Davius slowly paced back and forth in his private chambers. Grizelda was out making preparations for their marriage. He held in his hand the latest report on the tunnel digging. The digging was coming along quite well, faster than expected in fact. Yet Davius was troubled. Not because of his impending marriage to Grizelda or the rate of digging; no, he was quite pleased by both things. He was troubled about himself.
Things kept coming up in his mind, images of people, things he had known while he thought he was a top-sider. One thing bothered him the most though; if he was under Santa's spell, why can't he remember anything of his troll life before he was spell-bound? It seemed to him that he had always been a top-sider his whole life. The Great One had assured him all his memories would come back soon, but that hadn't happened yet.
Then there was the top-sider prisoner down in the dungeons. No matter how much he wanted to believe the man had been deceiving him for so long, something told him the prisoner was telling the truth; that he was this Davy that was a singer from Britain. Certainly this prisoner believed it bad enough to refuse to join him, bad enough to want to freeze instead. Davius was even starting to feel regret he had ordered the top-sider beaten. His musing were interrupted by a knock on his door.
"Enter!" Davius called out.
Wizard Glick swept into the room.
"Hello, your Majesty. I hear everything is going well for you."
"Yes, yes it is, Great One." Davius said distractedly.
"Are you still having doubts about this?" Glick asked.
"I...I just wish I could forget about my life as a top-sider. It's making it hard for me to concentrate."
"Ah, you've been with the top-siders so long, you're still under their influence. Let me help."
Glick reached out and touched Davius' forehead.
"You are King Davius of the Trolls. You are NOT Davy Jones. You are not, nor have you ever been a top-sider."
"Yes, Oh Great One." Davius answered.
~~~~~~~
The empty tunnel car came to a halt at the end of the rail. Two trolls walked over to it and opened the door.
"How did this get down here?" One of them asked.
"I guess the brake let loose and it came down by itself." The other one replied.
What the trolls didn't know was that the car wasn't empty. It held two invisible Monkees who quietly jumped out of the tunnel car and ran into the next room. When they were sure nobody was around, Mike took off his hood and turned on his radar-detector. The screen only showed the two red dots indicating Mike and Peter.
"No new red dots showing, Pete. Lets try and head down deeper. Micky and Davy are probably in the dungeons."
"OK, Mike." Peter said softly.
The two walked on, stopping every so often to get their bearings. Eventually they started to go down deeper and deeper into the earth. Surprisingly, they didn't encounter too many trolls along the way, and the ones they did, seemed to be in a big hurry to dig in the mines. From snatches of overheard conversations, the two learned that the trolls were digging towards Santa's castle. Mike and Peter pulled off to the side and Mike looked at the radar-detector. To his delight, another red dot showed up on the screen, along with their own!
"Hey Pete!" Mike whispered excitedly, "We found one of them!" He showed Peter the screen. "He's not too far from us!"
Peter's smile lit up the dark cavern. "Lets go!" He whispered.
~~~~~~
Micky shivered and coughed again. He was lying down and curled up facing the stone wall he was still chained to in his small cell. Micky still hurt from the beating he had received earlier and now it seemed he was being left to freeze to death. Perhaps he'd die of pneumonia first. Either way he didn't care anymore, he was feeling such despair, such loneliness. Micky drifted off into an uneasy sleep...
Suddenly he heard his cell door open, but Micky didn't have the strength to turn to see who it was. Not that it mattered, anyway. But instead of the small, rough claw-like hands he was used to grabbing him, soft, gentle hands unlocked his chains and carried him out of his cell. Micky kept his eyes closed. This must be a dream, so why spoil it? He then felt those same soft hands and arms hugging him, trying to get him warm again, caressing his hair. Micky imagined he heard Mike and Peter telling him it was going to be okay, that he'd be fine, except he knew he wasn't going to be. Those voices kept calling his name, telling him to open his eyes, to say something, so finally Micky opened his eyes, expecting to find himself back in his cold, dark cell. To his shock, he was lying in Mike and Peter's arms. They were holding him close, big smiles on their faces. He was no longer in his cell, but in another chamber nearby.
"Welcome back, shotgun." Mike said with a smile.
"Mike, Peter?" Micky said, then coughed.
"Yes, its us, Micky." Peter said, holding a thermos cup in his hand. "Drink some of Mrs. Clause's cocoa. You'll feel better." He brought the cup to Micky's blue lips.
Micky drank a little of the cocoa. Immediately, he did feel better, and he didn't cough or sneeze anymore.
"Some cocoa." Micky said with a smile.
"Where's Davy?" Mike asked.
Micky's smile faded.
"Guys, there's a lot you need to know."