The LEP Council was in shock. The Diggums case was supposed to have been a mere formality. But Diggums had surprised them all. Surprised many of them into inadvertent heart attacks, in fact.

Mulch Diggums, the kleptomaniacal, fifty-six time felony offender, thirteen time arson offender, and another felony offense as he entered the courtroom, had swaggered in, been found innocent on exactly fifty-six felony offenses thirteen arson offenses, and after further consideration, found innocent on another felony offense, and then swaggered back out.

All in less than half an hour.

Commander Julius Root had exploded no less than three coronary blood vessels halfway in, and had to be removed to intensive heart care, his heart in danger of bursting in his chest.

Captain Holly Short had to be restrained, then disarmed, then handcuffed, and finally, sedated and removed.

Foaly, the centaur was laughing throughout the first few minutes, then abruptly began weeping uncontrollably as the rest of the case was presented.

Mulch was laughing so hard a few bubbles of dwarven gas escaped, and blew a hole through his chair. Ignoring his ruined seat, he gasped hysterically until he finally passed out and had to be revived.

The council was in uproar, but they had no other option. Mulch Diggums's case was as legally sound as any ever was. They stood together in a sort of stupefied daze, and pronounced him innocent(in stunned, dreamy voices) on all counts.

At this, Mulch gasped out a great 'HA!' of laughter, collapsed, and had to be revived again.

*          *          *          *          *

Mulch Diggums was a free dwarf. He had returned to his palatial apartment in Los Angeles, where he now lay on his bed, still laughing off the vestiges of hilarity from the trial. At one point during the tribunal, Mulch had stood up, slapped his bottom at Commander Root, and sparked the commander's final coronary.  He held that image in his head for as long as he could, then sighed. He would have to get his hands on some of the footage from the trial.

But on to more serious things.

Mulch had some deep, slightly moral thinking to do.

His fingers unconsciously curled around the gold medallion he wore on his neck. In his callused palm, he held the key to limitless riches and power. But there was a terrible risk. Using it could release the Lower Element's most deadly enemy upon the unwitting fairy race. Even though Mulch had no conscience, a deed such as that could make him feel like he had one.

Then Mulch straightened, and attempted to stare at himself in astonishment. He was Mulch Diggums, the most immoral fairy in the Lower Elements. Certainly not a fairy one would expect to be contemplating ethics.

At least, not when there were riches to be had.

*          *          *          *          *          *

Fowl Manor was imposing in any season. However, in midwinter, it was an impregnable fortress of stone, ice, and steel. Its barred iron gates and giant stone walls seemed to loom over anyone within fifty feet of it.

However, if one were to glimpse the interior of the manor, they would be much heartened.

It was December twenty-fourth, which meant many things. First, it was Christmas Eve, which meant Angeline Fowl would hosting a prestigious Christmas party for friends of the Fowl Family, and any visiting dignitaries that happened to be in town. Which meant she would dress Artemis in the family suit. Which meant many, many ruffles, and shoes with buckles on them. Which meant one very irritated Artemis Fowl, and one very amused Domovoi Butler.

"Mother, I refuse to wear this beastly excuse for a clown suit."

Angeline Fowl ignored him, busy with her preparations.

"Butler, shoot me. Yes, that's an order. In the head, please, so I don't have to look at myself when I die."

"That's a bit melodromatic, isn't it, Artemis? I think you look very pretty." Butler replied, smothering his laughter.

Artemis made a strangled noise, and reached for any sharp objects that may have been near. Unfortunately, there were none, and Artemis ended up with a handful of lace. He threw it away in disgust.

Normally, the young heir to the Fowl fortune was more dignified. However, tonight was not a normal situation. Tonight, dignity was for those who were not wearing shoes with buckles, big shiny ones, and ruffles.

"Mother, you have to listen to reason. This is not dignified. This is not…humane."

"Artemis, be quiet. Your father wants you to wear it, so you are going to wear it. Besides, your uncle designed this suit himself, and he is one of the premier clothing designers in London."

"Oh, you mean Gaylord Fowl? The one who commited suicide?" Artemis inquired cuttingly.

"Mother, Father would incinerate this suit with his own hands if he ever happened to catch sight of it."

Angeline didn't hear him, as she was already skipping down the stairs. Artemis stood at the top, and contemplated throwing himself over the edge. Reasoning with his mother was not going to work. He would have to use his intellect to get himself through this.

He mentally stepped back, and reflected on his situation. He was dressed in clothes that would have caused hilarity in a blind man, about to go to a party and meet people he completely detested. A situation which, normally, Artemis would have engineered a means of avoiding.

Each year before this, Artemis had devised a brilliant excuse, or managed to be out of town. This year, however, his mind fired a blank. His excuse had been shoddy and ill timed, and now he was dressed in a clown suit about to endure social humiliation the likes of which have never before been seen upon this earth.

He winced. There had to be some way out of this. There always was.

Suddenly, a concept entered his mind, and he enjoyed the satisfying feeling that came upon formulation of a brilliant plan.

"Butler. Watch my mother and father, will you? I'm going to go change."

