Part 6

With Thumbelina somewhat recovered from her ordeal, the Leaguers proceeded to the quarters of their next target, Madame Mim. They hoped to surprise and weaken the witch using the light of the sun, which she shunned at all costs. But the daylight was fading fast and they would need to work quickly.

The homunculi stood upon a windowsill, gathered in a circle. They stared up at the dark curtains that shrouded the room in shadow.

“As soon as she arrives,” Tom said, “we pull these open. The sun will be setting soon so its rays should come in directly through this window.”

“The old biddy won’t know what hit her,” Thumbling chuckled. Issun and ‘Lina smiled in agreement.

“That’s a good plan,” said a tiny woman with purple hair, leaning in on the group’s huddle. But for the shade of her tresses, she seemed like ‘Lina’s double. The Leaguers turned in surprise. “There’s just one problem.”

Instantly, there was a burst of dark smoke and the mysterious little newcomer was replaced by a towering hag with a hideous visage and a tattered burgundy dress. The horrifying giantess leaned in close until her warty face was inches from the little people.

“Boo.”

The League ran for their lives, fleeing in all directions and jumping down from the window. Madame Mim let loose a joyous cackle of a laugh and gave chase to her tiny quarry. Despite being positively ancient, she was surprisingly agile and came dangerously close to seizing them in her gnarled fingers on several occasions. Another smoke cloud transformed her into a mangy violet cat that bounded after the terrified heroes. Mim screeched and yowled in a feline voice and cackled a bit more for good measure.

At last, she pounced on Thumbling and pinned him to the floor with her paw. “Hee hee hee hee hee!!! I win! I win!” the witch declared.

Her fur covered frame stretched and distorted in a dismaying fashion, finally shedding its feline coat and resuming her natural shape and dimensions. Mim held the struggling little man in her fist.

“Oh, don’t fight so, my chickadee,” she cooed. “What’s the matter? Scare ya, do I?!” The horrible face swooped in close once again, causing Thumbling to cry out.

“Here, little mousey,” Mim said. “Does this help?” The witch waved a hand in front of her face. As it passed, her features transmogrified into those of a young, beautiful woman. Mim shot up another foot in height and ludicrously enormous breasts suddenly bulged from under her dress, wobbling slightly as they came to rest. Her legs became long and shapely and her ratty mop of hair became a luxurious curtain of purple silk. By all accounts, she now had the appearance of a fair maid of twenty – a ridiculously well-endowed one.

“Not bad for someone who’s over a hundred and twenty, eh?” the now gorgeous Mim said in a dulcet voice. She batted her eyelashes winningly at Thumbling. “This is more your style, isn’t it, my squirrel? I know all about you and your wandering eye. Can’t resist the ladies. I thought I’d throw you a bone. Now, how would you like to die?”

“B-beg pardon?” ‘Ling stammered.

“How should the winsome wench dispatch you? Shall I crush you with my pretty feet?” Mim lifted a bare foot and wiggled her toes.

“Smush you betwixt my thighs?” The witch held Thumbling before her meaty legs and slammed them together with such force that his hair was blown back.

“Perhaps you’d prefer to be sat on.” She turned slightly and hoisted up her skirt, holding the frightened little man in front of a huge, rounded backside. Mim gave a playful shake of her hips and Thumbling was nearly hypnotized by the resulting jiggle.

“Or would you rather be smothered to death in my bosom?” She pressed him tightly against her disproportionately large chest until the tiny tailor was almost swallowed up in the deep crevasse of her cleavage.

“Then, of course, there’s always my favorite,” Mim proceeded, pulling Thumbling from this fleshy ravine and lifting him to face level. She held him close to her full, luscious lips. The tip of a tongue poked out briefly to lick at the lips in anticipation. “I could just gobble you up.”

“So choose, little manikin,” she said, drawing him away from her face. “Choose your death.”

Thumbling gulped. “Quietly in my sleep when I’m an old man?”

Mim threw her head back and laughed. It was more of a melodious tinkle than a scratchy cackle this time. “No, sorry. That’s not part of the game. Tick tock, tick tock. If you don’t choose soon, I’ll do it for you. I’m ever so hungry, you see.” The fair damsel pulled him close again and snapped her teeth an inch or so above his head.

Thumbling gave a start and went white as a ghost. “Uh, uh – I don’t – I mean, er, well…” Mim stuck out her tongue and slowly licked his tiny face.

“The bosom, the bosom!” he blurted.

“Fiddlesticks,” the sorceress grumbled. “Oh, very well.” She roughly shoved the little man deep into her décolletage until only his face was visible. Mim placed a hand on either side of her watermelon-sized breasts and prepared to squeeze.

“Travelers beware,” she chuckled. “There be dangerous curves ahead! Adieu, my wee chipmunk.”

