Ivy and the Goblins

by Katherine Coville

  “Oh dear,” Grandmother said. “I didn’t mean for that to happen! Shall I try a little more?”

  “Yes, maybe that will do it,” said Branwen.

  Grandmother rubbed more spot remover on the yellow spot, and they all watched breathlessly to see what would happen. They waited…and worried. The spot stayed mustard yellow. Now Branwen was a black-and-white unicorn with one yellow spot on her leg.

  “Well, it doesn’t show too much,” offered Ivy, trying to make the unicorn feel better.

  “Maybe it will fade away overnight,” said Branwen hopefully.

  “I’m sorry,” said Grandmother. “I guess this formula needs some work. Maybe a touch of chickweed or sassafras.”

  “Yes,” Branwen agreed. “Why don’t we have a second try with a different formula?”

  “If you’re sure you really want to,” Grandmother said doubtfully. Before she could say another word, there was a yowl from within the cottage.

  “Every time we turn around, he’s hungry all over again!” Ivy said with dismay.

  “Isn’t it good that he has us to take care of him?” Grandmother said. “Come and help me with him. Branwen, you are welcome to make yourself at home in the garden. I’ll see if I can come up with a better formula, and we’ll give it another try tomorrow.”

  When Ivy and Grandmother went inside, the baby was already climbing out of his crate. Ivy grabbed the basket of mushrooms, and Grandmother grabbed the diapers. “Here we go again!” sighed Ivy.

  All that day, the baby kept Ivy and Grandmother busy. When he wasn’t hungry or sleepy, he was climbing the chairs or the table or the cupboards. Ivy and Grandmother chased him and fed him and tried to get him to take naps. By nighttime, Ivy was completely tired out. She tried to soothe Baby Burdock, bouncing him gently on her shoulder, while Grandmother made a new spot-removing potion for Branwen.

  “Grandmother,” she asked, “how long does it take for babies to grow up?”

  Grandmother set aside the potion she was making and took Burdock from Ivy’s shoulder. “I’m not sure,” Grandmother said. “But most magical creatures grow up quickly. We’ll just have to keep on doing our best until he can take care of himself.”

  When Burdock fell asleep, Grandmother laid him down gently in the crate, and Ivy covered him with a blanket. Ivy finally got to eat her supper, and afterward, she was so tired she dropped into her own bed with all her clothes on.

  It seemed like Ivy had barely begun to sleep when the squalling woke her up again. It was dark in the cottage, except for the glow of a single candle, and Grandmother was in her nightgown, tending to Baby Burdock.

  “Isn’t he even going to sleep at night?” moaned Ivy.

  “Probably not until he’s older,” Grandmother replied drowsily. “Just get some rest. I’ll take care of him.”

  Ivy turned over and was trying to ignore the baby’s cries when she heard a knock on the back door. Grandmother was busy with the baby, so Ivy dragged herself out of bed and opened the door. There was Cedric, looking miserable. His eyes were only half open, and his feathers were all rumpled.

  “This noisy noise,” he groaned, “it’s keeping Cedric awake! Too bad. Too, too bad!”

  “Oh, Cedric,” Grandmother called, “I’m sorry the baby woke you up.”

  Then Poof came to the door and started yapping. Foof was right behind him, and she was yapping too. The baby’s screeching got louder. Then Ivy heard Balthazar’s voice coming from the garden.

  “How cad a dragon get ady sleep?” he cried. “I’b so tired! Ad I thik I feel a code cobing on!”

  Soon there was a pounding on the front door too. Ivy answered the door, only to find their neighbors Jacob the Baker and his wife, Bertha, on the front step in their nightclothes. They looked very unhappy. “What is all this uproar?” Jacob demanded. “How are we supposed to sleep at night with such caterwauling going on?”

  “I’m so sorry,” replied Grandmother. “It’s the baby. He’ll quiet down when we feed him.”

  “What kind of baby makes a noise like that? It’s terrible!” said Bertha.

  “Well, actually,” Grandmother answered, “it’s a goblin baby.”

  “A GOBLIN!” cried Jacob and his wife together. “No wonder!”

