The Land of the Silver Apples by Nancy Farmer

Author:Nancy Farmer
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Goblins, Bards and Bardism, Legends, Saxons, Fiction, Myths, Siblings, Elves, Social Science, Europe, Druids and Druidism, Fables, Medieval, Juvenile Fiction, Fantasy & Magic, Historical, Mythology, Family, Action & Adventure, Norse, General, Fantasy
ISBN: 9781416907350
Publisher: Simon and Schuster
Published: 2007-08-20T17:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-five

FROG SPAWN OMELET

“The elves steal our children,” explained the king. “You have to understand that elvish life is centered on pleasure. They cannot bear to spend one minute without entertainment, and they have to keep coming up with new amusements because they’re so easily bored. Once, long ago, they decided it was fun to switch our babies with human ones. I believe you call them ‘changelings’.”

Jack remembered the Bard talking about such things. Changelings, the old man had said, are always terrified because they’ve been torn from their rightful place. They fall into terrible rages and scream until everyone is driven mad. Jack thought, Well, why wouldn’t they? A human baby suddenly waking up surrounded by hobgoblins would go wild with terror. It must be just as frightening the other way around. “Do the elves give you our children?” he asked.

The Bugaboo sighed deeply, and the hobgoblin women cooed in response. It sounded like a flock of pigeons whispering to one another. “They turn human children into pets. It’s considered stylish to have a toddler on a leash. He can be dressed up in funny costumes or trained to do tricks. Toddlers are more clever than dogs, but they’re not as durable. Eventually, they fall into despair—lack of love does that. When a child is no longer entertaining, he’s left in a forest for wolves to dispose of.”

“How terrible!” gasped Pega.

“My father once left me out for wolves to devour,” Thorgil remarked.

“I’m not surprised,” said the Bugaboo. “The greatest sorrow of our lives is the loss of our sproglings—that’s our word for ‘children’. There’s not a family here who hasn’t lost one or two little ones. We try to plug up the tunnels. We post guards and lay traps, but the elves always find a way in.”

Hobgoblins had an unnerving habit of blinking their eyes one at a time, not both together as humans did. When they were upset, as the Bugaboo was now, they not only blinked rapidly, but erratically. Jack got dizzy watching him.

Something was hovering at the back of Jack’s mind, something important he had to remember, but the warmth, the rich food, and perhaps the effects of the Forest Lord’s water had dulled his wits. He was also extremely tired. Pega was nodding off, and even Thorgil jerked her head up in an effort to stay alert.

Dessert was an enormous steamed pudding wrapped in cloth. Jack vaguely remembered eating some. What he’d taken for plums were purple mushrooms.

After dinner the hobgoblins cleared the tables. Jack watched them in a kind of daze. He knew it would be polite to help, but all he wanted was to sleep. Soon a pack of hobgoblin youths led him off, and Pega and Thorgil were taken in another direction.

The sleeping hutches were hollows scraped into the earthen floor of a small side cave. There was one cave for boy hobgoblins, he was told, and another for girls. The adults slept in their own houses, along with the sproglings. The

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