Free Fire over Swallowhaven by Allan Frewin Jones

the phoenix and looked back to see the other three peering at him through the jagged mesh of branches and twigs.
    “Be careful, Trundle!” Esmeralda called. “He might be a bit grumpy at first. You know what old people can be like if they’re woken from a deep sleep.”
    “Thanks!” snorted Trundle. “I’ll bear it in mind.”
    He turned to the phoenix. Taking a deep, deep breath, he leaned forward and tipped the saucepan over above the bird’s open beak. The thick, blobbymixture came flopping out and landed with a squelchy splat on the sleeping bird’s tongue.
    Trundle jumped back.
    “Anything happening?” called Jack after a few moments.
    “Not a lot,” said Trundle.
    “Ishmael, if you’ve been messing us about—” began Esmeralda.
    “Wait!” yowled Trundle, taking another step back. The huge beak had closed and opened and closed again and a mnyumm-mnyummm-mnyummm noise was coming from the phoenix.
    “Very tasty,” the bird mumbled. “Very sweet…”
    And then, with a suddenness that knocked Trundle onto his backside, the eyes of the huge bird snapped open, steam came hissing from his nostrils and ears, and he sat bolt upright with his neck stretched up and a startled and stunned look on his face.
    A second later, the beak opened and smokegushed out. “Gahhhh!” gasped the phoenix, cross-eyed. “Gahhh-gugggg-gahhhh!”

    “Uh, hello there!” called Trundle, getting back onto his feet.
    “Who? What? Where? Why? How?” gabbled the phoenix, his head twisting back and forth on his long scraggy neck.
    “Yoo-hoo! Down here,” said Trundle, waving.
    The beak dropped and the bloodshot eyes uncrossed and thephoenix fixed Trundle with a terrible gaze.
    “You’d better have my tailfeather with you, boy,” croaked the ancient bird, “or I’ll want to know the reason why!”
    “Yes! Yes, I do,” said Trundle, pulling the feather out from inside his jacket, where he’d tucked it again for safekeeping. “Look! It’s right here.”
    The long neck bent and the head stooped down so that Trundle found himself snout to beak with the bad-tempered bird.
    “Hrumph, lucky for you!” said the phoenix. “So—what kept you? Have you got any idea of how long I’ve been sitting around waiting for you to arrive? Do you, eh? Do you?”
    “Well, no,” Trundle admitted. “But it’s been a while, I would imagine.”
    “A while ?” The phoenix almost choked with indignation. “It’s been two thousand years, you young whippersnapper! Two thousand years!” And so saying,he snapped his beak closed on the feather and tore it out of Trundle’s paw.
    Trundle became aware of Esmeralda and the others at his side. They waited in polite silence while the phoenix twisted himself around with a few arthritic groans and gasps, finally managing to insert the lost feather into the raggy plumage close to his rear parts.
    He turned back to them. “Well, now,” he said in a less grumpy tone, “what can I do for you? I take it you haven’t come all this way just out of the kindness of your hearts.”
    “You are quite correct, O beautiful and puissant phoenix,” said Esmeralda.
    “Beautiful?” whispered Trundle, staring at her in disbelief.
    “Work with me here, Trun,” Esmeralda hissed out of the corner of her mouth. “Flattery never hurts!”
    “We have traveled far through the endless blueskies of the Sundered Lands,” said Jack. “Seeking the lost Fiery Crown of the Badger Lords of Old. Could it be possible that in your glory and wisdom, you might be able to help us in our noble quest, O marvelous and awe-inspiring phoenix?”
    “I might,” said the phoenix, lifting a wing and giving himself a quick grooming-type peck under there. “But first you must answer me this riddle.” He coughed, and his eyes turned skyward as if he was trying to remember something. “Ah, yes. That’s it.” His voice rose into a singsong croak. “Light as a feather, there’s nothing to it. But the strongest of creatures