Elise and the Gold Gloop



  Preface

  I wrote this book in 2011 for my six year old daughter Elise. She wanted:

  “Dragons, princesses, zombies, vampires, ghosts, but not spiders and it should be funny and scary and have fighting in it.”

  I tried my best, sorry about the spiders. I thank Kate for her patience and Buzz the dog for being the inspiration for Smorgasbord.

  Elise and the Gold Gloop

  S.B. Davies

  Copyright 2013 by S.B. Davies

  All rights reserved.

  Cover design by Stuart Stanton-Davies

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Elise

  and the

  Gold Gloop

  by

  S.B. Davies

  A Porridge Castle story

  Table of Contents

  Copyright notice

  Preface

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  About SB Davies

  Other titles by SB Davies

  Chapter One

  Elise sat in the garden watching Smorg chase butterflies. Silly dog, she thought, what will you do if you catch one? Smorg looked at her and gave a little woof, as if to say “eat it, of course”. Elise giggled, did a roly-poly backwards onto her knees and plucked another daisy from the lawn. The daisy chain was falling apart. Elise put it on her head anyway and ran to look at her reflection.

  It wasn’t even close to a princess. Her long brown hair was wavy, that was fine. Her leggings and tee shirt were fine, even the best princesses don’t wear dresses all the time. Her face was pretty, that was fine too. She just didn’t look like a princess. Daddy said to be a princess, you just had to act like one. Perhaps you had to believe deep down that you were? Elise shut her eyes and tried really hard to believe. Inside her head a little voice said, “You’re not a princess, you’re just a little girl.” Elise sighed.

  Elise threw a stick and Smorg ignored it. Elise threw a ball and Smorg ignored it. Elise put the daisy chain on Smorg’s head and he ate it. She rubbed his tummy and thought; I’m bored I wish Daddy would hurry up.

  Daddy and his guest, an important man from the Ministry, were not to be disturbed; dogs and little girls were to play in the garden. Daddy promised ice cream later if they kept quiet. And dogs like ice cream even if they can’t hold the cornet.

  The ginger cat wandered into the garden and started sniffing the flowers in the borders. Smorg’s eyes locked on the cat. His body tensed.

  “No Smorg!” shouted Elise, “Leave the cat alone.”

  Smorg couldn’t resist, crashing through the borders, he chased the cat straight up the apple tree. Smorg leapt up at the cat, growling and barking. The cat hissed and spat. They were making a tremendous noise. With ice cream at stake, Elise grabbed Smorg by the collar and tied him to the tree with the rope that helped her over the first, difficult bit when she climbed up. Then she put the cat indoors. This, she supposed, was a good idea, but when she untied Smorg he ran straight into the house through the open French windows.

  Elise sighed, stamped her foot and ran after Smorg. She found him in the Back Lounge. He was standing on his back paws, up inside the huge open fireplace with his head in the chimney. Smorg’s barks boomed out of every chimney around the house. Elise grabbed his collar and pulled him away. He was a big dog and it took all her strength. She made Smorg sit and when he stopped making a fuss, Elise heard the cat meowing from the chimney.

  Daddy said she was not to climb up the chimney anymore after she posted her letter to Father Christmas last year. This, however was a cat rescue emergency, she was sure Daddy would understand. Elise thought for a moment, pulled out her notepad and wrote:

  I am up the chimney rescuing the cat.

  Love

  Elise

  She put the note on the mantelshelf and ducked into the fireplace. Inside the chimney were bricks steps, just hand and foot holds really. She climbed up carefully moving one foot or hand at a time. She smelt burnt toast and the soot got up her nose.

  Elise called “Puss, puss, puss.” The cat meowed close by. She struggled up another step and in the weak light that filtered down from above saw a side chimney and in it a sooty cat. She reached out and the cat backed away. Elise climbed up another step and reached further, the cat backed away again. Then Smorg started barking up the chimney. It sounded really loud.

  “Oh dear,” though Elise, “this isn’t working at all”. She decided to climb back down. The cat could take care of its self.

  Suddenly everything wobbled. Elise felt she was on a swing that couldn’t make up its mind which way to go. There was crackling and then a loud bang. Smorg yelped. A huge gust blew up the chimney and soot was everywhere.

  Elise couldn’t see anything, it was black. She held on tight waiting for the air to clear. Something pushed her foot; a bouncy floor. Elise stepped on to it, making sure it was firm before letting go with her hands. Something bumped into her and she grabbed it. It was furry and soft; it licked her.

  “Smorg” shouted Elise and hugged him.

  The floor moved up a little, then down a lot. Elise shrieked. Then it started going up again. Up it went, faster and faster, until Elise could see daylight through the soot and they were pushed out of the chimney. Elise balanced on top with nothing to hold on to. The roof is lower than I expected, thought Elise. She wobbled and lost her balance, knocking Smorg over. They fell on to the roof and slid down. Over and over they tumbled. Smorg yelped and Elise screamed. End over end, topsy-turvy down the roof and off the end.

  SPLASH.

