Thorfinn and the Putrid Potion Read online

  “Velda?” Thorfinn stared.

  “Yes, my dear fellow?” she replied pleasantly.

  “HAHAHA! GOTCHA!” cried Piebald. “She had a dose of Toerag’s Twist. That’s what she gets for being rude.” Piebald nodded at Thorfinn. “Now it’s your turn. Your potion’s called Bunny’s Bane.”

  Thorfinn gave him a big friendly smile. “Pardon me, my dear sir, but I’m afraid you’re mistaken. You see, I spotted you putting potion in the beakers, so I swapped your tea with mine.”

  Piebald gaped in shock. “You mean I got the Bunny’s Bane?”

  Thorfinn nodded, leaning towards him and asking eagerly, “Did I do a good joke?”

  Now it was Oswald’s turn to burst out laughing. “Ha! For once, you’re the one who’s been GOTCHA’d, Piebald!”

  A look of confusion flashed across Piebald’s face as his front teeth began to lengthen. His nose twitched, his ears wiggled, and he started making a rabbity nibbling sound.

  “Carrots! I must have c-c-c-carrots!” Piebald leapt off his stool and hopped out the door.

  “Dear me,” said Velda mildly. “That poor gentleman believes he is a rabbit.”

  Grut, or rather the big ball of hair that contained Grut, rolled onto the floor, chortling loudly. “Ha! The old goat got what he deserves!”

  Oswald, coughing and wafting away his colourful clouds, called to Thorfinn. “We still need his help – you’d better go after him!”

  CHAPTER 12

  Thorfinn quickly studied the rack nearby and picked out two small bottles. He whistled cheerfully as he tossed one to Oswald. “Here, my good friend. You might want to share it with the others.”

  He dashed outside to find Piebald crouched down, burrowing a hole in the ground with his hands. A couple of real rabbits sat on the grass nearby, watching with puzzlement.

  Thorfinn drummed his fingers on his chin for a moment, before picking a bunch of dock leaves. He dribbled the contents of the bottle he’d taken from the clinic over the leaves, then wafted them under the old man’s nose. “How about some lovely salad, nice rabbit?”

  Piebald sniffed the leaves, before snatching them between his teeth and munching them down. “That should do the trick,” said Thorfinn.

  Piebald stopped digging. He stared down at his hands, crusted with dirt, then up at Thorfinn, before erupting in a huge belly laugh. “HAHAHA! Brilliant! But how did you know how to cure me?”

  Thorfinn showed him the label on the little bottle, which read: ANTIDOTUM

  “Fortunately, Oswald taught me how to read Latin. Antidotum means antidote – the cure.”

  Piebald rolled around laughing, slapping his thigh. Then he gave a loud HICCUP!

  “Sorry, hiccups are one of the side effects from my potions,” he explained. “It’s the one thing I can’t seem to cure. It’ll stop eventually.”

  Velda came skipping over from the clinic, singing happily. “Tra-la laaa…”

  “Goodness me.” Thorfinn shared a look with Percy, who had just fluttered onto his shoulder. They had never seen Velda skip like that, except over the unconscious bodies of her defeated foes.

  Velda gasped with delight and clapped her hands together. “Look! A lovely bunny wabbit!” She snatched up one of the nearby rabbits and squeezed it to her chest. The poor creature’s eyes nearly popped out of its head. “Oh, my little bunny-wunny-kins!”

  Grut followed behind her, tossing an empty antidote bottle over his shoulder. The hair was falling off him like snow off a roof. “All this moulting is making me hungry.”

  Behind him, Gertrude shook her beehive hair apart. It was back to its usual lank and greasy state, and the flies returned to buzz around her head. “Hey, welcome back guyz, I missed you.” Then she, like Piebald, gave a loud HICCUP!

  Suddenly, Velda transformed back into her usual self. Her scowl returned, and she looked very much like she wanted to hit someone.

  “YUCK! What’s this?” She tossed the rabbit into a bush. “And where’s my axe?”

  Now it was Grut’s turn to HICCUP! As he did, Velda’s face changed again. The pleasant expression returned, as did the friendly smile.

  Then, a few seconds later, Grut, Piebald and Gertrude all HICCUPED together, and back came Velda’s fierce and fiery eyes.