A sharp pain suddenly shot through Mim’s foot as Issun-boshi stabbed his katana into it. The woman shrieked in pain and stood up straight in alarm. As soon as she released her breasts, Thumbling slipped further down between them, plummeting through a long tunnel of rosy pink flesh. He fell out of her chest, tumbled through the gown, ricocheted off her foot, and hit the floor hard.

“Ow,” he muttered. Issun frantically helped him up and the two of them scurried away.

“Not fair, not fair!” Mim screamed at Issun. “You wait your turn, Knight of the East!” The witch’s exaggerated curves deflated like balloons and her wrinkles and warts popped back out on her skin. She shrank down a foot and once more became an ugly crone. With a snarl, Mim resumed the chase.

While she was distracted, Thumbelina shot through the air on golden wings and seized one side of the curtain. Tom grabbed the other half and pulled with all his might. As the velvet barrier parted, light burst into the room.

Mim howled as if she’d been run through with a sword. “Aieeeeeeeeee! Sunshine! I HATE sunshine!!!!”

The hag exploded into a massive cloud of black smoke. As it gradually cleared, a small purple raven emerged from the miasma, squawked angrily at the little people, and flew up the chimney.

“’The bosom?’” Thumbelina mocked, arching an eyebrow at Thumbling as she drifted back to the ground.

“I panicked,” he said.

Tom scurried over to the fireplace and pulled a tiny tinderbox from his pocket. He struck a small piece of metal against the flint sending sparks into the dry kindling within the fireplace. A few moments later, it was ablaze. Madame Mim would find it difficult to fly back down the chimney and the alternative would be to face the hated sun and depleted power.

“That’s two,” Tom announced with a satisfied smile.

* * * *

The League scurried down the hallway, elated by their surprising victories. But the worst was yet to come, for they still had to find a way to stop or delay the most powerful member of the Sisterhood – Morgan le Fay. Not to mention Sir Mordred, who was a trained knight and warrior and, like the rest of them, a towering giant compared to the League. The little folk peered around a corner and saw their two remaining enemies passing the chamber where Princess Morvydd was now imprisoned. Quiet sobs could be heard emanating from within.

“She will think twice before disobeying me again,” the sorceress stated. “The youth of today need discipline and a strong hand. Though that’s never been an issue with you, has it, Mordred?”

“No, Auntie,” he answered with a smile.

“You have always been a good, obedient lad,” Morgan continued, stroking her nephew’s hair. “A truer child to me than my own offspring. And Morgause never had much time for her brood, so I have been like a mother to you, have I not?”

“Yes, Auntie.”

“Such a good boy,” she said. “Now, go and fetch my seeing stone and meet me in the study. We must locate a new Maiden if the ritual is to continue.” Finished with this exchange, Morgan turned and disappeared down the staircase. As soon as she was gone, Mordred slouched and rolled his eyes.

“A ‘good boy?’ What am I, a hound?” he muttered. “The things one puts up with to be king.” A moment later, he turned down an adjacent hall and walked off.

The sound of Morvydd weeping could still be heard through the great wooden door as the League crept out of hiding. Tom looked towards this chamber and frowned, his chivalrous nature tortured by the sound of a damsel in pain.

“All right,” Thumbelina said, motioning to the others. “Any ideas on how we stop them?”

“You’re all out of potions, right, beautiful?” Thumbling asked.

‘Lina nodded. “Dumped the whole supply to escape Morgause.”

“Can we exploit Queen Morgan’s nature?” Issun asked. “Her arrogance or her need for revenge?”

“Can’t think of how just yet,” ‘Lina admitted. “There must be a way though. Tom, what do you think?”

The Leaguers turned but found that Tom was gone. Moments earlier, he had squeezed under the door of Morvydd’s room, determined to save the lady fair.

* * * *

Tom Thumb stealthily crept into Princess Morvydd’s cell. It was a sparse, nearly barren room, dank and dark with a dripping leak in the ceiling. Only a barred window and a plate of untouched food provided a break in the plain grey stonework of the chamber. Morvydd sat huddled in a corner, hugging her arms about her knees in an almost fetal position. Her face was bruised and tears were in her eyes.

Tom cautiously approached the lovely young giantess, eager to give comfort. Even lying on her side, Morvydd loomed over him dramatically, the curvy silhouette of her figure seeming like a distant mountain. Her flowing gown pooled around her body and her disheveled black hair covered part of her face as she wept.

“My lady?” Tom ventured. “Is there anything that I can—?”

Instantly, a giant hand shot forth with lightning speed, wrapping tightly around Tom’s body. Fingers the size of ballistae threatened to crush his torso. He felt himself whisked through the air as the girl sat up and inspected this tiny intruder.

