GIBLIN TITTLETHRIM AND THE BURNT COOKIE CAPER

GIBLIN TITTLETHRIM AND THE BURNT COOKIE CAPER

An adventurous band of Crimson Tyrian Elves face considerable peril to satisfy a desire for cookies…and love.

Giblin Tittlethrim, a Crimson Tyrian Elf, lay daydreaming atop a toadstool at the edge of Wildflower Wood. His cunning red suit blended so perfectly with the toadstool’s bright surface, that for the pleasant moment, he hadn’t a care that a bird of prey might snatch him off his perch. His thoughts soon turned to dreaming of ways to woo the adorable Lily-Pi, a pixie who lived in a reed along the banks of nearby Lavender Lake.

But Giblin still languished in dangerous territory. The toadstool on which he reclined grew just beyond the garden wall of the cottage of the White Witch, Amoreena Sugarbottom. Amoreena’s large orange tomcat, Macbeth, guarded her property ferociously. Giblin knew that the monstrous cat enjoyed toying with elves even more than mice. At any moment, Macbeth might happen upon him with his keen eyes and very sharp teeth. But this did not stop Giblin from daring to put himself in harm’s way. For today was cookie day!

Everyone knows that elves love cookies almost to the point of intoxication, and Giblin was no exception. It was this intoxication that found him lurking behind the cottage of the White Witch. He knew she baked the most magnificent magical cookies in all the land, on the eve of every full moon.

Giblin’s original plan was only to steal cookies for himself and his mates. But suddenly it occurred to him that he might steal more and use them to woo his darling pixie, Lily-Pi. He’d enlisted his trusty fellows, Deflin and Sprink, to help carry out his plan.

Giblin scaled the great Rowan tree above Amoreena’s garden as she set to baking. He watched eagerly as she mixed magical ingredients in a large bowl, then rolled the sweetened dough out across a flour-dusted table. She lingered over an assortment of cookie cutters in shapes varying from broomsticks to unicorns.

“Which shapes to choose today, d’ya think?” she asked the tabby at her feet. Macbeth wound around her ankles twice, then settled nearby to await the decision. “I b’lieve we’ll go with dragon’s eggs and stars,” she mused, “As tonight the Dragon Moon comes full.” 

Sliding her baking sheets into the large brick oven, she settled into her rocker to wait. In a blink, she and Macbeth were both fast asleep.

Rowan leaves fluttered as two more Crimson Elves astride dragonflies approached. A rider-less third trailed behind.

“Just in time!” Giblin crowed. The dragonflies landed, folded their wings and settled into a quiet purr as Giblin’s mates dismounted.

Deflin and Sprink were opposite elfin bookends. Deflin, with his green hair and brawny frame, was strong and serious, while Sprink, his bluish mane braided neatly down his back, was lean, nimble, and jolly. His infectious giggle sounded much like a bell. Giblin, the cleverest and most inventive of the three, fell in-between. His orange hair spiked out like a thistle, and he was forever hatching schemes that ended in wild adventures. Altogether, they were a carefree, loyal band.

“Where’s she at?” Deflin asked.

“Baking stage,” Giblin replied.

“Got your net?” Giblin pulled from his pocket a large spiderweb. Sprink nodded his approval.

“You know the plan,” Giblin recounted, “In and out. Not taking a chance on that cat sinking claws into us again!” The three shuddered visibly.”

“Oh my dear!” Amoreena cried, as the smell of burnt sugar erupted from the cottage. “I’ve dozed off and burnt my cookies!” She bolted up, oven mitt flying to yank baking sheets from the oven’s belly, parking them haphazardly. “Drat! I’ve gone and ruined the batch with no ingredients to start over. Macbeth, be a good kitty while I flit off for supplies lest the good children miss their treats.”

It was an adequately kept secret that Amoreena Sugarbottom was in the habit of leaving pretty bundles of sweet cookies atop her garden wall each new moon, as reward for children wandering the forest in search of fairies. Those children who still believed past Kindergarten were to a fault kindly, respectful, and with perfect school attendance. Traits that the good witch liked to encourage, and who were the only children able to see her cottage at all.

Macbeth yawned deeply, as the witch flung her cape about her shoulders and disappeared in a purple mist.

The three elves studied the cookies. “They don’t look so bad from here, do you think?” Giblin asked, straining to see.

“Not to me,” said Deflin.

“Nor me,” said Sprink. “Let’s find out!” 

Their clever plan depended on the accuracy of the talented swordsman, Deflin, who, with his dagger attached to a silken spider thread, would spear cookies one by one, then raise them up into Giblin’s net that would be suspended between them. It had worked before.

They would then spirit the cookies out the window and off to Lavender Lake, to impress Lily-Pi and have a gay cookie feast.

“Let’s GO!” cried Giblin, whistling for the dragonflies. 