  “You can’t have a goblin here,” exclaimed Jacob. “You’ll have to get rid of it!”

  “Make it be quiet!” called Cedric from the back door.

  “Bake it go away!” hollered Balthazar from the garden.

  Poof and Foof yapped and yapped.

  Ivy didn’t know what to do.

  Grandmother looked around at everyone. “Go back to bed. All of you!” she said. “We are just going to have to put up with some noise for a while. Now let me take care of this baby!”

  At this, the neighbors made grumpy faces, but they turned and went home. Balthazar went back to his willow tree. Cedric went back to his nest. Poof followed Cedric, and Foof followed Poof. Ivy took some mushrooms out of a basket and helped Grandmother feed Burdock until he stopped his noise and finally went back to sleep. By then Ivy was so exhausted she could hardly keep her eyes open. She and Grandmother went back to their beds and were soon asleep too.

  Morning came too early. Ivy and Grandmother were awakened by the squalling baby goblin as the sun came up, and the routine started all over again. Ivy saw that Burdock seemed to have grown already. She wondered how long it would take for the baby to learn to take care of himself. When Burdock was fed and burped and his diaper was changed, Ivy had her own breakfast of oatmeal and raisins. Then she went out to take care of the other creatures in the garden. Grandmother told her which potions to give to each one.

  As Ivy passed Cedric’s nest, he did not perk up and say, “Good, good, good morning!” to her the way he usually did. Instead he stuck his head under one wing and moaned, “Not enough sleep!” Even Poof and Foof seemed too tired to bark.

  Ivy said, “Good morning,” anyway and went about her work.

  Soon her friend Peter came and joined her. “That goblin baby sure makes a lot of noise,” he said. “My whole family couldn’t sleep last night!”

  “I know,” Ivy replied. “Me neither. How about helping me out?”

  “All right,” Peter responded. “Where do we start?”

  “I’ll show you. I have a surprise for you!”

  Ivy took Peter to meet Branwen under the hazel trees and introduced them to each other. “Wow,” Peter exclaimed. “I’ve never seen a spotted unicorn before! In fact, I’ve never seen a unicorn at all!”

  “I’m not a real unicorn,” Branwen sighed. “Can’t you tell? Besides, real unicorns can heal sickness with their horns. My horn never worked.”

  “Oh,” said Peter. “That’s too bad. I like your spots, though.”

  “Would you like some oats for breakfast?” Ivy asked.

  “Thank you,” said Branwen. “But I couldn’t sleep last night, and I’ve lost my appetite.”

  Next, Ivy and Peter visited the rabbit with the ear infection. They fed him and stroked his silky fur, and Ivy gave him some of Grandmother’s Sore-Ear Cure. They could hear the baby goblin begin to squawk in the cottage. The rabbit laid his ears down flat on his back, as if it hurt to listen.

  When they were done with the rabbit, they went on to see the porcupine who had lost some of her quills. Ivy gave her Grandmother’s Gro-Quill Potion. She petted her—very carefully—and told her that she was still a very lovely porcupine. Then they heard Baby Burdock scream some more, and the porcupine made all her quills stand up and quiver.

  Ivy meant to give a tiny pinch of Grandmother’s Never-Fail Toothache Powder to the mole with the toothache. But the mole wouldn’t come out of hiding.

  Worst of all, when she went to place a cup of honey in the hole in the oak tree, where the pixies stayed, she found
the hole was empty. Where were the pixies? Ivy and Peter looked and looked for a long time. They looked all around the garden. They called and called for them, but there were no pixies anywhere. At last, the children went inside. Grandmother was chasing Burdock while he ran squealing about the cottage. “The pixies are gone!” cried Ivy.

  “Oh dear!” Grandmother said. “Are you sure?”

  “We’ve looked in their hole in the oak tree and all over the garden. We’ve called and called, but they don’t come. I think they’ve gone away.”

  “Perhaps the baby’s noise has driven them off. I believe pixies are quite sensitive to loud noises,” said Grandmother.

  Ivy’s shoulders drooped. “I miss them. They always make me laugh.”

  Peter said, “Me too.”

