Jack (12 page)

“Stay close to the shoe!” said Widow Francis. “Don't fall!” The children laughed and went about playing Hunt the Slipper, singing the song:

Cobbler, Cobbler, mend my shoe.

Stitch it up and make it new.

One, two, three, four

Stitches will do!

“Widow Francis!” I called. The old woman turned to me. She looked confused for a moment, and then she frowned and I knew she recognized me. When I was younger, I used to play with her triplet sons, Larry and Barry and Jerry, but she said they weren't allowed to talk to me after I accidentally set fire to the blacksmith shop. “Oh,” she said. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

“Actually it was a gnome who dragged me in. The cat tried to eat me.”

Widow Francis just blinked. I shifted and looked around. “I'm looking for my papa. Have you seen him?”

“Yes, of course I have.”

My heart soared. I knew it! I knew he would be here! “Where is he?!” I shouted.

“Well, I'm sure I don't know,” said Widow Francis.

“But you just said—”

“He
was
here, but not anymore.”

My heart crashed. “What do you mean? What happened to him?”

Widow Francis caught sight of one of her babies knocking over a big glass jar.

“Ned! Don't eat the polish! I'm sorry, dear. What?”

“My father, Henry. What happened to him?”

“Well, he was here, just as I said. And then one of those babbly fellows came and talked to him, said the most peculiar things, but it seemed to make sense to your father, because as soon as he heard it, he flew the
coop, or the shoe, I should say. John, will you please put down the scissors? I've told you a hundred times, you cannot cut Jane's braids! You'll cut her head off one of these days!”

“When was that?” I asked.

“When what?”

“When did my papa fly the shoe?”

“Oh, it must have been an hour or two ago—”

“An hour!” I shouted. “You mean he was just here an
hour
ago?”

“The babbly creature said he had a message for Henry, and then he rambled some strange things about where his papa was and some other things I won't mention.”

One of the triplets shouted from the top of a boot. Larry, or Barry, or Jerry—I couldn't tell which. “He called your father a
pea brain
!”

Widow Francis frowned. “Yes, well, at that point your father was convinced the message had come from you.”

The gnome! That must have been the gnome I met when I first arrived and tried to ask for help. When I said Papa's name, the gnome must have searched high and low until he found the right Henry and then repeated our whole conversation. Papa was alive! But he was still missing.

“He said he was going to go search for you,” said Widow Francis. “I told him it was a fool's errand, but he didn't listen, and this morning he slipped away in an outgoing shoe, and now he's gone.”

“He gave us George before he left!” said the little girl riding the calf.

“Don't let George chew on the shoelaces!” said Widow Francis.

“Do you have any idea where he could have gone?” I asked. “Did you see which way the shoe went?”

“Mind the fire!” Widow Francis shouted. Two of the children had climbed atop one of the candles and dipped their feet in the melted wax, making themselves little waxen shoes molded perfectly to their bare feet.

“Well, by the looks of the shoe he escaped in, I imagine he's now at the giant castle, up on the hill. I can't imagine where else that shoe could have gone.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because, child, the shoe was made of gold. Who but royalty would wear a gold shoe?”

A gold shoe. That could only belong to one person.

King Barf.

I
slumped down against a boot and groaned. Up the hill, down the hill, now up the hill again! Papa and I had probably passed right by each other. This was starting to feel like an enormous game of cat and mouse. I needed to get back to the castle and fast, but how?

Widow Francis was pulling two of her babies away from the edge of the table. She plopped them each inside a child's clog, where they immediately began their escape attempts.

“Widow Francis, ma'am, is there any other way to get out of this place? Besides the shoes?”

“You mean leave the cobbler? You can't do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because, it's too dan— Oh good grief, not the hammer. They'll crush everyone's bones! Put that down!” Widow Francis dashed after Barry and Jerry, who had managed to lift one of the cobbler's giant hammers. They dropped it so the wooden end landed on Larry's shoeless toe. He started to wail and scream, but the other two ignored him and ran off to join the game of Hunt the Slipper.

