the leftover tea and crumpets.

  “He is a cheeky little gnome,” Dread Beard said to himself, “but useful sometimes.”

  Firing their arrows at the squink the goblins all missed and the squink, realising they were being fired at, all started to flee to the other end of the beach. Ugbash and the others started to run after them.

  “The pirate/hunter shouted after them, “You don’t want to be runnin’ after squink, you’ll be runnin’ all day. No, you need to trick the squink into thinking you’re their favourite bit of food.”

  “What’s that then?” asked Ugbash.

  “Ratatouille,” replied Dread Beard.

  “That sounds like the name of the elf in the Dark Lord’s factory in book 2.”

  “No, that’s Ratamatouii.”

  “I said sounds like.”

  “Oh.”

  “How did you figure out ratatouille was their favourite food?”

  “I had some in my left hand when one bit it off.”

  “Maybe they just liked your hand.”

  “Nooo, they spat my hand out afterwards. I now regularly cook Ratamatouii and leave it in my squink traps.”

  “Ratatouille you mean?”

  “Yes, well I wouldn’t mean I cut up and left the elf from book two in the traps now would I. He’d all be used up after a few days of trap baiting. Besides the squink don’t like elves.”

  “Neither do we, they are like thin beardless pansy dwarves but they smell a bit better. Why didn’t you tell us you had traps? It would have made things a lot easier.”

  “I haven’t cooked any extra ratamatouii, I mean ratatouille, I caught all mine this morning.”

  “Can’t you mix up a quick batch for us?”

  “You?”

  “So’s we can catch the squink.”

  “Use the sniper rifle with the scope, you’ll be able to take one down from a mile away with that thing.”

  “But we wanted to at least try to get one with a bow and arrow first.”

  “You could try sneaking. If you get behind them you could pick one off before you scare them back into the sea.”

  “Will it work?”

  “No, but it’ll be good for a laugh.”

  “We need a plan,” suggested Ugbash.

  “We need some ratatouille,” said Wobble.

  “Let’s just shoot it with the sniper and cover the hole up. We’re goblins, we’re supposed to be deceitful and dishonest,” proffered Wibble.

  “Being deceitful and dishonest is all very well until you get caught,” reminded Ugbash.

  “Well, are we going to sneak or what?” asked Chop.

  “I tell you what,” suggested Idunno, “why don’t we get two of us…”

  “Which two?” inquired Wobble.

  “It doesn’t matter. Get two of us…”

  “No really, which two, because I don’t want to be one of the two.”

  “We’ll do it by drawing lots,” said Ugbash. “Now carry on Idunno.”

  “Two of us can sneak to the other end of the cove and then scare the squink up towards the others. We shoot our arrows into the mass of them coming towards us.”

  “What happens if they don’t stop and start attacking us?” enquired Wobble.

  “I’m sure the four of us can kill a few running octopuses.”

  “Octopi,” corrected Wibble.

  “No, octopuses,” re-corrected Wobble.

  “Well, actually it can be octopi, octopuses or octopodes if you look in the Cowford English Dictionary,” over-corrected Idunno.

  “Didn’t we show honour on the field of battle against the dwarf and elf army in the third goblin war?” prompted a roused Ugbash.

  “If you mean we didn’t run away then I suppose we did,” offered Chop.

  “But, as Dread Beard said, these squink can ‘urt you,” wittered Pan Head.

  “So can I,” threatened Ugbash, “with my meat cleaver. Now let’s do what Idunno suggested.” Ugbash picked six blades of grass, two short and four long. Pan Head and Idunno picked the short straws.

  “Yay, I got a short one,” said Pan Head.

  “That’s not good,” said Wobble, “that means you gotta sneak.”

  Pan Head gurned a little.

  “Right you two,” said Ugbash, “get sneaking and make sure when you get to the other end you make a loud enough noise.”

 

 

  Idunno and Pan Head kept close to the cliff face and tried to hide among the sparse grass cover as they picked their way over the boulders and small dunes towards the sunbathing squink.

  “I wonder if they use a lotion of any kind?” wondered Pan Head.

  “Salt water I should think,” replied Idunno.

  “What factor is that?”

  Idunno just looked back at Pan Head as they managed to make their way behind the squink. “We’ll go on 3,” he suggested.

  “What, 1,2 go on 3 or 1, 2 ,3, go!”

  “1, 2, 3, go.”

  Pan Head stood up and Idunno pu
lled him down quickly. “What are you doing?” asked Idunno.

  “You said 1, 2, 3, go!”

  “I said we’ll go on 1, 2, 3, go!”

  “Oh, shall we try it again?”

