Age:
Middle School
Reading Level: 3.4
Chapter 1
Germal Fench sat in the Feather Lake Small-Folk Council Property Claims office. It was far underground, well hidden from any curious humans.
For years, Fench had searched for his family’s missing fortune on the other side of Feather Lake. Long ago, his father showed him where he thought it was hidden, but the chamber was empty.
All the gold and jewels—from his parents, his aunts and uncles, his grandparents, and his great-grandparents—all of it was gone.
Fench had also looked everywhere for his family’s Certificate of Ownership but couldn’t find it.
He hoped the council would have a copy. Then, even if someone found the fortune before him, the certificate would give him ownership.
Because Fench was a Dwarf, he feared the council might ignore his request. Trolls had headed Property Claims for as long as he could remember and never really liked Dwarves.
Fench didn’t know that Garral Gorg, a Troll with an untrustworthy reputation, had accidentally found the fortune and moved it to a new location deep underground. Gorg planned to sell it off bit by bit to other Trolls far away in Southernhill when the weather warmed. Then, no one would ever know he had stolen the treasure.
Chapter 2
Today, Garral Gorg sat in The Stalks, the Council restaurant, eating acorn stew with Fallat Trembor, the head Troll representative in Feather Lake. Gorg needed a partner to avoid Small-Folk law and trusted Trembor as much as anyone could trust a Troll.
“So, you struck it rich?” asked Trembor with narrowed eyes and a devious grin. “Where’s the Certificate of Ownership?”
“What certificate?”
“You found the treasure. You said Fench’s father doesn’t know you stole it and moved it. There should be a council case somewhere with the Certificate of Ownership in it.”
“A leather case with the Council seal?”
“Yes. Anyone with the Certificate owns the treasure. You won’t need to slink around selling bits of it in Southernhill. Finders Keepers, you know. That’s what the Certificate gives you. It’s the law.”
Gorg’s eyes widened. His crooked mouth formed a wide grin under his long, bent nose. “I know where the case is.”
Chapter 3
Later that day, Gorg sailed his Sawwood bark boat over to the western shore of Feather Lake. He hid it behind a tall group of cattails.
I should have kept that old leather case, thought Gorg. I never thought it had any value. There were no gold or jewels in it. Now, I have to cross Feather Lake and go back to the chamber just to get it. No matter. Having it will make owning the treasure simpler.
He quickly and quietly made his way up to the edge of the forest and found the Beechnut tree with the second, fake rabbit hole entrance. Gorg climbed down the ladder and walked through the tunnel to the underground chamber.
He suddenly stopped as he neared the treasure chamber. Voices!
Gorg crept silently along the muddy tunnel and saw the group of young Gnomes. One of them was sitting on the leather Council case!
Gorg was a Forest Troll. At just over three feet high, he was smaller than a Mountain Troll but still larger than a Gnome. All Trolls were clumsy creatures, but Forest Trolls could be very sneaky when necessary.
After a few minutes, the Gnome who sat on the case stood up and inspected a tunnel with the other Gnomes. Gorg slipped over unseen, reached down, and grabbed the case. He looked up, shook his fist in the air with a twisted grin, and quickly waddled back down the tunnel and up the ladder.
Once he was above ground, he pulled the ladder out of the rabbit hole so no one could follow him. Minutes later, he was back at Feather Lake.
He pulled his boat out from the shore and set back across the lake to the Small-Folk Council. He was eager to claim the treasure officially and permanently.