When they opened the door, a terrible sight met them. Grandmother had been wrong. The baby goblin had climbed out of the crate and up the table leg, onto the tabletop. Half of Grandmother’s pots and jars had been knocked over, their contents spilled. The baby had found the bag of oats and dumped them all over everything. He was sitting in the middle of the mess, still squalling, throwing oats up in the air.
“Oh no!” cried Ivy, dropping her basket.
“Oh dear,” groaned Grandmother. “He’s learned to climb already!”
The baby goblin struggled to his feet and held his arms up to Ivy, to be picked up. Ivy didn’t want to get bitten again, so she decided to try feeding him first. She plucked some mushrooms out of her basket and popped one in his mouth. The baby stopped his shrieking and gobbled the mushroom right down. Ivy kept feeding him—two more, then three more, then four—until he didn’t seem to want any more. His tummy was nice and round.
“Go to the cupboard and get some old cloths,” said Grandmother. “We’ll use them for diapers.” Ivy did as Grandmother said, and then watched as Grandmother showed her how to tie them around the baby’s bottom.
“Now maybe he’ll go to sleep,” Grandmother said. She picked up the baby and put him over her shoulder, patting him on the back, until—BUUURRRP!—he burped a giant burp. Ivy giggled as she wondered how such a big burp could come out of such a small creature. Then Grandmother laid him back down in the crate full of straw. Ivy watched as the baby goblin closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep. Ivy breathed a big sigh of relief. “Finally!” she whispered.
Without waiting to be asked, Ivy got out the broom and started sweeping the floor, while Grandmother picked up her potion-making pots and bottles. She washed them out and put them away in the cupboard, then she began to clean up the spilled oats and potions from the tabletop. Before they could finish clearing the mess, there came a knock at the front door. With that, the baby woke up and started his terrible screeching again. Ivy peeked out the window and saw that it was Mistress Peevish, the mayor’s wife, in her fancy purple dress. Ivy groaned. Now the day was getting even worse! It seemed like Mistress Peevish was always angry about something. Reluctantly, Ivy opened the door.
“Good morning, Mistress Peevish,” Ivy greeted her politely. “How are you today?”
Mistress Peevish had a frown on her face. “Never mind that,” came the reply. “I’m here for my little dog, Foof. I know you’ve got her here somewhere. I’ve been looking all over for her!”
“I haven’t seen her either,” Ivy answered. She knew Foof often came to the garden to visit Poof, but she thought that sometimes Foof just came to hide. Even Ivy wanted to hide when Mistress Peevish came calling.
“And what’s that terrible racket?” Mistress Peevish snapped. “I can hardly hear myself think!”
“It’s the baby,” said Ivy as Grandmother picked him up and bounced him gently.
“Why don’t you help Mistress Peevish look for Foof?” Grandmother called to Ivy. “I’ll take care of this one.”
“This one WHAT?” yelled Mistress Peevish. “That baby doesn’t look like anything I’ve ever seen before! And why is it making so much noise?”
“He’s a baby goblin,” Grandmother answered. “He just hatched.”
“A GOBLIN!” Mistress Peevish cried. “You can’t have a goblin here! They’re vicious! What will become of us?”
“He’s only a baby!” Grandmother said.
“But it’s a GOBLIN! You must get rid of it at once—before it turns on you and throttles us all in our beds!”
“But he’s only a baby,” Grandmother said soothingly. “Besides, goblins don’t throttle people in their beds.”
“How do YOU know?”
“Well, at least, I don’t think they do,” said Grandmother.
“Heaven only knows what kind of damage it can do!” Mistress Peevish shouted, shaking her finger in Grandmother’s face. “And listen to that noise! It can’t be allowed!”
“He’s a baby,” said Grandmother, once again. “He’ll quiet down in a while. We need to be patient.”
Suddenly Ivy heard someone calling at the back door. When she opened it, Cedric stuck his head in and squawked, “It’s started again! Aawk! How can we live with that awful, terrible, dreadful noise?”
Ivy had to holler to make herself heard. “Grandmother says he’ll quiet down in a while. We’ll just have to be patient.”
