u/Doc_Bedlam

“This place,” said Kell, “is downright magical. I’ve been here twice, now, and it’s never the same place twice.”

The tourist Kell and the goblin girl Vekki sat in a booth on the back wall of the taproom, two booths away from the solitary man with his beer and basket of fried vegetables. Vekki giggled, musically. “That is the House,” she said. “No better public house in all of Marzenie, they say. And it’s not the only place to eat and drink. I was surprised you didn’t want to see the Goblin Pie. Good food, and much more.”

“Oh, I still want to see everything else around here,” said Kell, still looking around. “But after yesterday, I wanted to come back here. There was a dragon overhead out here, yesterday. Damndest thing I ever saw, and that was after I sat at a table and had a conversation with an orc!” Kell paused to take a drink of beer. “There’s so much goin’ on right here. It’s like, I had to come back and see what all I missed the first time. Like I’m scared of missin’ something!”

“So much magic for you,” said Vekki, smiling. “Your joy brings me pleasure, too. You are like a little boy on Aule morning, opening the presents and finding the magic in each one.”

“I kinda feel like it, too,” said Kell, a silly grin spread across his face. “Always somethin’ new, different, magical. It’s nothin’ like back home. You make me glad I decided to stay longer. How long will it take for this place to get boring?”

Vekki sipped from her tumbler of benzwine. “You haven’t seen hardly anything of what there is to see in Refuge and Goblin Town,” she said. “So far, you’ve seen the House of Orange Lights twice, and spent the night between my legs. You have far to go before it gets boring.”

“Ain’t been bored yet,” said Kell, looking around again. “And it’s as magical between your legs as it is here, lookin’ at dragons and orcs and such.”

Vekki grinned broadly, and her yellow eyes narrowed. “You say such sweet things to me,” she said. “You make me think about going Grilki.”

“Grilki?” said Kell. “I don’t know that word.”

“That is a story,” said Vekki. She sipped her benzwine again, and leaned back in her seat. “Grilki was a goblin woman, who lived in Goblin Town. After we made peace with the humans and traded with them, Grilki was not happy. Grilki hated humans. Humans brought change, and changed us, changed the old ways, and Grilki didn’t like that. She was full of hate.”

“Seriously?” said Kell. “All the goblins I met hereabouts are all friendly like. So far.”

“Not Grilki,” said Vekki. “Full of hate for humans. For changing her life, making things different, so she did not understand the world any more. But one day, a human man came to town, a tourist. He was Galtin, and a bunch of Union Girls came to him asking if he wanted a guide. Galtin was kind of silly. He didn’t know you only needed to hire one guide. So he hired all five of them. And Grilki happened to be standing nearby, and he hired her, too.”

“He hired five Union Girls?” said Kell. “Damn. He must be a better man than I am.”

“Six girls,” said Vekki. “Grilki thought to herself, I will take this human’s money, and sneak off when he is busy with the other five. But he took them out for good food, and good times, like a good tourist treats his Union Girls, and Grilki stayed around. It was free food, after all. And Galtin was kind, and funny, and he treated his girls with respect, and Grilki stuck around. And finally that night, they all dragged him off to Goblin Town, and began pulling his clothes off…”

Kell looked surprised. “And Grilki didn’t sneak off, then?”

“Grilki still had the money,” said Vekki. “And she was full of good food and drink, and she thought to herself, I could fuck for fun. A man cock is as good as a goblin one, and won’t get me pregnant. I will ride his cock, and then slip away in the night. And she rode him. Along with five other girls. It was quite a thing. And then Flor the Trading Post Woman and Zedra the Exile showed up, and they wanted to try the human who could ride all night, and, well, things got sort of crazy. They still talk about it, in Goblin Town.”

“And this is a true story?”

“It is,” said Vekki. “I was living there, then. And Grilki, who hated humans… she is a part of this… and she is struck by Galtin’s pleasure, and his joy, and his desire to make the Union Girls happy. To pleasure them. Even though he gets more tired, he wants to pleasure them. So she climbs onto him again.”

Kell’s eyes grew wide. “Wow.”

“Wow, yes,” said Vekki, laughing. “And in the morning, he takes them all out to breakfast. And Grilki went, too. And she stayed with Galtin, and talked to him. And he goes home… but he comes back, weeks later, looking for Grilki, and asks her to be with him again. And she says yes. For the money, of course. And the food, and drink. And a good fuck. And they spend time together. And he leaves, and comes back again. And Grilki… feels something other than hate.”

“Does she, now?”

“Yes,” said Vekki, with a smile. “She sees Galtin’s joy in her, and the fucking and the food and drink and Goblin Town. She sees him wonder in the magic, like you do. And she sees things differently… through a human’s eyes… as she is with him. They make plans to be together. He wants to come to Goblin Town, and start a business here. He sails away on the boat to go and get his money. And then… he never came back.”

Kell’s face fell. “He never came back? But then, what did Grilki—”

“Grilki was hurt and broken inside,” said Vekki, her smile fading. “She trusted the human, and had feelings for him, and he didn’t come back. She didn’t have her hate for strength, and now she had no joy, either. But I am lying. Galtin had to argue with humans back east to get his money, but he did. It just took a few weeks. And then Galtin came back, and went to Goblin Town and cried out for Grilki, and she came running to him.”

“Huh,” said Kell. “And they lived happily ever after?”

“They built the Frog Pond, out by the river,” said Vekki, with a smug smile. “To rent the rooms and hot baths. And they got rich together. And their love burns like a bonfire still, and her hate is gone like smoke in the wind. They still run the place. They have a baby together. So, the happily ever after. And now, when a Union Girl gets to like a tourist man maybe a little too much, they say that she is going Grilki.”

“Huh,” said Kell. “You get a lot of that around here?”

“Not often,” said Vekki. “Most human men come just to eat and drink and fuck a goblin girl, and then they go home. But sometimes they come back. The man Malley loved the Union Girl Dibb, and he came to live here, and now they make the Goblin Dreams drink, in the bottles. The man Ramsey came to fuck a goblin girl, and now he is father to her children, and lives here still. Artur the Beer Man found joy in the arms of the goblin Shiliak, and he came back and they made the brewery together.” Vekki turned, and pointed at the ogre woman, visible through the archway to the foyer. “The man Addan came here to fuck a goblin girl, but instead he kissed the ogre Urluh, and her kiss set his mind on fire. Now he is the Knight of the Orange Lights, and the father of her child. And there are others.”

Kell blinked, and looked around. “I … so… I ain’t the only one who … got all magic struck…”

Vekki smiled. “Not everyone can see the magic,” she said. “To me, this is just home. I see it the same way you see your home, the place you are from, no different, same old thing. To some tourists, it is just a place to drink and fuck and buy witchlights. But it is with one like you that I can see the magic. Through your eyes.” Her smile remained in place, but her eyes narrowed, and her slit pupils grew wider. “This place can have a way of getting into your blood, Kell. For those who can see and feel the magic.”

Kell stopped looking around, and looked into Vekki’s yellow goblin eyes. And for a time, neither of them said a thing.

********************************************

Five tables forward and to the west of where Kell and Vekki stared into each other’s eyes, there sat a goblin woman. Her name was Bek. She was not Bekk the Mountain Chested, maker of goblin pies, who sat elsewhere in the same taproom with her husband and surprisingly foulmouthed child. This one was simply Bek, no second name or epithet, and she sat at her table, a beer in front of her. With her was her goblin wife Del, and the biggest human woman either of them had ever seen.

She is not an ogre, thought Bek. Nowhere near big enough. Too well dressed. Looks and acts like a tourist from back east. But this is a human with appetites that would surprise an ogre.

Bek and Del were not Union Girls. Neither of them had much use for male company, preferring each other. But this great, broad, tall human woman had approached them at their wickiup in Goblin Town, with her great smile and her great elaborate orange hairdo, and had said to them, “You are Bek and Del? My name is Dayna! I am told that you like girls? Would you be my Union Girls for a night and a day? I have gold!”

Bek and Del had stared at the great human woman. “Um,” said Del. Bek and Del knew what Union Girls were and did, of course. They’d never thought about it before. On the other hand, the human seemed friendly enough. And then, there was gold. Union Girls didn’t get paid in gold, as a rule. The going rate was five silver pennies for the remainder of the day, a night, and another day, and the customer paid for meals, drinks, and lodging.

Bek and Del looked at each other. And they looked back at Dayna. She stood over six feet, shoulders like a teamster, and a bustline that made Bekk the Mountain-Chested look barely pubescent. She wasn’t ugly, as humans go. But big. Thick, as the humans put it. “Uh,” said Bek.

Dayna reached into her shoulder bag, and drew forth two gold crowns. “One for each of you?” she said. “If you can show me the sights? And show me the goblin ways of love?”

Bek and Del looked at each other again. A gold crown was more money than most Union Girls saw in a month.

“Uh, sure,” Del had said, in the speech of men.

“We could do that,” Bek had said, almost at the same time.

And there, the adventure had begun. Dayna had great energy, boundless enthusiasm, and took enormous, blatant joy in the sights and sounds of Refuge and Goblin Town. A tourist, albeit a rather loud and prominent one. But Dayna was anything but rude, bottomlessly cheerful, and seemed to have a bottomless supply of gold in her shoulder bag. Bek and Del had taken her to the Goblin Market to start, where Dayna had oohed and ahhed over treasures and trinkets. “I shall certainly have to come back for some of these things!” she declared. “And bring a wagon, maybe!”

Dayna had laughed in delight upon meeting Mira, the Dark Lady, at her fortune-telling tent in the Market, and had got her to sign Dayna’s copies of Fistid Wackford’s novels. “The Dark Lady is real!” Dayna had cackled. “How splendid!” Dayna had marveled at Mogga’s Goldsmithy, and had bought earrings, both for herself and for Bek and Del, and in an attempt to slow her down, Bek had said, “Would you like to tour the brewery? Where they make the Goblin Brew?”

Dayna’s reaction had been enthusiastic. Dayna didn’t seem to do much of anything without enthusiasm. And so, they had gone to the brewery together, and taken the tour, and sampled the brews. And that was where Bek had seen that Dayna was no ordinary tourist. Dayna had insisted on sampling the entire line of brews that the place made. The ales, the dark brew, the Goblin Brew, the weird bitter bock beer that some humans liked, Dayna had tried them all. And it hadn’t slowed her down in the least.

Gods, thought Bek. Are we dealing with some kind of tiny ogre, here? But Dayna had paid generously for everything she ate, drank, and took. And after an enormous dinner at Nana’s Eats (where Dayna had insisted on sampling the “delightful goblin cuisine” to the tune of five appetizers and three entrees) they had retired to the Frog Pond, where Dayna had rented a room (“They have wonderful hot baths, there!”) … and then, with no less enthusiasm than she’d had for anything else, Dayna had sampled the goblin ways of girl-on-girl love.

Repeatedly.

Incessantly.

Determinedly.

And with tremendous enthusiasm.

And no more inhibitions about it than a mink in heat.

Bek and Del, to their credit, had tried to keep up. Fortunately, with two of them, they were able to tag each other out periodically. And it wasn’t bad. Dayna was enthusiastic, and quite skilled, hugely considerate, and very pleasing. But Bek had dozed off long after midnight, and Dayna was still going strong. Gods, doesn’t this woman ever get tired? Surely ALL human tourists aren’t like this?

Bek and Del had awakened in the bed in the room well after daylight. Dayna was already awake, soaking gleefully in the great, steaming oaken tub in the room. “Hot baths!” Dayna had said laughingly, like a little girl with a big lollipop. “This place is great! Where does one go for breakfast, here?”

Bek and Del had taken Dayna to Dint’s Meats for breakfast keyas, and to Peecy’s Cheeses for melted cheese foldovers, and to Deek’s Bar for boiled eggs and beer. They had taken her to Refuge, where she’d devoured her way through Megga Baker’s best baked goods, and at midmorning, Del had come up with the idea. “How about the House of Orange Lights?” she had said. “You can’t say you’ve visited New Ilrea until you’ve visited that!”