  “Ok, 1, 2, 3, go!” they both stood up and started to clap and shout. The startled squink started to run to the other end of the cove; some ran back into the sea.

  Pan Head sand, I mean sang, “Running squink, you stink, I’ll wink, you ink,” as he inked, I mean winked.

  “I don’t think…”

  “I know you don’t.”

  “No, I don’t think squink ink themselves I think squid and octopi do.”

  “I don’t think pink squink ink, wink, sink or eat zinc,” rhymed Pan Head as they looked towards the other end of the beach.

  The four goblins stood up. “Ready, aim, fire,” ordered Ugbash.

  “‘E‘s been watchin’ Zulu again ‘e ‘as,” spat Wobble as three arrows sped towards three or more squink to the throes of O Fortuna by Carl Orff. (The author was listening to it because he wanted to know what the main tune was in Excalibur for the fourth book.) First one then two struck their mark. The charging squink looked as though they were going to overrun the goblins position but, at the last minute, they all but an injured one fled into the sea. The injured one started to crawl towards the sea. Ugbash leapt up and ran towards it waving his meat cleaver. He started to bring the cleaver down on its head, but it slyly tripped him with one of its tentacles. As he was flailing around on the floor it went in for the attack. Chop, who was just behind fired another arrow and killed it. “What about their legs, they look tasty?” he quoth.

  “Thanks Chop,” thanked Ugbash. “I see you’re quoting from the goblins in Lord of the Rings again.”

  “It is difficult though to come up with a heroic goblin quote from the films,” he replied.

  “I know people go on about us and our attitude but look at the role models we have to base ourselves on.”

  “I don’t believe it,” said Dread Beard, “you killed one with arrows. I stopped trying to shoot them years ago and started trapping them instead.”

  “Oi, you two,” Ugbash directed Wibble and Wobble, “pick it up and carry it off the beach.”

  “Is it really dead?” asked a quivering Wobble.

  “Stop quivering Wobble and do as I say.”

  Wibble and Wobble carried/dragged it to the rocks just below the pirate/hunter’s cottage. Idunno and Pan Head had made their way back by this time.

  “Idunno,” called Ugbash.

  “What?”

  “You and Chop go for the junk mobile while we rest here.”

  Chop grumbled under his breath, “I shoot the blummin umma and I’ve got to walk to the stupid car.”

  “Here,” said Ugbash as he threw them some coins, “buy yourselves an ice cream.”

  Chop stopped grumbling as he picked the money up.

  “Do you want another cuppa while you wait?” asked Dread Beard.

  “Why that would be most quinteemerable my good Captain. You were a pirate captain weren’t you?”

  “Noooo, the cook, but I like the ring of captain. Captain Dread Beard.”

  “The scourge of the seven galleys,” quipped Pan Head.

  “Aye I was that lad. Ne’er a shipmate would enter my galley for fear of a fillet knife between their ribs.”

  “I must say,” said Ugbash, “you do have a colourful way of talking.”

  “You’re not bad at colouring your speech either,” said Dread Beard as he led them back into his home.

 

 

  Idunno and chop got back to the junk mobile, “Awww, stupid dwarf copper!” grumbled Idunno.

  “What’s the matter?” asked Chop.

  “We’ve got a parking ticket. I don’t want to have to shell out for a ticket,” he got a black pen out and changed the number plate on the ticket. “Here Chop, put this on that car over there.”

  Chop took the ticket and surreptitiously placed it under the car’s windscreen wiper. “I bet the Author couldn’t spell that without looking at Google,” he noted.

  “What?” asked Idunno.

  “Surretipisly,”

  “He might not be able to spell it, but you can’t even say it.”

  “Maybe not but at least I did it!”

  They both got into Idunno’s vehicle and drove to the cove. But before they did Chop reminded Idunno that they had not bought an ice cream yet. So before they drove to the cove they stopped at an ice cream vendor who was parked at the side of the road.

  “Hello,” said the ice cream vendor, “what would you like?”

  “99,” said Chop.

  “A 99 or 99 ice creams?” inquired the vendor.

  “A 99 mate, I’ve only got 4 gold coloured coins.”

  “And what will it be for you?” asked the vendor of Idunno.

  “Oooh, have you got a Creamy Dreamy lolly ice.”

  “Ice lolly.”

  “I say lolly ice.”

  “No.”

  “I can say lolly ice if I want.”

  “You may be able to but we haven’t got any.”

  “Aww, alright then I’ll have a….” said Idunno as he looked at all of the stickers on the ice cream vendor’s van. “Can I have a Dream Bar?”

  “Sorry mate, they only make them in the science fiction dimension on the planet of Zeta.”