  “AARGH!” she yelled. “What’s happening to me!?”

  Oswald stomped over. Thorfinn had never seen him so angry. He was wafting away the last of the rainbow gas cloud, whining at the top of his lungs: “PIEBAAAAALD! You’ve gone too far this time!”

  CHAPTER 13

  “See! This is exactly why you and I fell out!” Oswald snapped.

  “Hey!” cried Piebald. “It was YOU who fell out with ME!”

  “Is it any wonder? You gave me a potion that made me talk gobbledygook for a whole year. Nobody knew what in Odin’s name I was talking about!”

  Piebald shrugged. “You already talked a load of gobbledygook; no one even noticed the difference.” He turned and clapped Thorfinn on the shoulder. “Now, did I mention how much I like this boy?”

  “Making someone talk nonsense for a year sounds rather naughty,” replied Thorfinn. “But I like you too – you don’t mind the joke being on yourself.”

  “Well, a joke’s a joke, isn’t it?” Piebald laughed.

  “I don’t suppose you’ve noticed,” Thorfinn added, “but Velda’s potion hasn’t quite worn off. Every time someone hiccups, she changes.”

  “The other potions were quite weak,” Piebald explained, a grin spreading across his face. “Toerag’s Twist, on the other hand, is very strong. She’ll be switching between her usual self and her opposite self for seven days.”

  “Seven days!” Velda snarled and rolled up her sleeves. “Brother or not, Oswald, he’s for it!”

  Piebald whimpered. “That girl’s unhinged. I don’t see why I should help you if she’s just going to beat me up!”

  “Oh, we can fix that.” Oswald gave a loud HICCUP! and Velda changed back again, just as the rabbit she’d tossed into the bushes came hopping out into the open.

  “My bunny wunny!” Velda cried. She scooped it up, squeezing it tight.

  The rabbit shot Thorfinn a look of panic. “Don’t worry, my furry friend,” Thorfinn whispered in its ear. “I’ll rescue you if need be.”

  Oswald went on, “If you don’t help us, Piebald, we’ll hiccup and bring Velda back. And you REALLY don’t want us to do that!”

  Piebald sighed. “FINE. What is it you need?”

  Oswald lowered himself down onto the grass, which took about ten minutes and involved lots of ooh-ing and oww-ing. He told his brother about Ragwich coming to Indgar, and how the soothsayer had poisoned Harald and hypnotised Erik to take control of the village. “Here’s the bottle he used,” he said.

  Piebald snatched it off him, uncorked it and sniffed. “Oof! That’s putrid!”

  “Do you know this potion, my prank-loving pal?” asked Thorfinn.

  “Yes. It’s called Goodnight Gloop. A very powerful potion indeed – there’s only one cure. The good news is that it’s straightforward – a second dose of Goodnight Gloop… except with one vitally important added ingredient.”

  “Which is?” asked Oswald.

  “Ah, that’s the tricky bit. We’ll need to steal a hair from a king’s beard.”

  “Why a king?” Thorfinn asked.

  Piebald sat chewing his gums for a moment, before spitting out some mushed-up dock leaf left over from earlier. “Royal hair has special curing properties when brewed properly,” he explained. “We could use hair from a queen, but bearded lady rulers are rather rare in these parts, unfortunately.”

  Oswald pondered this. “Where’s the nearest royal?”

  “That’s King Fergus of Galloway,” replied Piebald. “His seat is at Threave, several days’ march along the coast.”

  “Thank my lucky bunions we have a ship that can take us there,” said Oswald.

  “We must go, right away,” said Thorfinn. “My dear o
ld dad is depending on us.”

  Piebald sucked his teeth loudly. “Just so you know – I’m not the most popular person at King Fergus’s court.”

  “I wonder why,” sighed Oswald.

  “It’s not my fault people don’t have a sense of humour,” sniffed Piebald. “Anyway, I’m sure the king has forgotten about our little… misunderstanding.”

  “I’m sure he has,” smiled Thorfinn politely. “Let’s get going, dear pals.” He helped Oswald to his feet, which looked and sounded like the crew hoisting the mast on the Green Dragon.

