Gremlins, Go Home!

8

“I wish you’d stay close to home today,” Mrs. Gunnarson said to Rolf as he ate breakfast. His father hadn’t come home at all. He was staying at the Space Center for the final thirty-six hours of countdown.

“Aw, Mom,” Rolf said, between spoonfuls of cereal, “There’s nothing to do around here. All the other guys’ll bug me about Dad being on TV and being Launch Director…”

His mother looked at him penetratingly.

“Is that what they do?” she asked. “ ‘Bug’ you?”

Rolf stared down at the cereal.

“You don’t know what it’s like, when your father’s…” he muttered, letting the sentence trail off.

“You really should learn to get along with the other boys,” she said. “For that matter, you should learn to get along better with your father.”

“He doesn’t need me,” mumbled Rolf under his breath to the cereal.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Rolf pushed away from the kitchen table and then got up. “I’m going down to the Wildlife Preserve. Can you fix me a couple of sandwiches?”

“Just a moment,” said his mother. He stood still, unwillingly. “Your father is worn out right now with his work—just as I’m worn out with the baby. But you’re big enough to take a little of the family responsibility on your own shoulders, for a short while anyway. The launch will be over soon and your father did say he might have a pleasant surprise for us all then. Surely you can take care of a few things, including yourself, until that time comes.”

“Well, sure,” growled Rolf.

“All right, then. You can begin by making your own sandwiches and clean up the breakfast table.” With that, Mrs. Gunnarson walked out of the kitchen.

Rolf cleared the table and put the dishes in the washer. Then he made up four sandwiches, took a plastic bottle of orange juice, and stuffed them all into the little knapsack on the back of his bike’s seat. He whistled for Mr. Sheperton and pedaled down the street to Rita’s house. She was already sitting on the shady porch in front of the old house.

“Want to meet Lugh?” Rolf asked her, straddling his bike at the base of the front steps.

Rita’s eyes widened. “Could I?”

“Sure.”

She leaped off her chair and ran into the house. In two minutes flat she was out again, holding a little lunchkit in one hand.

Together they biked down toward Playalinda Beach, with Mr. Sheperton gallumphing alongside them and the sea breeze pushing fluffy white clouds across the bright blue sky. It was like old times, before the launch and the gremlins made Rolf’s life so complicated.

Except that Mr. Sheperton didn’t say a word to Rolf all the way down toward the beach. He didn’t even bark. And he stayed alongside Rita’s bike, on the side away from Rolf.

He’s sore at me, Rolf realized.

“That time you hurt your leg diving off the high board,” Rita called to him, raising her voice enough to be heard over the whistling wind, “why did you try that dive? You’d never been off the high board before.”

Rolf shrugged. “I had to show people. The other guys were calling me chicken…”

“No they weren’t,” Rita said. “I was there and I heard them. There was a lot of horsing around going on, but nobody called you chicken.”

He could feel his face getting red. “Well—I guess I was getting sore at them for showing off in front of you girls. I didn’t want to be left out. They were always calling me the runt and bugging me. And you were watching them, and I didn’t want you to think I was chicken…”

“Oh, Rolf,” she said, shaking her head. “Boys are so silly. Why would I think you’re chicken? I’ve known you all my life; I know you’re not chicken. A little silly sometimes, maybe…”

She laughed, and Rolf found that he was laughing with her.

“I guess I just wanted you to think that I was as big as any of the guys. As important as any of them.”

Her face grew serious again. “Is that why you’re helping the gremlins? So that they’ll help you feel important?”

“Yeah… no…” Rolf felt confused. “Aw, I don’t know. I’m not even sure how I got into this.”

Baneen did not meet them before they got to the Hollow, as usual. In fact they came into the very Hollow itself before any sort of attention was paid them by the gremlins. When they reached the lip of the hollow they saw why. All work seemed to be at a standstill, with all the gremlins watching one corner of the Hollow that seemed to be obscured by a cloud of green smoke. Curious, Rolf went toward the smoke, with Rita and Mr. Sheperton behind him, and as he got close, he heard voices coming from it. Specifically, he heard Baneen’s voice, on a high sarcastic note.

