Troll's Treasure

by Steven Butler

  Suddenly free from the octopus’s grip, Rubella launched herself at Neville. ‘THAT WAS YOUR FAULT!’ she blubbed. ‘YOU DUNGLE DROPPING!’

  Neville almost forgot his fear and burst out laughing. There were little sucker marks dotted all over Rubella’s face.

  ‘I want to go home,’ the fat troll-girl snorted.

  ‘AIN’T NO GOIN’ BACK NOW,’ said Old Barnacle. ‘ONLY FORWARD.’

  ‘Don’t you tell me what I can and can’t do,’ Rubella snapped.

  ‘Well, Nev,’ said Clod, laughing, ‘now you’ve seen a real-life Undersea monster.’

  ‘THAT WEREN’T NO MONSTER,’ Old Barnacle said, lighting up a clay pipe and puffing big smoke rings out over the water. ‘THAT WERE A WEE NIPSTER. JUST A PLUGLET, REALLY. ABSOBLUNKIN’ TEENSY.’

  ‘A nipster?’ Neville asked. ‘You mean there’re bigger things down there?’ He looked out over the gloom and felt his stomach squelch sickeningly. Rubella burst out crying.

  ‘YES, INDEEDY,’ said Old Barnacle with a grim expression. ‘MUCH BIGGER AND MUCH HUNGRIER.’ He then yanked a big bottle of dark green liquid out from behind the rudder. ‘WHO’S FOR A SWIGGLE OF FROG GROG?’

  Meanwhile

  The gigantic fish hauled itself through the purple depths, gnashing its teeth as it went. Round its face and head, the thousands of fibrous feelers that twitched and swished had sniffed something out. A tantalizing cocktail of overling and underling combined. This was going to be a feast.

  Grunched

  ‘Good gracicles,’ said Clod, leaning in excitedly. ‘What else?’

  Neville stared at his dooda and wished he would stop asking questions. How much longer before they got to dry land?

  ‘ALL THOSE GROTTISH CRUMPS AND CREAKERS AIN’T NEARLY AS BADLY AS …’ Old Barnacle paused for a moment.

  ‘As what?’ asked Neville.

  ‘AS …’ said Old Barnacle. He was enjoying telling his sea stories a little bit too much. ‘AS THE MOST POOKIN’LY TERRORSOME THING THAT EVER SWAM IN THE GREAT DOOKY DEEP.’

  Neville could barely breathe. He leaned forward on the bench. ‘What’s that?’ he whispered.

  ‘GUNDISKUMPS!’ Old Barnacle yelled, brandishing his ear trumpet like a cutlass. ‘AS BIG AS A MOUNTAIN AND MEANER THAN A MUNGLER.’

  ‘What’s a gundiskump?’ said Neville, instantly wishing he hadn’t asked.

  ‘GUNDISKUMPS ARE THE BIGGEST OF ALL THE BIG’UNS,’ said Old Barnacle. ‘TERRIBLE THINGS; THEY SLEEP FOR HUNDREDS OF BANGS AND BONGS AND THEN WAKE UP HUNGRIER THAN A FATTY AT A TROLLABALOO.’

  Neville listened with wide eyes and tried to ignore the fact that the butterflies in his belly had turned into eagles.

  ‘AND THE MOST FAMOUS OF ALL THE GUNDISKUMPS IS GREAT GURTY. HUNGRIEST OF THE LOT, THAT ONE. IT’S FABLED HE’S GOT THE GREATEST TROLL TREASURE THERE EVER WAS STASHED AWAY IN HIS BELLY.’

  ‘Junkish porkies!’ said Malaria. ‘There ain’t no such thing.’

  ‘IS TOO!’ said Old Barnacle.

  ‘Nonkumbumps,’ Malaria chuckled. ‘Don’t you listen, Nev. That’s just a snizzly bedtime tale.’

  ‘W-w-what do they look like?’ Neville asked with a clenched bottom.

