[Arry]

Tinkle, tinkle . . . tinkle, tinkle . . .

The little silver bells chorused softly beneath the table. ‘Must be working,’ whispered Hanson, his grip tight on the thin leather thong that looped through the ring at the top of the bell.

The area beneath the large table was surrounded by a forest of chair legs, table legs, and Hobbit and Man legs. Try as they might, the two brothers could see no sign of the Elf or the dragon. ‘Good thing is,’ whispered Woody, sitting back on his haunches, ‘is that there doesn’t seem to be any blood or extra . . . ummm, parts lying about. So I don’t think the dragon ate him.’

‘Yet, you mean,’ added Hanson ringing his bell at the sight of something he thought moved beneath the chair legs to the left of him.

As they sat talking to one another, there cam a sound on the table top above them as if something were scratching on it. Something with large, sharp claws. Woody caught sight of the long green scarf Emlin wore round his waist as a sash. It was far to his right, at the end of the table, and trailing upward over the seat of one of the empty chairs. He nudged his brother and they scrambled after the scarf, catching it just as it was about to disappear above the table’s top.

With all their might, the two clasped onto it and gave it a mighty tug. A loud thump was heard above their two heads and a loud sigh. Climbing up over the empty chair where they’d seen the scarf end, Hanson and Woody peeked over the edge of the table, expecting to find the dragon lying in wait with the Elf clasped firmly in his claws.