“…Ah, round is it, indeed? A round universe?” Baneen was saying. “And what happens to magic when you’re on the underside of it, may I ask now? It’s all upside-down is it? And all the spells backward?”

“Not so!” hissed the voice of O’Rigami—and Rolf with Rita and Mr. Sheperton pushed through the green smoke to find a clear space within which O’Rigami and Baneen were confronting each other, with perhaps six feet of distance between them. “Being round, all praces on universe identicar. Sperrs arways the same!”

“Ah, dear me, and do you really believe such nonsense?” demanded Baneen, still sarcastically. “It’s a fever you must be having, for certain. I’ve noticed you’re not looking yourself, nowadays—”

As he spoke, he passed his hands one over the other and O’Rigami turned from his normal gremlin green color to a bright reddish brown plaid in color.

“Am in perfect shape and coror!” snapped O’Rigami, turning sharply back to green. His fingers twinkled and a piece of paper which had appeared from nowhere suddenly took on the shape of a miniature garden fountain. “Also happen to understand more of universe than others who might stirr be too ignorant—”

The fountain suddenly spouted a fine stream of water which arched up through the air forward and curved down again abruptly to splatter Baneen generously behind his pointed gremlin ears.

Baneen yelped and dodged. Suddenly he turned into a crocodile which charged at O’Rigami, jaws agape, drinking up the water from the fountain as it came.

O’Rigami’s flying fingers abruptly fashioned a Spanish bullfighter’s cape with which he executed perfectly that pass with the cape known as a veronica. Completely fooled by the cape, the crocodile thundered past, discovered itself facing nothing, and whirled about. But O’Rigami had already folded a complete stony medieval castle about himself and was hidden in it.

The crocodile turned abruptly into a gopher, which leaped forward and began to tunnel into the earth out of sight and toward the castle. The castle arose on two thin green legs and scurried aside. It unfolded and disappeared suddenly, revealing O’Rigami, whose flying fingers wove a fisherman’s net in the air where the castle had originally been.

The gopher popped up through the earth where the castle had been. The net fell about it in folds, entangling it. And abruptly the gopher turned back into Baneen, trapped in the netting.

“Help!” cried the little gremlin. “Help. O’Rigami, help now! Turn me loose!”

“Onry,” said O’Rigami, sternly, “on condition you wirr not insist any more on this nonsense about the universe being frat!”

“I promise. Indeed, I promise!” cried Baneen. “Word of Baneen!”

“No, you don’t!” said O’Rigami. “This is fourteen thousand, five hundred and ereventh time you’ve brought up same argument. I don’t want to argue it with you ever again. Give me your gremrinish word—or you stay in that net for the next million years!”

“Ah, no!” begged Baneen. “Not that! O’Rigami, friend of me youth—”

“Your gremrinish word, or there you stay!” said O’Rigami implacably, folding his arms.

Baneen sighed and drooped inside the net.

“All right,” he said, sulkily. “My gremlinish word—I’ll agree the universe is round from now on!”

O’Rigami waved his hands and the net vanished. Baneen climbed to his feet and brushed himself off. But his face was sulky.

“Ah,” he said, “but it’s a terrible thing, it is, for one true gremlin to require the Unbreakable Promise from another. Bad dreams to your cruel mind, O’Rigami, and may your conscience prick you that did such to an old friend—”

Just then he became aware of Rolf and the others watching, and his sulky look was transformed into a smile.

“But here’s the lad and the lass as well, to say nothing of Mr. Sheperton!” Baneen exclaimed. “Welcome to our humble abode, fairest of lasses. It’s pleased we are that you’ve come to visit with us.”

Rita’s eyes sparkled like a child’s on Christmas morning. “How did you know I was coming here? I mean, you weren’t surprised to see me at all, were you?”

“Of course not. Gremlins can foresee the future, you know—er, only on special occasions, such as this one, that is. And only up to a limited point, don’t you know.”

“Foresee the future?” Rita asked. “Can you…”

“Ah, but it’s not my chatter you’ve come for, is it?” Baneen said. “You’ve come to meet our masterful and baleful leader, Lugh of the Long Hand, Prince of the Royal House of Gremla.”