Which brought us to now, where Dayna marveled over potato fingers and darva soup and crunched down strip after strip after strip of orange bacon, in between several fruit kzings (which were served in hollowed-out bladefruit; Dayna had drunk three, and then eaten their containers before returning to her destruction of the appetizer menu). “This is so cunning!” she oozed, looking at a half eaten strip of bacon. “It’s bacon, but it tastes like oranges! Sweet bacon! Who’d have thought of such a thing! And such an enormous menu! I’ve never seen such a place! I simply must come back and try all these wonderful things, next time I am here!”

Ogre, thought Bek, weary and yet still kind of awed. This is not a human. This is an ogre. A tiny ogre. Perhaps a teenage ogre. Or perhaps the Magician turned one into a human, to see what would happen. This is not a human. I’m amazed she didn’t eat the little umbrellas that come on the drinks… She looked over towards the foyer. The ogre Urluh sat in her greeter’s spot, behind the podium. She was craning her neck to see into the taproom, and even she looked impressed, to see Dayna tucking away drink and fruit and appetizers, all with dainty table manners, cheerful politeness, and no hint of desperation. Just an appetite that makes a bottomless pit look indifferent…

And in time, the mugs were empty, and the fruit kzings were gone (as were their cups). The soup bowl was cleaned, the baskets of chips and strips and bacon held scant crumbs, the cups of dipping sauce long empty, and Dayna sat back and smiled a great beaming smile of satisfaction. “Girls,” she said, “I am more than satisfied with your service. I’m afraid I’ve rather worn you two out.”

“Not at all,” said Del, a little weakly. “It’s been fun.”

“Oh, it has,” said Dayna. “It has been an utter delight, and I have the two of you to thank for it. I’ve decided I’m going to stay another day or two.”

Bek and Del’s faces froze. Both struggled to hide their expressions, but Del’s slit pupils narrowed, noticeably.

Dayna, oblivious, rattled on. “There is just so much here! So much to see, to do, to taste, to experience! Never in all my days have I enjoyed myself so much! But we contracted for a night and a day, and I’m in danger of running over that.” She sat up, and dipped her hand into her shoulder bag again, and came out with two more gold coins, and put them on the table. “I know you’re paid already, but you’ve both been so sweet, so kind. We’re going to call that a tip for you. Go ahead and finish your lunch, and we’ll call it good, is that all right?”

Both goblins relaxed, noticeably. Del reached out and took one of the coins. “You’re very generous,” she said. “I hate to just abandon you here like this—”

“Oh, you’re not!” said Dayna, still smiling. “A contract is a contract, and you two lived up to every inch of it. You go ahead and take your money, finish your meal, and go home and relax. Buy something nice for yourselves, and remember me fondly! I think I’m going back to the Frog Pond, myself. I might have eaten and drunk more than is comfortable. Overindulged. Perhaps tomorrow, I’ll come back out to see the sights and talk to people some more, but I’m afraid I’m going to be rather dull today. You two go on your way. You did your job, and then some.”

Del opened her mouth to speak again, but Bek spoke first, reaching out and taking the other coin. “I’m glad you’re having a good time,” she said. “And you’ve been a delight, as well! I wish all tourists were as fine and generous as you’ve been!”

As Bek spoke, the door in the foyer opened, and the daylight spilled in, and Bek saw Dayna’s golden-brown eyes shift from Bek’s face to the room behind Bek, where the door was… and Dayna’s eyes grew wide. “Oh,” said Dayna. “OH!”

**************************************************

One minute earlier:

In the taproom at one end of the bar, there sat two constables. The goblin woman was Rayle. The human man was Barris. The two had retired to the House for drinks and a bite to eat, their helmets and brassards off. And Rayle looked irritatedly at Barris. “We’re off duty, toorih,” she said. “And you’re acting like someone put your copper back in gear.”

Barris stared into the mirror behind the bar. “Looking over the new tourists,” he said. “Ever since that Randish ruckus, I keep thinking about how the Randish know where the Academy is, now. I can’t get it out of my head that everyone I’ve never seen before is a Randish spy. Or a fogman. Or someone sent to bitch up our day in some way or other.”

“What about the new tourists bothers you?” said Rayle. “The big lady seems to be drawing attention. A spy, then?”

“Somehow,” said Barris, “I don’t think a spy would be quite so big and orange and noticeable. Spies are all about blending in, avoiding notice. And the kid over there with Vekki… well, I’ve seen that starstruck look before. He’s no spy. He’s a tourist. I’m more interested in that one fellow over there,” he added, pointing in the mirror at the back corner of the room, behind him. “The one by himself. I checked on him. Name’s Penrod.”

“It’s coming up on noon, and he doesn’t have a Union Girl hanging on him,” said Rayle, nodding. “Tourists generally aren’t solitary. They want to talk to people or fuck a goblin girl. Unless he’s a road agent.”

“He got here yesterday,” said Barris. “But he hasn’t bought anything that I’ve seen, other than meals and drinks. A road agent would be up to his ears in packages of witchlights and firelighters and magical stuff by now, to sell back east. This one just keeps to himself… and buys people beers… and asks questions.”

“Mmm,” said Rayle, nodding. “A spy would act like that. But… well… the big orange haired lady could still be a spy, couldn’t she? I mean, just because she stands out in a crowd doesn’t mean much. Seems like a good spy wouldn’t look or act like a spy, don’t you think?”

About then, the big orange-haired woman spoke. “Oh,” she said. “OH.” And then, she stood up.

**********************************************

Five minutes earlier:

The Old South Road was just west of Refuge. It connected with the South River Road, which ran east to west. It crossed the river, but then degenerated into a dirt trail. But south of Refuge, its ancient paving remained relatively intact. It ran south, right past the House of Orange Lights on its way into lands lost to memory. And on it, at the moment, walked a little goblin woman with golden hair, who held hands with a nine-foot ogre. She had to reach up to do it.

The ogre was quite obviously an ogre, by way of sheer size if nothing else. He had tusks protruding from his great lower lip. He had skin the color of a terra cotta flowerpot. He was beardless, and his well-trimmed hair was copper colored. He wore only what appeared to be a blanket, wrapped around his nethers. And he walked hesitantly, keeping his feet directly beneath him, taking very short steps. He had been doing this since leaving the Mushroom Field, north of Refuge, where the Magicians lived.

Lina looked up at the enormous ogre. For all that he was plainly an ogre, it was striking how much he still looked like Drin. “Are you afraid we’re going to get somewhere?” said Lina, lightly. “Your legs are near as long as I am tall. You could just pick me up and carry me to the House in the time it took me to say that.”

“I will not do that, yet,” said Drin, in a voice an octave deeper than it had been. “This is a very big departure for me, Lina. You’re used to switching back and forth from human to goblin. The Magicians have got to the point where they practice on you. You don’t stumble. You know exactly how long your arms and legs are, no matter what you are. But I’ve never had my shape changed before. I’m twice as tall and more as I should be. It feels like I’m walking on very tall stilts. And I’m frightened half to death that I’m going to fall down.” He looked down. “And down is a very long way from up here.”

“I’m sorry,” said Lina, still holding onto Drin’s enormous thumb. “I’ve been an ogre before, too. And yes, it’s a big change.” She looked a little chagrined, but her smile didn’t fade. “About the time you’re feeling confident with your center of gravity and balance, you’re likely to turn goblin again. But your pecker…” Lina’s smile widened, and she glanced at Drin’s crotch, and licked her lips. “I’m looking forward to that, now. New toy!”

“I am having second thoughts about that as well,” said Drin. “Normally, I am delighted to unleash ravishments upon my beautiful Lina. Now I’m afraid I’m going to hurt you accidentally. I am far stronger now than I was, and decidedly unused to it.”

“I’ll be human before we try it,” said Lina, sunnily. “I don’t think I’d want to try that cock while I’m still goblin. But it’ll be easy! All you have to do is lie down and let me do all the work!”

“Mmm,” said Drin. “After we find a kessalek big enough to lie on. We might have to try the stable hayloft. Or something.”

“Pick me up,” said Lina, giggling. “Carry your eager, horny, helpless prize across the threshold!”

Drin stopped. He looked at Lina. He carefully bent over, and swung his hand ponderously behind her. Lina happily sat in his great palm, and he lifted her, effortlessly, off the ground, and held her gently in his arms. She snuggled happily into his great, broad chest. “All right,” he said. “I’m going to try bigger steps. But don’t be surprised if I throw you, suddenly.”

Lina looked up. “Why would you do that?”

“Because if I stumble,” said Drin, “I don’t want to fall on you.”

***************************************************

In a short time that felt longer, Drin and Lina reached the south door of the House of Orange Lights. “Erm,” said Drin. The doorway was not quite two feet shorter than he was.

Lina, still cradled in Drin’s left arm, giggled. “Just do it the way Urluh does,” she said. “Get the handle with your fingers, and pull gently. Duck down low, and turn your shoulders sideways, and squeeze through. That’s how she does it.”

“Urluh’s been doing it so long, she doesn’t need to think about it,” grumbled Drin. “And I still see her strike her head on the lighting fixtures when she’s in a hurry. I begin to think I might have thought this through a little better.” But he bent, reached down, and hooked the door handle with a great finger, and tugged, and the door opened. Bending further, Drin carefully swung his head under the lintel, turned his shoulders sideways, and shuffled through the door, awkwardly, being careful not to bump Lina against the doorframe. Once he was inside, he straightened up. The ceiling was much too close to his head, but it was still several inches above him. And then he looked in front of him.

The foyer and much of the taproom ahead of him had gone dead silent. The patrons stared at him with eyes as big as eggs. Including Urluh, who sat at her podium with her mouth hanging open. “…Drin?” she said, in a stunned voice.

Lina laughed. “Say hello to Drin the Ogre, everyone!” she sang. “He’ll be here all week!”

Drin was an extrovert by nature. He almost never wore a shirt. He was a shameless flirt, a social butterfly, a goblin with an easygoing nature and pleasant, charismatic demeanor. Drin got along with everyone. He wasn’t used to feeling self-conscious. He twisted his face into what he hoped was a winning smile. “Hello, everyone,” he said, in a voice like the lowest note on a pipe organ.

Everyone stared back at him. Several people in the taproom turned to see what was going on. And in the silence, a woman’s voice said, “Oh. OH.” At a table near the bar, a red-headed human woman slowly slid her chair back and stood up, her face the very picture of wonder. Drin recognized her table companions as Bek and Del, two goblins from Goblin Town. The woman stepped around the table and approached, gliding through the archway between the taproom and foyer, until she was close enough to reach out and touch.

“Oh,” she said, again. She didn’t look frightened. She looked fascinated. And amazed. And, Drin recognized, more than a little lustful. It took Drin a moment to register the woman’s size; she stood half a foot taller than any other woman in the room. She was still three feet shorter than he was.

Bek and Del looked at each other, and back at the scene at the front door in utter confusion. It was the first time either had ever seen Dayna display anything other than cheerful confidence and stellar enthusiasm. Not that her enthusiasm was lacking, at the moment.

“Oh,” said Dayna. “Do … do you work here? Oh, I must have you. Are you for rent? Like the Union Girls?” Dayna suddenly became aware of the little goblin woman cradled in Drin’s left arm and hand. “Oh, damn,” she said, looking at Lina. “Did I just mess things up? I’m being rude. Is he yours? I’m so sorry! But…” Dayna’s eyes traveled across the expanse of Drin’s great chest, up his chiseled chin and into his great green eyes. Her own golden brown eyes were wide indeed, her mouth open, her expression bathed in awe.

Lina licked her lips, and looked up at Drin, whose own expression was halfway between an attempted smile and utter confusion, with a hint of “trapped animal” thrown in.

Lina grinned a great goblin grin, and tenderly stroked Drin’s chest with her fingernails. “So much for loss of income, delsa-baby,” she said, in a deeply smug tone.

*********************************************

Five minutes later:

Conversation had begun to cautiously murmur through the House of Orange Lights again, punctuated by the creak… creak… creak… of an ogre carefully climbing the stairs in the foyer, accompanied by a very touchy-feely human woman. At the bar, Lina had taken a seat, and was giggling furiously, much to the confusion of Rayle and Barris.

“What just happened?” said Barris.

Lina laughed, and laughed some more. “I want to never forget that moment,” she giggled. “Drin, finally taken off balance. By a woman!” She dissolved in laughing hysteria, clutching her sides.

“That … was Drin. Wasn’t it?” said Rayle. “Been out to see the Magicians, has he?”

Lina giggled furiously. “I’ll tell you,” she gasped. “All about it. When I can quit laughing.”