Grandmother shushed the baby and bounced him, rocking her body back and forth. Soon he went from screeching to just whimpering. Mistress Peevish stood at the front door, with her hands on her hips, while Cedric stared in from the back door. Both of them looked angry.
“Griffins don’t like goblins!” Cedric cried, backing away from the doorway.
“People don’t like goblins either!” Mistress Peevish added. “Now, what are you going to do about it?” she asked Grandmother. “You can’t keep it here!”
“I don’t know what to do about it,” Grandmother said, “except take care of him.” The baby was quiet now, and she laid him back down in the box of straw. “Besides, you know our town welcomes magical creatures. Goblins are magical creatures too.”
“I’m sure we never meant to welcome goblins into our town! I’m telling the mayor about this. He’ll certainly have something to say about it! This can’t be allowed! Now help me find my dog, and be quick about it! I have to get home for my tea party.”
“Ivy, dear, would you help Mistress Peevish look for Foof?” Grandmother asked her. Ivy really didn’t want to, but since Grandmother asked her, she agreed. She and Mistress Peevish went into the garden, calling Foof’s name along the way, but Ivy didn’t see a sign of the little golden-furred dog.
They followed several pathways through the garden, calling and calling, but Foof didn’t appear. Cedric had retreated to his nest, with his wings covering his ears. Ivy went to him and shouted out loudly, “It’s okay, Cedric. The baby is quiet now.”
Cedric folded his wings back and sighed. “Too, too, too terrible,” he moaned. Poof was in Cedric’s nest too. Ivy called him, and he jumped out of the nest and came to her. Poof was a free dog, who didn’t belong to anyone, but he liked to live with his friend Cedric, and he loved Ivy.
“Maybe if we follow him, he’ll lead us to Foof,” Ivy suggested.
“Where’s Foof, boy? Go find Foof!” Ivy said, secretly giving him the hand signal to sit. Poof looked at Ivy, then sat down. “Find Foof!” Ivy said again, giving him the signal to stay. Poof didn’t budge. Ivy was glad. She patted Poof’s head and whispered, “Good boy!”
“I’m afraid Foof doesn’t seem to be here today,” Ivy said to the mayor’s wife, smiling inwardly. She thought Foof was afraid of Mistress Peevish’s temper, and that Mistress Peevish held the little dog too tightly.
“You!” cried the mayor’s wife to Cedric. “You have eagle eyes! Look around and find my dog!”
Cedric stared back at her, the feathers on his forehead standing up.
“It’s all right, Cedric,” Ivy reassured him.
Cedric cocked his head to one side, considering. Then he turned slowly all the way around in his nest, until he was looking back at them again. “No,” he said. “Not a sign of her. But there is something hiding under the hazel trees.”
“There is?” Ivy said. “What is it, Cedric? Can you see?”
“Cedric can’t see through the leaves, but something is making them rustle. Bigger than a dog. Smaller than a troll. Maybe a cow.”
Ivy looked toward the hazel trees. She could see dappled shadows beneath them, but she couldn’t make out any shape there. She decided to go closer and began to make her way quietly through the garden. Mistress Peevish followed her. Ivy turned and whispered, “Shhh! Whatever it is, we don’t want to scare it.”
As they drew nearer, Ivy cau
ght a glimpse of something moving in the shadows under the hazel trees. It did seem bigger than a dog and smaller than a troll, but she didn’t think it was a cow. She thought she heard sniffling. Finally Ivy saw something move again, and the something…was shaped like a horse and spotted all over. Its spots blended in with the surroundings, making it hard to see.
“Hello?” called Ivy.
There was a rustling and more sniffling.
“Hello?” called Ivy again.
“Oh. H-h-hello,” came the answer. “Don’t mind me. I’m just standing here.”
“Have you come to see my grandmother, the healer, about something?” Ivy asked.
“Well…yes,” the voice quavered, “but she probably can’t help me. I’m afraid no one can help me.” There was another loud sniffle.
