Chapter 2 Ren #2
Bellflower. Creeping thyme. Stonecrop. Selfheal.
Impossible to name every plant that coiled along the walls or from in-between the floorboards.
Then there were the animals: the fireflies that slept inside paper lanterns repurposed to serve as their nests; the mice with questionable taste that lived in an old, halfling-style armchair too soft for Ren’s liking; and, of course, there was Pig, currently snoring downstairs, no doubt.
Somehow, none of this mattered to Pansy.
“This sort of mess belongs outside, you know.” She scowled. “Not to mention, no one asked you to do anything in the first place.”
Ren stared at her, incredulous. “What does asking have to do with any of it?”
“Oh, right. Yes. Of course. Silly me.” Pansy bopped the heel of her palm against her temple. “I’m speaking to a goblin. You lot never ask; you simply take!”
“Better than letting go to waste what others could use!” Ren snapped back, teeth flashing as fire roared inside their chest. “My clan needed a place to live. This house was empty. Clearly, no one was using it; so, why shouldn’t they?”
“Because. It’s. Not. Theirs.”
“Fine. So, a perfectly good home falls into disrepair such that no one can use it. You honestly think that’s better?”
“I—” Pansy snapped her mouth shut, brow furrowing as she considered Ren’s words. Whatever heat had ignited between them suddenly cooled, quelled by the need to think rather than simply feel. “Stealing is wrong,” she declared at last, albeit without her earlier fervor.
Ren sighed. “At least you had enough sense to actually stop and think about it. Surprising for a halfling. Doesn’t change the fact that you’re wrong, which, for the record, is far less of a shock.”
Fresh crimson streaked across the bridge of Pansy’s nose. “Wrong or not, this is still my house, and I fully intend to live in it.” As if to drive her point home, she slipped the vast assortment of bags from her shoulders and allowed them to fall to the floor with a resounding thump.
“What a coincidence,” Ren remarked, their tone a touch too biting to be considered droll. “Because I was thinking the exact same thing.”
Pansy’s eyes bulged. “No! Absolutely not. You need to leave. Go be with your”– she gestured vaguely with one hand – “clan – or however you prefer to call it. I’m certain you’ll be far more comfortable there anyway.
This is clearly a halfling burrow, not a cave.
Hardly suitable for a goblin like yourself. ”
Ren’s chest constricted at the thought of returning to their clan. If only such a thing were possible. But duty bound them to this cottage, and here they would stay. How shameful it would be to return now, after only a day, rendering their word barely worth the breath that had fueled it.
Swallowing around the lump that had knotted in their throat, Ren said, “I’m quite comfortable here, actually. You’d be surprised how cave-like a so-called ‘burrow’ can be. But thank you for your concern.”
Pansy huffed. “I’m trying to be nice here—”
“Oh, are you?” Ren cocked their head to the side, ears perking up in mock surprise. “I honestly couldn’t tell. Because where I come from, we don’t call someone who barges in unannounced, breaks things that aren’t theirs and insults others ‘nice’; we call them a—”
“Okay! Okay! I get it!” Pansy said, raising both hands in surrender.
“You’re right. I haven’t been very nice.
But, in my defense, I didn’t expect to find my grandmother’s cottage already…
inhabited.” She ground out the word with something like a grimace, as if it physically pained her to acknowledge an otherwise readily apparent fact.
“If my presence is such a problem,” Ren said, crossing their arms over their chest, “then feel free to go back to your village. That way you’ll never have to see me again.”
A strange expression took hold of Pansy at that, pinching her features together in a way Ren couldn’t quite parse. It wasn’t sadness or frustration or anything nearly so simple; but, rather, a current of something old and deep-seated, like a snarl of roots forced to grow around an obstacle.
“I can’t do that,” Pansy said, averting her gaze for the first time. “I need… I need to stay here.”
There was a certainty to that statement, a level of conviction that Ren found admirable.
But there was also desperation buzzing beneath that hard veneer, like a hive of frenzied hornets.
Whatever had driven Pansy to this cottage, it would not be so easily dismissed; not even by an unwanted goblin like themself.