  Gertrude halted suddenly and began to give a loud HIC– but Oswald snapped his hand over her mouth just in time, as Velda came skipping over in their direction.

  “Tra-la-LAAAA! Are we going?” she asked. “Oh GOODIE! An adventure! How delightful!”

  CHAPTER 14

  Back on the longship, Velda, or ‘Not-Velda’ as they now called her, hummed happily as she made herself a dress out of an old sail. Then she ripped the flaps off a wicker basket and fashioned them into a pair of fairy wings, which she strapped to her back. To cap it all off she made a wand out of a birch twig and the head of a thistle she’d collected on the walk back to the ship. “LAH-DEE-DAAAHH!”

  Gracefully, she stepped up onto a barrel, waving her wand and pinching the end of her dress with her fingertips. “I say, would you be so good as to cast off for me, purr-lease?”

  The crew looked round at one other, confused, while Thorfinn bowed his head at her. “What admirable politeness, dear pal.”

  Not-Velda curtsied back. “But of course, my good sir.”

  They sailed out of the bay. Torsten turned them west, towards the Atlantic Ocean, before Thorfinn gently steered them back east, along the coastline of Galloway. After rounding another headland, they took to the oars, rowing the longship up a river until they could go no further. The rest of the journey would have to be on foot.

  “We’d better take Harek with us, in case the king tries to kill us on sight,” said Oswald, glaring at Piebald.

  Leaving the others behind with the boat, the group marched on (apart from Not-Velda, who skipped), making camp just as the sun was going down.

  ***

  Later, as they sat round the campfire eating stew, Piebald unlocked a leather case he’d brought along. He flipped open the top and folded out the sides to reveal a miniature potion-making laboratory. Then he used a pocket knife to chop up ingredients before tossing them all together and heating the mixture over the fire. Beads of sweat appeared on his brow as he stirred, a magnifying glass held to one eye.

  “Here it is!” he said finally, pouring a green bubbling mixture into a small bottle. “Goodnight Gloop: the potion the soothsayer used on your chief.”

  Oswald nosed the bottle. “Yuck! Yes, that’s the same stinky potion alright.”

  “Now all we need to do is steal a hair from King Fergus’s beard,” said Piebald.

  “Pardon me, friends,” said Thorfinn. “But could we not just politely ask the king for a hair? Stealing is wrong.”

  “But then the potion won’t work,” replied Piebald. “It HAS to be stolen, pinched, snaffled, pilfered!”

  “We’re Vikings, stealing is what we do!” chipped in Harek, as he ladled some hot stew into his own lap.

  “ARRGGHH!”

  “And it’s the only way to wake your father and save the village,” droned Oswald.

  Thorfinn’s brow furrowed, then he shook his head firmly. “I want to save my poor father, but stealing isn’t right.”

  Oswald sighed and rubbed his hand across his face. “Then I’m afraid we’re rather stuck. Ugh! We need Velda back. She would know what to do.”

  They gazed over at Not-Velda, who was sitting under a tree playing tea parties with the rabbit she’d smuggled from Duntroddin. It looked furious, not least because she’d named it Mr Fluffikins.

  “NO!” yelled Piebald. “I prefer her as she is now – SAFE!”

  Oswald groaned and scratched his head. “It’s been a long day. Let’s sleep on it and see if we can find a solution tomorrow.”

  CHAPTER 15

  As they stamped out their fire the next morning, Piebald declared that he had found an answer to their conundrum, but he wouldn’t tell anyone what it was. “You’ll just have to trust me.”

  They forged on, across fields and over hills, until at last they came to a large, forbidding wooden fort. It stood on an island in the middle of a river. “That’s Threave, the king’s castle,” announced Piebald.

  “Will he see you?” Oswald asked.

  “Maybe,” his brother replied. “Either that or he’ll decorate his throne room with our heads.”

  “Supposing he does agree to see us,” added Harek. “How are we supposed to steal a hair from his beard? He’ll have soldiers protecting him. And how do we escape? I can’t carry all of you.”

  Thorfinn patted Piebald on the back. “I’m sure dear Piebald here has thought of that.”

  The potion-maker smiled weakly.

  They walked over the drawbridge and Piebald stopped in front of the guards, giving a polite cough.