Rita laughed, delighted. “He knows everything!”

But Rolf, somehow, was feeling much less than happy. Baneen led Rita into the misty-aired Hollow and Rolf fell into step behind them.

Mr. Sheperton, walking beside Rolf, muttered, “Trust a gremlin to flatter a human straight out of his—or her—senses.” But he seemed to be saying it more to himself than to Rolf.

Baneen was saying, as they went through the Hollow, “Lugh’s not here at the present moment. He’s out watching those scalawag poachers in their great oily boat.”

“They’re back again?” Rolf asked.

“Sure enough. That squeaky-voiced captain and his two ugly sailors have brought a few businessmen with them this time. He’s showing them what a grand view they’re going to have of the launch. And promising them roast wild duck for their dinners! Lugh’s there at the beach, protecting them from being spotted by the rangers. And boiling in his own juices if I know Lugh the Terrible-Tempered.”

“Hmph,” said Mr. Sheperton.

“So I’d be advising you,” Baneen continued, “to be careful of not being seen by the poachers. And be even more careful of not triggering the wrath of Lugh. He’ll be in a foul mood, no doubt. Making magic on a continuous basis for several hours is a terrible strain, especially next to all that water, you know.”

Lugh did look terribly strained when they saw him. And angrier than ever. He was standing atop a high dune that overlooked the beach, his cheeks puffed out, his face red, his fists clenched at his sides. From time to time, as a breeze puffed in from the sea, he would actually float off the sand a few inches, like a balloon, and then settle down again slowly.

Baneen called to him when they got near enough. “Lugh, me magic-making marvel, I’ve brought you some visitors to help pass away the morning.”

Turning, Lugh gruffed, “Visitors, is it? I’ll thank you, tricky one, to watch those smelly, water-crawling spalpeens for a while.”

“Nothing could please me more, Lugh darling,” Baneen said happily, “than to give you a bit of rest from your mighty labors. I’ll take care of the scalawags for you.”

And Baneen planted himself on the dune’s crest, puffed out his cheeks, squeezed his fists until the knuckles went chartreuse, and put on a glowering scowl just like Lugh’s.

“Ahhh…” said Lugh. “I feel better already. You’ll be the lass Baneen told me of. You’ve come to help this lad here?”

“Well,” Rita said, sitting on the sand, “I suppose so…”

“Hah. And a good thing it is that you have. It’s almost time for us to leave this foulsome planet, and we’ll be needing all the help we can muster.”

“It’s not a foulsome planet!” Rita snapped. “It’s a beautiful planet.”

Lugh glared at her. “Is it now? Well, maybe once it was, when we first came here, but not today. Not when you’ve got ugly ones like those down in the boat dirtying up the very air we breathe with their smelly engines and oily garbage.”

“Well, you’re helping them!” Rita said. “You’re protecting them. Why don’t you use some of your gremlin magic to chase them away?”

Rolf watched her, goggle-eyed. Any minute now, he knew, Lugh was going to explode and turn her into a tree stump. He reached out for Rita’s arm.

But Lugh’s answer was strangely soft, quiet, even sad. “Ah, lass, but it’s not our world. It belongs to you humans—it’s the world you made for yourselves, in a manner of speaking. Once we thought that we might help you, if you had the will to handle matters right—but it turned out to be of no use, no use at all.”

He stalked away, moodily.

“What does he mean?” Rita demanded of Baneen.

The little gremlin shook his head, but without taking his eyes off the men he was supposed to be watching.

“It’s a sad tale, indeed,” he said. “And a specially sad tale in the part of it that concerns Lugh, himself. It was his idea, you see, to disguise the Great Corkscrew and use it as a test to find one human who cared more for others than himself. And when no such human could be found, it was Lugh that took it the hardest of us all—though never a sign would he show of how he felt.”

“No such human could be found?” Rolf echoed. “Surely there’ve been lots of humans who cared more for others than themselves?”

“Oh, indeed, there have been—but it was for other humans they cared. Never yet has a human been found who cares more for other creatures than he or she does for himself or herself.”

“But how would a corkscrew show the difference—” Rita began.

