The Perilous Princess Plot

by Sarah Courtauld

  As she waited, she read another fairy tale, which reassured her that a handsome prince would be on his way to rescue her very shortly. Soon, she was so excited that she started to sing.

  “I can’t wait to be rescued by a prince,

  If he is bonkers, I won’t mind!

  If he’s a prince he will be kind

  And handsome and lovely

  And handsome and good

  He’ll have arms and legs,

  Just as he should,

  And ankles and feet,

  And he won’t be made of wood …

  He will be a PRINCE!”

  * * *

  Inside that dark, mysterious cave, a dragon pricked up her ears.

  In fact, there was more than one dragon inside the cave. There was a mother dragon and, snoozing on her head, was a baby dragon. Here they are:

  How sweet, you might think. But then you’d be an idiot.

  BECAUSE THEY WERE DRAGONS.

  After three weeks of her child’s fire-breathing tantrums, the mother dragon had just managed to get her baby to sleep. Peace. Finally, a moment of peace, she thought. It had been a long three weeks. When her baby dragon cried, his flaming tears set fire to things. When he sneezed, his flaming snot set fire to things. When he was sick, his flaming vomit set fire to things. And by “things,” I mean “his mother.”

  The only time that the baby dragon wasn’t setting fire to “things” was when he was asleep. And now, finally, he was. Peace, the mother dragon thought again. Lovely, quiet, flatulent peace. For, apart from the low burble of dragon farts, and the peaceful sound of dragons sharpening their teeth and snacking on the occasional traveler, the forest was lovely and quiet.

  And then she heard a terrible sound.

  Was it a bear sitting on a hedgehog?

  Was it an elephant weeping over his math homework?

  Was it a rhinoceros being forced to watch Swan Lake?

  Whatever it was, it had to be stopped. NOW. Before it woke her baby up.

  So, as softly as she could, the mother dragon put her baby down, slipped out of the cave, and saw, tied to her favorite rock, a small, strange creature in a tall pointy hat, making the most truly terrible sound that she had ever heard.

  * * *

  Meanwhile, outside the Forest of Toothy, Vicious, and Flatulent Dragons, Clive was making a slight change to the plan. “I’d love to go into the forest with you, Bonnet. Love to. But I can’t.”

  “Er … why not?” asked Bonnet.

  “’Llergic to dandelions,” said Clive with a shrug.

  “Oh,” said Bonnet, looking down at Clive’s feet, and the large clump of dandelions on the ground beside them. And then looking at the large yellow dandelion in Clive’s hat.

  “Forest dandelions,” said Clive. “It’s my sinuses. It’s a shame, cos I’m very fond of dragons. Some real characters you meet in the dragon world. A lot of my best friends are dragons. Oh well. You run along into the forest—we don’t want to lose her.”

  “Right,” said Bonnet weakly. “I’ll just … go in there … on my own…”

  He looked into the darkness and shuddered.

  “Oh, you’ll be fine, with your giant strength,” said Clive, giving Bonnet a small, friendly clap on the shoulder, which knocked him straight to the ground. After dusting himself off, Bonnet got up again.

  “Here I go,” said Bonnet. “I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?”

  “Ooh—getting eaten alive, I’d say,” said Clive. “Or maimed. But you’ll be fine.”

  So Bonnet went shuffling off into the mysterious, stinking forest.

  “I’m a giant,” he muttered quietly to himself. “I am a giant. Quite a small giant. Not a huge giant. But … I’m still a giant. I’m a giant. I am a giant. I am a g—”

  He stopped short. In the clearing ahead of him, he could see the princess, who was now tied to a rock. And, in front of the rock, staring down at the princess, with angry yellow eyes and a large, gaping mouth that contained more teeth than the entire collection of Bibbleswick’s Tooth Museum, was a VERY, VERY LARGE DRAGON.

  Oh, thought Bonnet. Oh, yes. This is the bit where I rescue the princess from the dragon. But his mouth was suddenly dry and his feet seemed to be glued to the spot. So he just stood and stared, as Lavender, opening her eyes, came face to snout with the dragon, and the dragon breathed a thick cloud of purple smoke into her face. Here’s a closer look at the cloud:

  As the smoke cleared, Lavender looked up into two unblinking yellow eyes and she managed to do what she’d been trying to do for so long.