Barris swiveled his head back towards Rayle. “So,” he said. “Still think the redhead woman’s a spy?”

Rayle stared around Lina and Barris, at the great staircase in the foyer. “No,” she said. “No sane spy would do something like that in public. But I’ve been here ever since the Goblin War, and I will tell you right now: that woman’s the touristiest tourist who ever touristed!”

**********************************************

Art by DrunkenGobbo: https://www.newgrounds.com/dump/draw/7ef8a0b834840e52541d017fa715854d

Back to the previous installment: https://www.reddit.com/r/GoblinGirls/comments/1txt3kt/goblin_epiphanies_6_meanwhile_at_the_house_of/

Ahead to the next chapter! TBA

The House of Orange Lights was not a place for early risers.

Of all the staff, the goblin Eddro usually went to bed the earliest, and usually rose after sunrise and prepared breakfast. One by one, the other members of the Clan of the Orange Lights would come downstairs, drawn by the smell of bacon, eggs, sausage, wheatcakes, and black tea. Oddly, it was usually a human who came down first – the swarthy-skinned man Fatoon, or the sprightly woman Dina, usually followed by the goblin man Drin and his lover Lina the Golden (who was either a human or a goblin, depending on her whim). Following them would come a number of others, human, goblin, one she-orc, and the ogre woman Urluh, who usually came in with her husband, the human Addan, the Knight of the Orange Lights, and ostensibly the owner of the place. But no one believed that, least of all Addan.

One by one, the staff filed downstairs, filled their plates, and settled down to breakfast. It was after Eddro finally joined them that Fatoon stood. “Clanmates,” he said, “while we are all here, I have a decision to set before the clan.”

“The orc,” said the goblin woman Hishni, with a sour look.

“His name is Hawk,” said Fatoon. “Drin spoke with him yesterday, as did I. He has applied for employment here. Not sanctuary – he has a comfortable home not far from here – but he craves conversation and companionship, and finds the House to be a congenial place. He has offered to perform whatever tasks we set before him—”

“Hard no,” said Hishni.

“Hells, no,” said the goblin woman Plumi, almost at the same time.

“—in exchange for fair wages,” continued Fatoon smoothly. “But I set the decision before the clan. Discussion?”

“He’s actually kind of pretty, for an orc,” said Venna, a thirtyish human woman. “I think maybe with some training, he might have possibilities for the tourists, the ones who swing that way. If he’s inclined.”

“He’s a fucking himbo,” said Dina, who sat naked in her chair, a tea towel under her behind, as was her habit. “Depending on his style, he might have potential. And even if he doesn’t want that, there’s still work he can do.”

“I’m not sure about that,” said the human man Jord. “Orcs have a bad reputation. Sure, Prairie Chicken is doing a lot to redeem that, but what you see as attractive, I’m inclined to think some people might think of as scary. Are we going to get a lot of lady tourists out here who want to fuck a he-orc?”

“There is truth in that,” said the House’s sole she-orc, Prairie Chicken. She put her fork down. “I hate to say this, but just looking at him gave me the williams. He is well groomed and well spoken, and certainly peaceful. But… he is a he-orc. And a lifetime’s experience with he-orcs has left me with bad feelings for he-orcs.”

“I think you mean the willies, PC,” said the goblin woman Dralla. “But otherwise, I agree with you. None of you Goblin Town people ever had to deal with orcs on the plains. Hishni, Plumi, Aloi and I have. I mean, I don’t have anything personal against THIS one, but being hunted for slave duty or being eaten is a thing that sticks with you.”

“To look at this orc,” said Aloi, “reminds me of half a dozen times the tribe had to withdraw into the treeline, into the deep forest, because there were orcs near. Wild orcs are cruelty given flesh, fear given form. The last thing I want is to invite a he-orc into my home.”

“That hardly seems fair,” said Lina. “I mean, we took Prairie Chicken in, and she’s done fine. She pulls her own weight. She even gets human customers, more each season. He came in, acted civilized, paid for what he ate and drank like anyone else. He minded his manners. Surely we could at least give him a chance.”

“I agree with Lina,” said Drin, quietly. “We are the House of Orange Lights. We exist to teach, to comfort, and to support those in need, in addition to everything else we do. He is one in need. Is this where we draw the line? ‘No He-Orcs Allowed?’ If he’d come in here rampaging, that would be one thing, but I had to order his dinner because no one would approach his table. It seems to me to be a violation of the principles we founded the House upon.”

“You’re not wrong, Drin,” said Choovi. “But you’re also forgetting it wasn’t so long ago that we couldn’t afford principles. We’re Fire Clan. We were everyone’s favorite targets. I remember taking months, here, before I really felt safe. I didn’t really start to feel safe until after we drove off those who tried to attack the House, that first time.” She gestured across the table at Hishni, Plumi, Aloi, and Prairie Chicken. “Should we now throw away their sense of safety for the sake of one he-orc? Who already has his own house? I mean, we aren’t the only place in New Ilrea where he can go buy dinner and try to make friends.”

“Point taken,” said Drin. “Your words are not wrong. I’m just saying that the point of principles is that you don’t discard them when they become inconvenient.”

“And Choovi, I think, is saying,” said the goblin woman Kelda, “that Hawk has need… but he’s far from desperate. He’s not at the end of his rope. He is not at risk of death or despair. He wants to be social and make friends. That is good. But I’m not prepared to trade my clanmates’ peace of mind for his jolly day out.”

“I agree with both of you,” said Kimki, suddenly. “I mean, he’s cute, even by my standards. I never dreamed I’d say that about a male orc. He seems polite enough. I was ready to give him a chance… but not at my tribemates’ expense. I have to say no.”

Borm sighed. “Drin is right,” he said. “We’re all about our higher motives here. But… how badly does this orc need us? It’s not like there aren’t plenty of other places that might hire a strong worker. How about you, Osric?”

The slender, redheaded human man looked up blearily from his black tea and plate of eggs. “Urm,” he said. “I have no idea. I’d never seen an orc before Prairie Chicken. I’m having to take everyone’s word for it. I abstain.”

“I can’t see him cutting his own throat because we don’t give him a job,” said Eddro, uncertainly. “As opposed to the Risen Suns, who came to us so they could stop being shit on by their tribe. Or Lina, who was completely out of options. First and foremost, we are a safe place. If we give this orc a place among us, he has safety he does not need… and we take it away from those who live among us.”

Addan shook his head in frustration. “Well, hells,” he said. “I was all ready to accept him with open arms… but not at the cost of upsetting those already here. I abstain. Urluh?”

The great blonde ogre woman frowned. “I … am split two ways,” she said. “I wouldn’t worry about one he-orc. I could take him, easy enough, if he got shirty. On the other hand, I am pregnant… and I feel my temper. It gets shaky from time to time. And I can’t stop thinking about having my baby in the same house with a he-orc. Who… agreed… does not really NEED us.”

“I’m right there with Aloi,” said Skali. “I feel safe. I would not, with a he-orc running loose in the house. I say no.”

There was a pause. “Has everyone spoken?” said Fatoon. “Anyone have anything else to add?” No one spoke. “Very well. Hands in favor?”

A few hands went up.

“Hands opposed?”

Several more went up.

“Then it is decided,” said Fatoon. “When Hawk returns, I will tell him we have no job for him. Perhaps then, we will see how trustworthy he might have been.”

With murmurs and nods, the Clan of the Orange Lights returned to their tea and breakfast, their conversation a bit more subdued than it had been.

“Don’t be glum,” said Lina, looking at Drin, sitting next to her. She leaned her head on his shoulder.

“My conscience is clear,” said Drin. “I voted my principles. And I can’t argue with those who voted against me. I just wish we could have done more for him, is all. We have learned much from Prairie Chicken. Who knows what Hawk might have brought for us?”

“What’s done is done,” said Lina, still leaning her head on Drin’s shoulder. “To change the subject, I’ve thought of a thing you might do for me. If you’re interested.”

“So early in the morning?” said Drin, brightening. “Well, let it not be said I shirked my duty—”

“Not that,” laughed Lina. “But it’s related. You remember what happened in the Waterfall Room last night?”

“Of course,” said Drin. “Hatty and Runk rented the room for three half-hours. I will admit I was tempted to climb the roof and peek through the skylight. I manfully resisted.”

“And I was busy,” said Lina. “But I thought about them. Those two are so happy together. Little Hatty Plum and Runk the Ogre. Who’d have thought?”

“Little Addan and Urluh the Ogre aren’t doing so badly,” mumbled Addan through a mouthful of sausage. Urluh grinned a tusked grin, and patted her belly.

“Yeah,” said Lina. She fixed Addan with a speculative look, and her eyes flicked to Urluh. “Does the height difference between you two … make things … interesting?”

Addan blinked. Urluh smiled. “We haven’t had any trouble with it,” she said. “We learned many ways of sex here. Some, the size difference makes more interesting!”

Addan looked embarrassed. “I’d think it’d be much the same with you,” he said. “You’re a foot and a half taller than Drin, when you’re human.”

“Well, that’s true,” said Lina, grinning slyly. “But Hatty and Runk make me sort of think. Drin, you ever think of becomin’ a human? The Magicians would do it in a heartbeat, for you.”

Drin looked up suddenly from his breakfast. “Me?” he said. “A human?”

“Sure!” said Lina. She sighed, blissfully. “I mean… I don’t normally dwell on other people’s sex lives, but yesterday, I got it into my head about little bitty Hatty – she’s barely five feet – and what it must be like, sexin’ it up with Runk, who’s near NINE feet, and what he must feel like when he—”

Addan looked pained. Drin looked boggled. Urluh grinned. “I think about that, too,” said Urluh. “Wild he-ogres aren’t much on technique. But I think Hatty might have taught him things. Otherwise, they wouldn’t need an hour and a half in the Waterfall Room.”

“And that got me to thinkin’,” said Lina, her gaze straying back to Drin, “what it might be like… if Drin was a human… when I’m a goblin… y’know? I was talkin’ with Timanestra last week, about when she became a goblin and rode her Parry, and she was tellin’ me that the size difference REALLY makes a DIFFERENCE, specially with someone you’re already USED to…”

“Mmm,” said Drin. He crunched a bit of bacon, and looked thoughtful. “It might be an interesting experience, I admit. But for two factors. One, if I became human, I’d be stuck like that for three to five weeks. I would think that might impact my services here at the House. Secondly, I estimate that you might have another week in goblin form before you revert to human. And then… well, we’d both be human.”

“Mmmn,” said Lina. “That’s true. Hadn’t thought of that.” She frowned, and then brightened. “But what if I was human… and you became an ogre?”

Drin did a double take again. “Wait, what?”

“Yeah!” said Lina, her eyes aglow. “The Magicians have done it before. I’ve been an ogre, twice! And the stretch wears off in only two or three days! You’d be a goblin again, you’d hardly lose any business, and we’d get a wild new experience! What do you think?”

Addan stared into space, blinking. Urluh rolled her eyes in thought. “You know,” she said, “you might not even have to lose any business. There’s plenty of tourists who might be interested in a sexy ogre male they could trust to be gentle… and Lina would have her curiosity satisfied…”

Drin realized that conversation the length of the breakfast table had died completely. He looked down the table. The entire Clan of the Orange Lights was staring at him. Even Prairie Chicken. Who was grinning.

“Uh,” said Drin.

************************************************

Hours passed. In the midmorning, the House opened for business, and the customers came, as they always did. By not long before lunch, the House was doing quite well. And at one table, a man, a woman, and a little hobgoblin sat, and while the hobgoblin burbled, a serious conversation was taking place.

************************************************

“I don’t know that I’m understandin’ what you mean, delsa,” said Ollie, at their table in the taproom. “I mean… I dunno. Are you sayin’ you feel like … we made a mistake? Goin’ down the path we did?”

Bekk looked up at her husband and bounced the toddler on her knee. “No, baby,” she said. “I’ve … shit, I don’t know. I love you. I want you. I have a beautiful baby, all the money I ever wanted, and the best husband I could ask for.”

“Shit,” said little Windom, perfectly. “I dunno.”

Ollie closed his eyes. Bekk stifled a grin.

“I’m … just…” said Bekk, a little uncertainly, “I feel wrong. Off. Frustrated. And … I don’t know how to describe it. I just keep thinking about how things were back when we first got together.”