They lifted off with a soft thrum, flitting through the window undetected. Deflin jockeyed into position, while they stretched the net between them. Now, taking great aim, Deflin thrust his blade downward, spearing a glittery star. His trusty steed holding steady, he began to gather the line to him. The three held a collective breath as the cookie rose, until it slipped from the blade and hurtled downward, clattering onto the baking sheet below. They froze in mid-air as Macbeth startled briefly, before rolling over with a snort.

“Try again!” whispered Giblin.

“They’re heavier than usual,” Deflin whispered back, taking aim. With a mightier thrust, he flung the dagger again, hoping to bury it deep. But once again, the cookie slipped, ricocheting off the table before bouncing forth to wallop the sleeping Macbeth smack on the nose. Macbeth leapt to his feet, whiskers twitching. His eyes narrowed as he spied the errant cookie, then began to prowl the diameter of the table, searching for poachers. 

Up above, the elves made for the shadows. Macbeth raised his head to scan the tabletop, then followed a line of sight upwards, spotting the intruders atop the pantry. He hunkered down and launched. Breaching the counter, he wasted no time clawing his way up to where the three cowered.

Creeping forward, his mighty paw lashed out, as the three lifted crazily off, struggling to stay astride while careening through the air. Gilpin’s steed swooped low to avoid a collision, the spider net trailing behind. It snagged the edge of a lone cookie, and with the cookie sailing behind like a kite, out the window they flew. 

Deeper in the forest, holed up in a hollow log, they attempted to calm their hearts and divide the cookie for tasting.

“The witch said the cookies were ruined, but how bad can a cookie ever be?”  Giblin wondered, while trying break the cookie into pieces. He rolled it toward Deflin for a try, but with all his brawn, the cookie stood firm.

“This cookie’s like a brick!” Deflin exclaimed.

“The better to build you a house with!” laughed Giblin.

“Let me bite it!” said Sprink, “I have very sharp teeth.” But not a crumb came loose.

“These would make good bricks!” giggled Sprink.

And with that, Giblin hatched a new plot:  To steal the remaining cookies and build Lily-Pi a dream house of cookie bricks. But how to hold it together? he wondered.

Just then, they heard children’s voices coming up the forest path. Giblin quickly rolled the cookie into the log’s entrance, blocking it neatly.

“Good thinking,” whispered Sprink. Deflin nodded in agreement. Outside, two young girls approached the log and sat down.

“I don’t understand why the cookies weren’t there,” said Mirabel Moon, to her friend Cassie Strong. “The moon’s full tonight. That’s when you find them.”

“Maybe because you made the whole thing up, along with your fairy hunting,” said Cassie, with a careless shrug.

“No, Cassie, I promise! They’re the best cookies and they’re always on the wall just before the moon gets full.”

“Well, they aren’t there now,” said Cassie, “and I’m really hungry.”

“Well, have some gum then,” said Mirabel, pulling a pack from her pocket.

“I didn’t eat my after-school snack because you promised cookies,” Cassie snapped.

“I’m sorry, Cassie. I can’t explain it.”

“Well, at least you always have gum, that’s better than nothing,” Cassie said, popping two sticks into her mouth. The two schoolmates dawdled for what seemed like forever, with the elves bunkered beneath.

“My gum’s lost its flavor,” complained Cassie, at last.

“Mine too, and I have algebra to finish,” said Mirabel.

“Stick it here with mine, and let’s go,” Cassie said, pressing hers into a crack in the log. Mirabel followed suit, effectively sealing the cookie in place, and trapping the elves inside.

It didn’t take long after the girls left to realize their predicament, and while trying to roll the cookie from the hole, their hands came away with a rubber-like substance.

“What did they call this stuff?” Giblin cried.

“Gum, I think,” said Deflin.

“It’s sticky!” said Sprink. “And it’s hardening!”  And with that, Giblin formed an extension plan, certain that if they could procure both gum and cookies before the witch returned, they could begin dreamhouse construction by nightfall. Working industriously by the light of the moon, by tomorrow, Lily-Pi might be his!

But they would need the girl’s gum!

Sprink slipped through a narrow crevice and called on a Woodland Pecker to free his mates from their prison. Once released, Giblin and company dashed off in search of Mirabel Moon.

It’s common knowledge that fairies know the whereabouts of all children who believe in them, for it’s those children they visit in dreamland. Giblin called on the Blue Fairies for help. Soon after, the elves were peeping over the windowsill of Mirabel Moon as she finished her algebra. She added to the gob of gum in her mouth as she worked. The pack beside her emptied in no time.

“Will we have to snatch it from her mouth, somehow?” asked Sprink. Giblin put on his thinking cap.

Not long after, Mirabel closed her schoolbook. She laid out tomorrow’s school clothes and climbed into bed, gum tucked neatly in her cheek.