  He hadn’t even spoken before one guard cried out, “YOU!” He grabbed Piebald by the scruff of his neck and hauled him through the gate. “Straight to the king with you, you scoundrel!”

  “This bodes well,” muttered Oswald with a sigh.

  “At least we’re going to see the king,” said Thorfinn.

  “The king?” cried Not-Velda. “Oh how jolly spiffing!”

  ***

  In the centre of the fort stood a large roundhouse with a thatched roof. The guards dragged them inside.

  “And you are?” asked the king, eyeing them wearily from his throne. He was a short, stubby man with a trim beard, sitting in a shaft of light cast down from a chimney hole in the roof. One side of his mouth was swollen, and he was cradling it carefully.

  Thorfinn stepped forward and doffed his helmet. “Good day to you, dear king. It’s an honour to—”

  The guards pushed past him, throwing Piebald to the floor before leaving with a threatening glare. The king’s face flushed as he eyed the old man. “YOU! You haf some cheek coming back here. Fanks to you and your awful potion I waf fneezing Bruffelf fproutf and roaft potatoeff for free whole dayf!”

  Piebald chuckled. “Yuletide Yuck! It’s a classic!”

  “And now,” continued King Fergus, “I’ve got fif awful toofache.” He clutched his mouth and moaned.

  “Ooh, I can help with that,” said Piebald.

  “Can you?” the king asked suspiciously. “Or if it anofer trick?”

  “Er, not at all. That’s why I’m here. To give you the cure for your toothache. Isn’t that right, friends?” Piebald glanced round at Thorfinn and the others. Thorfinn gave a well-meaning smile, Percy ruffled his feathers awkwardly, and Harek’s eyes shifted about from side to side, though sadly not at the same time. Oswald, however, was glaring at his brother furiously. Not-Velda was too busy to notice, making matching crowns for herself and Mr Fluffikins with some flowers she’d picked outside.

  Piebald turned to a side table where a goblet and jug had been set out. He poured something into the cup before presenting it to the king. “Here you go, your royalness.”

  The king looked at the goblet, then at Piebald, then at the others. He grimaced and clutched his jaw. “OUCH! Okay, anyfing to ftop fif pain!”

  He snatched the potion and supped it. His face screwed up. “Euch! Fhat’s PUTRID!” Suddenly, his eyes drooped and he slumped forward, rolling onto the floor with a CRUMP. A long, droning snore erupted from his nose.

  Piebald laughed. “HAHAHA! A ROYAL GOTCHA!”

  “You didn’t!” cried Oswald. “Tell me you didn’t just give Goodnight Gloop to the king?!”

  “I did!” he replied gleefully. “I solved your problem. Now you’ll have to steal one of his whiskers in order to wake him up again.”

  “Oh dear,” said Thorfinn, who knelt down to tuck a cushion under th
e king’s head. “That’s very clever, my friend. Sneaky, but clever.”

  Percy fluttered onto the king, eyeing up his beard. He was just about to peck out a hair, but was thwarted by two guards bursting into the hall, followed by a sergeant-at-arms. They spotted King Fergus lying slumped on the floor, a guilty-looking pigeon perched on his chest.

  “Arrest them!” barked the sergeant.

  “Ah…” said Piebald. “I didn’t think of that.”

  CHAPTER 16

  A steady drip-drip of water echoed somewhere in the darkness of the castle dungeon. Thorfinn gazed pleasantly out of the tiny barred window. “At least we have a nice view.”

  “Of the gallows, Thorfinn,” said Oswald, his head in his hands. Outside, the hangman was busy stringing up rope ready for his next victims. “That’s for us, you know.”

  In the corner, Not-Velda was putting the final touches to her flower crown (Mr Fluffikins had already eaten his). She finished, then placed it on top of her head. “Ta-daaaa! Good day, your majesty!” She bowed at Harek.

  The large man gazed around uncertainly, before clumsily bowing back. “And, er, good day to you, er… Not-Velda.”

  “The good news is that I may have a plan for removing a whisker from the king’s beard,” said Thorfinn, stroking Percy’s speckled brow. “If only we can escape from here first.”

  “In that case, we definitely need Velda back,” whined Oswald.

  Piebald waved his hands frantically. “NO! We’re in an enclosed space.”