“When we first got together,” said Ollie. “I was a grocer’s boy, and you were sellin’ sausages on a street corner in a little tiny top with great big titties.”

“Greh big diddies,” said little Windom. Ollie closed his eyes again.

Bekk sighed. “And maybe that’s it,” said Bekk. “You say my body bounced back after having Windom. You don’t make me feel any less beautiful. Any less wanted or appreciated. And I love you, and I love Windom. I’m … just … down, is all. Like I’m too stretched out, and I keep thinking about three years ago like it was forever ago.”

“It kind of makes sense,” said Ollie. “Three years ago, I was a grocer’s boy. Biggest thing I had to worry about was gettin’ the sums right on the balance sheets at Dad’s store. Now, I deal with stuff that affects the whole barony. And Marzenie as a whole, sometimes. It’s natural to feel a little worn down. Fact is, if that’s what you mean, I’m feelin’ it, too, kinda.”

“Worn down,” said Bekk, looking up at Ollie. “Yeah. That’s kind of it, really. Like I’ve been riding a wagon in the same ruts for too long, and my butt’s sore from sitting too long…”

“Buttsore,” said Windom.

“Y’ever think about a vacation?” said Ollie. “We could go somewhere. Leave responsibilities behind for a while. Just worry about each other, for a change.”

“Teej suggested something like that,” said Bekk. “I’m just… well, that feels wrong, too. I’m a goblin. We don’t do vacations. Or we don’t eat. Babies don’t get taken care of. Things don’t get done!”

“And you and I have enough money that nobody’s gonna miss any meals,” said Ollie. “Wanna will take care of Windom. Or Teej will. Or, hell, the Magicians, even. We could take a week or two, go someplace with no worries or cares, and see a little bit of the world, we could. If you’re willin’.”

“Go somewhere?” said Bekk, looking around the taproom. “Like where?”

“Anywhere you want,” said Ollie. “We could visit Orc’s Drift, out on the west coast. I hear they got a whole town out there now.”

Bekk blinked. “A whole town full of orcs,” she said. “I think that might be a little too different for my taste.”

“So we do the other coast,” said Ollie. “Visit Burzeg Morza. Big seacoast town. Never been there. Or Capitol, even; it’d be quicker, less travel time.”

“Capitol,” said Bekk. “The big city where the King lives.” Bekk looked a little interested. “And you’ve been there.”

“Sure,” said Ollie. “Started goin’ there after the Gates were open, on Baronial business. There’s a load of things there I’d love to show you.”

“And there wouldn’t be a problem with me being a goblin?”

“Pfffft,” said Ollie. “Capitol’s where all the goblin stuff the road agents buy goes FIRST. Himikars, witchlights, Spice Goblin stuff, Flor’s dresses and skirts… hell, an actual goblin would be a sensation. The Baron’s stepdaughter, a nob goblin. The King himself might want to give you a reception!”

Bekk drew back a little. “Seriously?”

“Sure!” said Ollie. “I mean, you two met that one time already, but I bet he’d want to present you to court! Make an event out of it, likely. All things goblin go over real well with the nobs.”

Bekk looked thoughtful. “I’d need some new clothes,” she said. “Something suitable for court.”

“So we talk to Wanna,” said Ollie. “Your mother knows about Court fashions, and she wouldn’t steer you wrong. You’d be the belle of the ball!”

Bekk frowned. “Mother wouldn’t want me showing cleavage, though. No big titties—”

“Big TIDDIES!” crowed little Windom.

Ollie and Bekk looked at Windom simultaneously. And then, both of them started to laugh.

********************************************

Two tables away, a very short, broad-shouldered woman looked up at the man sitting next to her. “Why did you want to change clothes before you came?” Boko said, picking up her beer. “You looked very distinguished.”

“Because he doesn’t like to advertise he’s a wizard when he’s in Refuge,” said Timanestra, who was back in human form. She sipped at a glass of mead. “Neither do I. Tourists.”

Parry made a face. “Used to be, people were afraid of wizards in these parts,” he said. “Nowadays, tourists see a tall pointy hat and want you to stop and do a trick to amuse them. And terrorizing them with pyrotechnics just encourages others. It’s easiest to just go incognito.”

Sitting on Parry’s other side, Anise looked cheerfully around the room. She, too, was back in human form for the visit. “It occurs to me for the first time,” she said, “that I could just ask a redheaded goblin man to come upstairs with me and fuck me, couldn’t I?”

Tim smiled. “You’d want to make sure you could pay him,” she said. “Or pick one who’s not a redhead. He might do it for free. Of course, then, you’d need to pay for the room. That’s one of the things this place is known for.”

Parry rolled his eyes. “Our sweet little Anise,” he said, brokenly. “We’ve gone and corrupted her with my wizardry and your goblinry, Tim. Now she’ll screw anything that moves.”

“Kind of,” giggled Anise. “Here, I don’t have to be an uptight little chambermaid. I can go wild if I want. And it occurs to me that I’ve had sex as a goblin… and with Tim, when she was a goblin… but I’ve never tried a goblin man. And there do seem to be more than a few here.”

“Borm will,” said Tim, gesturing towards the bartender, a thick-muscled red-haired goblin. “He’s bartending right now, but he might switch out with someone, if you asked. Or Eddro. He’s probably in the kitchen now. And then there’s Drin. He’s a pretty one, and his skill at pleasuring is legendary, but we might want to save him for Boko.” She looked at Boko. “Assuming you haven’t changed your mind again.”

Boko said nothing and stared at her mug.

“Boko?” said Anise.

“I heard you,” said Boko, miserably. “I am still building up my courage.”

“You’re maybe building up too much expectation,” said Tim. “It’s really better when you’re relaxed. Maybe get a few more drinks in you. Or not. You don’t have to do this, you know.”

“Not the courage for the sex,” said Boko. “The courage for the next part of my life.”

“Next part of your life?” said Anise. “It’s just sex.”

“No,” said Boko. “Anise, you don’t … get it. You don’t. You are a human. And I know you were raised to work in a palace.” Boko fixed Anise with piercing eyes.  “You have had the way of the servant trained into you. The knowing what to do and say in any given circumstance, yes?”

“Well, yes,” said Anise. “It’s what the nobs expect. It’s part of the job.”

“Yes,” said Boko, still staring at Anise. “But you are human. The job is only when you are working. And not even that,” she added, waving her mug at Parry. “Your master does not demand the servant behavior of you. You are free, even when you are working.”

“Well, not completely,” said Anise. “We do have to keep up appearances when members of the court are watching.”

“Appearances,” said Boko. “That is perfectly it. Appearances. An act, a show. A way of behavior that is not really you. You love to have Parry as your master because he understands this. You can be who you are with him and his Timanestra. Not to worry about appearances. And they like that. And that is how it is different for me.”

“Well, yeah,” said Anise. “Like you said that we were your friends – what was the word? The people you don’t have to be a dwarf with? Like that.”

“Yes,” said Boko. “Like that.” Abruptly Boko upended and drained the mug, and put it down on the table. “The people I don’t have to be a dwarf with. Anise, that is not a thing the dwarves, the dvairg, do. At all.” She looked up and around the room. “In my upbringing, I was trained in all the ways of the dvairg. ALL the ways. And it is a far more … intensive thing… than the human upbringing, I think. With you… I can quit being a dwarf. For a while. And yet, I hear my nana’s voice in my head, when I do.” She fixed Anise with her gaze. “For a dvairg to drop the appearances… even with other dvairg… is … like … for you to ignore your toilet training, right here in the middle of the tap-room.”

Anise blinked, and recoiled a little. “Oh,” she said. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” said Boko. She waved her mug at the bartender. At the bar, the goblin Borm pointed at her and did a thumbs-up, and began to fill another mug. “Dvairg are a very serious people. In all ways,” Boko continued.  “You talk about how it would be fun to fuck the bartender, but you do not strip naked and fling yourself on the bar.”

“And… you’re feeling that seriousness,” said Tim. “That’s what’s holding you back.”

“Yes,” said Boko. The goblin woman Choovi drifted by the table, and dropped off Boko’s mug, and she took a deep drink. “In less than half a year, I have had many changes. I lived alone under Raludon for decades after my clan died, tending a library that I thought no one would ever see. Because I am dvairg. Because it was my duty. Even when I knew it was futile. For years, I died a little, every day. And when Slunkbolter and the goblins and orcs found me, suddenly, I was launched face first into a whole new world. One that I was not trained for. One for which I had no answers, no appearances.” Boko rolled her eyes, and took another drink. “But I coped. I became an archivist for the King. I have high status and much respect. But I also represent the face of the dvairg for your kingdom. And I would rather die than reflect shame on my people.” She tilted her head back, and looked at the ceiling. “But I would also really, really like to fuck someone!”

“Boko, we could just go back to the palace,” said Tim, gently. “We could set something up for you, just the four of us. The three of us do it all the time. If it would make you feel more comfortable, more relaxed about it.”

“Believe it or not, I have thought about that,” said Boko. “I envy the closeness the three of you have made, your willingness to try new things, to embrace change, to be human or goblin and fuck like joyful savages. To find pleasure in each other. Like a family.” She took another deep drink from her mug. “But I fear that. What if it doesn’t work? What if it is awkward, or wrong, causes shame or bad feelings? And then I have poisoned my friendship with my closest human friends…”

“You really are reading way too much into this,” said Tim, softly. “It makes me wonder what a dwarven upbringing is like.”

“It prepares you for everything,” said Boko, drinking again. “Everything. Except spending more than half your life alone in a hole in the ground. And then flinging yourself into a world of air and light and goblins and men and orcs and beer and sex.” She looked at her mug. “And one day, I will return to the dvairg, and I will be what I am supposed to be. And before that, I want to live like a human does. Even if I have to drink a whole barrel of beer to get loose enough to do it.”

“Might want to switch to that Goblin Dreams brandy stuff,” said Anise. “It’s stronger than what you’re drinking.”

Tim looked around. “I wonder where Drin is?” she said. “This is the sort of thing he specializes in. Making people relax, loosen up, making them feel comfortable. Banishing shame, and fear. But I haven’t seen him since we walked in…”

****************************************************

Four tables away, in the northeast corner of the taproom, Penrod sat alone in a booth with a beer and a basket of fried vegetables. He was halfway through the deep-fried treats. He had learned what was what, and selected a breaded mushroom, and dipped it in one of the creamy sauces, and ate it with some relish, and washed it down with a swig of beer.

I’m going to miss this place, he thought. But after the job, I won’t dare show my face around here. Better enjoy it while I can.

He scanned the room for the umpteenth time. He’d spoke to a great many people since his arrival in Refuge. The reports seemed more or less accurate. No one seemed to know that Fistid Wackford was, in fact, a man named Ramsey Grimwald, a former scribe from Oxton, now a layabout and more or less a goblin living in Goblin Town, for all that he was human. Hells, not all that many people knew who Ramsey Grimwald was; only the goblins seemed to have much idea. The goblins who did know him spoke well of him, though. “He is a fine human!” the goblin Enik had said. “He has married Keya the Breakfast Woman. She was a she-goblin with no man and many children, but Ramsey came and made her world full of sunshine and laughter. He loves her and is a great father to her children. All fathers should be as fine as Ramsey!”

Kind of hate to break up such a happy family, Penrod thought. But two thousand gold crowns would go far to soothe Penrod’s rudimentary conscience. He ate another breaded nugget – an onion chunk, this time – and looked around the room. He’d never seen this sort of variety of people in any bar in his life. There were goblins. There were humans. He’d seen an orc woman wander through the stage room, at one point. The bouncer was an enormous blonde ogress in a cocktail dress, of all things. Penrod wouldn’t have been surprised if a group of elves wandered in, or if a pixie fairy waitress flew over and offered to freshen his drink.

I am going to miss this place, Penrod thought. House o’ Orange Lights. I see what they mean. This place is magic.

*******************************************

This chapter is NOT complete; rather than try to shoehorn it all in, I decided to go ahead and post the first half. Chapter 7, "Meanwhile, STILL at the House of Orange Lights" will go up sometime in the next day or so. I just hated to make people wait, after that last long gap.