  Elise was wet and didn’t hurt at all. She thought, I definitely banged my elbows and knees on the way down. She looked at her arms, they were covered in shiny, black armour. So were her legs. In fact she wore armour all over and she was sitting in a muddy, duck pond, covered in weed. Smorg was chasing ducks.

  “Stop that Smorg, leave the ducks alone.”

  “Eat ducks.” said Smorg.

  With all the splashing, barking and quacking, she wasn’t sure, but it sounded like Smorg said “Eat ducks”. How strange. Smorg stopped chasing ducks and trotted back. Elise noticed he was blue. He should be blacker than ever with all that soot. Blue soot? That can’t be right.

  Elise looked around. She was in a pond outside a small cottage with woods all around. This wasn’t her garden.

  “How unusual” said Elise.

  “Yar, chimbleys must be mixed up again.” said a voice, “They’ve gone all to pot.” the voice laughed. “All to pot, the chimbleys? Oh please yourself.”

  “What?” said Elise and wished she’d said “pardon”, as it was more polite. She stood up and turned to see a small man in dungarees. He was carrying a huge chimney brush.

  “Oh! I beg your pardon, Ma’am, Miss, um… Princess?” He gave a small bow. “No disrespect intended.”

  “Pardon?” said Elise.

  �
�You can’t fool old Burt. The beetle armour, the sword and the Bluedog. You’re not the first northern royalty to visit hereabouts.”

  Elise noticed a short sword strapped to her waist.

  “Want to eat ducks.” said Smorg in a soft Yorkshire accent that amused Elise.

  “Leave them alone.” said Elise.

  “Spoilsport.” said Smorg.

  “See, Bluedogs are always chasing things. It’s in their blood.” said Burt.

  “And talking as well?” asked Elise.

  “O’ course,” said Burt, “that’s how come they’re royal dogs.”

  “Where are we?” asked Elise, who was worried about getting home.

  “Porridge Castle. You must’ve heard of it even on other side of the Dogtooth Mountains.”

  “Is it in Northumberland?” Elise was sure there were lots of castles there.

  “This here is Porridge. All the way to the Miserable Sea.”

  “How we get here?” asked Smorg.

  “Told yer, chimbleys all mixed up. You were in a chimbley when they swapped. On the end of my brush you were, and it got hard to push it up. I thought it was stuck, so I pushed really hard and then whoosh, bonk, rumble, splash. You’re in the duck pond.”

  Elise frowned and concentrated really hard.

  “Do you mean we’re not in Britain anymore?”

  “Dunno, is that somewhere up north?” asked Burt, “Look, things been going wrong lately, strange happenings and that, but it all can be fixed.”

  Elise was shaken up after falling off the roof and felt lost.

  “I want to go home.” she said and even though she tried, she couldn’t keep the tears from her eyes.

  “Don’t you worry about a thing Princess. We’ll go to the castle; they can sort you out with one quick flick.”

  Elise sniffed and tried to wipe her nose on her arm. The armour was smooth and hard.

  “Which way?” asked Smorg.

  “I’ll come with you. Wouldn’t want you getting lost in Dreadful Wood.”

  Chapter Two

  The little cobbled road lead through a pleasant wood. The sun warmed their backs and Elise soon dried out. Her armour was light and comfortable. It was made of hard, thin plastic. Burt had called it beetle armour and it was a bit like the outside of an beetle. Elise worried that if they had really big beetles, then they had really big spiders. Oh dear, Elise hated spiders.

  “Burt, do you have really big spiders here?”

  “Not so much, the beetles eat them.”

  “Spiders are nice and crunchy.” said Smorg.

  There was a sign beside the road.

  Do not feed the vampires

  “Oh? Are they dangerous?” asked Elise, pointing at the sign.

  “Well nasty, certainly.” said Burt, “But a northern princess has nothing to worry about.” and he mimed a few sword strokes, “Soon have them running back to their horrible little caves.”

  “I’m not a–“

  “Princess Elise” said Smorg, “And I’m Smorg.”

  “Please to meet you Princess Elise and you too Smorg.” said Burt.

  There was a noise from the wood, like a little boy doing a ghost impression.

  “Woooooo wooooo wooo.”

  Two shapes burst out of the bushes at the side of the path. They were dressed all in black with ragged capes. They stood blocking the path.

  “Ere, gives us a bite.” said one of the vampires in a smarmy, high pitched voice.

  “Clear off before you feel the weight of my fist.” shouted Burt.

  “Ooo, hark at him.” said the other vampire, who sounded just like the first.

  “Just a little bite, won’t hurt a bit. You got loads to spare.”

  “Yeah go on, I’m starving.”

  Elise looked at their scruffy clothes. They were covered in mud and bits of twig. They smelt like one of daddy’s sweaty socks.

  “You’re not very clean.” said Elise.

  The first vampire spluttered. “What do you mean not clean? This was fresh on this spring. Cheeky cow.”

  “Yeah and that armour could do with a polish. Talk about pot calling the kettle black.” said the other.

  Burt nudged Elise and whispered, “The sword” and mimed a few strokes.