  “Yes, we’ll miss them,” said Grandmother. “Perhaps they’ll come back when things are quieter.”

  Ivy sighed heavily. First there was the constant noise, then the messes, then the sleepless night. Now even her beloved pixies were gone! Ivy couldn’t take it anymore. “Burdock is spoiling everything!” she cried.

  “There, now,” Grandmother said sweetly. “He’s only a baby. He can’t help himself. Besides, a good healer takes care of everyone, even goblins. Now, why don’t you take a basket out and gather some more mushrooms? We’re going to need them.”

  “All right,” Ivy said, picking up a basket, “but it won’t be the same without the pixies around.”

  Ivy and Peter went out into the garden. Ivy wondered where to look for more mushrooms. She decided to see if Balthazar would help her find them, as he had before. They made their way to the stream, where the dragon usually napped under the weeping willow tree. When they found him, he was snoring. Wisps of smoke drifted out of his nostrils.

  “Oh, Balthazar,” Ivy called. “Won’t you please wake up? I could use your help!” She remembered to say “please,” because Grandmother had always taught her to be very polite to dragons.

  Balthazar snorted, then opened one eye. Before he could answer her, Burdock shrieked so loudly that they heard him all the way from the cottage. “Dot agaid!” Balthazar groaned, with his stuffy nose. “I just got back to sleep!”

  “I’m sorry,” Ivy said. “Grandmother is trying to keep him quiet. We just don’t know very much about caring for baby goblins!”

  “Where did he cobe frob?” Balthazar asked. “Baybe you could put hib back.”

  “Farmer Higley found the egg in the Dark Forest. We can’t put him back there! What would become of him?”

  “Well, then, baybe you could find his parents. They bust be subwhere in the Dark Forest too!”

  Ivy shivered. She had always been a little afraid of the Dark Forest.

  “But the forest is huge,” objected Peter. “It goes on for miles! How could you find his parents in such a big place?”

  “Hmm,” the dragon said thoughtfully. “Baybe you could search frob the air. I ab just too sick and too tired to be buch help. But baybe Cedric could take you flyig over the forest to look for goblins.”

  “That’s a great idea!” said Peter.

  “I don’t know,” said Ivy. “I’ll have to talk to Grandmother about it. But right now we need help finding more mushrooms to feed the baby. Could you sniff some out for us, like you did before?”

  “I’b afraid by dose is too stuffed up to do ady sdiffig,” Balthazar said, “but I’ll cobe ad help you look.”

  Later, after Peter had gone home, Ivy returned to Grandmother and the baby with a basket full of mushrooms. Ivy tried to ignore the noise, like Grandmother was doing. It wasn’t easy.

  “Grandmother,” Ivy called, raising her voice to be heard. “Balthazar thinks we should find Burdock’s parents. Do you think we can? Balthazar is sick, but Cedric could fly me over the Dark Forest so I could look for them.”

  Grandmother considered this for a moment. “I’m afraid it would be very dangerous to go looking for goblins!” she exclaimed. “What would you do if you found some?”

  “I don’t know. Ask them if they’re missing an egg?”

  “I know very little about goblins, but I believe they are quite unfriendly. Perhaps we’d better read more about them in that Beastly Book of Magical Creatures and Monsters. Look it up for me, dear.”

  Ivy got the book from the lower shelf and opened it on the table. She turned the pages until she reached the picture of the goblin’s egg. She read the section out loud.

  “ ‘Goblins: Magical creatures of great ugliness, full of evil or mischief. The three main types are cave goblins, forest goblins, and mountain goblins.’ ”

  Grandmother nodded. “Farmer Higley said he found the egg in the forest, so read the part about forest goblins.”

  “Let’s see….‘Forest goblins: Found in the deepest, darkest areas of forestland and sometimes swamps. They are the least friendly of the three goblin types. They live in huts made of mud and sticks, and generally eat mushrooms, tree bark, and some small animals. There are rumors that they also eat people, but there is no hard evidence to support this. Do not approach forest goblins in their natural habitat, as they will protect their territory violently. In fact, given how dangerous they are, do not approach them at all!’ ”

  “That settles it!” said Grandmother. “You simply mustn’t go searching for any goblins! We’ll have to solve the problem some other way.”