  “Oh, I felt sure you’d have one. I’ll have a 99 then with nuts and monkey blood.”

  “You mean nuts and raspberry sauce.”

  “Of course.”

  The ice cream vendor began to sing as he scooped the ice cream out, “I’ve got some fun in de sun, with a little tickle on the tum, I’ve got some fun in de su-un.”

  “Do you always sing when you’re scooping ice cream?” asked Chop.

  “Yes, I thought I was going to be a singer so I sing while I scoop and scoop while I sing.”

  “You ought to go on X factory, the singing ice cream man.”

  “I don’t think Simon Cowpat likes ice cream and he certainly wouldn’t like my singing.”

  “Well thanks anyway mate,” said Idunno, “keep singing, you might make it one day.”

  “Cya,” went Chop.

  “Bye,” went the ice cream man as he sang another song to himself.

  Chop and Idunno got back in the junk mobile and they both started to eat their ice creams.

  “Nice this,” said Chop, “reminds me of when I was a kid a hundred years ago.”

  “Did they have ice cream then?”

  “They have had ice cream as long as they have ice.”

  “I should have known that, seeing as I am the educated one.” He started up the vehicle then passed his ice cream to Chop, “Here hold this a minute.” He rocked it into gear and set off for the cove.

  Once the junk mobile had turned up at the cove Ugbash ordered Wibble and Wobble to load the dead squink onto the front of the car.

  “This reminds me of the Deer Hunter,” said Wibble.

  “Or Who Killed Bambi by the Sex Pistols,” offered Wobble.

  “Yeah I like punk, it’s got an edge.”

  “But I thought we were skin heads? That means we’re supposed to like things like the Skinhead Moon Stomp.”

  “Stop trying to live the stereotype, just be my twin, be original!”

  “But I am like you so I can’t be original.”

  “I wish we had a mum and weren’t born in a goblin pit. That’s one thing that Tolkien was right about, clones and growing goblins in big steaming vats.”

  “Vats what I was going to say.”

  “We’re so much alike we even finish each others…”

  “Sentences?”

  “I was going to say ice creams.”

  They tied the squink on with four of its legs and let the others dangle down.


  “Oeoer,” said Idunno, “It looks like the junk mobile is being eaten by a squink.”

  “We should be able to scare children and little old ladies crossing the road now,” suggested Chop, “without smiling at them.”

 

  They made their way away from the cove and on to the back road again. “Is that a speed bump?” observed Ugbash.

  “No, it’s a sleeping policeman,” replied Idunno.

  “It looks like the dwarf copper has had too many doughnuts and fallen asleep on the road on the job.”

  “We might wake him up and then he will see that we have a squink on the front of the junk mobile and know we’ve been hunting without a licence,” wittered Wobble.

  “Stop wittering Wobble, Wibble stop him wittering and wobbling.”

  “I wasn’t wobbling,” wobbled Wobble.

  “You are now.”

  Wibble cuddled Wobble to try to calm him down and sang, “Wibble de wibble de wobble,” gently in Wobble’s ear.

  “Brotherly love,” commented Chop.

  “Yeah,” said Idunno, “they were both in the same batch. Wasn’t that one that went a bit wrong? I think I remember that that particular batch had something genetically wrong with it. Instead of there being the usual cutthroats, murderers and thieves there were unusually poets, writers and artists.”

  “Are you calling Wibble a poet?” asked Ugbash, “With what he’s singing now I would say that there was nothing wrong with the batch.” He looked back at the road, “Can you go up on the verge a bit?”

  Idunno tried to skirt the drowsy dwarf by going up on the verge but he got stuck.

  “Aww,” moaned Ugbash, “what’s the matter with this stupid junk mobile. It’s a piece of junk if you want to ask me.”

  The dwarf policeman stirred a little.

  “He’s stirring a little,” mentioned Pan Head.

  “And without a spoon,” joked Chop.

  “Stop joking Chop,” ordered Ugbash, “and help us push the junky junk mobile.”

  The other five goblins pushed as hard as they could on the junk mobile which gradually got dislodged from the verge.

  “It’s those extendable arm thingies you have on the sides that got stuck in the verge,” noticed Ugbash, “what are they for anyway?”

  “Idunno,” said Idunno, “they were already on the vehicle when I bought the frame from the scrap yard. I think they add a certain je ne sais quois to the vehicle.”

  “As if junk can have a certain je ne sais quois whatever that means.”

  “I do not know what.”

  “Oh, you don’t either then.”

  “No it means ‘I do not know what,’ meaning it has an indefinable certain something that you can’t describe.”