Butler knew what that meant. 'Watch' meant to discern patterns of movement, and detect areas of circumvention. Senior Fowl was circulating the multiple living rooms, and Angeline Fowl was lingering around the dining room area.

Artemis returned, dressed in his customary Italian tuxedo and Gucci loafers. His right hand was thrust into his pocket, and his left hand grasped a pair of with which he was gingerly grasping the family suit. He withdrew an earpiece from his pocket, and grinned.

"Butler? Find me a child."

*          *          *          *          *          *

"Ok, now tell her that you like her dress."

"What?!"

"You like her dress."

"Damn you, Artemis."

"Tut, tut. Such language for a child."

Butler had hogtied his cousin from England into Artemis's scheme. It hadn't been difficult. Separate the child from his parents, then talk scary. Therian Fowl had snapped like a twig.

Consequentially, he was now downstairs, wearing the ridiculous family suit and spluttering indignantly at Artemis's directions. There was a wicked gleam in Artemis's eyes, and even Butler began to feel sorry for the cousin.

"Now, take her hand, and kiss it."

What followed was almost a full minute of unprintable obscenities, most of which involved Artemis and various barnyard animals in some extremely unlikely and physically mind boggling positions.

"Yes, yes. Very creative, Therian. Now do as I say."

More obscenity, of the barnyard animal type.

Artemis replaced the com set, and motioned to Butler.

"Let's go for a walk, Butler. He's getting annoying – and repetitive."

 Butler draped fur parkas over both of them, and they quietly exited through the back door.

A foot of snow blanketed the ground, with another few inches forthcoming in the thick flakes swirling down from the sky. Aside from the dark, imposing walls of Fowl Manor, the entire street was brightly lit and amply decorated for the season. Frigid air rushed past them, rustling trees and bushes as it passed.

Artemis shivered slightly, but not from the cold. This was not the first of his nightly excursions, yet something about tonight seemed different. Anticipatory, almost.

He came to abrupt stop on a street corner, Butler halting with him. He voiced his thoughts aloud.

"Something is going to happen here, Butler. I know it."

Butler took this in stride. This was not the first time that Artemis's intellect had revealed insight bordering on the supernatural. With the highest tested IQ in Europe, his mind had an almost paranormal ability to race ahead and foresee events as they may have occurred, based on a few simple logical deductions.

However, none of this affected Butler in the slightest. He performed his usual scan of the surrounding buildings for snipers, and watched the street for any cars with armed assailants. He even squinted into the night skies for potential threats. His large hands gripped his concealed Sig Sauers, hunting knives, sonic grenades, strangling wires, Glocks, proximity mines, Desert Eagles, and magnums instinctively. Three weeks ago, he had woken up, and felt the first vestiges of aging stealing over him. His breath came short and painful, and his combat effectiveness was greatly decreased. He compensated for this by carrying a great deal more weapons. He disliked this, being out in the open, but Artemis's wishes had to be obeyed.

Artemis's nose twitched, and wrinkled in distaste. After the momentary discomfort, though, he realized something. There were no sewers nearby. This street was also one of the cleanest in Ireland. The scent had emerged suddenly, which could only mean the source was a living, breathing, human being.

However, for the second time in his life, Artemis was wrong.

Before Artemis could alert Butler, who was already sniffing the air like a deranged bloodhound, a small blur erupted from behind a cluster of bushes Butler had deemed secure. Butler was already aiming both Sig Sauers, but he paused in incredulous disbelief. The figure appeared to be opening a concealed back flap on its trousers, and then clutching its knees.

Artemis eyes widened in appalled disbelief.  It appeared to be preparing to launch some sort of missile from its nether regions, but that wasn't –

Butler shoved Artemis out of the way, and for the second time in his life, was laid low by dwarven gas.

Artemis picked himself up dazedly, staring in horrified disbelief. His very capable bodyguard was lying unconscious on the ground, defeated by a – a - gastric expulsion? His mind was momentarily struck senseless by the extreme implausibility of his situation.

The creature was calmly buttoning its flap as if such a thing was a daily occurrence, and gave a deep sigh of satisfaction..

"Sorry you had to see that, but trying to hold in dwarf gas is like trying to plug a volcano with your pinky finger. Impossible, and exceptionally painful."

Then the creature noticed the fallen man-mountain.

"Whoops," was all it could say.

"Ah, he'll recover." The dwarf shrugged, and walked toward Artemis, grinning companionably. He began to withdraw something from his pockets.

"Don't move."

Artemis had picked up one of Butler's fallen Sig Sauers, and aimed it somewhat unsteadily at the dwarf.

"Blimey…you really don't remember me, do you? Foaly knows his stuff, but with a mind like yours, I thought – "

"Foaly? That name is – familiar…" Artemis frowned.

Quick as a flash, Mulch darted in a kicked away the gun. He backed away, his hands raised in peace.

"Sorry, Artemis. Talking with a gun in my face is…well, uncomfortable."

"I can tell you have a lot of questions. First, my name is Mulch Diggums. As for the rest of them, well, this may explain some things."

And he withdrew a medallion from his pocket.

*****

What do you think? My Mulch seems a bit off…=/