He bolted upright, the dream was too real. As usual however his body screaming that it needed to visit the latrine was more than enough to convince him he had returned to reality. After taking care of bodily responsibilities he took to his physical ones. He gave everything a light cleaning before remembering that he was no longer alone.
The goblin proceeded to the hall and moved to the door of the most recent addition on the tunnel. He pushed upon the door but was graced by the nude back of the girl and he quickly closed the door. Yes… humans usually knock before entering a room. He would remember this for next time. Even in that brief moment he saw several bloody gashes across her pale skin, it was a wonder that the poor girl was even on her feet. If only they had some of that medicine the shamans hoarded.
He went to the library, maybe he overlooked a book within it. He pushed open the door and was greeted by the sight of several more shelves full of books! Finally! He began to pursue the titles, not as many verbal treasure troves as he had hoped but significantly more than expected. “Wow! You have a library!”
He turned around on the spot witnessing the girl standing there in awe. She ran up to one of the shelves and pulled a leather bound tome from it, Under Petal-ty of Love. “My mother used to read me this book to fall asleep.” She gushed about the story of a gardener winning the heart of a noble lady through his flowers.
“Your mother had good taste in books,” said the Goblin, clearly noting the book for future reading. The happy face was replaced with shock as she had a sudden realization.
“This book is an exact copy of ours!” She was baffled, “I clearly saw our home burn down with everything in it…”
“The master of this place is very strong I tell you.” The goblin further convinced himself of the mythical person behind the scenes. She looked through more of the books,
“This one was one of my fathers sword manuals… he would never let me read it.” She reached out and pulled it off the shelf and opened it, “It is filled… Interesting.” She turned to the goblin who was still ecstatically looking through all the books.
“Did you read any of these before stumbling in here?” She asked him.
“I had only read one, but I had others read to me…” His eyes glazed over as memories took him. The girl turned to the section covered in books in a weird flowery script.
“These are celestial!” She picked up a book, “Only clergymen and scholars would be able to decipher these.” The goblin took a look again, but instead of being indecipherable he could now read the spine of the book, he couldn’t help but mumble.
“Celestial Summoning: Invoking the Divine.”
“You can read this?” the girl exclaimed.
“For some reason I can now.” He took the book from her and began to flip through it. He stopped upon the sight of a familiar image.
“I recognize that pictograph, isn’t that the god of Knowledge?" He turned to her, clearly curious. “Do you not know of the gods?”
“Only the Grand Mother.” He replied.
“Makes since she is the mother of all.” She said, after some contemplation, "Supposedly they will appear to a chosen few and bestow upon them gifts, the god of knowledge’s gift is all-sight or the ability to read any script.”
“He, the mother, and another came to me in a dream last night.”
“So you have been blessed by all three?” She asked, and he nodded in response. “Keep flipping through the book then!” He did so till he stumbled upon the picture, "Fascinating the god of fishing blessed you?” The goblin nodded, still a bit surprised.
“What is his blessing?”
“Oh he gives the blessing of a fisherman’s grip, the ability to hold upon one's weapon no matter what. Very handy for not letting one quarry get away.” She seemed impressed.
“What about the last one?”
“Oh the Grand Mother’s blessing?” She asked.
“Yes.”
She took a moment to contemplate not quite sure how to say it, "supposedly the Grand Mother only provides one thing…. Providence.” The goblin stared at her, still clearly confused. “Only if one has providence can one become King.”
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“Why would I want to be a King?” The goblin clearly did not understand what was so special about this blessing.
“There has never been a king amongst the goblins.” She said.
“Of course there is a King, Glordon is the king.” He countered having lived amongst them.
“A king in name only,” she said and pointed at the top of his head with a smile on her face.
“Why are you pointing at my head?” He asked.
“Here follow me…” She grabbed him by the hand, pulling him; he barely managed to slot the book back on the shelf as he was ripped from the room. They entered the cavern, passing the boar that had nearly unfrozen and were standing by the lake “Look!” She said pointing to their reflections in the water.
His originally bald head was no longer that, a crown of horns had grown from his temple forming the image of a crown, and his eyes were a deep gold. He was going to be a king? The thought would bring joy to many but to him the idea revolted him.
He stumbled back, reeling as memories poured into him. He remembered that night, what they did to him… and her. “WHY! Why would I want to be King to those wretches!” The whole cave shook at his announcement, the space around him crackled. He sank to his knees bawling into his hands.
