Bessie Bell and the Goblin King

(Tales of Aylfenhame, 3)

by

Charlotte E. English

 

Smashwords Edition

 

Copyright 2016 by Charlotte E. English

Cover design copyright 2016 by Elsa Kroese

Illustrations copyright 2016 by the PicSees

 

All rights reserved.

 

 

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold.

 

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Good evenin' to ye, an' well met! Welcome to the Tilby toll-bridge. Steady, now. Yer horses are havin' a hard time seein' through the fog, an' when it's dark t' boot, well! Ye'll want to go good an' slowly through the town. Not that ye’ll meet any other folk on the road. Yer carriage is likely to be the only one sailin' the streets o' Tilby at this hour.

I'm Mister Balligumph, yer friendly toll collector. But don't let that worry ye! Mayhap we've met before ̶ I can't altogether tell in the dark o' night, yer face is a mite too hidden-like. But either way, the toll's not steep. I'll not be needin' any coin from ye ̶ what would a troll do wi' English money? It's a little bit of information I'm after. A bit about ye will suffice. What brings ye to our fine Tilby-town in the depths o' November, an' on such a damp an' foggy night? Thas all I need, an' ye can pass. An' if ye're minded to tell me somethin' else ̶ somethin' by way of a secret, like ̶ then I might tell ye a tale by way o' thanks.

There's been some mighty strange goin's on in these parts this autumn. Oh, I know thas not entirely out o' character fer Tilby. Ye might've heard one or two oddly stories about us before ̶ mayhap from me. I talk to a lot o' folk. But this one's the strangest yet, an' a touch on the dark side.

Ye'd like to hear more? Tis a recent tale, all happenin' only a few short weeks back. I had best warm up yer carriage a trifle before I begin ̶ ‘tis cold t’ be sittin’ long wi’ no heat. There, thas better.

And so, to my tale. It began, in point o' fact, on a night much like this ̶ dark an' chilly an' deep in fog. Rumours had been flyin’ about fer a week or two aforehand, ‘bout a menace on the roads. Travellers bore tales o’ shadows an’ strange noises an’ flamin’ eyes in the night. ‘Twas wishy-washy mutterin’s to be sure, but most folk agreed: wanderin’ about at the dead o’ night may be a poor idea. But fer Bessie Bell, it weren’t rightly a matter o’ choice…