Nettlewooz Vol. 1. Stefan Seitz
wheels and levers. This stood by the window nearest to the door. It was this for which Primus was making a beeline.
He turned himself back into his human form and peered through the telescope into the night. However, this ancient instrument was neither correctly adjusted nor pointing in the supposed direction of the Hobgoblins. Primus twisted and turned the lens until he could see at least something. He moved the telescope up and down until he eventually spotted a fuzzy spot of light. The Hobgoblins! He adjusted the telescope again, until a clear image finally emerged.
But what was this? Primus blinked. The spot of light was absolutely not the merry band of Hobgoblins; in his haste, he had turned the telescope too far to the right for it to be them. Instead, the telescope was pointing straight at the dark Lunar Lake and a little rowing boat which was floating on it. An oil lamp hung at its stern. The stars were reflected in the pitch-black surface of the water which was, apart from a couple of little waves, eerily flat. But it wasn’t the boat which attracted Primus’ attention so much as the large black-cloaked person who was crouching in the boat.
The figure stared into the deep water as if spellbound. Primus frowned. This was beyond strange.
“Who is that?” he breathed. “And what’s he doing in the middle of the night?”
It looked almost as if this particular person were concentrating with all his might on the water – or, to be more precise:
“He is looking for something,” Primus whistled softly.
However hard he tried, though, he couldn’t see the person’s face, for it was hidden by a hood. The only detail he was able to take in was a slender hand with a large ring on its middle finger. Primus slowly adjusted the lens with his pointy fingers, trying to make out more of the scenario, when a deep voice suddenly resounded from somewhere behind him:
“And what exactly are you looking for, young man?”
Primus jumped and shunted the telescope around in his discomfiture.
“Nothing in particular,” he panted. “And for goodness’ sake, don’t make me jump like that.”
He swivelled the telescope back again, as the Hobgoblins’ lights suddenly attracted his attention.
“Have you seen something unusual out there?” the voice persisted, “or are you still trying to find the door to the Hobgoblins’ empire?”
Primus turned round. He raised his chin and regarded the wall opposite. There, right in the middle of the windowless stone wall, was a huge mirror with a frame made of pure ebony. The mirror was highly polished, was very tall, and became wider as it became higher – though it was no doubt the frame’s carvings which turned the mirror into something extraordinary. They were so skilfully turned that it looked as if the glass were suspended in a great mantle held up by two bony hands. The black timber tumbled in wild folds down the sides of the glass before cascading onto the floor below. A striking face with a pointy beard and two horns was perched atop the confection, and stared down at Primus with flashing eyes.
Primus had no idea what kind of magic had ever brought the old mirror to life. It had adopted a most educated, indeed cultivated, manner of speaking – although this was by no means always the case, as it was also capable of sounding equally malicious and sly. Arrogant was a distinct understatement when it delivered its commentary from up above or mocked Primus so fulsomely that the walls trembled. But on the other hand, the mirror did every now and then offer him some useful pieces of advice – albeit often couched in riddles.
“I am going to find a door tonight. And that’s that,” Primus said, looking through the telescope again. “Just hang on a bit. Won’t be long, now.”
He adjusted the lens so that he could focus more sharply on the Hobgoblins. There were around 40 of the small figures who were looking positively cheerful as they made their way over the hills in single file. The Hobgoblins at the start of the procession played their instruments, while the others followed merrily along, carrying their mining lanterns. All Hobgoblins enjoyed making music, when they had the time to do it. They played flutes, fiddles, bagpipes and jaw harps. The Hobgoblins whom Primus was watching were the same. Some even had trumpets and great drums.
The Hill Hobgoblins were all small and wiry, with skinny legs and relatively large heads. They wore pointy canvas shoes, wide belts, and either caps or hoods. However, they weren’t all male. There were also many female Hobgoblins in the procession, whose baggy skirts and bonnets swayed in time with the music.
Primus scrutinised them. “A great shame,” he murmured. “I don’t know a single one of them. That might have made things a bit easier.”
“Oh yes?” The mirror raised its head. “So what would you have said if you’d known one of them and wanted to open one of the secret doors at the same time? Would you just have happened to flap past and come out with some oh-so-casual remark like: Hello, my esteemed chum. Oh, what a coincidence – I was just about to go in there, too. Or: Excuse me, but would you mind letting me pass? I’m in a terrible hurry again.” The mirror laughed uproariously.
Primus, however, was unfazed. “I’ll manage it,” he muttered. “Just you wait and see.”
Then he fell silent. The Hobgoblins were now heading for a medium sized hill, not far from the edge of the Dark Forest. Primus watched with interest. What was going to happen now? Lo and behold: a sudden chink of light on the front face of the hill. Just as he had thought. Moments later, a circular door slowly opened, and the Hobgoblins marched inside.
“The door!” Primus exclaimed with delight. “I knew it.” He made to fly straight out of the window, but suddenly stopped. “Hang on,” he said, looking through the telescope again. “Right, that’s the one. Third hill before the forest, and fourth left from the Lunar Lake. Just as well I checked …”
With these words, he spread out his wings, flew through the window and whizzed down the tower.
Snigg was meanwhile once again chewing contentedly on his compost heap. He looked up in surprise as he heard the rustling sound, and opened his mouth so wide in astonishment at the sight of the bat heading straight for him that all the food fell out of his mouth. He ducked, and Primus whistled straight across the top of his head.
“OI, WATCH IT,” Snigg shouted. “You almost took my head off. I’m trying to eat, here!” After a short pause, his curiosity got the better of him, and he hopped up onto the garden wall. He could still see Primus, who was by now at the edge of the forest. “There must be something up, if he’s flying at that speed. I think I need to investigate.”
He jumped off the wall and bounced like a big round ball after the bat.
Primus had, meanwhile, reached the hill where he had previously seen the door. He flapped excitedly around it several times. However, there was no sign whatsoever of the big, round door.
“I don’t believe it,” he said. “I’m absolutely certain it was here.” He raised his head and counted: “One, two, three … third hill before the edge of the forest, and … one, two, three, four … fourth left of the Lunar Lake. Most peculiar. Could I be mistaken?!”
He flew up higher in order to obtain a better overview. He then darted here, there and everywhere, searching for a doorframe, a threshold, or at the very least a knob.
“Nothing,” he hissed. “But it must have been here. I’m absolutely certain.”
He was inspecting two further hills when Snigg came bouncing through the grass towards him.
“What’s so interesting about a load of hills?” the pumpkin asked, gasping for breath.
“I know for a fact that there’s a door hidden here somewhere,” the bat grumbled, looking this way and that.
“A door? Here?”
“YES, HERE. WHERE ELSE DO YOU THINK I MEAN?!” Primus bellowed.
Then he landed on the grass next to Snigg and straightened his top hat with his