The Great Troll War

‘It just rings true,’ I said, ‘don’t you agree?’

‘I do,’ said Tiger, ‘every word.’

I wasn’t guided to write everything, though – only the part in the Chrysler Building. The rest I pieced together from a multitude of sources over two years, and speaking to the participants had often been a humbling experience. Jennifer had inspired those around her to a sense of higher account – no one embellished anything, or made her more heroic and selfless than she was. There was really no need. I’d asked Once Magnificent Boo what she had thought the Mysterious X actually was, and she told me that maybe something, somewhere, keeps a careful eye on potential usurpers, and works in mysterious ways to defeat them. I think I understood what she was talking about.

‘Did you hear Lady Mawgon became court mystician?’ asked Tiger.

‘A wise choice,’ I said, ‘and Colin is leading a delegation to ensure the newly formed United Kingdoms are more closely aligned with Europe.’

‘He’s a good negotiator,’ said Tiger, ‘even if he does have a silly sense of humour. The coronation was quite something, wasn’t it?’

Tiger was being ironic. There was no huge coronation, just a five-minute ceremony. The Queen’s low-key approach to her new-found status was well received in the islands, along with her decision to transfer power to a representative democracy within twenty years.

‘It might be the first and only time an all-powerful leader divested themselves of limitless power,’ said Tiger. ‘A pointer for tyrants and dictators everywhere.’

There was a pause. Tiger had been invaluable in giving me the basics of the story as he had known Jennifer the best, and had established himself as the go-to person for any Jennifer Strange consultations. Without Tiger’s say-so The Last Dragonslayer Chronicles would not be simply unpublishable, they’d be dead in the water. Tiger had invoked Jennifer’s spirit in his decision:

Get it right or don’t do it at all.

‘I say go for it,’ he said, handing me back my outline notes – four books, each dealing with a different part of her story. ‘I can’t see how else this should be told.’

‘Thank you,’ I said, placing the sheaf of papers in my bag. ‘What’s with the Quarkbeast?’

I had noticed the small creature when I arrived, sitting on Tiger’s foot and eating the copper windings from a starter motor. It was about the size of a guinea-pig and had markings like those of a silver birch.

‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘Perhaps there is trouble brewing up ahead. Legend says the Quarkbeast appears to those in need of assistance, but I think I’ve got some time. It won’t be fully grown until I am almost ninety.’

‘About the same time the twin comets from the Wizidrical Criticality return,’ I mused, as astronomers had already tracked their journey, and seen hundreds of smaller comets break from the two and streak off in all directions. They would be visiting new worlds, outside ours, as if on a journey of discovery. The smaller comets would never return, but the larger two would. Officially, they were known to science as B769-D; unofficially as ‘The Two Sisters’.

I finished my coffee and stood up.

‘There’s just one more thing I need to run by you.’

‘Is it about the Queen’s skin rashes?’ asked Tiger. ‘I think you should leave that bit in, no matter what she says.’

‘I have – no, it’s just that I wanted to tell the story from Jennifer’s viewpoint. What do you think?’

‘I don’t know the first thing about writing,’ said Tiger with a shrug. ‘It’s whatever makes the best story, I guess.’

I screwed the top on my pen and closed my notebook. All I had to do now was to sit down and write it.

‘It’s decided, then,’ I said, with some relief. ‘I’ll tell her story using a first-person narrative.’

So I did.