In my story, the Archon of Quentaris captures the leprechaun king. While I was writing the book, I asked the students in the schools I visited to help me think of ways the tiny warriors could annoy the Archon and the other giants and try to win their king’s release. Here’s how you helped me...

Up the stalls and barrows they swarmed, and the next moment giant rounds of cheese were rolling and teetering off the counters. With thud after thud they toppled over the edges and splattered on the ground. Sacks of grain wobbled and sagged as leprechauns tore at the hessian with their swords. Corn, wheat, barley and rye flowed out on the cobblestones. Piglets squealed and shot away to freedom as their bonds were cut away, and hens flapped free, clucking in excitement.

On the fruit stands, the tiny figures danced and yelled in triumph, slashing and stabbing till fountains of red and yellow juice spurted in the air. The rats, joining in the frenzy, ripped, bit and tugged.

Angry stallholders tried to fend off the attack, but when they chased the leprechauns they only trod on their own produce. They slipped in the rivulets of milk, slithered on the scattered grain, and fell onto the slimy pulp of squashed fruit and vegetables.

Plot Idea number 2
‘Disturb the giants by tickling their feet, making noises under their beds, pulling their hair...’

Another great idea! Here’s how I use it in the story (Heaney and Tola are leprechauns, and Sharpfang is the name of a rat):

As they passed a gate, a baby let out a shriek. Heaney turned to look and saw a wooden cradle wobbling in the sunshine, and chubby feet and fists flailing the air.

Tola popped up on the side of the cradle, caught sight of Heaney, and waved in triumph. He launched himself off the side of the cradle, setting it pitching wildly, and came pelting out the gate on the back of Sharpfang.

‘Quick!’ he panted.

Glancing over his shoulder, Heaney caught a glimpse of a distraught girl giant trying to soothe the baby and a dog at the same time.  

‘What did you do?’ he called.

Tola was chuckling. ‘Sharpfang nipped the dog while I scattered thorns in the baby’s sheets,’ he answered with glee. ‘Come on.’
Even when the book was finished, I still called on you to help me. I couldn’t decide on a title for the book, so I came up with four choices and asked classes all over Australia to vote. These were the choices:

Prisoner of Quentaris
Giants of Quentaris
Prisoner of the Archon
Kidnap in Quentaris

As you can see from the title of the book, the one you chose was Prisoner of Quentaris.
So, thanks for all your help, and I hope you enjoy the book!
Blurb
‘I know of a land of giants, where one man could wipe out all the people in leprechaun land with a single sneez,’ boasts Heaney.

He soon regrets his words, for when Finnegan, king of the leprechauns, ventures through the rift caves to see this dangerous land for himself. he is taken prisoner by the giants! Heaney and the other leprechauns set out in a valiant attempt to rescue their king. But can these tiny warriors possibly overpower the mighty giants of Quentaris? Extract
Maganach bent down and wrapped his arms around the heavy chest filled with weapons. With a roar of triumph he wrenched it in the air and hurled it across the banquet hall. It soared over the heads of the crowd, smashed through the wall and thudded onto the ground outside.

‘There!’ Maganach dusted off his hands and beamed with satisfaction. He was a squat, brawny leprechaun and his furry moth-wing vest was split at the seams where his muscles bulged. ‘I’m the strongest!’ he boasted. ‘I win the hero’s portion.’

He turned to the long table where a whole roast mouse lay on a platter, succulent and steaming, with a berry in its mouth. ‘The hindquarter for me!’ cried Maganach, and raised his sword.

‘No, wait!’ Tola jumped to his feet. Tola was as tall as Maganach was stout. He was taller than all the leprechauns in the banquet hall. In fact, he was so tall, when he stood on tiptoes he could look a magpie in the eye. ‘I am the strongest,’ he protested.

Bounding like a grasshopper, Tola crossed the room and burst through the new hole in the wall. He skidded to a halt beside a thistle that towered over his head. The stem was thicker than his thigh and the leaves so wide and long they blocked out the sun. ‘Watch!’ he cried. He lifted his axe, and struck the stem. For a moment there was silence, then with a rending groan the tall flower toppled and fell. There was a crash as it landed on the thatched roof of the banquet hall. A long spiky leaf pierced the ceiling and a rubble of dried mud and grass showered down.

‘There,’ preened Tola, ‘I can fell a thistle with single blow of my axe. I’m the champion’