Cobbler, Cobbler, mend my shoe!

Fix it up and make it new!

I looked up at Martha's shoe. The elves were still stitching the gap, and every now and then the dog would yip and jump up at them. The cobbler had told Martha it would not be finished until tomorrow morning, and I wasn't patient enough to wait that long. If I could get past the dog, I could ride a wagon or boot straight to the castle this very day.

First I had to get off the table.

I ran to a giant spool of twine and unwound it several lengths. I dangled it over the edge of the table, as far as possible from where the dog sat. Easy. I'd be out of here in no time. But just as I began to climb, an elf caught me. It was the one named Bruce, whom the cobbler had nearly stabbed with a needle. He was dragging a giant pair of scissors toward Martha's shoe. “What do ye think yer doin'?” he shouted angrily. “Get back from there!”

Fleeing instincts took hold. I grasped the rope and looked behind me. It was a long way down. I was better at going up than down, but in this case it didn't matter. The elf pulled open the giant scissors and—
snip!
—cut the twine. My rope slid to the floor, and Bruce caught me by the back of my pants and lifted me off the ground.

“Duncan! We got ourselves a runner!”

“Put me down!” I flailed and kicked. Bruce released me, and I fell flat on my stomach. I scrambled to my feet. Bruce stood in front of me, holding up the giant scissors and glaring like he'd snip off one of my limbs if I made a move.

“Where's the runner? Show me the rascal!” Duncan shouted as he came barreling toward us with a giant needle in hand.

Bruce grabbed me by the arm again as though he'd caught a prize lizard. “I caught the lad trying to escape down some rope. I cut it just in time.”

“And a good thing, too,” said Duncan. “What were ye thinkin', lad? Ye canna go down there! Did ye not see the great beast of dog? He'll rip you to pieces, that one.”

“I was being careful,” I said, which was true but sounded ridiculous spoken aloud.

“Oh, ye was being careful, was ye? Well, say ye get past the wee beastie, what then? There's all kinds of monsters outside. Ye'll get yerself stomped on or snatched.”

“Or eaten!” added Bruce. “There's some giants who'll eat us, ye know.”

The other elves all trembled.

“So ye see, lad, ye canna ever leave this table. It's
safest here, and if ye do the work, Mr. Siegfried will take good care o' ye.”

“But you don't understand. I'm looking for my papa. I came here to find him, and he left to find me. He left in a golden shoe.”

“That was your papa? The rascal! If I'da known what he was doin', why, I woulda…well…no matter. No takin' chances now.” Duncan grabbed me by the neck of my shirt and dragged me toward the giant shoe mold.

“Let me go! I have to go find my papa!”

“It's fer yer own good,” said Duncan.

I twisted and pulled away, but Duncan was very strong, despite being so short and portly, and he pulled me along like a floppy fish on the end of a hook. “Lower the ladder!” he shouted, and the pin ladder unfurled a moment later. “Up ye go.” Duncan gave me a prod.

“You can't make me stay here,” I argued.

“Oh, yes I can, and ye'll thank me for it one day. A young lad like you has got no chance runnin' about in this giant world. Ye'll be crushed or eaten in a second.”

Bruce nodded. “We elves have to stick together!”

Others mumbled their agreement. It was clear that Duncan had a tight hold on everyone here. They believed that leaving the cobbler would risk their very lives. I didn't blame them. But did they really want to stay here and make giant shoes forever?

“What if I told you I knew a way to get home?” I asked in desperation. “Back to our world Below.”

A hush fell over the crowd of elves. The only sound that could be heard was the thumping of the dog's tail.
Even the children stopped their games to listen. Home is something that pulls at you no matter how much fun you're having.

“Back to our world, ye say?” said Bruce. “How?”

“A beanstalk. A giant beanstalk. It grows in the soil Below and reaches from our world up to this one. That's how I got here. I climbed it just like a ladder.”

Someone stifled a cough, then they all started laughing. “A beanstalk! You can't
climb
a beanstalk!” Bruce doubled over and slapped his knee.