  Elise pulled the sword out its scabbard. It slid out easily and glinted in the sun.

  “Attack!” shouted Smorg and leaped forward barking.

  Elise raised the sword and ran forward. She didn’t really know what she was doing, but wanted to make sure Smorg was alright.

  The vampires squealed and started running.

  “That’s not fair.” shrieked one of the vampires over its shoulder.

  “Nasty, dirty girl with a sword.” screamed the other.

  From the woods they carried on shouting as they ran away.

  “Big bully should be ashamed of yourself.”

  “That dog should be on a lead you know. I hope you pick up after it.”

  Burt sighed. “See what I mean, not dangerous, but nasty. Sarcastic like. Anyways let’s get going, don’t want to be in these woods come nightfall.”

  “Why?” asked Elise, “Are there zombies or werewolves?”

  “Mosquitoes,” said Burt, “loads of them. ”

  The trees thinned out as they walked down a small hill. They could see for miles. A large wall surrounded most of the land that sloped gently towards the sea in the far distance. It was fallen down in most places, yet once it must have been impressive.

  Elise and Smorg saw Porridge Castle for the first time. It was enormous. It sprawled over the land like a mountain. There were huge towers that seemed too tall with turrets stuck on the side and vast halls with roofs as big as football pitches. Domes and spires of different colours popped up all over the place. There were bridges everywhere and some just stopped in mid-air. It was as if a happy child used the world’s biggest Lego set to build a castle of their imagination and then someone made it real.

  “How come it doesn’t fall down?” asked Elise.

  “Dunno,” said Burt, “but it’s been there for as long as anyone can remember.”

  It took most of the morning to walk to the castle gates. When they got closer the castle loomed and seemed to fall towards them. There were so many turrets and walkways and turrets on top of turrets and domes and tall towers it was exhausting trying to take it all in.

  Outside the huge gates were two small guards, they were young boys. As Elise, Smorg and Burt came closer they stood to attention and drew their swords. One of them dropped his sword and bent down to pick it up.

  “Don’t you lads know to salute a princess.” said Burt.

  The two guards looked at each other. One of them threw a clumsy salute, still holding his sword, which clonked on his helmet.

  “Oww, that really hurt.” said the guard and took off his helmet and rubbed his head. His hair was short and blonde, which is odd thought Elise, as his eyebrows were black and bushy. He had a big nose too, and Elise tried not to stare.

  “Porridge’s finest.” said Burt and laughed.

  “Halt who goes there?” asked the guard who wasn’t rubbing his head.

  “There that’s more like it.” said Burt, “This is Princess Elise and her companion Smorg. And I’ll thank you kindly to take good care of them. Me and the Cribbinses go back a long way so I’ll hear of any nonsense.”

  “Yes sir, right away sir.” said the other guard and put his helmet back on.

  “I’ll be on my way now. If you need anything, just tell them you’re a friend of Burt Doanything. See you Smorg, take care of the Princess, there’s a good dog.”

  Burt strode away. One of the guards ran after him and tapped him on the shoulder.

  “Um, sorry sir, what do I do with them?”

  “Take them to Lord Porridge of course.”

  “Oh, right,” said the guard and looked confused. “Um, if he isn’t there, then what should I
do.”

  “Don’t be daft. Lord Porridge is always in the castle.”

  The guard scurried back to Elise and Smorg.

  “If you follow me, I’ll try and find his lordship. I’m sure he’s around somewhere.”

  The guard opened a small door in the main gate, which creaked outwards and fell off its hinges.

  “Sorry, sorry.” said the guard and picked up the door. They stepped through and the guard tried to put the door back. When that didn’t work, he leaned it against the doorframe, coughed and marched off.

  Elise and Smorg followed the guard to a courtyard surrounded by tall towers that cut off the view of the castle and made the light gloomy. The guard led them through an archway and down a stone corridor. The young guard wore a breastplate with a big dent and his trousers were frayed where someone had cut off the bottoms to make them fit. His cloak was worn right through in places, but at least it was clean.

  “What’s your name?” asked Elise.

  “Cribbins.” said the guard.

  “Aren’t you a bit young to be a guard?”

  “Oh no miss, sorry princess, I’m just the right age. The uniform makes me older.”

  “What?” said Elise and wished she could remember to be polite.

  “Common phenon… phenomenomenon, happens to everyone. You’re probably only nine, but in that armour you’re really old like twelve or thirteen.”

  “I’m eight actually.” said Elise.

  “There you go, proof pudding.” said Cribbins.

  Cribbins stopped outside a rickety door with peeling green paint. He pulled the handle, the door didn’t move.

  “Must be stuck.” said Cribbins and heaved on the door, it still didn’t move. Cribbins stood back and kicked the door hard. Some paint fell off. Cribbins dropped his sword and clutched his foot.

  “Owww.”

  “Are you alright?” asked Elise and picked up the sword.

  “Does it look like I’m alright? That really hurt, stupid door.”

  Elise turned the handle and pushed the door. It opened with a creak.