“Ah, but it’s not just any corkscrew!” said Baneen, swiftly. “It’s the Great Corkscrew of Gremla, that symbol of Gremlin kingship that belonged to Hamrod the Heartless and which Lugh himself stole away from the king when he brought us here—to pay Hamrod back for all his pranks and tricks upon Lugh, himself. You see, in olden days—so far back that your world of Earth was still a steaming mudball, cooling down into a planet—the Great Corkscrew was a test of Gremlin kingship. Only one wielding more power and magic than any other gremlin could pull it from its case. He who could withdraw the Corkscrew was rightwise king of all Gremla. Every thousand years or so, whoever was our Gremlin king must pull forth the Corkscrew to prove his right to rule.”

Baneen paused and sighed heavily.

“If at that time he could not pull it out,” he went on, “then all other gremlins who wished to try had their chance—until one succeeded and gained the throne. Ah, but the sad year came, and the sad month and the sad day—the then king of Gremla not having been able to pull out the corkscrew—when every other gremlin on Gremla had tried as well, and none had been able.”

“None?” said Rolf. “One of them must have had a little stronger magic than any of the rest. It just had to be.”

Baneen shook his head.

“No, lad,” he said. “It’s clear you don’t understand the strange and marvelous principles of magic. It’s not how strong your magic is, but how much of it you have. The greater your soul, the more magic you can carry. And over the centuries, unbeknownst to ourselves, our gremlin souls had become smaller and smaller, so that even the largest soul among us could not hold enough magic to let its owner pull the Great Corkscrew from its case.”

“But,” said Rita, “if nobody could pull the Great Corkscrew out, what happened to the kingship?”

Baneen shrugged.

“Indeed, what could happen?” he said. “Since no one could pull the Corkscrew forth, it fell into disuse as a test of king-worthiness. The then king stayed on the throne, and those who came after him were smaller and smaller of soul until at the end, Hamrod the Heartless was rumored to have none at all—and sure his actions seemed to testify to that. But still it was said, that secretly Hamrod would go and pull at the Corkscrew now and then to try and prove himself rightful king. It was to deprive him of that hope of kingship-proof that Lugh stole the Corkscrew away and brought it here.”

“What’s all this about using the thing as a test, then?” growled Mr. Sheperton. “If no one could pull it out, what was the use of it?”

“Ah, but it was only no gremlin who could pull it out!” said Baneen. “That did not mean there was no human about with a soul large enough to free it. Indeed, Lugh’s conscience had been troubling him for some time then about our gremlin rights on this world of yours and whether it had not become our world—a second Gremla, as it were—just by our being here so long. He decided that we would change our age-old custom of keeping to ourselves, and follow humans, if only humans could prove themselves worthy of being followed. So, to find out if such proof was possible, he set up a legend and a place, and disguised the Corkscrew itself so that no one could guess its origin, and then waited for what would happen.”

“What did happen?” asked Rolf.

“Do you need to ask, Rolf?” demanded Mr. Sheperton. “Isn’t it clear the rascal’s trying to make us believe that the celebrated sword in the stone of Arthurian legend was no other than his gremlin Corkscrew?”

“And so it was,” Baneen nodded.

“Stuff and nonsense!” snorted Mr. Sheperton. “Corkscrew indeed! It was a sword!”

“But—” said Rolf. “King Arthur pulled the sword out of the stone and was crowned king of England because of it—”

“So he did and was. But it was only with gremlin aid he was able to pull the blade forth—though little he suspected that, himself,” said Baneen. “It happened that by the time young Arthur got his chance to try pulling loose the sword nearly everyone in England who stood a likelihood of being accepted king, if he did pull it forth, had tried and failed. Now, Arthur was very great of soul—but not quite great enough by the width of a dragonfly’s wing, as all we gremlins know. So it happened that a number of us went and pleaded with Lugh, and Lugh consented to our getting invisibly within the stone to push, while Arthur pulled—and so the sword came forth.”

“Hurrah!” cheered Mr. Sheperton.

“Ah, but if you remember, it all turned out sadly,” said Baneen. “Arthur prospered for a while, and brought justice to his kingdom. But you remember how his reign ended—the knights of the Round Table all divided against themselves, with Lancelot on one side and Arthur on the other, so that everything fell back to savagery and barbarism again.”