“That's quite a tale, lad,” said Duncan, his red beard twitching with a smile.

“It's true,” I insisted.

“The boy has always had a fondness for telling tales,” said Widow Francis.

“It's not a tale!” I said. “I planted the beanstalk myself.”

There were a few more chuckles, and then the other elves went back to their polishing and stitching and cutting. Now I knew how Jaber felt when he warned our village about the giants.

“Okay, bean boy. Up ye go.” Duncan gave me a nudge, and I was forced to go up the pin ladder. Duncan followed close behind. Once at the top, he rolled up the ladder and stood over it like a guard dog. “Let's get back to work! I'm hungry for me pie.”

T
rapped. On the very shoe that brought me here, and by elves, no less. I didn't expect to be imprisoned by my own kind.

Now that the stitching was done, Duncan gave me the job of holding the nails they were pounding into the heel of the shoe, which was probably the worst job ever, if you ask me.

WHAM!

The hammer shot down and missed the nail. The whole shoe tipped and shook.

“Hold her steady, lad!” said Bruce, as though missing the nail had been my fault. Three elves lifted the hammer and hurled it down again. I shut my eyes as the hammer drove the nail into the shoe, narrowly avoiding my fingers. Duncan strutted back and forth, shouting orders. Anytime he caught me looking at the ladder, he'd place his foot on top of it and smirk at me.

Maybe the cobbler could help, but he'd been asleep for over an hour. So much for a wee nap. The longer I was here, the more anxious I got. Where was Papa now? He could be in big trouble for all I knew.

WHAM!

I peered down at the table, where Widow Francis's children were frolicking about. The triplets were giving each other rides in a blue slipper with a curled tip. Two pushed while one sat inside. They pushed the slipper to the table's edge, where it rocked precariously.

“Larry! Barry!” shouted Widow Francis. “Stop that at once!”

The boys abandoned the slipper, leaving it teetering on the edge.

“Hold the nail, lad!” Bruce chided me.

I adjusted my grip.

WHAM!

The hammer whistled right by my ear. The slipper was filled with blankets and fluff. If I jumped down and wedged myself in the toe, I could tip it over the edge and they would cushion my fall. It'd be like jumping from the barn into a pile of hay. Tom would have loved the idea.

WHAM!

This time the hammer grazed my arm. If I didn't get out of here soon, I might not stay in one piece.

The elves raised the hammer.

“Set the next nail, lad!” shouted Bruce.

I looked at the shoemaker's elves, struggling to hold the hammer up. Duncan was watching me closely, his foot propped on the ladder.

He stretched and yawned, and in an instant I dropped all the nails in my hands and jumped off the shoe-mold tower into the slipper below.

“Boy overshoe!” shouted Bruce. I crawled into the toe of the slipper and heaved.

Duncan was coming down the ladder now, and others were behind him.

I gave another push, and the slipper rocked and tipped, but stayed put.

“Get him!”

“Stop that elf boy!”

I thrust all my weight forward and that did the trick.

Down the slipper went and landed with a bounce and flip. My brains were scrambled, but at least I didn't break any bones.

I crawled to the opening and heard a low growl.

Snakes and toads, I forgot about the dog!

“Watch out, lad!” shouted Bruce. But it was too late. The dog sank its teeth into the slipper and started to thrash it around. With nothing to hold on to, I went flying out of the slipper. I tumbled and rolled, bumping and crashing against the hard floor, until I came to a stop. The room was spinning and tilting. I scraped myself off the ground just in time to see a giant white fur ball running toward me. Mouth open. Tongue flopping.

“Run, lad! Grab the rope!” The elves shook the rope dangling off the table's edge.

I ran past the rope and straight under the table. No way I was going back. The door was only twenty steps away, and there was a gap under it big enough for me to slide through.

I ran as fast as I could, with the dog nipping at my heels, until I thought my heart would burst. Just a few more leaps and then…I tripped—over my own awkward feet, of all things. I crashed to the floor and skidded to a halt.