Art by Greeny: https://www.newgrounds.com/dump/draw/393ef2d8e9f431f5d817a2e14bbce10b

Back to the previous chapter! https://www.reddit.com/r/GoblinGirls/comments/1tw10qj/goblin_epiphanies_5_do_not_adjust_your_set_art_by/

Ahead to the next installment! https://www.reddit.com/r/GoblinGirls/comments/1ty0deh/goblin_epiphanies_7_meanwhile_still_at_the_house/

And remember: ALL Goblin Chronicles stories, including those currently under construction, like this one, can be found on Archive Of Our Own, at this handy link:
https://archiveofourown.org/series/3965887

FROM THE NOTEBOOKS OF GILDER SLEEVE, tentatively titled Love Slave of the Savage She-Goblins Of The West:

From that moment forward, my time of bondage beneath the she-goblins… changed.

The work was no more or less hard. It hadn’t been that hard to begin with. The army was harder work. But around me, my environment softened, and grew … different.

Teej became less of a taskmaster, less of a jailer. She talked to me more often, and less about tasks, jobs, and things to be done around the Goblin Pie. She spoke of her human husband, and of their son, Bull, and of her life in Goblin Town and in Refuge. She talked about meeting Jon, and of their strange courtship, and the wild, sweet love they shared.

Bekk, ever friendly, talked about her own human husband, Ollie, and how the Baron’s marriage to Bekk’s mother had turned her life upside down. She talked about how she’d been cheerfully sought and pursued by every hunter in the tribe at one point or another, and how human ways and human money and human trade had rearranged her life, even before she’d married her human man. She talked about how sometimes that change made her feel strange, disconnected. How sometimes, she wished she could go back to being a sexy bouncy little goblin treat, pursued by interested young men, as opposed to a business owner, a mother, a person of importance and responsibility.

Strangely, I felt sympathy for her. I’ve had MY life turned upside down through no fault of my own. More than once. And seldom for the better.

And then… there was Grola.

Grola. A harsh name. An unhuman name. Guttural, growling sound. Or at least I thought at first. But over time, as I came to know the name’s owner, it ceased to be a sound, and came to mean its owner. A sweet, unassuming girl. Not human. But a girl, a woman, a person. And not a bad one. A taskmaster who became my friend. And more than friend. I remember my first nights in Marzenie, in a dungeon cell beneath Morr-Hallister, and later on a pallet in the back room of the Goblin Pie, chained to a wall. I wonder now how I ever got through those nights. Well, not really. Mostly by repeating to myself, “It’s better than hanging. It’s better than beheading. It’s better than a damp stone cell.” And it was, and it is. With Grola.

Sweet, and green, and beautiful, with wild yellow eyes like a cat’s, and sharp front teeth. I was surprised to hear her say, once, that she is ugly, as goblins go. Or at least she thought so. She lacked Teej’s easy charm and confidence, and Bekk’s lovely round ass and enormous breasts and sexy demeanor. “I’m too skinny,” she said. “And I don’t curve enough in the curvy places, and I have a nose like a fucking bullbird.”

By the time she said this, I’d come to know many goblins. It had never occurred to me to think of Grola as ugly. What she thought of as skinny, I thought of as slender, willowy. Her nose? I’ve seen bigger and uglier on humans and goblins alike. I was struck, and a little hurt, to think that Grola saw herself as ugly. There was nothing ugly about her.

But I did worry. After that day the four of us spoke, and I stated my intentions, Grola was warmer towards me than ever. We spent that night in passionate caresses and furious engagement, her dear green lips against mine, awash in each others’ flesh and need, our breathing rushed, my body plunging into her willing, eager depths! But I worried.

Was this all some kind of deception? To draw me out, to change my loyalties? To seek information? I wondered that at first. But … no. Why spend months turning a common soldier’s head? I knew nothing of value to the Marzenian authorities. No, they fed me and cared for me as they would anyone else in my place. And Grola entered my embrace for her own reasons, not to worm into my confidence.

If it was a trick to win my loyalty, it was a damn good one. It was working. Working well enough that I found myself thinking about a life after this one, a life in Goblin Town, living a troll story with my sweet goblin princess and a poke full of gold and no one shouting at me about work or duty or the Right Thing To Do or the Proper Attitude. A life of my own, with my Grola.

What happens, then, if things change? If life in a hut in the forest doesn’t suit me? If, perhaps, my feelings about Grola change, when I have money and freedom? What if all of this just … doesn’t work?

Or … what if it does?

**********************************************

That evening, as the sun sank low in the west, the orc named Hawk sank into his comfortable chair in his cottage in the woods north of Refuge. On the little table to his right rested a glass jug of beer. He’d bought it at the House of Orange Lights on the way out. It had a label stuck on the side of it that showed a busty, smiling green-haired goblin girl who seemed about to tumble out of her tight top. She held a mug in one hand, and a bottle in the other. He couldn’t read the words on the label, but he’d been told they read Goblin Brew, Brewed In Goblin Town by Goblins!

It was very good beer. It had been a very good day.

Sitting in his chair as the shadows lengthened, his stomach full of good food and his head full of wild thoughts, Hawk felt good. He’d been out in this cottage alone for entirely too long. The Magicians had visited him from time to time. Sometimes, they brought their children, Sutha and Eren. Hawk enjoyed the children. Hobgoblins, part man and part goblin, a thing Hawk had never thought was possible. They were delightful. They saw Hawk as just another sort of person, a red one as opposed to a human or a goblin or an ogre. They were familiar with all three. They had no idea that they should fear orcs. They had no reason to. And sometimes, Harah and Zidrett came out to visit. “Love what you’ve done with the place!” Harah had laughed.

It was nice to have friends, visitors. But Hawk spent most of his time alone. Enough to realize that he couldn’t keep this up forever. Hawk had a house. But not a home. He wanted… people. A community, even. And over time, he’d found himself stir-crazy enough to finally lock up the cabin and set out for the House of Orange Lights. Why not? They apparently forbade violence on the premises. It’d be safe enough. Even for a he-orc. Wouldn’t it?

It had not started well. The human and goblin patrons had stared at him like a wild droolok had walked in and ordered a drink. Hawk had begun to think this had been a mistake. These people weren’t going to give him a chance, and it would take only one of them to start a riot—

--and then Drin, the shirtless goblin man, had walked up and spoken to him, and in seconds, things had changed completely. Everyone settled down. There had been food and beer, and it had been good. It had been even better to talk to Drin and the others. It had filled Hawk in ways that the steak and beer couldn’t reach. It had been exhilarating.

“The House prides itself on being a safe place,” Drin said. “For everyone. We’ve never hosted a he-orc before, but so long as you behave yourself, it is no different for you.”

Drin had said that so easily. Like they took it for granted. Humans, goblins, and an ogre! And a she-orc, even! And no fighting. Hawk had wanted to believe that, but to see it for himself had been a revelation. He looked at the jug of Goblin Brew, and reached over, and picked it up. Uncorking it, he took several deep swallows, and put it down again, and put the cork back in it.

“This is a wonderful place,” Hawk had said. “Might there be a place for me in it? A job?”

“A job?” Drin had said. “Employment?”

Hawk had regretted it as soon as he’d seen Drin’s face. But he’d spoken, so he pressed on. “Employment,” Hawk had said. “I am strong, and willing to work. I am willing to learn whatever job you might have for me.”

“Hm,” Drin had said. “To be honest, I don’t know that we are hiring at the moment. But when the Clan meets over breakfast, I could ask. Be aware, though, that the entire Clan must approve, and vote on any candidate for employment.”

“You would do that?”

“I would do that for anyone who asked,” Drin had said.

“I can ask no more,” Hawk had said. And the conversation had turned to other things, as some of the braver humans had come to the table, and asked to join them.

That was foolish of me, thought Hawk in the privacy of his home. Foolish. I was too excited. Too eager. But it was so good to speak with people, others, strangers, men, goblins! He looked at the jug of beer again. That is a lot of beer. If I drink it all, I will get drunk.

I was foolish. What use has the House of Orange Lights for an orc?

But what if they do? Is it wrong to hope?

After a moment, Hawk looked at the jug again. He picked it up, uncorked it again, and drank.

***********************************************

That evening, as the sun sank low in the west, the Tribe of the Owl was in a bit of a stir. It wasn’t MUCH of a stir, considering the entire tribe consisted of less than thirty goblins, but, still, their visitors from the Tribe of the Skunk had set off considerable discussion. They spoke the speech of goblins; the Tribe of the Owl did not permit the speech of men, or the mix of goblin and man-speech the folk of Goblin Town favored.

At the edge of the clearing, near old Tchim’s hut, the tribal council sat around Tchim’s fire, and finished off the second of two roasted chickens. As they ate, the tribe’s sole female councilor spoke. Her name was Emtag.

Emtag had got her position largely through a mix of persuasiveness and age. The latter was a sore point with Emtag, who claimed to hold less than forty summers, but it was well known to the entire tribe that she was closer to fifty. Which SIDE of fifty, now, was a question for the gods themselves; one would not get a straight answer from Emtag. It was suspected that she kept gray and white hairs at bay with the use of the humans’ writing-ink. This wasn’t a thing the Tribe of the Owl was supposed to do. The Tribe of the Owl were pure goblins, shunning the contamination of the humans of Refuge, their alien ways, their seductive goods. The Tribe of the Owl held to the Old Ways, the proper ways, the ways of their goblin forefathers, and their fathers before them. Perhaps those Goblin Town goblins were willing to buy into the strange unsavory human ways, but not the Tribe of the Owl!

For all that most of them had man-made metal knives, among other things. But this was not spoken of openly. The Tribe of the Owl was PURE, dammit, and shut your stupid mouth! But still, Emtag’s hair was straight, long, and black as midnight, if perhaps not as lustrous as it might once have been. And while the headman and councilors cleaned off the last of the chicken bones, Emtag concluded her speech.

“… and I see little harm in meeting with these newcomers,” said Emtag agreeably. “They outnumber us nearly two to one. They are true goblins, they observe the proper ways, and I think a tribemeet would benefit us both. Perhaps even a merging, if it is mutually agreeable. The forest is big enough to support us all for quite some time to come.”

Marhag nodded. “We would all be the stronger for it.”

“Wouldn’t have anything to do with your desire for a male, now would it, Emtag?” said Garlu, with a slight grin.

Emtag looked at Garlu distastefully. “I have all the suitors I care for,” she said. “Although perhaps a wider selection wouldn’t hurt. And I still hold the speaking-stick, so wait your turn.”

Sitting next to Emtag, Marhag reached for the stick. Emtag glanced in his direction, and made to hand it to him, when an old, hollow voice was heard. “I would speak,” said Tchim.

Everyone looked at Tchim in surprise. Other than calling the meeting to order, Tchim had not said a word since the council had gathered for talk and dinner. Tchim had eaten a little of the chicken, and indulged in less talk. Tchim was the oldest gob of the Tribe of the Owl, and the oldest goblin most had ever heard of or seen, having well over eighty summers. And Tchim did not wear his age well. He wore an ancient human-made blanket, bleached gray by a thousand washings. It had been stolen from humans before goblins had made peace with men, before anyone else in the tribe had been born. And Tchim’s last decade had not been kind to him. His hair was snowy, and had been for a long time. He looked like the crossbreed of a goblin and a dehydrated turtle, and while some could remember when he’d been able to give rousing speeches, nowadays he was known for taking long pauses in the middle of sentences. Sometimes, as long as half a minute, staring into space. But still, Tchim was headman, by virtue of his age, if nothing else. Emtag handed Marhag the speaking-stick, and Marhag gently offered it to Tchim, who took it with a tentative and quivering hand.

“I need to speak,” he said. Marhag, Garlu, Emtag, and Asvan waited. After a moment, Tchim said, “I am old.”

There was silence for a moment. Finally, Emtag said, “Yes.”

Tchim looked at her sourly. “Give me a moment, he said. After a moment he said, “I am old. Too old. I have prepared for this moment for a long time. I was going to make a speech. I forgot it while Emtag was talking. I am too old.”

There was silence for a moment. “Prepared for what moment for a long time?” said Asvan, finally.

“This one,” said Tchim. He did look old. And unhappy. “I will no longer be headman of the Tribe of the Owl, now.”

There was, again, silence for a moment before Tchim continued. “I have lived a long time,” he said. “I have learned much, and gained much wisdom. And now, my mind goes dim when I try to remember it. But I remember, sometimes. I remember making mistakes. Bad ones. I remember a bad time, when I led the Tribe of the Stag’s Antlers, when I made a great mistake.”