“My grandmother can solve all sorts of problems,” said Ivy. “Or maybe I can help. You can tell me.”
Mistress Peevish looked on with her hands on her hips. “Why don’t you hurry up and tell her? She’s supposed to be looking for my dog! Have you seen a little, golden-furred dog?”
“N-no. I’m sorry. I haven’t,” said the voice from the shadows. “I wasn’t paying any attention. I’ve been too unhappy.”
“But why?” asked Ivy.
The creature slowly stepped out of the shadows and into the sun. Now Ivy could see that it looked like a horse dappled with black spots. The spots were all different sizes and shapes. And she saw something else—the horse had a horn, like a unicorn. But she had never heard of a unicorn with spots. “Ohh!” she said. “What are you?”
The spotted creature hung its head and sniffled again. “That’s just it,” the creature said. “What am I? I wish I were a unicorn, but who ever heard of a unicorn with spots? Can you help me get rid of these spots?”
“Well, you can’t be a real unicorn, that’s for sure,” put in Mistress Peevish. “There’s a unicorn pictured on the tapestry that hangs on my wall at home. It’s beautiful—with a shining, spotless coat and a long, flowing mane—and you don’t look anything like it!”
“See?” said the beast.
“Maybe it’s a disease!” said Mistress Peevish, backing away. “Maybe it’s catching!”
Ivy tried to think of what Grandmother would say.
“What is your name?” Ivy asked the creature.
“My name? My name is Branwen.”
Ivy thought harder. What would Grandmother ask?
“Branwen, have you always been spotted like this, or did the spots just appear?”
The creature sniffled again. “I’ve been like this as long as I can remember. Ever since I was a little filly. My mother and father are real unicorns. They didn’t know what to make of my spots. No one does.”
“Well, maybe you’re one of a kind!” Ivy cried. “A spotted unicorn!”
Branwen looked surprised, then she sniffled one more time, as if she were considering.
“A spotted unicorn? But there’s no such thing!”
“There is now, and you’re it!”
Branwen’s eyes widened. “But I don’t want to be it! I want to be like the others. Oh, woe is me. Only one spotted unicorn, and—wouldn’t you know—I’m it!”
Mistress Peevish hung back. “I still think it might be a disease,” she warned. “If you’re smart, you’ll keep your distance!”
Ivy reached her hand up and stroked Branwen’s soft muzzle. “I don’t think so at all,” she murmured. “I think my grandmother would like to meet you, Branwen.”
“Just don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Mistress Peevish put in spitefully. “And you’re supposed to be looking for my dog, remember?”
“Yes, Mistress Peevish,” Ivy replied politely. “I remember.”
“Well, I have to go home, but you keep looking! Bring her to me if you find her. And tell your grandmother to get rid of that goblin!” commanded Mistress Peevish. As she went away, she called, “Foof! Here, Foof!”
Ivy watched her go and sighed.
She pretended to look around for the little dog as Mistress Peevish left. Then she decided she was done.
She turned to Branwen. “Please come out. You don’t need to hide anymore,” Ivy said to her. “I think you’re perfectly beautiful! Would you like to meet Grandmother?”
“Can she take away my spots?”
“I don’t know. We’ll have to ask her. Come on!”
As Ivy and Branwen headed back toward the cottage, Ivy saw a flash of golden-colored fur under the azalea bush. Foof! Ivy smiled and looked the other way.
Then Cedric called out from his nest, “Who, who, who goes there?”
“This is Branwen, the spotted unicorn,” Ivy called back. “She’s here to see Grandmother.”
“Friend or foe?” Cedric demanded.
“Friend!” declared Branwen and Ivy at the same time.
“Pleased to meet you,” Cedric responded cheerfully. “Ever so pleased.”
As they spoke, Ivy heard a buzzing sound around her head. She looked up and saw a cloud of tiny pixies flitting all about them. They were landing on Branwen’s forelock and mane. “Pixies!” Ivy cried. “They’re welcoming you, Branwen. They must like spotted unicorns!”
“They like spotted unicorns?” Branwen asked, sounding puzzled.