  Just then, there was a big crash. Ivy jumped, and turned to see that Burdock had climbed the cupboard and knocked off Grandmother’s dishes. The dishes lay broken in pieces on the floor.

  “Oh dear!” sighed Grandmother. “What will he do next?” She reached for the broom while Ivy held the wiggly little goblin tightly in her arms. Quicker than you can say “Oops!” Grandmother’s foot slipped on one of the pieces of the broken dishes. She fell down on the floor with a boom!

  “Oh, OW!” Grandmother cried.

  Ivy put the baby in the crate and hurried to her side. “Grandmother!” she cried. “Are you all right?”

  “I’ve twisted my ankle!” Grandmother exclaimed.

  Ivy’s heart was thumping. “Here, put your arm around my shoulder, and I’ll help you up!”

  Ivy put her arm under Grandmother’s arm and tried to help her up. Grandmother huffed and puffed and groaned, but finally she was able to stand up on one foot.

  “Help me to my bed,” said Grandmother, and so Ivy did. Grandmother sat on her bed, in the corner of the room, her leg propped up on a pillow. She took off her shoe and stocking, and looked at her ankle. It was swollen. “Oh dear,” she said. “I’m afraid it’s sprained. I’ll have to stay off it for a while!”

  By then Burdock was already climbing out of his crate, yelping as loudly as ever. “Bring him over to me,” said Grandmother. “I can hold him on my lap while you sweep up the mess. Be careful!”

  Grandmother held the squirming, squalling baby while Ivy very carefully swept up the broken dishes. All she could think about was Grandmother’s sprained ankle. This was too much! How could they keep this baby goblin when he caused such trouble? Ivy looked at the squirming baby as Grandmother tried to hold him still. Suddenly she felt sorry for him.

  “Poor baby,” she said. “You don’t belong in a cottage, do you? Grandmother, how are we going to manage now? I can’t do it all by myself!”

  “You always do a very good job taking care of things,” Grandmother assured her. “I can still help a little with Burdock. As for the rest, just do your best. That will be good enough.”

  But would it? Ivy didn’t know.

  “Bring me that basket of mushrooms, and I’ll feed him,” said Grandmother, holding him tightly on her lap. Ivy fetched the basket. Soon Burdock was chomping down his lunch.

  Ivy finished cleaning up the broken dishes. When the baby was done eating, she tried to change his diaper. She did her
best, but he wiggled and squirmed, and the diaper didn’t stay up too well. Burdock took off to climb the tabletop, with his diaper sagging down around his bottom.

  Just then, Ivy heard a knock on the front door.

  When Ivy answered the door, there stood Mistress Peevish in her fancy purple dress, her face red with anger, as usual. Next to her stood the mayor, biting his fingernails.

  “The mayor has come to tell you that you can’t have a goblin here! Didn’t you?” demanded Mistress Peevish, poking her husband in the ribs.

  The Honorable Dudley Peevish let out a little squeak and said, “Yes, my dear. That’s right.” Then he went back to chewing on his fingernails.

  “But what else can we do with the baby?” Ivy asked. “Where can he go?” Just then, Burdock made a run for the door. Ivy caught him in time, but he shrieked louder than ever.

  “You’ll have to figure that out yourselves!” exclaimed Mistress Peevish. “And where is my dog, Foof?” she added. “She still hasn’t come home. I’m terribly worried about her!”

  Grandmother called out from her bed in the corner, “Come in, Mistress Peevish. Come in, Mayor. Let’s talk this over.”

  “My grandmother hurt her ankle,” Ivy explained. “She can’t get up.”

  “So who is taking care of things here?” demanded Mistress Peevish, entering the cottage.

  Ivy looked around and said, “I am.”

  “What nonsense! A mere child taking care of this whole place? You’ll never be able to do it! Will she?” said Mistress Peevish, poking the mayor in the ribs again.

  Ivy thought about all the things she needed to do now, and she wondered if Mistress Peevish was right. But didn’t she want to take care of things the way Grandmother did? Maybe she just needed some help. Then she got an idea.