“Now what?” asked Sprink. “How do we get to it?”

“We could pinch her nose till she opens her mouth,” said Deflin.

Giblin snatched the feather from Sprink’s cap. “We’ll tickle her!” he grinned. The elves slipped quietly over the windowsill.

Lassoing the ceiling fan with Giblin’s spider thread was easy, and soon the nimble elves were perched on a blade above the sleeping girl. Joining hands, they lowered themselves to dangle just above Mirabel’s mouth. Giblin stretched, dusting her nose with the feather. 

She snuffled.

He tried again.

Her nose twitched.

On his third try, Mirabel let out a mighty sneeze which ripped him from Sprink’s grasp, blowing him skyward, limbs flailing, only to fall back down directly into her open mouth. He landed face down, wedged in a panic, arms and legs braced between her upper and lower lips.

Naturally, this woke the sleeping girl whose eyes flew wide open to stare directly into his. Then, believing she was about to swallow a large red bug, she spit Giblin out so solidly he shot to the foot of the bed, trampolining off a large teddy bear. Deflin and Sprink tumbled down, looking frantically for shelter. Mirabel spotted them and shot to a sitting position.

“Are you ELVES?” she gasped, wide-eyed. The three nodded, sheepishly. “Well, come closer,” she commanded. “I won’t hurt you! I’ve longed to see elves my whole life! Why have you come?”

“We need your gum,” Giblin, the lovesick elf replied fervently.

“My gum? Whatever for?” Sitting cross-legged on her collarbone, the three poured out their story and their plan.

“But that’s stealing!” the young girl gasped.

“They’re meant for the dustbin,” Deflin said.

“Oh, that’s different then,” said Mirabel, “But I’m afraid I’ve chewed the last of my gum. Will this be enough?” She stuck out her tongue.  The three considered, then nodded sadly. “Then maybe you can use my ABC gum! I’ve been stockpiling it in case of a gum shortage.” she exclaimed, pointing to an enormous mountain of chewed gum stuck to her bed frame. The three elves danced a little jig! “I could even come with you and soften it up again!” the girl suggested.

“Her big mouth would save us time!” Sprink noted.

“I’ll pretend you didn’t say that,” Mirabel frowned, pulling on her smock and shoes. Then offering the elves her pocket, out the window they went.

Back at the cottage window, they were clearly too late. Burnt cookies delegated to the dustbin, Amoreena was in a baking tizzy.

“Now what?” Deflin asked. “The game’s over.”

“Maybe not,” said Giblin. “Can you keep a secret?” he asked Mirabel.

“Of course! I’m very trustworthy!” she answered.

“I have a plan!”

“Another one?” sighed Deflin, remembering he’d missed supper.

“A quick one!” Giblin promised. “We’ll call the fairies once more!” 

“Oh! I long to see fairies!” Mirabel cried. 

 

“Allow me,” said Sprink, sounding a lone note on his tiny flute.

At once, Blue Fairies filled the air.

“What service can we do?” the fairies inquired in tinkling voices. Mirabel stood transfixed by their wings glittering in the moonlight.

“Camouflage, if you please,” Giblin requested politely. And with that, the fairies flitted in, wrapping the dustbin in a blue haze long enough for Mirabel to slip her arm over the sill and purloin the abandoned cookies. She considered snatching a handful of fresh ones before an orange paw swatted her back. The fairies lifted two before they all made off for Lavender Lake.

While the powerful Dragon Moon illuminated their labors, Mirabel chewed down the massive mountain of gum as the elves worked feverishly, cementing cookies into place until a charming little house stood. Finally, as the sun opened her sleepy eyes, they stood back to admire their handiwork. The Blue Fairies spirited Mirabel away to her bed, where come morning, under a fairy spell, she would puzzle over a fresh cookie in her pocket.

Giblin’s mates nudged him forward as he hesitated at Lily-pi’s door. She smiled prettily at finding him standing there. Offering her his hand, he led her down a primrose path to view the new construction.

“It’s for you, Lily,” Giblin exclaimed in a rush of tenderness.

“For me? How did you know exactly the sort of house I’d choose?”

“Because it’s the sort of house I’d choose as well.”

And with that, Lily gave him a bold pixie kiss, turning his ears very red, and promised to be his, forever! Then they all divided the last fresh cookie between them, and celebrated with a gay cookie feast including rosehips and ambrosia.

The Crimson Tyrian Elves themselves, developed keen noses for sniffing out burning cookies. A skill which afforded them hero status during the following year’s Great Lavender Lake Dam Disaster.

But that is another story.

~ by taree Belardes

NYCMIDNIGHT SHORT STORY COMP 2019

GENRE; CRIME CAPER

SUBJECT; A STOCKPILE

CHARACTER; A SCHOOLGIRL

2500 WORDS