  ‘ERM …’ said Old Barnacle as he pointed to something in the distance behind Neville. ‘WELL … LIKE THAT, REALLY.’

  Neville spun round and froze. A mountainous beast was hurtling through the water towards them at tremendous speed.

  ‘GUNDISKUMP!! QUICK!’ yelled Old Barnacle. ‘ALL HANDS A-ROWIN’!’ He grabbed a set of oars from the side of the boat and flung one each to Clod and Rubella. ‘WE’RE ALMOST THERE … ROW!’

  Rubella started screaming and paddling on one side with all her might, making the boat go round in circles.

  ‘C’mon, Clod!’ Malaria bellowed. ‘WE’LL BE GULPED!’

  Clod finally started rowing and the boat began to pick up speed as he joined in with Rubella.

  ‘It’s not fast enough!’ yelled Neville. ‘We’ll never outrun it!’

  ‘JUST YOU WAIT,’ Old Barnacle grunted. He grabbed the bottle from the bench beside him and emptied the last of the frog grog into the engine tank. ‘THAT OUGHT TO DO IT!’

  There was a loud BANG! and the little boat tore off towards the Clunk in a cloud of frog-grog-smelling smoke. Neville would have toppled overboard if Pong hadn’t grabbed him by the arm.

  ‘Thanks, Pong,’ Neville yelled over the din of the engine. Pong grinned and cooed loudly.

  ‘HOW’S IT LOOKIN’, YOUNG’UN?’ Old Barnacle shouted to Neville. Neville clambered behind the ancient troll and looked into the distance. The gundiskump was much closer.

  ‘It’s gaining on us!’ Neville screamed. He could see the great fish clearly now and he thought he might throw up with fear. The gundiskump was the size of a shopping centre – a hulking mass of spines and scales – and its entire body glowed with a ghostly orange light. Between its massive eyes sprouted a spine as long as Neville’s back garden and from the end of it dangled what looked like a giant light bulb. The whole thing was like some monstrous, thrashing Christmas decoration.

  ‘COME ON!’ shouted Old Barnacle. ‘PUT YOUR BACKS INTO IT!’

  Neville looked about at the chaos. This was a nightmare. Clod and Rubella were rowing up a storm, splashing water high into the darkness on either side of the boat, and Malaria was tearing big chunks of wood from the benches and throwing them at the fish as it approached. Neville watched as a huge piece bounced off the gundiskump’s scaly forehead. It was like throwing peas at an elephant.

  ‘WE’RE ALL DOOMED!’ Rubella suddenly screeched. ‘I DIDN’T EVEN WANT TO SEE YOUR STUPID GRANDMOOMA!!’

  ‘GGRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!’ the fish roared as it tore through the waves. It was so close Neville could smell its hot breath as a huge gust hit him.

  ‘QUICK!’ Old Barnacle shouted. He spun the wheel and tried to change direction, but it was too late. The gundiskump had caught up with them. Using its giant light bulb like the wrecking ball on a crane, it thwacked the little boat high into the air.

  ‘SAY YOUR GOODBYES!’ Old Barnacle wailed as he flew out of sight, the wheel still clutched firmly in his hands. ‘ALL’S LOST!’

  ‘OH, POOK!’ bellowed Clod. ‘THIS IS IT!’

  Neville shot upwards into the darkness. All around he could see his troll-family tumbling and clawing at the air as Ole Sinky splintered into little pieces with a sickening crunch.

  Below, the nightmare fish snarled as it waited for dinner to fall back down into its jaws.

  ‘NEV!’ Suddenly a hand grabbed hold of Neville’s. He looked back and saw Rubella. He’d never seen her looking so afraid. ‘HANG ON!’ she screamed. ‘JUST HANG ON!’

  Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. Neville looked down into the gaping black maw of the gundiskump. He watched as Clod, Malaria and Pong fell one by one towards the enormous mouth.

  ‘OH, POOK!’ shouted Clod.