Marhag made a face. Tchim continued. “Today, we are the Tribe of the Owl,” he said. “And I have been headman. But I have done little. And now, a … situation has come up. Talks with the Tribe of the Skunk. Their headman will come, and want to speak with ours. Their council will want to speak with ours. And … rather than … have a bad moment … or make a bad mistake… I will resign the headman position.”

There was a moment of silence. “Who will be headman, then?” said Garlu, mildly.

Both Emtag and Marhag opened their mouths to speak. “I nominate Garlu,” said Tchim, before they could say anything.

Everyone looked at Tchim, and then at Garlu. “Is this wise?” said Marhag. “Others here are older than he.”

“And what do we know of Garlu?” said Emtag. “Everyone else here has family and history, if not with our tribe, than with others. Garlu came of out nowhere two summers ago. I would think—”

“I am wondering,” said Asvan, “why we don’t consult the entire tribe on this. Doesn’t everyone get to vote?”

“That is not what we do here,” said Marhag, hastily. “The tribe will confirm, but we decide. And no disrespect to Garlu, but Emtag has a point. I nominate myself for headman.”

Emtag’s head spun and she stared at Marhag. “You?” she said. “Where did this come from?”

“Necessity,” said Marhag. “And I have more experience in governance than you or Garlu. I call for a vote. Who backs Garlu?”

Garlu raised his hand. After a moment, so did Tchim.

“And who backs me?” said Marhag, raising his hand. After a moment, so did Asvan.

Emtag stared at Marhag. You miserable son of a troll, she thought. You went and stole the godsdamn tent from over my head!

“Do you abstain?” said Asvan. “It’s two to two. The deciding vote lies with you.”

Emtag stared hatefully at Marhag. “Then I choose Garlu,” she said, looking to Garlu. “Here’s your big chance. Govern well.”

And Garlu smiled a great goblin smile.

***********************************************

These goblins brew some very fine beer, thought Penrod, looking over his papers.

In Goblin Town, off the Goblin Common, is the establishment known as Deek’s Bar. It was a goblin-owned establishment, popular with tourists. It was known for its congenial atmosphere, fine beers and local wines (often made from fruits other than grapes, many of which a human would not have thought to try to make wine from). It was in the table at the south corner that Penrod sat, looking over his papers.

Penrod had come to town as a tourist. Refuge and Goblin Town had no issue with tourists, and with the beginning of summer, there were plenty of them. Penrod, in his casual clothes, close-cropped hair and unassuming manner, didn’t much stand out from the usual crowd. Penrod was a little different, though. Penrod had come to town to mix business with pleasure. He sipped his beer and looked over the papers. The one illustration on the papers was a bad woodcut of an artist’s illustration. That was all right. Penrod knew better than to depend on the picture. And the text was more than sufficient to describe the man he was looking for.

True name Ramsey Grimwald, alias Kerwood Derby, alias this, alias that, alias the other thing, also known to readers as Fistid Wackford. Last known location, Goblin Town, New Ilrea. Known to be living with a goblin family there. Early thirties. Clean shaven, blond hair, worn long in the goblin fashion. Known to the local goblin folk, but it is not well known to them that he is in fact Fistid Wackford…

Penrod flipped back to the previous page and reread it. Open warrant for the identification and arrest of FISTID WACKFORD, author and seditionist, warrant valid in the Duchy of Oxton, reward of two thousand crowns upon delivery of the individual, alive and in good health, to the authorities of the Duchy.

Penrod folded the papers and stuck them into his pocket. He quaffed the beer again. It was very good beer. All right, then. First thing, find the man. Secondly, make positive identification. Thirdly, consider how to put the bag on him and get him out of town alive…

********************************************

“Excuse me, sir?” said the woman.

At the Goblin Pie, Gilder looked over in the speaker’s direction. A woman sat alone at a table, looking at him brightly. He’d never seen her before. THIS one, he would have remembered. Tourist, must be, though Gilder. He looked at her. Indeterminate age, somewhere between twenty and thirty, probably on the far end of the scale. And she was a surprisingly big woman, not quite fat, but far from slender. What Gilder’s father would have called “well upholstered.” She probably stood six feet or more, standing. She had bright orange hair, arranged in an elaborate hairstyle. Umph. Lady who stands out in a crowd… Nob, maybe, slummin’ it?

“Yes, ma’am?” said Gilder.

“I’m sorry,” said the woman. “I’m new in town, and don’t quite know how things work. How would I go about getting a goblin pie and a drink?”

Gilder smiled. “Two ways, ma’am,” he said. “Either you go up to the counter and talk to the goblin lady there, and you order and pay her, or I go up and tell her what you want, and she starts makin’ the pie on payment.”

“Oh, I see!” said the woman brightly. She slipped a hand into a belt pocket, and came out with a gold crown. “I would like a goblin pie with everything on it, the sausage, the anchovies, the peppers and onions, everything. And a beer, please. And you’ll see to it?”

Gilder shifted from smile to grin. “Be glad to, ma’am,” he said. “Get right on it, and I’ll bring you your change and your beer. Pie will come walkin’ out to you when it’s made.”

“Thank you!” said the woman, cheerfully. Gilder turned, and headed for the counter. A moment later, he returned with a mug of beer and a handful of coins, and put them before the woman at the table. He noted that beside her, on the seat of the booth, was a shoulder bag, and in it, the cover of Fistid Wackford’s The Baroness Against The Wizard Kings peeped out at him.

“Thank you!” the woman said again. “And the pie will come to the table?”

“I’ll bring it out to you myself, ma’am,” said Gilder.

The woman gave him a winning smile, and selected two silver coins from her pile of change, and flicked them towards him. They skittered across the tabletop, and Gilder slapped a hand atop them to stop them. “Those are for you,” she said, cheerfully. “Might I ask you some questions about this place, when you’re back with the pie? I won’t take up much of your time, but I’m a bit all at sea, here. This is a most unusual place!”

“I would agree with that completely, ma’am,” said Gilder. “I’m still gettin’ used to it myself, and I live here. Let me go see about your pie.”

It was perhaps five minutes later that Gilder returned, bearing the steaming pie to the woman’s table. Still smiling, thought Gilder. Happiest girl at the birthday party. Is she just that happy to be here, or is this for me? “Pie with everything, ma’am,” he said, putting it on the table before here.

She looked it it, still smiling, apparently delighted to see it. “And… how do you eat it?” she said. “The books were never quite clear.”

“Urm,” said Gilder. “Well, you can use a knife and fork, but most of us just grab hold of the crust – the dry part, on the edge? And pull a wedge loose and put it in your mouth a bite at a time, startin’ with the pointy part. If it’s too big for you, you can fold it in half lengthways—”

Decisively, the woman took hold of a crust, pulled a wedge loose, stretching the cheese out in strings, and bit the pointed end off. Her face showed surprise.

“You want to be careful,” said Gilder, ruefully. “That’s still kinda hot—”

“This is splendid!” said the woman, her eyes wide. “This is wonderful! Now I see why they call it a pie! And this is goblin food?”

“Well, sort of,” said Gilder. “Humans invented cheese and sausage, and goblins never heard of anchovies till the humans showed up. But the goblins invented the flatbread and tomato sauce parts, and got the idea to throw it all together like that.”

“So it’s a blend of human and goblin cuisine,” said the woman, studying the pie with a critical look. “How splendid! And how indicative of the region! I must know more. Tell me, do you know how much of these books are based on real truth?” The woman dipped into her shoulder bag, and took out copies of Fistid Wackford’s Baroness trilogy, and showed them to Gilder.

“Well,” said Gilder. “I don’t know myself, but I’m told the first one’s mostly fiction. Mr. Wackford had never been to the area, and was apparently goin’ off of stories he had heard. But the second book, all of a sudden, things got real pretty fast, and folks around here guess that he came and saw how things were for himself; it’s a lot more accurate. Third book’s pretty spot on about the area, but the Wizard Kings never came back as ghosts and possessed the bodies of ogres. That’s sheer fantasy, right there. Although we do have ogres hereabouts. One of ‘em works in the sandwich shop, a couple doors down the street…”

“Ogres?” said the woman. “Sandwich shop?” The woman’s expression was bullishly curious. “And the King of Marzenie has visited these places?”

“He’s been out here a few times, ma’am,” said Gilder. “Last time I know of was right after the war.”

“War?” said the woman. Her expression showed surprise.

“Uh, yes, ma’am. When the Randish attacked Goblin Town, just south of here.”

The woman’s eyebrows flew up. “Randish? Attacked Goblin Town? That’s the City of Goblins, in the books? And who won this war? And when was it?”

It was Gilder’s turn to blink in surprise. “You didn’t hear, ma’am? War happened a couple of months before Aule, last winter.” Gilder paused. “I mean, it wasn’t much of a war. The Randishmen attacked, and the men, ogres, and goblins ran’m off with the help of the Magicians and a dragon. That’s the part most folks got the questions about, is the dragon.”

“Indeed,” said the woman, fixing Gilder with a look that rather disturbed him. Her expression reminded him of a look a very pleased butterfly collector might give a specimen under a magnifying glass. Real happy to see me, but I’m about to get pinned to a board…

“My name is Dayna,” said the woman. She reached into the bag and drew out a gold one-crown coin, and put it on the table. “Could I interest you in working for me for a few days? I have a lot of questions that need answers.”

“Ah,” said Gilder, staring at the coin, and then back at Dayna. “I’m… it’s a fine offer, ma’am, but I got work to do here. I don’t mean to seem rude, but I really don’t want to mess up my, um, situation here.” Gilder cleared his throat, and looked longingly at the gold crown coin. “You might see about hiring a Union Girl, though. That’s what they do, is show you around, answer questions, guide you, and suchlike.”

“Union Girls,” said the woman, absently. “They were in the second and third book. Those are the goblin girls who act as guides, and have all the mad wild sex with their human clients? Is that part true?”

“Uh,” said Gilder, surprised at the blatant question. “Uh. Well, yeah. Kinda. A lot of them will do just that. It’s a thing you want to negotiate when you hire’m, though. Fact is, a lot of tourists come out here ‘cause of those books, and more’n a few of them want to sex up a goblin girl, and the Union Girls… well, take advantage of that.”

Dayna sat and stared at Gilder, her eyes squinted as if she were thinking hard. And then the smile reappeared. “That sounds splendid!” she said. “I’ve never had sex with a goblin before. Tell me, how does one go about finding a Union Girl?”

******************************************

At the counter, Gilder, Grola, Teej, and Bekk watched the woman sway towards the exit. Gilder had been correct. Standing, the woman was six feet one, easily, and a big woman in pretty much each direction.

“Should we be worried?” said Gilder.

“She didn’t do anything illegal,” said Bekk. “And I’ve certainly heard more blunt questions from tourists before.”

“She was polite enough,” said Grola. “A bit blatant. And I’ve never seen a woman ask questions like that before.”

“You know humans are weird about sex,” said Bekk. “We’ve gotten female tourists in before, lots of times. She must be one of those women who likes other women, is all, and she wanted straight answers about that and Union Girls.”

“I don’t know,” said Gilder. “She asked if there were any Union Boys, too. Like she wanted to hire more than one. And she had a LOT of odd questions about ogres, dragons, magicians, goblins, orcs, and so forth.”

“Nothing weird about that,” said Teej, matter of factly. “You haven’t been here all that long, Gilder. I’ve heard questions that made me want to call the constables on the spot. She asked about things most tourists ask about. And we’ve seen them hire more than one Union Girl before. Hells, the first time the human Galtin walked in here, he had six of them with him.”

Gilder did a double take. Grola giggled. “Only because he thought they all wanted him,” she said. She looked up at Gilder, grinning. “He hired all of them at once, so he wouldn’t hurt any of their feelings. And then he felt obligated to sex them all up, so no one would feel left out. They still talk about that night, out in Goblin Town. Flor and some other girls showed up, too, because they heard about the Human Whose Dick Wouldn’t Go Down, and they had to see. And participate.”

Gilder stared at Grola, a little aghast. “Six of them? And more showed up? I’m scared to ask when his dick finally gave out.”

“After the seventh,” said Teej. “Flopped over and wouldn’t get up for the rest of the night.”