The memories of her flesh melting from her, her bones being charred black as was lashed and cut were so vivid they almost manifested on his skin. All while the so-called king laughed upon his throne scraps and gold. His thoughts were interrupted as a pair of warm arms wrapped around him.
When he removed his hands from his eyes he saw the girl before him, tears pouring from her eyes as well. She had her own trauma and he was putting his onto her. “That’s enough of that.” He started with a warbly voice. “After all, we have food to deal with.”
“Goblins only think with their stomachs.” She half laughed, wiping the tears from her own face. They got up and headed to the mountain of flesh, the goblin grabbed as much as he could, taking a couple of snack bites along the way. The girl in turn grabbed an armful as well. “Do you have a smoker?”
“A what?” The goblin asked.
“Oh yeah… a kitchen? A stove? A roasting pit?” She kept asking and he kept shaking his head. ‘We will figure it out.” Through some effort they managed to finagle the door open. As they entered the hall, a new 5th door appeared.
“The master always provides!” The goblin laughed as he headed to the new door. She shrugged and followed, but was soon stunned once going through. The kitchen looked just like the one in her parents' tavern. There were several large tables for food preparation, and a large fire for smoking and drying. Even on the walls were all the tools and pots, exactly where her parents meticulously left them.
“Have you ever visited a human settlement before?” She asked.
“Nope.” He replied as he dropped his armful of meat onto a table.
She took it in stride, “Grab me a cleaver.”
“A what?” The goblin asked.
“Oh yeah, a goblin would probably not know that.” They spent the remainder of the day in the kitchen, stringing meat over the fire to smoke and dry, rendering the fat out to store for future cooking and then preparing a stew of mushrooms, pork, and some edible greens that she recognized by the lake.
She took time to show the goblin, after all it was not healthy for him to eat only meat and mushrooms. He was an excellent student, only needed to be told once to remember, even if he sampled the food a bit too often and in too large of quantities. The whole experience brought back memories of her time in the kitchen.
“How did you do that by the way…” The goblin had finally spoken after several hours of just listening.
“Do what?” The girl asked.
“Made the boar all cold.” He clarified.
“Oh I just used some magic, my mother was an adventure mage and she taught me a couple of tricks.”
“What about your dad?” He was feeling a bit guilty because he had never really enquired on the circumstances that brought the girl to this place.
“He too was an adventurer, but he focused on swordsmanship.” She could see the massive frame of her father still working away at the butcher’s block. “They worked hard but eventually my mom got pregnant so they retired, bought a tavern and that is where I grew up.” She said as he stirred the stew that had begun to overboil. “I wanted to be an adventurer like them but neither wanted me to live a life like that, although my mother taught me some magic on the sly.” She smiled halfheartedly.
“Would you avenge them?” The goblin asked, clearly thinking about his own situation a bit.
“They probably would want me to just live my life but I can’t pretend that this didn’t happen, and I know that if I don’t act, then those who did this will just do it again.” She said, a bit resolute but a seething anger hid behind her eyes. It was an anger he recognized, the one in himself.
“I probably would have remained in that goblin camp my whole life if I hadn’t met her.” he said, the girl looked to him clearly curious of the her he was speaking of. “She too was an adventurer but she was a priest by trade.” He breathed out clearly holding back the emotions as he cut meat into thin strips. “I fell in love when my eyes first laid upon her, but she belonged to the king…” The blade in his hand stopped, “I would sneak to her cell, she recognized that I was different from the other goblins. She taught me how to read and gave me her favorite book. He glanced down at the satchel at his side. "But one day the King caught us…” The blade slipped and ruined the piece he was cutting,
She reached out and grabbed the ruined piece and tossed it into the stew. “I have been meaning to ask, do Goblins ever have names?”
“Only those who are strong.” He replied, “but I do have one.”
“Did she name you?” The girl asked
“Indeed, she named me after the hero in her favorite book.” He said, “but I am unworthy of such a name. After all, I failed her.”
“That's not how names work, once they are given they cannot be taken, my mother and father blessed me with my name and even now it is all I have left of them.’
“What is it?” The goblin asked.
“I will share only if you share.” She replied.
“Very well.” He consented.
“My name is Isolde, your turn,”
“You can call me Amand.”