There was a moment’s silence.

“I’d like to try pulling that Corkscrew out,” said Rolf, thoughtfully.

Baneen had been doing all this talking while keeping his eye on the boat and his fists clenched at his sides. In the process he had gradually drifted upward off the ground. He reached down now with one hand to make a brief pass in the air before Rolf. There was a shimmer and something took shape. It was not easy to see it clearly, but it was something like a massive bone handle attached to something metallic that was wrapped and sheathed in light.

“Try it, indeed, lad,” said Baneen, heavily. “It can do no harm—though no good, either.”

Rolf hesitated a second, then took hold of the handle with both hands and pulled. He strained, but the handle did not move.

“You see?” said Baneen wistfully. He waved his hand and the Great Corkscrew faded once more from sight. “Had you been able to pull it forth, you could have called on the House of Lugh of the Long Hand, and on Lugh himself, for any single thing you wished—for so did Lugh swear, giving his gremlinish word, back before Arthur was crowned king. But as you see, you cannot do it—no human nor gremlin can, these days. And that was why, when Arthur failed, Lugh determined that there was no hope for us in humans, and we must all return to Gremla. So we are, indeed, now, as you know— Gremla save me!”

The last words came out in a yelp; and from beyond the dune they suddenly heard several men’s voices yelling at once. Rolf looked up at Baneen and saw the little gremlin now floating nearly a dozen feet off the ground, drifting like a soap bubble in the breeze, his tiny arms folded across his chest, his face still scowling mightily.

“What? What’s all this?” barked Mr. Sheperton.

The yelling voices were coming from the boat. In the distance, the voice of Lugh bellowed, “Baneen, you wart-toad, get down there!” Rolf sprinted up to the top of the dune. He flattened out on his belly and motioned to Rita to do the same. She did, right beside him, and they both peered carefully through the tall grass.

The poachers’ boat was a mess. A tall geyser of water was sprouting amidships, and the engine in the stern was boiling off a huge cloud of smoke. The sailors were scampering around the deck, plainly not knowing what to do first.

The captain was screeching, “She’s sinking! She’s sinking!”

Two men in business suits and sunglasses were looking pale and frightened. They were up at the prow of the boat, their mouths open.

“Help!” came Baneen’s voice from high above, as suddenly the geyser of water shifted its angle until it began dousing the businessmen. They spluttered noisily and waved their arms, trying to ward off the liquid showering down on them.

“I said get down !” Lugh roared. He was back on the scene now, looking up at Baneen.

Baneen made some twisting motions, paddling his feet in midair. He cried out helplessly: “By the Sacred Stone of Gremla, I’ve used up so much magic on those scalawags that I can’t get down again!”

Lugh’s face looked like a thundercloud. “Let the spalpeen hang there ’til sundown, then,” he muttered. And he stalked off, heading back for the Gremlin Hollow.

Rolf lay there in the sand, turning to watch the furious activity in the boat, which was still leaking and smoking. Then he looked up at Baneen again.

The little gremlin seemed genuinely frightened. “Lugh, me darling, don’t leave me here, please! The wind’s shifting… see, I’m blowing out to sea. You wouldn’t have me land in a watery grave would you, Lugh, oh most handsome and powerful of gremlins… would you, Lugh… would you?” Baneen’s voice got higher with each word. And sure enough, he was starting to drift toward the crest of the sand dune, heading toward the ocean.

Lugh stopped and looked back up at Baneen. “A watery grave it is for you, trickster. You’ve gotten yourself into this predicament with your tricks; now see if you can get yourself out. I’ll not help you.”

“Water’s bad for gremlins,” Rolf said to Rita.

“It could be very bad for Baneen if he falls into the ocean,” Mr. Sheperton admitted grudgingly. “Gremlins are immortal, of course, but still—”

“Look,” Rolf pointed. “He’s drifting over this way. Maybe we can grab him when he comes up to the top of the dune.”

“The people from the boat will see us,” Mr. Sheperton said.