  She fainted.

  With a grunt, the dragon picked her up by the tip of her pointy princess hat. She whirled Lavender around in the air, tossed her up and down a couple of times, and shook her a little from side to side. Then she threw her up in the air and caught her by her feet.

  I really should do something, Bonnet thought to himself. I really should. Move, feet, move! And suddenly, as if by a miracle, his feet did move, and he started to run. Away from the princess, away from the forest, and away from the enormous dragon.

  Poached princess? Princess pie? the dragon thought as she whirled Lavender absentmindedly in the air. All of a sudden, the dragon froze, as she heard a familiar sound.

  “WAAAARGHHHHHH!”

  My baby! Must not wake! Must not cry! No time for cooking! Dashing back into the cave, she tossed the princess and her pointy hat high into the air.

  She soared over the trees, just as Bonnet stumbled out of the forest and arrived, panting, at Clive’s side.

  “I’m sorry,” he gasped, “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry—ooohhhh—duck!”

  They both stared with wide-open mouths as the princess came soaring through the sky, and landed with a WHUMPH on the soft straw in the cart.

  “Hmmmn,” grunted Clive, looking at Bonnet in a whole new light. “Not bad for an oversized dwarf.”

  Chapter Eight

  In which Lavender’s dreams seem to come true.

  Lavender opened her eyes and gazed up at the two faces peering down at her.

  “My rescuers!” she murmured.

  “Yep,” said Bonnet, looking at his feet.

  “So, which one of you is the prince?” Lavender asked.

  Clive cleared his throat.

  “We are neither rescuers nor princes,” Clive explained. “We are kidnap—”

  “RESCUERS!” said Bonnet, elbowing Clive. “We’re rescuers. That’s why … we … rescued you.”

  Clive blinked at Bonnet.

  “Yes,” said Clive. “That’s right. My name is Clive, and I am an Organized Criminal and Princess Rescuer.”

  He decided, since he had met a princess, he had better make some polite, princessy conversation with her.

  “So, er, do you have the measles?” he asked.

  “Um, I don’t think so,” said Lavender.

  “I’m Clive’s assistant,” said Bonnet.

  “He’s a giant,” said Clive unhelpfully. “And a lady. He’s a lady giant.”

  At this, Lavender frowned. She couldn’t remember quite what happened in this part of the fairy tale, but she was pretty sure it wasn’t supposed to go like this.

  “I’m not a lady,” said Bonnet. “But I am a giant. My parents were giants. I’m just not a very, er, big giant. For a giant.”

  “I see,” said Lavender, who didn’t.

  “We have rescued you on behalf of the great Prince Mordmont,” said Clive. “If you so desire it, we shall accompany you to the prince’s castle for your permanent incarceration.”

  Lavender’s head was spinning. Prince? Palace? She didn’t exactly know what a “permanent incarceration” was, but she thought it sounded wonderful. Suddenly, everything was beginning to make sense.

  “Just one thing,” said Clive. “You are a princess, aren’t you?”

  There was a pause.

  Then there were some paws. (That was just a nearby rabbit, sniffing around and loo
king for carrots.)

  “Er … Yes!” said Lavender.

  “Your name?” asked Clive.

  “Princess … Fahalahalahalaha,” said Lavender. And then, because she wasn’t sure if her name was impressive enough, she said:

  “Princess Fahalahalahalaha Mimsford Lovelynose Cakey McSmith.”

  “Princess Fahalahalaha Mimsford Lovelynose Cakey McSmith,” said Clive. “Of the House of…?”

  “Um … er…”

  “Of the House of Ummer! Delighted to meet you. Right you are, Bonnet. Let us now take fair Princess Fahalahalaha—”

  “Actually,” said Lavender, “it’s Fahalahalahalaha, not Fahalahalaha.”

  “Fahalahalahalaha, not Fahalahalaha,” Bonnet repeated.

  “That’s right,” said Lavender. “Fahalahalahalaha, not Fahalahalaha.”

  “Well then, fair princess … fair princess,” Clive said. “Let us set off at once for Mordmont’s most luxurious and inescapable abode. Full steam ahead!”

  So they all trundled off through the countryside.