“I heard it was the ninth,” said Bekk. “Grilki got two turns before he passed out.”

“Grilki,” said Gilder. “Galtin. Those are the two who run the Frog Pond, out in Goblin Town, right?”

“That’s them,” said Bekk with a grin. “She used to hate humans. Now she’s married to one. Has a hobgoblin baby with him. They’re doing great.”

Gilder looked at Bekk. “Like you did,” he said. He looked to Teej. “And you.”

Grola smiled. “This place has a way of drawing men in,” she said. “Getting in their blood, you might say.”

“And none of us hated humans before we started sleeping with them,” said Bekk, grinning. Gilder never noticed. He was staring at Grola.

“Oh, damn,” said Teej, snapping her fingers. “We should have sent Dayna over to the Frog Pond! There’s always Union Girls over there, buzzing around the place like bees around the sugar bowl…”

********************************************

Figure Study, by Paracose: https://www.newgrounds.com/dump/draw/d8f3a37922f8abfb0793b5f00093dccb

Back to the previous chapter: https://www.reddit.com/r/GoblinGirls/comments/1tt65e5/goblin_epiphanies_4_troll_stories_art_by/

On to the next installment! TBA

The band of forest north and east of Refuge lacked a name for a long time. The locals just called it “the north forest.” A few people had clear cut areas of it for farming, but most of the north forest was still as it had been, pristine and nameless. This had changed when the human Charli Buds had built his farm on one of those clear cut acreages… and the ogre Oddri and the goblin Shuffa had come to live there with him. It had gone from the Buds Place to the Buds Family Farms, but most people called it the Spice Goblin place these days, due to Shuffa’s burgeoning spice and seasonings business.

Because of the spice farming, processing, and manufacturing there, you could smell some interesting aromas clear down to the river and across it. And because of its proximity to the north woods, said woods had gained an official name on the newest Slunkbolter maps of the area: The Spicewoods.

There were goblins living in the Spicewoods. This wasn’t noteworthy in itself; there were groups of goblins living in nearby Refuge and Goblin Town and other points west. But this group of goblins claimed no relation or kinship to the other goblins of New Ilrea. This group was noteworthy for their rejection of human ways and human trade, and their determination to hew close to the old ways of goblin living and society. There weren’t many of them. They called themselves the Tribe of the Owl. The folk of Refuge and Goblin Town alike called them “those crazy-assed Spicewood diehards,” and avoided the Spicewoods on general principle. The Spicewood Goblins had got a reputation for unfriendliness towards those who did not believe as they did, be they goblin or man or anyone else.

At a creek in the Spicewoods, two of these goblins, Groodi and Booch, were holding a discussion as Groodi dangled a bit of possum fat on a thong into the water to coax a pincher from its hole. Booch squatted on his heels and watched her, as he spoke.

“It’s your duty to the tribe, you know,” said Booch. “To grow the tribe. There aren’t enough of us as it is.”

Groodi did not look at Booch, preferring to focus on the little hole in the creek bank. She looked irritated. “And you would of course offer yourself as my children’s father.”

Booch smiled his gormless smile that he seemed to think was charming. “You could do worse,” he said. “I am an honored hunter. I could be your meatbringer.”

Groodi resisted the urge to make a face. “First,” she said, “I am not ready to have babies. And second, if and when I am, it will be with the mate of my choice.”

Booch’s smile wavered. “You’re still thinking about Konar, aren’t you?” he said. “Konar’s not coming back, you know. He chased off after that human witch-girl. He might as well be a human himself, now.”

Groodi’s glance flickered upward towards Booch for an instant. She’d seen the pincher’s brown claw slowly emerge, and a flicker of its antennae. It had seen the bait. Groodi’s glance returned to the pincher. “Konar was a friend,” she said. “Nothing more.”

“You still mated with him, that one time,” said Booch, a little petulantly.

“Twice,” said Groodi, still staring intently at the pincher. It was hesitant, but still focused on the scrap of fat on the string. “And I wasn’t interested in having his children, either.”

“There’s no time like the present,” said Booch, earnestly. “We have a fine home, here. Hunting is good. Times are good. There are no predators here to speak of. Why not now, in comfort and in safety? Do I displease you in some way?”

Groodi stared at the unmoving pincher’s claw, barely protruding from the hole. Aren’t you hungry? I know I am, she thought. “It is not a matter of displeasure, Booch,” she said, solemnly. “It is more a matter of readiness on my part. Your readiness isn’t in question. In fact, I’m actually pretty sure that you’re way less interested in growing the tribe so much as simply getting your dick wet. Arli turned you down again, didn’t she?”

Booch made a face. Groodi saw it out of the corner of her eye. Got you, she thought. Now if you were just a pincher, I would have a snack.

“Arli isn’t serious-minded,” said Booch. “She’s not someone I’d think of starting a family with.”

“So you think I’m serious-minded?” said Groodi. “That’s a compliment. I am serious-minded. Enough to know that having kids is a big thing, and I’m not ready for it yet. Do I not have that right?”

Booch winced. “I’m … just pointing out the needs of the tribe, is all,” he said lamely. “Tchim is old, and won’t last forever. We’re only twenty-five of us, here, and six are past childbearing age. We’re not a healthy tribe, or a safe one, with so few.”

“A moment ago, you said we were safe, comfortable, and happy,” said Groodi, still staring at the hole. The pincher carefully inched forward out of his hole… “But now we are not safe because I’m not popping out babies? I question your motives, Booch. Are you really that long without and desperate for the veema?”

Booch made a frustrated sigh. “Groodi, I –” Abruptly, Booch’s ears flicked up, and his glance shot off towards Groodi’s left, and he rose to his feet. Groodi looked to her left. Some thirty yards southwest, further down the stream, three goblins had emerged from the brush, and were looking at Groodi and Booch. The female wore a knit tunic of roughspun yarn, and the two males wore loincloths over hide trousers, and nothing else. They held spears in hand. The female waved to them.

“Hoy!” she called. “We are of the Tribe of the Skunk! Will you take us to your leaders?”

Unseen and unwatched, beneath the water, the pincher lunged forward, and seized the dangling scrap of fat, and dragged it back into his hole.

Groodi never noticed.

****************************************

At the House of Orange Lights, the orc put coins on the table, and the shirtless red-headed goblin man collected them. They smiled at each other, the orc finished his mug, and got up and walked out the front door. His meal was complete. And in the Stage Room, tourists, locals, and goblins alike stared, as if they’d never seen a patron pay his bill and saunter out the door before.

“Like a troll story,” said Kell, wonderingly. He and Mike remained at their table, not far from where the orc had been sitting.

“You said that before,” said the goblin Vekki, who was sitting on Kell’s lap.

“Yeah, well, I can kinda see his point,” said Mike, sipping from his mug. “I mean, when we got off the boat this mornin’, neither of us had ever seen a goblin up close before. They have’m in Ponce now, but they’re scarce in Ningonost, and now we got goblins all over the place, an ogre as a door greeter, a dragon flyin’ around, and orcs havin’ dinner with civilized folks.” Mike paused a moment, as if just noticing his mug was empty.

“Castle barely a couple of miles away,” said Kell, distantly. “Town full o’goblins couple miles the other way. Ogres. Spice goblins. Magicians. Dragon. Orcs. Hell, the only thing missin’s a beautiful princess.”

“You talk as if there wasn’t a woman sitting in your lap,” said Vekki, acidly.

Mike laughed and waved his mug at the bar. The redheaded bargoblin grinned, and began filling a mug. “She’s got you there, Kell,” said Mike, chuckling. “She maybe ain’t a princess, but how many princesses’ll sit in your lap for you?”

“I could name some other things that I would do for you, that a princess would not,” added Vekki, running her fingernails down Kell’s chest, gently. She leaned in and licked his earlobe.

The bargoblin set a mug down before the chuckling Mike, and headed back for the bar. “That’s twice in less than a minute that she’s got you, Kell,” he said. “Better perk up! You’re lookin’ a bit of a fool!”

Kell blinked, and looked at Vekki. “Reckon you’re right, there,” he said. He slipped an arm around Vekki’s waist. “It’s just… well… hells, this place is downright magic compared to back east. Hell, nothin’ ever happens back there. It’s all the same. Same people, doin’ the same things, every day. Farmers, growin’ stuff. Townsmen, talkin’ about the weather. Streets fulla horse shit. Nothin’ new, nothin’ magic.” Kell leaned in and nuzzled Vekki’s cheek. “But here, now, well… maybe I should pay attention to what’s goin’ on right here.”

Vekki smiled. “Things change, here,” she said. “Faster than I would like, sometimes. But change is good, sometimes. In the big human cities, they pay men to clean up the shit in the streets. In Ponce, they are not so rich, and they leave it there. But here, a horse shits in the street, Kalk the Shit Seller steals it and sells it to farmers. And gets rich.”

“No shit?” said Mike. “Wait a minute, forget I put it like that.”

“All shit,” said Vekki, smiling. “I’ve been to Ponce. Wondered why nobody gathers the shit and sells it to farmers.”

“Well,” said Kell, “it’s kind of a dirty job. Nobody wants to do it.”

“They pay men in Ningonost to do it,” said Vekki. “And no shit in the streets. People look down on Kalk, a goblin who gathers shit. But Kalk always has money. And a human-built house in Goblin Town.”

“Sounds like he found an opportunity,” said Mike, tipping his mug and taking a long slug.

“Yes,” said Vekki. “He kept his eyes open, and saw a way to make money. He noticed things. Like Kell, who just now notices the horny goblin girl in his lap.”

“Kept his eyes open,” repeated Kell. “I’m sorry, honey. I … well, this is just a lot to take in. I been here less than a day, and I’ve seen things I never dreamed I’d see, ever. More than I ever saw before. Well, now that I noticed the pretty goblin girl, how do I get money? Instead of givin’ her five silver for guide services?”

Vekki smiled. “Sometimes,” she said, “you find something better than money. Like magic. And And wonder. And a good time. Maybe even a horny goblin girl.”

****************************************

At the Goblin Pie, in the kitchen, Gilder washed dishes. There were plenty of dishes to wash. It was the lull that came in the midafternoon, between the late lunch slam and the early dinner slam, and it was always best to have the plates, mugs, platters, knives, forks, and so forth clean, dry, and ready. It wasn’t hard work. Tedious, but not hard. And today, the tedium bothered him not at all. He mechanically scrubbed, rinsed, and set aside as his mind spun free, far from the humdrum activity his arms and hands performed.

He stood at the sink, up to his elbows in suds, when he felt the tug on his apron. He spun, expecting to see Grola, and was surprised to see Teej, instead, looking up at him with a sharp expression.

“What the hell’s going on?” she said, in perfect, unaccented speech of men.

Gilder blinked. “I’m sorry?” he said. “I was washin’ the dishes. Was there somethin’ else—”

“With Grola,” said Teej, flatly. She stared up at him with flinty yellow eyes. “It’s midafternoon. The lull. The break. Either the two of you are in the storage room playing slap and tickle, or you’re out here washing dishes while she gets your wet handprints on her back and ass. But today, you are here alone looking like you are dead from the neck up, and she’s in the back punching potato fingers for blanching. And she looks like she has a bug up her ass but doesn’t want to try getting it out because people are watching. What is going on? Did you have a fight or something? She won’t tell me, but you will, or I’ll rip your dick off.”

Gilder blinked. “Uh,” he said.

The little goblin woman crossed her arms and stared up at him, waiting.

“We, uh, didn’t have a fight,” said Gilder, lamely. “I… uh…”

“The truth,” said Teej, frowning. “Gilder, you work well here. You don’t give me a hard time. You’re not the trouble I thought you would be. You do your job. I begin to trust you a little. But now Grola is upset, and won’t admit it. And Grola is my friend. What did you do?”

“He didn’t do anything wrong,” snapped Grola, stepping into the kitchen from the back hallway. “Get off his ass. The problem is mine. The fault is mine. I fucked up, is all. And he was just standing there to fuck up on. It wasn’t anything he did.” 

Teej looked surprised. With a last suspicious glance at Gilder, she looked over at Grola. “And… how did you fuck up all over him, exactly?”

Grola sighed. “I… had a human to play with,” she said. “A trapped one. Had to do whatever I wanted. And … well, I got … my hopes up, is all.” She looked up at Gilder, walking towards the sink where he and Teej stood. “He’s really kind of sweet. And … I pretended too much, is all. And I’m having to … readjust. To face what is real. That’s all. That’s what’s wrong with me.”