“Of course!” Ivy replied. She opened the back door of the cottage and called for her grandmother. Grandmother came to the door. “Look who has come to see us!” Ivy said.
Grandmother’s eyes lit up as she saw Branwen. “My, how unusual!” she exclaimed. “A spotted unicorn. I’ve never seen such a thing. How magnificent!”
“See?” cried Ivy. She introduced Branwen to Grandmother, and explained that Branwen wanted her spots removed.
“But you’re so beautiful just the way you are,” said Grandmother.
“But I’m not like a real unicorn,” Branwen complained. “Ask anybody. Besides, real unicorns can heal the sick and wounded with their horns. My horn doesn’t work. Please, can’t you remove these spots?”
“If I could remove your spots, you’d look just like any other unicorn.”
“That’s exactly what I want,” Branwen said.
“Oh, that’s too bad,” Grandmother said. She thought for a moment, then said, “I do have some spot remover, for stains on clothes, but I’ve never tried it on a creature before. And I don’t have much of it. Maybe we could try it on one spot and see what it does? If that’s what you really want.”
Now Branwen’s eyes lit up. “Oh yes! Please. Let’s do it!”
Just then, there was a shriek from the crate with the baby goblin in it. Then another shriek. And another. Branwen backed up, with a neigh of surprise, and the pixies scattered and flew away.
“What is that noise?” Branwen cried.
“That’s the baby goblin,” Ivy answered. “Maybe he’s hungry again.”
“I suppose we had better feed him first, just in case,” Grandmother responded. “I’m sorry, Branwen, but we’ll have to try the spot remover later, after we’ve taken care of the baby.”
“All right. I guess I can wait,” Branwen replied.
“I do hope that noise stops soon,” wailed Cedric as he hopped out of his nest and fluttered back up to the rooftop. “Griffins don’t like screechy goblin noises.”
Once again, Ivy and Grandmother took care of the hungry goblin baby, who snatched up the mushrooms like he was starving. He gulped and drooled, and snapped at Ivy’s fingers, and when he was full, he let out another mighty BUUURRRP! Grandmother changed his diaper, then he wanted to play. Grandmother let him climb up the table again, and gave him a big spoon to bang on the tabletop. That kept him happy for a while, but soon he wanted to play something else. The baby goblin leaped off the tabletop onto a bag of dried beans and laughed. The bag split open, and
beans scattered all over the floor.
Ivy got out the broom and started sweeping. Then she grabbed the baby just as he climbed to the top of the table again. He was about to leap off onto a bag of alfalfa. “No you don’t!” said Ivy. The little goblin squirmed and squiggled in her hands. Then he began to scream, so she set him down on the floor. Ivy said to Grandmother, “Shouldn’t we give him a name?”
“I looked it up in the book of magical creatures,” Grandmother replied. “The book says goblins generally name themselves after things in nature, like kinds of weeds or rocks.”
“So maybe we could call him Hemlock? Or Toadflax? Or Flint?”
“I like them all,” Grandmother commented. “You pick.”
Ivy watched the baby as he climbed back up the table leg. Then he leaped off the tabletop onto the bag of alfalfa and clung to it. Fortunately, the bag didn’t burst. Ivy thought about burdocks, the thistle-like weeds in Grandmother’s garden that stuck in her skirt and stockings. “How about Burdock,” she asked, “because he clings to things?”
“That will do nicely,” Grandmother said. And so it was decided.
After Burdock had finally fallen back to sleep again, Grandmother brought her jar of spot remover out to Branwen. “Which spot would you like to try this on?” she asked. “Mind you, I don’t know what it might do.”
“I’ll take that chance,” Branwen answered. “Pick any spot!”
“All right,” Grandmother said. She put some spot remover on a cloth. Then she rubbed the cloth all over a small black spot on Branwen’s hind leg. Branwen turned her head to watch. Grandmother and Ivy watched too. At first, nothing happened. Then the spot turned bright orange. They all watched in alarm as the spot slowly faded…into a funny mustard color! They looked on, waiting for it to change, but it stayed that way.
Ivy and the Goblins Page 2
