Chapter 2

Captain Simon was at least alive, although he ached terribly.  Strapped to a board and suspended horizontally from the ceiling, he was immobile. A hole had been cut in the board for his face and another for his large cock.  He had been like this ever since the witch had frozen his army inside the forest.  They had chased the troll into the Dark Forest and in an instant, everyone was frozen. Only he had been untouched, and for good reason. “Surrender to me willingly and completely Captain Simon or the troll will smash your army into small ice crystals,” said a very beautiful witch.  Simon, being a man of honour, laid down his sword and stepped forward. “I give my self willingly if you will save my men from the troll,” he said, dropping to one knee.  From that moment the witch had only allowed him to recover briefly before the next ordeal. He had been milked in so many ways that his felt he would die. Every so often they would lower the board, feed him, provide water and wash him. Once done, he would go back up and another young siren would start to work on him. They knew what to do and did it well. Despite his captivity, he could not help being aroused by the continual attention the sirens paid him, and each other.

Trixie half opened her eyes and stretched a big stretch. What a wonderful night’s sleep I’ve had she thought.  In fact, she couldn’t remember feeling this good. The bed was comfortable as usual, the temperature was right as usual, and yet the smell of the bedclothes was different. Yes different! More flowers than laundry soap. It was quite nice actually, very nice, too nice in fact.  She propped herself up onto one elbow and opened her eyes. Her room looked almost the same, only brighter. Her sister’s bed was a mess as usual and her clothes were on the chair from the previous night. Nothing unusual, however, the bed clothes did smell very good. Trixie swung herself out of bed and walked to the window to see what the day had on offer in terms of weather. Two things happened that made her stop in her tracks, firstly she saw here reflection in the long mirror on the wall and she was wearing her dress. She never slept in a dress, and secondly which was much more worrying, Connal was not on his rug!  Trixie panicked and immediately ran for the safety of her bed and went to jump on to it, but everything went dark and she felt herself falling through empty space.  She landed hard on a cold wet floor but no harder than falling out of bed. Making herself as small as she could she curled into a ball, gathered up her large dress and looked about her for some signs of safety.  There she stayed for what seemed an age, listening to dripping water in the distance and the occasional scurry of small feet along the walls.  Something cold touched her leg, she let out a scream and tried to scramble away. “Sorry,” said a small voice in the darkness. She screwed up her eyes in the hope of seeing better in the gloom. The voice came again, “Sorry Ma’am,” it said.  Trixie knew the voice but in confusion could not place it. She half whispered, “Who’s there?”

The castle was in complete chaos. Guards ran everywhere, the King was pacing up and down, the Queen was crying, and Princess Caroline was trying to keep up with a very large grey dog intent on getting into the royal garden.  Connal was on a mission to follow a scent he picked up on the wind, and it wasn’t a good scent, it smelt of witches and that meant trouble for everyone.  When the princess and Connal arrived at the garden they found more confusion. Gnomes were everywhere, fighting, arguing, crying and generally running around banging into one another. It was pandemonium.  Princess Caroline looked about her in total shock, she had no idea there were so many gnomes, there were hundreds of them!  Before she could think what to do next, a large, loud bark came from Connal. The gnomes all stopped what they were doing and fell silent; not a single one moved or spoke for over a minute. Finally, and very elderly thin looking gnome walked forward, took his cap off, bowed, and replaced it. “Your Royal Highness,” he said.  Caroline nodded her head in response. The gnome turned to Connal and spoke in a language that was made up of grunts, whistles and hand gestures. After 5 minutes the gnome was puffed out and had to stop. Connal looked beyond the garden wall and finally said, “Woof.”  The gnome looked as though he agreed, and was just about to head off when Caroline asked, “Excuse me, but what was that all about?”  The gnome looked embarrassed and quickly hurried back to her. “Please be accepting me pardon Ma’am. I was telling the Witch Watcher ‘ere about Master Trudgill goin’ missin’ and that one of the gnomes found some knickers in the well. It’s all was very confusing, but the Watcher explained it all, as to what migh ‘ave ‘appened you see, and what we must be doin’ ‘bout it.”  Caroline looked at the gnome, and then at Connal, who was now dealing with an itch on his back.  “He only said woof!”  She said in disbelief. “Ah, you see Ma’am, he’s a dog of few words, it’s more the tone you see, the tone.” Said the gnome.  And before she could reply the gnome was running around organising the other little people, and soon after they were all gone.  Connal stood up and walked out of the garden towards the main gate.  Caroline watched him until she realised she was alone, and then without warning, she started to cry.

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