Teej looked back up at Gilder, sharply. “What did you say to her?”

Gilder opened his mouth to speak, but Grola interrupted. “He didn’t say anything wrong,” she said. “He did nothing wrong. It was all me.” Grola shook her head. “I wanted a man who wanted me back, is all, and I had one who has to keep me happy because he’s a prisoner. And … I … know I fucked up. I had a fuck toy, and I started telling myself maybe I had more than that. And I know I fucked up, and I’m just… adjusting to that. It’s not anything he did or said.”

“Uh,” said Gilder. “Who said I didn’t want you?”

“Nobody,” said Grola, sadly. “But I’m putting a lot on you.” She shook her head again. “You’re a prisoner here. A slave, really. And … shit, I don’t know how to say this. Someday, you’re going to be free, and you’re not going to want to stay here. And … I… would rather hurt now than get it in the face when you finally go.”

“Uh,” said Gilder. “Who said I was going to go?”

Grola looked at Gilder through great slitted yellow eyes. “It’s all right,” she said. “You don’t have to pretend anything. You said you didn’t want to be the enemy, the Randishman, in a town of Marzenians. I understand that. And I understand if you don’t want to live in Goblin Town. I … understand everything. It’s okay, really. Nobody blames you for any of that.”

“You understand everything?” said Gilder. “Shit, I wish I did. You think I’m goin’ somewhere? I have no godsdamn idea where I’m gonna go or what I’m gonna do.”

It was Grola’s turn to look surprised.

“Grola, I’m still gettin’ m’head on straight,” Gilder continued. “I swear, I ain’t had my head on straight since I got drafted. I used to have an idea of what life was like, what it was supposed to be. And about the time I thought I had it figured out, I had to learn how to be in the army. And when I got THAT figured out, I was a prisoner of war. And then they handed me over to goblins.”

“Yeah, that can turn your head a little,” came a voice from the doorway leading into the dining area. Everyone looked over and saw Bekk, leaning against the doorframe.

“Got that right,” said Gilder. He looked back to Grola. “Delsa, I went straight from bein’ a farm boy to bein’ a half assed soldier to bein’ a dishwasher and oven cleaner and … well, yeah, slave. To goblins. Never even saw a goblin before I came here. Heard all kinds of crazy bullshit about goblins, but never saw one, or knew any truth about ‘em, till I started takin’ orders from ‘em. And sleepin’ with one.” Gilder rolled his eyes in thought. “I was talkin’ to your husband, the other day, Teej. When he brought the baby in, and you had lunch together, but then the lunch slam came? He told me that livin’ in Goblin Town was like livin’ in a troll story.”

Teej cocked her head. “He said that?”

“Yeah,” said Gilder. “Talked about livin’ in a little grass hut in the woods, and how the sun looks streamin’ through the tree branches… eatin’ roast meat over a fire… the taste of a goblin girl on his lips, and the smell of her hair…” Gilder looked sheepishly at Teej. “He talked a lot about how he likes the smell of your hair. Said it was like livin’ in a troll story, in a hut in the woods with a beautiful goblin girl. Made it sound magical.”

Teej’s stern expression slipped a bit, and her crossed arms relaxed. “I remember those times,” she said. She smiled. “Like a troll story.”

“Yeah,” said Gilder. “He said ‘hell with the fairy princess, a real goblin girl’s way better.’” He looked over at Grola. “I can’t say I got reason to argue with him.”

“So you don’t want to go back to Rand,” said Grola, slowly. “You don’t want to leave?”

“I know I don’t want to go back to Rand,” said Gilder, throwing his hands wide. “What’re they gonna do with me? Interrogate me about everything I know about Marzenie and goblins, find a reason to not gimme my back pay, prolly expect me to serve out my hitch, and prolly find a reason to tax away all the money I made here and brought with me. I mean, I still don’t know about Refuge. I’m still ‘that Randish bastard’ hereabouts. But Rand… well, if Rand is a troll story, it’s waitin’ for the shinin’ knight to show up and stick a sword through the evil king.” Gilder shuddered a bit. “I wouldn’a dared say that out loud in front of people, back home.”

Grola looked at Gilder, a flicker of hope in her eyes. “So… you want to live in Goblin Town, maybe?” she said. “Like in a troll story, like Jon the Lumber Man and his goblin princess?”

Gilder looked into Grola’s eyes. “I’m already in a troll story,” he said, with a sad grin. “I’m one’a the evil minions of the mad king, but instead of gettin’ killed by the hero, I wound up in a pie dungeon, slavin’ away in the fire pits for the wicked goblins. But… one of the goblins took pity on me, and … well… I’m still seein’ how that part turns out.” His grin lightened. “It ain’t as bad as you might think.”

Grola made a face. “The wicked goblin bitch chained you to the wall and used you for a fuck toy.”

“If that’s all I am, a fuck toy,” said Gilder, “would you be feelin’ bad about it right now? Bein’ a wicked goblin bitch, and all?”

Grola blinked, and her mouth fell open. Teej’s eyebrows went up. Bekk grinned a sharptoothed grin. “Better watch out for this one, Grola,” Bekk snickered. “He’s smarter than the average evil minion.”

“Baron says the smart Randishmen are the ones you have to keep an eye on,” said Teej, critically, looking up at Gilder.

“Are you saying,” said Grola, slowly, with a note of hope in her voice, “that you would come live in Goblin Town after your sentence is done? With me?”

“I’m already in a troll story,” said Gilder. “I mean, I’m still getting my head on straight. And then I’m going to have to do it all over again when I’m free. I’m going to need somewhere to just… be. I’ll have money, but I’ve got a lot to get used to. Lot of changes. Goblins. Orcs. Wizards. I don’t want to make any promises I can’t keep… but I’m gonna need time to adjust.” He looked around the kitchen. “But… Jon the Lumber Man made it sound really good.” Gilder paused. “The showman Shank made it sound even better. And he started out working off a sentence from the Baron, too. And… there would be you, too. I’d as soon do my adjusting with a friend.”

Bekk slapped a hand over her mouth and giggled furiously. Grola looked confused. “Showman Shank?”

Bekk rolled her eyes. “Remember the bounty hunters who kidnapped Flor?” she said, snickering. “Shank was one of them. The girls who do the human sacrifices out in Roast Pig Clearing adopted him. Sacrificed him twice a day for the tourists till the Baron set him free. He’s still there. Happy as a duck in a worms’ nest.”

Grola blinked several times. “Oh,” she said. She gave Gilder a very dry look. “So one goblin girl isn’t enough for you?”

Gilder bit his lip. “I don’t know that I’m that ambitious,” he said. “Jon told me a story about how Teej taught him how to heat bath water, though, and that sounded more magical to me than any story with magicians or fairies or trolls in it.”

It was Teej’s turn to blink. “I remember that,” she said, her face warming and softening with the memory. “Back before we were married. He moved to Goblin Town to be near me. When we lived in huts next to each other.” She gave Bekk a sharp look. “And we were all over each other in the tub and then you and Ollie turned up…”

Bekk threw her hands in the air. “I said I was sorry a hundred times,” she said, helplessly. “It’s not like you hung a ‘do not disturb’ sign on the doorflap.”

“Not like any of us could have READ a sign, back then,” said Teej, the side of her mouth turning up in a nostalgic grin.

Grola’s face took on a mischievous look. “Was that when Jon threatened to tear Ollie’s dick off and beat him to death with it?”

“Yes,” said Teej, chuckling. “Given the size of your dick, it might take a few days, but I’ll do it because I care, he said.” She broke into a grin. “It seems like forever ago, and it wasn’t even that long ago.”

“Wait, what?” said Gilder. “I thought Ollie and Jon were friends…”

“They are,” said Bekk. “Best friends since they were kids. They were at the House of Orange Lights together when Teej and I met them. When a whole lot of things got started between us.”

Teej stood there with a silly grin on her face, and her arms uncrossed. “That’s a memory I can stand to remember,” she said. “Living in a troll story with Jon. Bathing together in a metal bathtub, over the coals…”

“All right, then,” said Bekk, crisply. “That’s it, then. Gilder, you and Grola will live in Goblin Town after your sentence is up, and you’ll figure out what to do with each other. Objections?”

Gilder stared at Bekk for a moment, and then looked at Grola. Grola looked back at him, but said nothing. He looked back at Bekk. “I wouldn’t want to be trouble to her,” he said. “But it ain’t like I ain’t gonna be able to pay my way for a while…”

Grola snorted. “That wasn’t a worry.”

“And that’s all moons away in the future,” continued Bekk. “In the meantime, Grola, quit punching potatoes, we have plenty. Gilder, finish up the dishes, and take a break. Have a beer. And don’t get dinner when we close.”

Everyone looked at Bekk. “We’re not giving him dinner?” said Grola.

“No, we aren’t,” said Bekk. “He’s been eating goblin pie and sausages and potatoes and onions for months now, with the occasional ogre sandwich. Today, we’re going to do the usual business day, and then after closing, we’re locking up and dragging ‘that Randish bastard’ to Goblin Town. He can have a look at the place while we collect Jon and little Bull, and then we’re all going out to the House of Orange Lights. Gilder can have a Fruit Kzing, try the Orange Bacon or a Prawn Goblet or something while we all figure out what we want for dinner. I’m buying.”

Everyone looked at Bekk like she’d lost her mind. “Isn’t the Baron likely to be angry about taking the prisoner off the premises?” said Teej.

“It was my idea,” said Bekk, firmly. “And I’d rather ask forgiveness than permission. Either way, it won’t be Gilder’s fault, and the worst that will happen is that Ollie will give me a hard time about doing something stupid.” She turned her head to Gilder. “YOU aren’t going to do anything stupid, are you?”

Gilder’s eyes grew wide. “Hells, no,” he said. “Fact is, I kind of like the idea of serving the sentence and then going and living in Goblin Town with a beautiful goblin girl.”

“You keep calling me beautiful,” said Grola, her head cocked a bit.

“You keep proving it,” said Gilder, meeting her eyes.

There was a pause. “And that’s the plan,” snapped Bekk. “Now, back to work!”

Gilder stared at Grola for a moment longer, and then turned back to the sink. Grola turned, and headed for the stockroom where the potatoes were. And Bekk turned, pulled a dishtowel out of her waistband, and headed into the dining room, and Teej followed.

“The House of Orange Lights?” whispered Teej. “Why, just out of curiosity? And why now?”

“Lots of reasons,” said Bekk, heading for a table. She began mopping up crumbs. “One, Grola’s been in a mood ever since their last smoochfest, and now she’s better. I want to smooth over those doubts, make them think about what they mean to each other, and the House of Orange Lights is the best place for that.” She looked back at Teej. “Worked for you and me, didn’t it?”

Teej stood there for a moment. “It did,” she said. “We ended up with human husbands. Children. Both of us. Like in a troll story.” She paused a moment. “But sexier.”

“Every bit as sweet, though,” said Bekk. “Secondly, Gilder’s barely been outside this building since the Baron handed him over to us. Maybe it’s time we treated him like a person for a change, instead of a prisoner. Take him out for a night on the town. Let him see how people live here when we’re not being invaded.”

Teej nodded. “Might do him some good,” she said.

“And lastly,” said Bekk, snapping the last crumbs off the table with a whip of her dishcloth, “I want to get out of my own head for a while. Not think about things. And the House is the place to do that.”

“You’re still feeling like you’re turning into your mother?” said Teej.

Bekk snorted, and her mouth grew tight. “Maybe I’m being an ass,” she said. “Maybe he really does have feelings for Grola. But I stood there jiggling my tits in the doorway for five minutes solid, and Gilder never looked at much of anything except Grola’s eyes, did you notice?”

**********************************************

Graveyard Goblin, by Draltruist: https://www.newgrounds.com/dump/draw/9d7ca236879021af673af49308050c95

Back to the previous chapter: https://www.reddit.com/r/GoblinGirls/comments/1swl17f/goblin_epiphanies_3_alien_landscapes_with_new_art/

On to the next installment! TBA

And sorry to everyone for the long wait. The last month has been HELL on my free time... but the month is about over! Hopefully, the NEXT chapter won't be near so long in coming!