Age:
Middle School
Reading Level: 3.3
Chapter 1
Garral Gorg tied his boat under a poplar tree root that jutted out from Feather Lake's eastern shore. He tightly held the leather case containing the Certificate of Ownership and ambled through the brush to the Council’s secret underground entrance.
Once inside, Gorg quickly walked down the hallway that led to Fallat Trembor’s office. Without knocking, he opened the door and entered.
Trembor looked up from behind his desk. “You have the Certificate?” he asked. Gorg grinned and held out the case.
“Excellent,” said Trembor. He handed Gorg a stack of papers. “Just sign these to solidify our partnership. We’ll present the Certificate to the Council. Finders Keepers. Soon, that treasure trove you stumbled on will be all ours.”
***
“Look!” cried Fizzor. “Under that tree. The Troll’s boat!”
Kaitee spoke something in Moth to Fuffle, who spoke something in Trout over the lake. They immediately slowed and coasted over to the shore next to Gorg’s boat.
The Gnomes quickly climbed out as Fuffle hovered above them.
“Fuffle,” said Kaitee. “Which way?”
Fuffle hovered silently for a minute, then said, “This way.”
They ran behind her as she fluttered up to a moss-covered door in the ground.
“So, this is the Small-Folk Council entrance!” said Kaitee.
“I can go no farther,” said Fuffle.
“Thank you,” they all said together in perfect Moth.
“You’re welcome. Good luck.”
“Fuffle, wait!” shouted Dorr. He ran over and quietly spoke to Fuffle. She nodded and fluttered away.
“What was that about?” asked Kaitee.
“Just a message to our parents,” said Dorr. “To let them know we’re all right.”
Fizzor ran and opened the Council door. “Come on. Let’s go!”
Chapter 2
The small band of Gnomes entered the opening and climbed down into an enormous hallway. It had to be enormous to allow for all the different Small-Folk heights.
“How do we find the troll?” asked Bestee. “We don’t even know what he looks like.”
“He’ll go to Small-Folk Property Claims,” said Dorr. “And he’ll have the leather case, or at least have the Certificate.”
“Where’s Property Claims?” asked Fizzor.
“I don’t know,” said Dorr. “Let’s try this way.”
They raced down the hallway, looking for anything that might lead them to the Troll and the Certificate.
As they ran, Kaitee moved next to Crikk. “Are you OK?” she asked. “You’ve been quiet ever since we found that case.”
Crikk stopped and was silent for a moment. He hung his head. “It’s a stupid law.”
“What’s a stupid law?”
“Finders Keepers.” Crikk turned to Kaitee. “My dad once lost a certificate for land we owned on Feather Lake. It wasn’t much, but it had great berry patches. Some Elf found the certificate and claimed the land . . . built a house near a birch tree. It was the same tree dad had planned to use to build our new house . . .”
Kaitee looked right at him. “I’m sorry, Crikk. You’re right. It is a stupid law. Come on! Let’s go make it right.”
They ran to join the others.
Chapter 3
The Gnomes were amazed that so many offices were underground. Hallways went in all directions. With so many choices and no map, they stopped at a large intersection of hallways to decide what to do next.
As they looked around, they saw a group of Dwarves and Elves walking down another hallway. They ran over to them.
“Excuse me,” asked Dorr. “Can any of you help us find Small-Folk Property Claims?”
“Why, hello. I’m headed there myself. You can walk with me,” said the Dwarf Germal Fench.
Dwarves were small but still much larger than Gnomes. Fench found it hard constantly looking down to speak. “What brings you here to the Council?” asked Fench as he led the Gnomes down the hallway. “We don’t see many Gnomes here.”
“We’re here to right a wrong,” said Dorr. “We’re looking for a Troll who stole a certificate of great value.”
Fench slowed, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. “And what great value is that?”
“We found a lot of treasure buried underground on the other side of Feather Lake,” said Kaitee. “We think it’s lost or stolen. We found the Certificate of Ownership, but someone stole it from us . . .”
Fench’s eyes opened wide. He stopped in his tracks. Could it be . . .?