“Who…what are you?” Morvydd inquired, bringing the little man dangerously close to her enormous face. Baffled green eyes stared at him from above, widening larger than his head. The welt from where Morgan had slapped her was magnified at Tom’s close vantage point but her youthful beauty was still rather striking. Full, red lips hung open in a surprised yet charming “O” shape.

“Some sort of…pixie?” she guessed doubtfully.

Tom squirmed about, completely powerless in her grasp. He improvised. “Er, yes! I am a magic pixie of the Otherworld come to grant thy dearest wish, fair lady. Release me now so that I may work my wonders!”

“Pull the other one,” said Morvydd. “Do you take me for a child? Now, what are you really?” She squeezed her hand tighter, causing the tiny man to wince and gasp for breath.

“It’s true!”

“Oh, yes?” the girl challenged. “And what if my dearest wish is to feast on magic Otherworld pixies and absorb their power?” She opened her jaws wide, allowing Tom to peer into the vast, deadly cave within. Pretty, white teeth flashed and hot breath bathed the minute warrior’s face. She brought her hand close and made as if to pop him inside.

“All right! All right! I’m not a pixie!” Tom admitted.

Morvydd pulled him away from her mouth with a slight giggle. This teasing temptress clearly took after her mother in certain ways. “I thought not. So let’s have it, little one.”

“I am Sir Thomas Thumb of the League of Homunculi,” the traumatized captive said.

“Homunculi?” Morvydd repeated. “Sounds very exotic. Do they taste better than pixies?” Grasping him by the arm, she let him dangle over her lips as she tipped her head back and opened wide expectantly. Tom stared in horror at the dark chasm below and let out a shrill cry.

Morvydd lowered Tom a few inches and positioned his foot between her lips. She clamped down on his boot with her teeth and carefully began to slide it off of his leg. “You’re funny,” she mumbled, never releasing her bite. “But tell me the truth before you start to bore me.” The princess closed her lips around his boot and started lightly sucking on it, slurping it the rest of the way off his foot.

“That last part is true, I swear it!” Tom shouted desperately. “We are servants of King Arthur!”

Morvydd gave a start and accidentally swallowed the tiny boot. “Uncle Arthur? You were sent by Uncle Arthur?”

Tom looked around nervously. “Uh…’sent’ is a bit of a strong word but yes, we work for the High King.”

“Tell me something only his friend or ally would know,” Morvydd demanded, still dangling him by his arm and shaking him like a rag doll.

Tom thought for a moment and began to babble. “King Arthur laughs at terrible jokes. Loudly. He’s allergic to cinnamon but too kind to the royal chefs to admit it. His childhood nickname was the Wart.”

The girl gently lowered the little creature into the palm of her hand. Tom laid there in a heap, quite dazed. “You do know him! My apologies, Sir Thomas,” she said. “Mother raised me to trust no one. And I have never seen a knight as small as you. The Round Table really does welcome all, doesn’t it?”

“Er, yes, your highness.”

“You must think me a beast,” Morvydd continued. “I wouldn’t have really eaten you. Just wanted to scare you a little. And I never wanted to be part of this silly rebellion of Mother’s, by the way. We hadn’t seen each other in many months and…I missed her. I suppose she hates me now.”

“Did she hurt you, my lady?” Tom asked.

“A little,” Morvydd said quietly. “She is…not herself when pursuing that damned vendetta against Uncle Arthur. It blinds her with rage, turns her into a different person. I wish you could have known her in better circumstances, Sir Thomas. Mother has such wondrous gifts, such passion. No one is more knowledgeable of the natural world or the secret arts. But she is too quick to anger and too slow to forgive.”

“Princess, I am sorry but she must be stopped,” said Tom. “My friends and I cannot allow this ritual of hers to take place.”

“Friends? There are more like you?” the girl gasped. Tom nodded. “And all wee mites like yourself? You’d never survive.”

“We have already incapacitated Queen Morgause and Madame Mim,” the little man said proudly. “Do not underestimate the League.”

“All the same, you will need help if you take on my mother. I would hate to see cute little wonders like you annihilated under her heel. Free me from this cell and you will have my aid, Sir Knight.” She lowered her hand and set him carefully on the stone floor.

“Thank you, your highness,” said Tom, walking unevenly in his single boot. “I know it must pain you to war with your own kin.”

“Oh, dear me,” Morvydd cried, coming to a sudden realization. “I swallowed your little shoe.” The towering princess leaned down until her face was directly in front of Tom, licking her lips with mischief. “I suppose you wouldn’t want to go in and fetch it.”

“Uh…thank you, I’ll pass,” Tom stammered.

Morvydd gave him a playful poke with her fingertip, knocking Tom over. “Sweet little Thomas. I think I quite like homunculi. When I am more adept with magic, I shall create one to be my pet. Unless, of course, you’re interested in the job.”

Tom looked into those sparkling green eyes and wasn’t entirely sure he wouldn’t be.

To be continued...