  * * *

  As they traveled, Lavender burst into a thousand pieces song. All her dreams had come true! She just couldn’t help it. She sang song after song after song. Songs about her prince, songs about the forest, songs about her rescuers, songs about lasagna. And as she sang, it was as if nature responded to her voice. Some nearby squirrels became unexpectedly depressed. Badgers started hitting each other over the head with rocks in order to make themselves deaf. And a whole swarm of wasps became incredibly angry and took out all their rage on some perfectly innocent strangers.

  And every once in a while, when Lavender wasn’t looking, Clive nailed a piece of parchment to a tree, which read:

  * * *

  THE INCREDIBLY ANNOYING, CONSTANTLY SINGING PRINCESS FAHALAHALAHALAHA OF THE HOUSE OF UMMER HAS BEEN KIDNAPED. SHE WILL ONLY BE RELEESED IF ONE THOUSAND SILVER PIECES ARE SENT TO: MORDMONT’S CASTLE, THE VAGARIES, OX5 FGL.

  PS. THE PRINCESS IS BEING HELD IN A SECRET LOCATION. DEFINITELY NOT AT: MORDMONT’S CASTLE, THE VAGARIES, OX5 FGL.

  * * *

  IMPORTANT MESSAGE:

  Dear Reader,

  The next chapter contains images of violence against trees, which some readers may find upsetting. Particularly if they happen to be trees.

  Love,

  Sidney the Tree

  Chapter Nine

  In which there are 3,214 wasps, all of them called Mildred.

  “OW!” screamed Eliza as she got stung by yet another angry wasp. It was fair to say that the quest to rescue Lavender was not going well. Before the wasp attack, she had already had to counsel several depressed squirrels.

  And she and Gertrude had only just escaped from a badger battle that involved an entire clan of badgers hurling rocks at each other …

  And now this. A cloud of furious wasps swarming madly around her head.

  “Come on!” she yelled, and she held on as tightly as she could as Gertrude raced away from the wasps, running so fast that the world around them seemed to blur. Gertrude ran and ran, until the wasps had been left far behind, and when she finally stopped, they found themselves in the middle of a dark and gloomy forest. They were totally lost.

  Eliza looked around. There wasn’t a soul or a tourist information point in sight. “Hello?” she called, but no one answered. Probably because they were squirrels.

  So they walked on, and on and on, through the dark and lonely forest. They walked over ground that was littered with piles of bones, and past caves with eerie, crunching noises coming from inside. They passed a pile of assorted meats, and a rope that looked strangely familiar, but there was no sign of Lavender anywhere. Until they trotted past a sign that read:

  * * *

  THE INCREDIBLY ANNOYING, CONSTANTLY SINGING PRINCESS FAHALAHALAHALAHA OF THE HOUSE OF UMMER HAS BEEN KIDNAPED. SHE WILL ONLY BE RELEESED IF ONE THOUSAND SILVER PIECES ARE SENT TO: MORDMONT’S CASTLE, THE VAGARIES, OX5 FGL.

  PS. THE PRINCESS IS BEING HELD IN A SECRET LOCATION. DEFINITELY NOT AT: MORDMONT’S CASTLE, THE VAGARIES, OX5 FGL.

  * * *

  That is NOT how you spell “kidnapped”! Eliza thought. Or “released”! Stupid kidnappers, can’t they even spell?

  So they trotted on.

  “WAIT! Gertrude—reverse!” Eliza yelled.

  Gertrude reversed.

  Incredibly annoying? Constantly singing?

  Eliza frowned at the piece of parchment again.

  “LAVENDER! What have you done?” Eliza shouted to no one in particular. “Lavender, you—grrrh!”

  And in her frustration, she kicked the nearest tree.

  “OW!” said the tree, kicking the nearest squirrel in his frustration.

  “OW!” said the squirrel, kicking the nearest snail in his frustration.

  “OW!” said the snail, kicking no one at all in his frustration, because he didn’t believe in violence.

  “Lavender, Lavender, Lavender,” Eliza huffed. “First, I am going to find you. Then I am going to rescue you. And then I am going to KILL YOU!”