  ‘AAAAAAAGH!’ bellowed Malaria.

  ‘OOOOOOOOORHHH!’ cooed Pong.

  Here goes, Neville thought, screwing his eyes shut. The gundiskump has eaten my parents and now it’s going to eat me. I’m fish food.

  ‘Swim, Nev!’

  CCRRAAAAAASSHH!

  At the moment Neville thought the gundiskump was going to grind him into Neville-marmalade with its massive fangs, it clamped its jaws shut. Neville and Rubella hit the wall of teeth with a painful wallop and instantly bounced back off.

  ‘DON’T LET GO!’ Rubella screamed as she gripped hold of Neville.

  Neville landed with a SPLOOSH in the freezing ocean. He barely had time to splutter and catch his breath before –

  ‘LOOK OUT!’ Rubella yanked his arm and pointed upwards. The gundiskump was flopping back into the waves and was about to land on top of them.

  ‘SWIM, RUBELLA … SWIM!’ Neville yelled.

  ‘I AM SWIMMIN’!’ she yelled back.

  Neville’s legs were numb from the icy water. He pushed and ki
cked as hard as he could, but he didn’t seem to be going anywhere. This was the end. His arms were getting tired and try as he might, Neville couldn’t make them work. How was he supposed to outswim a sea monster?

  ‘DON’T STOP NOW, YOU DONKER!’

  Rubella grabbed Neville and swung him on to her back. Just as he was about to give up hope, a wave as big as a house shot out from beneath the great fish and carried them off, spluttering and gurgling.

  Neville, clinging on to Rubella’s turnips and riding on her shoulders, watched as the gundiskump vanished beneath the waves with one final explosion of water.

  ‘MOOMA! DOODA!’ Neville cried. ‘NOOOO!’

  The glowing monster became a wobbly shimmer as it sank further and further below them.

  ‘AAAAAAGGHH!’ Rubella sobbed. She grabbed hold of a chunk of Ole Sinky’s hull as it rushed past on the current. ‘What are we goin’ to do?’

  Neville couldn’t speak. He’d never seen his sister in such a howling mess before. ‘I … I … um …’ The reality of what had just happened hit him like a fist in the stomach. The gundiskump was gone, and with it his troll-parents and his little brother.

  ‘THIS IS YOUR FAULT!’ Rubella screamed as she hauled herself up out of the water. ‘ALL BECAUSE WE HAD TO GO AND SEE YOUR BLUNKIN’ GRANDMOOMA.’

  ‘What are we going to do?’ Neville echoed Rubella’s question with a whimper. Tears started pouring down his cheeks.

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘I can’t even remember which way we came from.’

  ‘Just shut up and let me think,’ Rubella snapped. ‘I –’

  Suddenly a large bubble erupted on the surface of the water right next to them.

  GLUG … BLUB … PLOB … GLUG

  Neville looked down and started to shake.

  ‘Is it coming back?’ he asked through chattering teeth.

  Another bubble appeared … then another … and another. The gundiskump was returning to collect the remains of its dinner.

  GLUG … BLUG … BOB … BOB … CHUG

  The bubbles were getting bigger and bigger.

  ‘Nev …’ Rubella took hold of Neville’s hand. In the light from a passing buoy, Neville watched an odd expression settle on his troll-sister’s face.

  ‘Are you all right?’ he asked.

  Rubella’s mouth twitched, then her eyes widened and from her lips came the most shocking words Neville had ever heard. ‘If we’re goin’ to die, there’s somethin’ I want to say before we go.’

  ‘What?’ said Neville, bracing himself. What was she going to say? Surely Rubella wasn’t going to say something kind, was she?

  ‘Well …’ said Rubella.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I HATE YOU!!!!’ Rubella screeched.

  SPLOOOOOOSH! Old Barnacle bobbed to the surface in a flurry of yet more bubbles. ‘WELL, THAT WERE UNEXPECTABLE.’