“They’ve got enough troubles right now,” Rolf answered quickly, glancing at the still-frantic action on the boat. “They won’t be looking this way. And besides, we can’t just let Baneen float away without trying to help.”

Mr. Sheperton gazed for a long moment at Baneen’s flailing form, floating slowly toward them. “He’s too high,” the dog said with a shake of his shaggy head. “I can’t jump that high.”

Rita nodded. “I’m afraid he’s right, Rolf. We can’t reach him, even from the crest of the dune.”

Rolf could feel his face settle into a stubborn frown. “Oh, yeah? Well, we’re not going to sit here and let him go out to sea without at least trying to help.”

He got to his feet and walked slowly down toward the bottom of the dune. About halfway down, Rolf looked up, checked Baneen’s position, then started trotting along the dune’s slope to get exactly under the gremlin. He waited a few moments, letting Baneen drift closer to the top of the dune.

Then Rolf started running. He sprinted up the slope of the dune, toward the crest, stride, stride, each stride longer than the one before it. Baneen was already at the crest and starting to drift past when Rolf hit the top and leaped!

His outstretched fingers wrapped around one of Baneen’s feet. Rolf hit the sand with a thud and sprawled over on his face, with the yowling, yelping Baneen safely in one hand.

“What’s that?” yelled the man in the suit.

Rolf had landed on the seaward side of the dune. Mr. Sheperton dashed out and picked up Baneen in his teeth, while Rita came over to help Rolf to his feet.

“It’s that kid and the dog again!” the captain squeaked. “After them, and this time I want them brought back here!”

All five of them, the two drenched businessmen, the two grimy sailors, and the captain scrambled out of the boat and toward Rolf and his friends.

Rolf started back for the dune’s crest, holding Rita by one arm. But at the top, he saw Lugh, standing there with his legs straddled wide and his arms folded against his chest.

“You’re a brave lad,” Lugh said sternly. “Don’t worry about those spalpeens.”

Lugh gave a fierce glance, then pointed one finger at the advancing five men. “May the Wrath of Gremla strike your heads.”

Rolf turned to watch.

Immediately, a rain of bottles, cigarette butts, beer cans, wadded-up paper, plastic cups, a thousand and one items fell out of the empty air onto the heads of the approaching men. They yelled and screamed, flung their arms over their heads, tripped and sprawled on the sand as bottle after bottle, can after can, ashtrays, paper plates, a cloudburst of junk fell upon them.

Lugh smiled grimly. “They’ve been tossing those things out of their nasty boat for weeks, they have. And I’ve been saving it all for them.”

Rolf stared, amazed, as the five men staggered and limped back under the safety of their camouflaged bridge. The trash kept pouring down on them until they were all under protection. Magically, none of the trash littered the beach. It was all clean.

Rolf’s last glimpse of the men, as he and Rita went over behind the sand dune’s shoulder, showed him all five of them cowering under the bridge, trembling and wide-eyed. Even the captain was stained with dirt and sweat, and his beautiful jacket was covered with sand.

As they walked back to the Gremlin Hollow, with Lugh several paces ahead of the rest, Baneen began to prance around as spryly as ever.

“Ah, you saved me, lad. Saved me from a fate worse than death… water.” The little gremlin shuddered.

“It was awfully brave of you,” Rita agreed.

Rolf fluttered his hands in embarrassment.

“And such a leap!” Baneen went on. “Like an Olympian the boy jumped. And here I thought you had a bad leg, me bucko. Could it be all healed now?”

Rolf had forgotten about his bad leg. “Yeah…” he said, feeling a strange glow inside. “I guess it is all healed.”

“Ah, you see?” Baneen said, turning to Mr. Sheperton. “The lad’s dealings with gremlins hasn’t been all that bad for him, now has it? We cured his leg without half trying.”

Mr. Sheperton huffed, “Typical gremlin chicanery. Don’t take credit, Baneen, for Rolf’s good health. His leg mended on its own. He just hadn’t tested it until today. You had nothing to do with the healing of it.”

“Perhaps, perhaps. But the lad still thought his leg was weak, until I arranged to show him otherwise.”

“You arranged?” Rolf said, thunderstruck.

