conversations.from: human
conversations.value: What could be a title for a book about Nicholas, Christmas, Elfhelm with the genre: Children's Books, Science Fiction & Fantasy?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: A title for this book could be 'A Boy Called Christmas'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: the first four paragraphs for this book
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: A Boy Called Christmas
  His father nodded. 'The king has said there's a reward for anyone who finds proof of the elf village. Twelve thousand rubles. Between seven men that's over three thousand each.'
  His father's long leathery face looked sad. The skin under his eyes had gained another ring. His eyebrows were sliding apart like caterpillars falling out of love. Even his dirty old red hat seemed floppier and sadder than usual.
  Nikolas knew his father was sad, and didn't want to make him feel any worse. He knew he must be brave.
  Now his father interrupted him. 'No. It's a dangerous world. And you're still a child. We saw that yesterday. Aunt Carlotta is a lonely woman. She's a lot older than me. She's really an old lady now. She's forty-two. Hardly anyone lives to be forty-two. It'll be nice for her to have somebody to look after.'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: three more paragraphs
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Nikolas heard the troll's stomach rumble. It was more than a rumble. It was more, even, than a grumble.
  The more-than-grumbling noise rose higher inside the troll, and now the noise was coming from his head. His cheeks wobbled. His forehead started to throb. His lips started to swell. His ears bulged. His head had already been big but it was getting bigger and bigger, it was now wider than his shoulders and he was struggling to hold it up, and all the time the Truth Pixie was clapping her hands in excitement.
  And the Truth Pixie burst into hysterics, looking at the eye. 'This is so good. Shouldn't laugh. Bad Pixie. Bad. But it's just so...'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: the last four paragraphs. Start with the sentence 'And so it was that he closed the window and finished his chocolate and went to bed'.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: And so it was that he closed the window and finished his chocolate and went to bed. He closed his eyes and smiled with such joy, thinking of all the magic and wonder he would share next Christmas.
  The very first child to wake on Christmas morning was an eight-year-old girl called Amelia who lived in a small house on the outskirts of London in the grey and rainy country known as England.
  She opened her eyes and stretched. She heard her mother coughing through the wall. She saw something in the darkness of her room. An unmoving shape at the end of her bed. The sight made her curious. She sat up. And there was a stocking bulging with parcels.
  She noticed a piece of cream writing paper folded up in the bottom of the stocking. She began to read:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: the first five paragraphs for this book. End with the sentence ' He knew he must be brave.'.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: A Boy Called Christmas
  Nikolas could hardly believe what he was hearing. His mind was spinning with excitement. He had always believed in elves, but never really imagined that people could actually go and see them. Elves. Living, breathing elves. "The elf village?"
  His father nodded. "The king has said there's a reward for anyone who finds proof of the elf village. Twelve thousand rubles. Between seven men, that's over three thousand each."
  His father's long leathery face looked sad. The skin under his eyes had gained another ring. His eyebrows were sliding apart like caterpillars falling out of love. Even his dirty old red hat seemed floppier and sadder than usual.
  Tears filled Nikolas's eyes, but he was determined not to cry. He stared at his father's hand, and the missing half finger. "So how do you know you'll make it?"
  Nikolas knew his father was sad, and didn't want to make him feel any worse. He knew he must be brave.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: three more paragraphs
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: And the Truth Pixie burst into hysterics. "This is so good. Shouldn't laugh. Bad pixie. Bad. But it's just so..."
  And that was the moment Sebastian's head got so big that it exploded, with a loud wet thud. Bits of troll splattered everywhere. Over the walls and the Truth Pixie and Nikolas.
  Sebastian didn't respond to the Truth Pixie. Not out of rudeness, but out of not having a head. He teetered and fell forward toward the Truth Pixie, who was still laughing so hard that she couldn't see. Nikolas quickly dived toward the pixie, hurling her aside as Sebastian crashed onto the floor.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: the last five paragraphs. Start with the sentence 'He picked up his father's old red hat'.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: He picked up his father's old red hat. He placed it to his face and was sure he could smell the scent of pines from the forest where his father had spent every day chopping down so many trees. He put the hat on his head, then heard the distant sound of voices coming from the village hall. Of course! It was Monday. Dance night. He opened his window wide and saw hundreds of happy elves walking back to their homes. He felt such a joyous spirit inside himself that he leaned out of the window and shouted as loud as he could.
  And so it was that he closed the window and finished his chocolate and went to bed. He closed his eyes and smiled with such joy, thinking of all the magic and wonder he would share next Christmas.
  The very first child to wake on Christmas morning was an eight-year-old girl called Amelia who lived in a small house on the outskirts of London in the gray and rainy country known as England.
  She opened her eyes and stretched. She heard her mother coughing through the wall. She saw something in the darkness of her room. An unmoving shape at the end of her bed. The sight made her curious. She sat up. And there was a stocking bulging with parcels.
  She noticed a piece of cream writing paper folded up in the bottom of the stocking. She began to read: