Elliot and the Goblin War Read Online Free PDF

all of that trouble.”
    Elliot looked at Patches. “Those kids in the Goblin suits three years ago—”
    She nodded. “Yep. Real Goblins.”
    “Figures. They ruined all my candy, you know.” Elliot scratched his chin and asked, “Aren’t Brownies the creatures that have to do nice things for humans, like if we leave you a job to do?”
    “We don’t have to do anything,” Patches said. “We choose to help if we like the gift the human leaves for us.”
    “Yes, but if I were your king, you’d have to do a job just because I ordered you to, right?”
    The two Brownies looked at each other. “Well, yes. But we only work at night,” Mr. Willimaker said.
    Elliot looked over at the clock in his room but then remembered there was no clock in his room, because his family had sold it last week to buy bread. So instead he looked out the window. “Night’s almost over, so you’ll have to hurry. I’ll make you a deal. My Uncle Rufus is getting out of jail tomorrow, and we’re having a welcome home dinner. If you can have a nice dinner ready for my family, then I’ll be your king.”
    Uncle Rufus was the oldest man in town who still had all his teeth. He stayed young by eating healthy, taking walks along Main Street, and unfortunately, by stealing shiny things. He claimed he always meant to buy the items, but he had memory problems. The police didn’t believe that, but Elliot did. After all, Uncle Rufus often forgot Elliot was a boy and brought him shiny earrings every birthday.
    The Brownies smiled. Mr. Willimaker said, “That’s it? Make your family dinner? But it’s so simple.”
    “You say that now. Wait until you see my family’s empty cupboards.” Elliot figured he’d win no matter what. Either he’d get a nice meal tomorrow night or else he wouldn’t have to be the Brownie king and end a war with the Goblins. And even if he were king, he’d just do what they wanted for a few weeks and then give the job to someone else.
    “Your wish is our command,” Patches said, bowing.
    “There’s one more thing,” Mr. Willimaker said. “We have one simple but very important rule. You can’t tell anyone that we exist. If you do, you’ll never see us again.”
    “Never?”
    Patches nodded. “We don’t appear to humans who tell our secrets.”
    “I won’t tell,” Elliot said. He was pretty good with secrets. His parents still didn’t know where he had buried the glass vase he’d accidentally broken over the summer.
    After the Brownies left, Elliot lay back on his bed, wondering what would happen tomorrow. Him, a king? He had holes in the knees of most of his pants. The fanciest thing he owned was the rusty horn on his bike (not counting the earrings Uncle Rufus stole for him). And he still had to take orders from his sister when she said to eat his vegetables, no matter what color they were. Somehow he didn’t feel like a king. But Mr. Willimaker seemed sure that Queen Bipsy had chosen him, so he fell asleep with a smile on his face.
    Most readers of this story agree that Elliot probably wouldn’t have fallen asleep if he knew that hiding in the corner was a third Brownie named Fudd Fartwick. And Fudd Fartwick was watching the sleeping boy, deciding it wouldn’t be hard at all for a small band of Goblins to kill him.

By the time the first morning rays peeked over the horizon, Fudd Fartwick had thought of at least fourteen ways in which he might kill Elliot. Fifteen ways, if he counted making Elliot play out in the warm autumn sunshine for a few hours. On second thought, perhaps that was only deadly to a Brownie. Brownies could tolerate a little sun, but they didn’t like it, which is why they did their work at night.
    Fudd snapped his fingers to take him back to the Underworld, vanishing from Elliot’s bedroom only about twenty seconds before Elliot awoke. Elliot awoke because he smelled something unusual in his home: hot breakfast. Unless his ears were playing a cruel joke on him, that was