“Ah, well, it was really nothing… nothing at all,” said the little gremlin, carelessly. “And it did my heart good to see those scalawags running about in the sinking boat. Let’s talk of more interesting things—”

“No, you don’t!” barked Mr. Sheperton. “We’ve had enough of your sneaky gremlin hint-and-slip-away. Let’s have the matter straight, for once. Rolf, Baneen was only having fun at the expense of the people in the boat. There was never a thought in that tiny brain of his about your leg until after it was all over. Don’t let him try to pretend otherwise.”

“Oh, to be sure, and it’s the grand, wise dog you are, to be saying what was in my mind and what was not!” cried Baneen. “Had enough of our gremlin ways, you say—and did it ever cross your mind we’d have become a bit tired of your grump, grump, grumping doggish ways, all the time? Sure it’s more than green flesh and blood can take, your everlasting criticism and belittling of our gremlin doings and all things gremlinish!”

“Wait a minute,” said Rolf hastily. Neither Baneen nor the dog, however, were listening.

“Want to have it out, do you?” Mr. Sheperton snarled. “Come on, then! Called a spade a spade ever since I was a pup—I’ll call a gremlin a gremlin to my dying day. If you don’t like it—” He bared his teeth.

Baneen shot up in the air out of the dog’s reach and hung there, vibrating with indignation.

“You and your great fangs!” he cried. “Thinking you can get away with anything. But beware, dog—we gremlins are not unprotected. Push me but one small push more, and I’ll call forth a dragon to crunch and munch and slay you!”

“Hah!” snorted Mr. Sheperton. “Call forth a dragon, indeed! Enough of your rascally tall tales!”

“’Tis no tall tale!” shouted Baneen, almost dancing in the air with rage. “As you may find out to your cost, unless you mend your ways!”

“Come, come! A dragon? What sort of fool do you take me for? If you’ve got a dragon, let’s see it!”

“Woe to you, if I call him forth!”

“Woe me not, gremlin! I said, produce this dragon or admit you’ve not got him.”

“You’ll rue that word, Mr. Sheperton—”

“Just as I thought!” snorted the dog disgustedly. “There’s no such thing as a dragon around you gremlins.”

“No such—!” screeched Baneen.

“That’s what I said.”

“No DRAGON?”

“None!”

“Dog, it’s too far you’ve gone this day—”

“Wait. Wait—” said Rolf, hastily. “Look, there’s no need for the two of you to get all geared up about this. Baneen, why don’t you just give Mr. Sheperton your gremlinish word the dragon exists. Then—”

“Gremlinish word?” Baneen swallowed suddenly and looked unhappy. “Guk—”

“AND WHAT’S ALL THIS ABOUT GREMLINISH WORDS?” thundered a familiar voice. Lugh stalked into the midst of them.

“Ah… Lugh, darling, are you sure you heard the lad just right, now?” stammered Baneen. “Was it really the word grem—”

“I heard what I heard, and well you know I heard it,” scowled Lugh. “What’s all this talk about the Unbreakable Promise—and by humans and dogs, at that?”

“Not about to have my intelligence insulted!” huffed Mr. Sheperton. “Your green friend here was just threatening me with a dragon.”

“And I,” said Rolf, still trying to pour oil on the troubled waters, “just suggested that Baneen give Mr. Sheperton his… er… gremlinish word that the dragon existed, and let that settle the matter.”

Lugh’s scowl grew even blacker.

“Where did you hear about the gremlinish word, boy?” he demanded.

“Why, just the other time I was here,” said Rolf, “Baneen and O’Rigami were having a little argument about the shape of the universe—”

“So!” Lugh swung on Baneen, fixing him with a fiery eye. The smaller gremlin slid apologetically down out of the air to the ground. “You let slip that there’s a promise no gremlin can ever break, did you, me noisy chatterer? And now you’ve let your tongue run away with you about our gremlin dragon? Very well, we’ll let this be a lesson to you. You’ve threatened the dog with the dragon. Now, produce it!”

“Ah, sure, and so much isn’t needful, surely—” began Baneen.

“PRODUCE IT!”