  ANOTHER IMPORTANT MESSAGE:

  Dear Reader,

  Hello. If you found any of the issues raised in this chapter disturbing, please call our local branch at: 0800-Leaf-Leaf-Leaf. That’s my number. I’m always around if you’d like to have a nice chat .

  Love,

  Sidney the Tree

  Chapter Ten

  In which there are echoes, echoes, echoes.

  As darkness fell, and the wind whistled an annoying tune through the treetops, Eliza and Gertrude trotted valiantly along. They had found an overgrown path, and so they followed it, until they came to a fork in the path, which was confusing. And then they came to a spoon in the path, which was even stranger. And then, just as they passed a ladle in the path, three wizards stepped out in front of them.

  “Halt! What do you seek?” they boomed.

  In a quavering voice, Eliza told them of her quest to find Mordmont’s Castle. And the first wizard replied: “Ooh, that rings a bell. I do know that castle. It’s definitely near here. If it’s the one I’m thinking of. Is it, Peter?”

  “No, I don’t think so. That’s the wool shop you’re thinking of, Nigel.”

  “Oh, you’re right, Peter. It is the wool shop I was thinking of. Sorry, love.”

  “Thinking of, thinking of, thinking of…” added the third wizard, Frank, who was the wizard in charge of echoes.

  “But we can help you on your quest,” said Peter. “For we have many weapons in the fight against villainy.”

  “And all of them are made from wool,” added Peter.

  “Wool, wool, wool,” echoed Frank.

  “Yes,” said Peter. “We have swords of wool. Shields of wool. Ships of wool. Even horses of wool, such as those that we are riding…”

  “This is Irene, this is Irene, this is Irene,” said Frank, holding out his horse.

  “… and also beards of wool. Umbrellas of wool. Most precious of all, vials of wool, containing magical ointments that heal all wounds.”

  “Well, they used to, used to, used to,” echoed Frank. “But then they sort of leaked, sort of leaked, sort of leaked…”

  “Silence!” said Peter. “Child, please choose a magical item to help you on your way.”

  “Er, have you got any gloves?” asked Eliza.

  “Gloves! Don’t be ridiculous. Gloves made of wool? Whoever heard of such a thing! You may have a hat and a beard.”

  “Er, all right,” said Eliza as he handed her the woolly objects.

  “May these aid you on your quest, and never make you itchy. And now we must be on our way. For trials and darkness lie before us, and the wool shop shuts at five o’clock.”

  “No it doesn’t,” said Nigel. “It shuts at five thirty.”

  “Yes, but you know that I like to look at all the different types of wool before I decide what to buy,” Peter hissed. “Farewell, young traveler, and good luck.”

  “Do I
have to keep echoing? Do I have to keep echoing? Do I have to keep echoing?” echoed Frank. Then there was a flash, and all three wizards vanished from sight, for they had disguised themselves as leaves floating on the breeze. Except for Frank, who had disguised himself as a bowl of grapefruits.

  Chapter Eleven

  In which Lavender meets the prince of her dreams.

  That evening, as the sun was setting, and Bonnet was sweating, the cart rumbled to a stop.

  “Princess Fahalahalahalaha,” said Clive proudly, “we have arrived!”

  And Lavender looked up to see the castle of her dreams …

  … and kept looking.

  And kept looking.

  And looking …

  Then she tried some gazing …

  … and squinting …

  But she couldn’t see anything that looked like the castle of her dreams. She checked in her book of fairy tales just to make sure, and she was right. All the castles in her book of fairy tales had tall, elegant turrets and tall, elegant people wandering through their tall, elegant gardens, saying things like:

  “Goodness, how elegant and tall we are!”

  And: “Thanks, Mama, for giving me Switzerland for Christmas. It’s lovely!”

  But before her was a green, bubbling moat, and in the middle of it was a gray castle, slumped dangerously to one side, like Grandma Maud when she’d had too much brandy.

  “Welcome to Prince Mordmont’s Summer Residence!” Clive announced. “And also his Spring Residence, his Autumn Residence, and his Winter Residence.”

  Lavender gulped.

  “Are you sure this is it?” said Lavender, suddenly feeling worried.

  “Oh yes,” said Clive, putting a large, beefy arm around her.

  The castle’s rickety drawbridge lowered across the moat, the portcullis rattled upward, and they crossed over the stinking bubbling water.