  Rubella looked like she’d just been slapped round the face. She gawped at the old troll, then turned to Neville and shoved him into the water. ‘Guh!’ she screamed. ‘Ugh! I thought we were about to die!’

  ‘WHAT A PICKLE,’ Old Barnacle huffed as he swam over.

  ‘We thought you were the monster,’ Neville spluttered as he struggled back on to the chunk of Ole Sinky for the second time.

  ‘WHO?’ said Old Barnacle. He raised his ear trumpet. How he’d managed to hold on to it, Neville couldn’t even begin to guess.

  ‘What do we do now?’ said Rubella. She waited for Neville to get completely out of the water before pushing him back in again.

  ‘THAT’S EASY,’ said Old Barnacle. He reached Ole Sinky, but didn’t climb up. Instead, he helped Neville on, then grabbed hold of the side and started kicking his ancient legs, propelling the boat through the water. ‘WE’LL GO SEE OLE JAUNDICE, OF COURSE. SHE’LL KNOW WHAT TO DO!’

  ‘WHAT?’ Neville shouted so Old Barnacle could hear. Tears welled up in his eyes again. ‘WHAT’S THE USE? EVERYONE’S GONE.’

  ‘SO LET’S GET ’EM BACK.’

  ‘How?’ A tingle of hope sparked to life in Neville’s belly.

  ‘WITH A GOBBER THAT BIG, A GUNDISKUMP NEVER BOTHERS TO CHEW. YOUR FOLKS’LL BE FINE AND DANDY IN GREAT GURTY’S BELLY.’

  ‘Great Gurty?’ said Rubella.

  ‘THAT WEREN’T JUST ANY OLD GUNDISKUMP,’ Old Barnacle grunted. ‘I’D RECOGNIZE THOSE GNASHERS ANYWHERES. THAT WAS GREAT GURTY AN’ NO MISTAKIN’. IF YOU WANT YOUR MOOMA AND DOODA BACK, IT’S LADY JAUNDICE WHO’LL KNOW HOW TO GET ’EM. WE’LL HAVE TO BE QUICK, THOUGH. IF GREAT GURTY GOES BACK TO SLEEP AT THE BOTTOM OF THE UNDERSEA, THEY’LL BE STUCK DOWN THERE FOREVER.’

  ‘But Jaundice is still behind bars,’ Neville said, cupping his hands like a loudspeaker.

  ‘WELL, WE’LL JUST HAVE TO THINK OF SOMETHIN’ WHEN WE GET THERE,’ said Old Barnacle.

  Meanwhile

  Somewhere deep in the belly of Great Gurty, Malaria rolled over and opened one eye. Something was very wrong. Everything was pitch-dark and a strange gurgling sound was echoing all around her.

  ‘Hello?’ she called, trying to figure out why she was soaked through and her head felt like it had been smashed between two big cymbals. ‘CLOD?’

  In the blackness, the sound of a pair of heavy feet slapped their way towards her.

  ‘’Ello, my brandyburp!’ beamed Clod’s voice. ‘We thought we’d lost you. SHE’S OVER ’ERE!’

  Suddenly a light flared up from round a corner and Pong bounded into view, carrying a lantern made from a jar filled with tiny glowing plankton.

  ‘Squibbly.’ Clod chuckled. ‘That’s everyone then. Seems like Rubella and Nev had a luckly escape.’

  Malaria scrambled to her feet and looked around the enormous cavern of fish stomach. ‘Who’s ’ungry?’ she said, rolling up her sleeves. ‘No better place than a gundiskump’s gut to rustle up some food. Let’s go and see what else he’s eaten.’

  With that, Clod, Malaria and Pong lumbered off into the darkness, licking their lips and humming to themselves.

  The Clunk

  ‘What now?’ asked Neville, barely able to speak. He was still trying to catch his breath after climbing up the hundreds of rocky steps from the beach below.