“Wait!” Rolf swallowed hard. “You mean there really is—” He put his arms protectively around Mr. Sheperton’s neck. “You’re not going to sic any dragon on my dog—”

“Let it come,” snarled Mr. Sheperton, raking the ground with his forepaws. “By St. George, I’ll meet the creature tooth to tooth and nail to nail!”

“Shep, be quiet, won’t you?” said Rolf desperately. “Lugh—” Lugh was standing with his arms folded, staring at Baneen, who was unhappily making passes in the air with his hands. Around the Hollow, all the other gremlins had fallen silent and were standing, watching. A puff of red smoke billowed up between Baneen’s hands, and the little gremlin jumped back.

Rolf shoved himself hastily in front of Mr. Sheperton, facing the smoke.

“Wait!” he cried. “If anything happens to Shep I won’t lift a hand to help you get your kite—”

“Too late,” said Lugh, grimly.

The red smoke thinned—revealing not a large and fearsome creature with scales and fiery breath, but a small round table with a green tablecloth and a small white structure, something like a bird house, sitting in the middle of it.

“What?” said Rolf, staring at it.

“Baneen!” snapped Lugh commandingly. Baneen gulped and turned toward the little house.

“Mighty dragon of mighty Gremla!” he piped. “Come forth! Come forth and slay!”

From the dark doorway of the birdhouse came a small puff of smoke, then nothing for a few seconds, then another puff of smoke. Finally a third puff of smoke appeared with a tiny flicker of yellow flame in the midst of it.

“Come forth, dragon!” cried Baneen, in a high, desperate voice. “We command you!”

A tiny green dragon-head poked itself out of the opening, looked around, sighed heavily and withdrew. There was a metallic rattling sound inside the bird house, another sigh, and a small voice squeaked thinly. “Slay! Slay!”

The dragon came dancing out of the bird house on to the table, a minuscule sword in each of its front paws.

“Slay! Slay!” it cried, making threatening gestures all around with the swords and puffing out small round puffs of smoke with an occasional flicker of flame in them. “Slay! Slay… slay… sl…”

The dragon began to pant. The flame disappeared entirely and the puffs of smoke themselves grew thin. The swords it held began to droop.

“…Slay…” the dragon wheezed. It looked appealingly at Baneen. “Slay… how much… longer? I’m… slay… not as young as I… slay… used to be, you know…”

“Enough!” said Lugh abruptly with a wave of his hand. “Back into your house and rest easy. The word of Lugh of the Long Hand is that you won’t be called on for at least another ten thousand years.”

“Huff… thank you… sir…” panted the dragon. It withdrew into its house; and house, table and all, disappeared in another puff of green smoke.

“Back to work, all the rest of you.” The other gremlins returned to their activities.

“Let that settle the matter, then!” snapped Lugh. Lugh stalked off. Rolf, Rita, and Mr. Sheperton were left facing a crestfallen Baneen.

“Well, well,” grumped the dog in a curiously apologetic tone of voice. “Didn’t mean to put you on the spot, Baneen, old man. Didn’t really believe you had a dragon. Apologies, I’m sure.”

“Ah, now, and that’s kind of you, Mr. Sheperton,” said Baneen, sadly. “But that great monster Lugh had the right of it. It was me own fault for threatening you with the poor creature. Sure, and my tongue clean ran away with me.”

“Say no more,” gruffed Mr. Sheperton.

“But it was a full-sized dragon, once, indeed it was,” said Baneen, looking appealingly at the dog and the two humans alike. “Back on bright and dusty Gremla. The personal dragon of the House of Lugh, full twenty cubits in height and forty-six cubits long. However, it was necessary to shrink it down a bit in order to bring it to this Earth of yours; and as I’ve mentioned before—the watery place that it is here, not even Lugh could grow the creature back to its proper size again—not that we’d have wanted to risk letting it run around loose and maybe get killed off, like all your native dragons were, back in the days of the knights. Ah, it’s cruel they were to the native dragons, your iron ancestors, murdering them on sight; and all in the name of honor and glory.”

Baneen sighed heavily. Rolf found himself sighing right along with the small gremlin. A few dragons, still alive, could have made modern life much more interesting.