Thimble Down, by Pete Prown, is a fantasy adventure novel, written to challenge
and engage young adults ages 10 to 18.
The book is recommended for readers who enjoy The Hobbit, Lord of the Rings, The Wind in the Willows, Redwall,
Artemis Fowl, and other timeless tales set in landscapes and cultures that
bring to mind England, Ireland, Scotland, and the British Isles.
Thimble
Down is a country village where death and malice lurk the quiet lanes. When the
vile, drunken Bing Rumple acquires a gem-laden treasure, violence begins to
follow him everywhere. Where did Bing find such a precious jewel, and worse, is
someone willing to kill to possess it? In this fast-paced adventure, the
village bookmaster, Mr. Dorro, and his young companions Wyll Underfoot and Cheeryup
Tunbridge are in a desperate race to find the answer—before death comes to
Thimble Down.
Thimble Down is the first book in the “Chronicles of Dorro” young adult mystery
series, which follows Dorro, Wyll, and Cheeryup, on their exciting, but dangerous,
mystery adventures.
Amazon reviews:
“A fun read. Choose your favorite chair and
settle down for a lighthearted, fast-paced tale of thievery and intrigue in the
faraway and long ago village of Thimble Down. You’ll meet some unlikely heroes
among the town’s inhabitants, the “Halflings,” who love a good mystery
almost–but not quite–as much as they enjoy their creature comforts. This book
is part mystery and part fantasy with a tasty smattering of cooking, gardening,
and fishing tips thrown in. Enjoy!”
“Perfect for the tween in your life. Ordered this
book for my twin, 12 y/o nephews for Christmas and they both devoured it. Can’t
wait for the next one!”
Thimble Down is available on
Pete
Prown is a noted American writer of Young Adult fantasy books, as well as a
magazine and book editor, and journalist. He’s written both fiction and
non-fiction books, including THIMBLE DOWN and a series of instructional titles
about guitars. Also a talented musician and recording artist, his Guitar Garden
music is available on CDBaby.com and iTunes. For more information, go to http://peteprown.com/
Excerpt from Thimble
Down
by Pete Prown
The next morning, Bing Rumple was in full stride. He’d been
walking in and out of shops, a chop house, pony stables, and many of the other
burrows and houses that composed the center of Thimble Down, bragging about his
exploits in the east. With his brother Farroot and Bill Thistle following him
like a pair of leering weasels, Bing was enjoying his moment in the sun.
“How do you kill a ferocious goblin?” A youngling had just
asked him this very question, and now he was preparing a grandly entertaining
response. “Why, you can do it many ways, my boy-o,” he said in a tough voice, but trying to stifle a grin. “You
can stick him in the throat with an arrow at fifty paces, or sneak up from
behind and garrote the bugger with a sturdy piece of rope. Me, I generally just
cut ‘em to pieces with this elvish saber. Look!” he said, drawing the
glimmering blade out of his scabbard, “you can even see bits of dried, black
goblin blood, and burnt flesh in the crevices.” At this, the Halfling children
screamed with a mix of fright and glee and ran off to tell their horrified
mothers. Bing and his pals roared with laughter.
As he expected, most people in Thimble Down had never even
seen a goblin or troll up close. “What do they look like? Do they have bloody
fangs?” asked young Tom Talbo, quivering with delight. Bing seemed to think for
a moment before replying, “Oh course they do, young sir. And they have large
bulbous eyes, thick grey-green or black skin covered with festering sores, long
muscled arms, and meaty hands with claws on the end. They are fearsome to be
sure, and if you get too close, they can shred yer intestines in a mere flash.” Bing embellished his tale each
time someone asked. He’d never been a celebrity before, and he rather liked it.
“The worst of it was when me ‘n’ the lads were trapped with
an elfin hunting party, pinned down by about a hundred and fifty goblins that
outnumbered us mightily,” he rambled on. “We were on the top of a small bluff
with goblins and trolls all around us. The elves fought valiantly, but we saved
the day. Let me tell you the whole story.”
“Ya see,
goblins hate fire, and by a stroke of fortune, the top of the bluff was covered
with dry, dead brambles and bushes. So I braved a rain of goblin arrows and ran
over to the elf chieftain. I said, ‘Toldir’—that was his name—‘go ask yer men
to gather all the brush and big rocks possible, and arrange them on rim,’ I
says. Of course, Toldir got pretty steamed at me for calling his warriors Men,
because of course, elves ain’t Men and Men ain’t elves, if you reckon my
meaning. But in the heat o’ battle, these things happen. Anyway, the elves did
as I asked, and soon the entire edge of our bluff was ringed with brush and big
boulders. I’ll hand it to them elves—they are strong and can move quick-like,
especially in a pinch.”
“As a further stroke of luck, the elfin hunters had
leatherskin bags filled with deer and musk oil from their recent kills, which
we used to drench the brush. At Toldir’s command, the oil was lit afire,
creating a massive inferno around the perimeter. I gave a shout of ‘Heave-ho!’
and we used sticks and logs to push the big rocks and flaming brush over the
lip and down onto the enemy, who were stricken with terror. Those goblins that
weren’t killed outright by the boulders and stones were hit with the flaming
brambles and verily burst into flames. And any demons that escaped this hell
were soundly stuck with deadly elvish arrows or, might I modestly say, by the
edge of my sword as we charged down the hill to destroy the enemy. With the
goblins either dead or in complete disarray, our troop was able to escape and
rejoin the larger elf forces to fight another day.”
“Huzzah! Hurrah for Bing!” applauded his audience.
Bing, Farroot, and Bill tossed handfuls of pennies into the crowd to curry
their favor even more, driving the children mad with joy. Still, some of the
older Halflings at the edge of the crowd couldn’t put the image of the
sniveling Bing Rumple of yester-year out of their minds. “How could that
miserable excuse for a Halfling be such a hero?” they thought. But in general,
the village folk were greatly entertained, and this was a great boon to local
merchants who hadn’t seen crowds this big since the harvest festival of the
previous year. Up and down the hard-packed dirt lanes in Thimble Down, sellers
were bringing their wares into the open air, especially pies, cakes, and any
variety of dried, candied meats on a stick, which only cost a penny or two and
were gobbled down rapturously.
Many in the crowd were also ogling the gem-encrusted brooch
pinned on Bing’s left breast. Indeed, more than a few secretly
began to covet it. Among them was one Halfling who decided—at that very
moment—to steal it.
Even if it meant someone had to die.
