"Bash an elf, where did you find those?" gasped Bluebell, attempting to feign indifference to the shoes' gorgeousness but failing miserably. His obvious jealousy and resentment only fanned Blabberwort's pleasure and she strutted exaggeratedly before him.

"Behind the curtain," she smirked, jabbing a thumb vaguely over her shoulder.

Burly and Bluebell traded wily looks - where there was one pair of shoes there usually were more. Eagerly they lumbered down the hill to where a silent audience of empty chairs, some tossed and overturned, rimmed a huge stage erected upon the green. Clambering onto the platform the trolls pulled the heavy drape aside. Beyond, in a golden pool of spotlight, a man lay slumped over the keys of a snow-white piano. Burly snorted as he took in his sister's handiwork: Day-Glo orange ostrich feathers plucked from the stranger's coat littered the floor; a wizard's pointy hat of dazzling peacock blue sat cockeyed upon the motionless head obscuring whatever features lay beneath; and, a pair of enormous eyeglasses, sequin-framed, lay twinkling across his bare feet.

"Is it an oversized fairy?" queried Bluebell eyeing the motionless figure and petulantly kicking feathers into the air, for no other pairs of shoes were apparent.

"Dunno," growled Burly. They turned to their sister for the answer.

"Didn't ask." Blabberwort shrugged, flicking a speck of grass from the toe of one splendorous boot. "But the banner out front proclaims him "El-ton, the Roc-ket Man."