  ‘How should I know, you squirmer?’ Rubella huffed. She looked at Neville with a face like a pink, smacked bottom and scowled. She hated exercise. ‘I don’t know why I had to come all the way up ’ere … she’s your blunkin’ grandmooma.’

  Neville didn’t say anything. He watched as Rubella clomped off up the path, muttering to herself. This was all wrong. Beyond her, the Clunk loomed like something from an old black-and-white movie, soaring up and up into the gloom. It was a giant tower of iron girders and rusted rivets. At the top, like the lamp on a lighthouse, was a single cage, and in it a figure paced back and forth. Neville’s heart jumped a beat in fear. He could hear his grandmooma bellowing from all the way down on the ground.

  ‘Come on!’ Rubella shouted over her shoulder. ‘Stop being such a wimple.’

  Neville didn’t dare to argue. He followed closely behind his troll-sister as she plodded heavily along. It was like she didn’t notice where they were. Neville glanced over the edge of the cliff path to the water far below. He could see Old Barnacle resting on top of a buoy among the rocks.

  ‘’ELLO!’ the haggard troll shouted, waving. ‘BRING ME BACK SOMETHIN’ SQUIBBLY!’

  Neville waved back and forced a smile. Something squibbly? What in earth was he going to find at the Clunk that was squibbly? He’d be lucky even to make it out alive, let alone bring back souvenirs.

  Neville was concentrating so hard on not falling over the edge of the cliff and not bursting into tears or being sick with anxiousness that he hadn’t noticed Rubella stopping. He walked straight into the back of her and nearly wedged himself right between her walrus-sized buttocks.

  ‘GET OFF!’ Rubella snapped.

  ‘Sorry, Rubella.’ Neville wrenched himself out from between the boulders. ‘Yuck!’


  ‘What did you say, whelp?’

  ‘Nothing,’ Neville replied quickly. He scampered round his enormous sister before she could thump him – then stopped in his tracks. They’d reached the foot of the massive metal prison. Neville looked up and thought it seemed like some kind of demented Eiffel Tower.

  There was a neat, rusty building over to one side with a sign by the door that said THE CLUNK PRISON OFFICE.

  Neville looked at Rubella, then back at the little building.

  ‘Right,’ Rubella said. ‘’Ere goes.’ She lumbered over to the door, lifted the iron knocker and then let it go with a swing of her chunky arm. It struck the metal with a low, dull boom that shook the air and rattled Neville’s teeth. Almost instantly the sound of bolts being drawn and keys clicking could be heard on the other side of the door. Neville and Rubella glanced at each other, but stayed silent.

  Clunk … Click … Snap … Ti-ti-tick … Clack …

  Suddenly a small, envelope-sized hatch about halfway up the door slid open with a bang. An eye the colour of pennies appeared and looked at Neville, then at Rubella. After having a good stare it slid upwards until there was a mouth showing instead.

  ‘What?’ said the mouth.

  ‘Erm …’ Neville fidgeted. ‘Hello. I’m … um … I’m Neville Brisket and this –’ Neville pointed at Rubella – ‘is Rubella Bulch.’

  ‘So?’ said the mouth.

  ‘We’ve come to see Lady Jaundice,’ Neville whimpered.

  ‘Tourist visitin’ hours are over,’ said the mouth. ‘Come back tomorrow.’

  ‘Oh,’ Neville said, blushing. Rubella shoved him towards the door. ‘Sorry. You don’t understand. I’m Neville Brisket – B-R-I-S-K-E-T. Lady Jaundice – The Troll That Stole – is my grandmooma.’

  ‘Well, mangle my mushrumps,’ said the mouth. ‘I didn’t realize it was you. We’ve been expectin’ ya.’

  With that, the little hatch slid shut and lots more bolts and chains and locks started clicking and clanking on the other side of the door. Then, with a gush of musty air, the door creaked open and a short, portly troll in a patchwork prison-guard’s uniform waddled out into the torchlight.