Don't Touch My Coffee

Errol, who's the tiny dragon with way more fight in him than his size would suggest he's capable of, even if he was that belligerent.

Against The Dragon which is huge, majestic, in possession (at least in theory) of a mighty hoard of wealth, typically associated with the nobility, and finds herself rather taken by this small ball of Fight.

That's a metaphor for Sam and Sybil, isn't it?

'Oblong?'

'Eldritch,' said Cohen mysteriously.

'Eldritch?'

'Yup.'

'Oh,' said the dwarf. They stood looking at the box for a moment.

'Cohen?'

'Yes?'

'What does eldritch mean?'

'Well, eldritch is—' Cohen paused and looked down irritably. 'Give it a kick and you'll see.'

Lockjaw's steel-capped dwarfboot whammed into the side of the box. Cohen flinched. Nothing else happened.

'I see,' said the dwarf. 'Eldritch means wooden?'

'No,' said Cohen. 'It – it oughtn't to have done that.'

'I see,' said Lackjaw, who didn't, and was beginning to wish Cohen hadn't gone out into all this hot sunlight. 'It ought to have run away, you think?'

'Yes. Or bitten your leg off.'

'Ah,' said the dwarf. He took Cohen gently by the arm. 'It's nice and shady over here,' he said. 'Why don't you just have a little —'

Cohen shook him off.

'It's watching that wall,' he said. 'Look, that's why it's not taking any notice of us. It's staring at the wall.'

'Yes, that's right,' said Lackjaw soothingly. 'Of course it's watching that wall with its little eyes —'

'Don't be an idiot, it hasn't got any eyes,' snapped Cohen.

'Sorry, sorry,' said Lackjaw hurriedly. 'It's watching the wall without eyes, sorry.'

'I think it's worried about something,' said Cohen.

'Well, it would be, wouldn't it,' said Lackjaw. 'I expect it just wants us to go off somewhere and leave it alone.'

'I think it's very puzzled,' Cohen added.

'Yes, it certainly looks puzzled,' said the dwarf. Cohen glared at him.

'How can you tell?' he snapped.

It struck Lackjaw that the roles were unfairly reversing. He looked from Cohen to the box, his mouth opening and shutting.

'How can you tell?' he said. But Cohen wasn't listening anyway. He sat down in front of the box, assuming that the bit with the keyhole was the front, and watched it intently. Lackjaw backed away. Funny, said his mind, but the damn thing is looking at me.

'All right,' said Cohen, 'I know you and me don't see eye to eye, but we're all trying to find someone we care for, okay?'

'I'm—' said Lackjaw, and realised that Cohen was talking to the box.

'So tell me where they've gone.'

As Lackjaw looked on in horror the Luggage extended 161 its little legs, braced itself, and ran full tilt at the nearest wall. Clay bricks and dusty mortar exploded around it.

Cohen peered through the hole. There was a small grubby storeroom on the other side. The Luggage stood in the middle of the floor, radiating extreme bafflement.

Now Towering was laughing. He was far too relaxed for a bound man, and Blouse sounded far too much like a nice but worried man trying to appear firm and determined. To Polly, it was like watching a child bluffing in poker against a man called Doc.

‘A word in private, Perks?’ snapped Blouse. He drew her closer, but Polly kept her eye on Sergeant Towering. He might be bound hand and foot, but she wouldn’t have trusted a man who grinned like that if he’d been nailed to the ceiling.

‘Perks, you are making a great contribution but I really will not have my orders continually questioned,’ said Blouse.

‘You are my batman, after all. I think I run a “happy ship” here, but I will be obeyed. Please?’

Twoflower looked around. The Luggage was missing.

'Well, where's it gone?'

'How should I know?' said Twoflower.

'It's your Luggage!'