It was then that Pansy’s expression brightened, understanding flashing in the hazel rings of her irises. “You understand that, right? That I need this cottage.”
Her stare was back upon Ren, now with an added layer of expectation that hooked beneath their skin. They eyed her warily, uncertainty itching along their spine. “And? That doesn’t change the fact that I need it too.” That my clan needs it.
“Okay, but one of us can surely make better use of it than the other, no?”
“Of course,” Ren answered quickly, so assured of their own need that they didn’t think to consider where Pansy was going with this. What could possibly trump ensuring their clan survived the coming winter?
“So, that person should get the cottage. Easy. Problem solved.”
Easy? The gall of this halfling… “And how exactly are we going to determine that?” Ren asked, eyebrows arching. “You and I both know that words alone won’t suffice here.”
Then again, perhaps they were giving Pansy too much credit.
She opened her mouth only to shut it again, whatever she’d meant to say lost beneath the press of her teeth.
Ren nearly scoffed. Had Pansy seriously believed that they would simply take her at her word?
Relinquish their clan’s last and only lifeline because a halfling told them to?
Yes, answered Pansy’s expression, the wide-eyed look of panic as she scrambled for another way forward.
How self-centered she must be to think that her people’s distrust of goblins hadn’t sown similar seeds among the clans, too used to bearing the weight of their kin’s sins that they no longer expected anything else.
And yet, at the same time, she’d displayed a very real capacity for understanding.
Instead of digging her heels in and continuing to speak about the cottage in terms Ren neither recognized nor cared for, Pansy had stepped beyond the bounds of her own culture and listened; something the monolithic halfling in Ren’s mind would’ve never done.
Maybe that was why they were still willing to hear her out.
“I’ve got it!” Pansy exclaimed, her expression sparking with yet another idea. “For now, we’ll both live here. But if either one of us decides to move out, then that person forfeits their right to the cottage. Hard to make use of a home if you don’t live in it, right?”
Ren blinked, wondering if they’d simply misheard. “I’m sorry, but did you just say you want to live together?”
“Well, it’s not exactly my first choice,” Pansy said with a shrug that was far too nonchalant given the circumstances.
“But, like I said, I really need to live here, so I’ll tolerate it.
And just in case you get any bright ideas about forcing me out: no breaking each other’s stuff. That’s rule number one.”
Ah. So, that was the halfling’s real plan. She wanted to push Ren out, and judging from the grin on her face, she really thought she could manage it. A laughable thought. It would take more than some unpleasant behavior and halfling decor to convince Ren to turn their back on their clan.
“Fine,” Ren agreed, their lips parting around a razor-edged smile; what Ren thought might be Pansy’s first clue that she’d made a grave miscalculation.
“But that rule extends to the cottage itself, too. We can only add to what’s already there.
Unless something is broken or needs to be repaired.
In that case, we both need to decide on a solution together. ”
“Sounds fair to me!” Pansy chirped, then shoved a familiar hand, soft and sun-kissed, out towards Ren. “We have a deal then?”
A strange tremor curled in Ren’s stomach as they stared down at the proffered palm.
They’d touched it before, the memory of yesterday rising, unbidden, to the forefront of their mind, bringing with it a flash of remembered heat.
So, why then, did an entirely similar prospect suddenly root them to the spot?
Probably just unease, they told themself, reaching out to grip Pansy’s hand before their hesitation could turn awkward.
Pansy, meanwhile, gave Ren’s hand one quick, businesslike pump, then pulled away just as swiftly. Less than a second’s worth of contact, and still it lingered, a tingling warmth that buzzed against Ren’s skin, ever-insistent.
Did Pansy feel it too? they wondered, fingers flexing in a vain effort to chase the sensation away. It might’ve been just their imagination, but Ren swore that Pansy’s fingers curled into the folds of her skirts a touch harder than before.
“Great,” Pansy said, her voice coming out oddly strangled. “I’m, uh, Pansy, by the way.”
“I know. You already told me.”
“Oh, right.” Red bloomed high on Pansy’s cheeks. “I forgot.”
“Obviously.” A beat. Then, grudgingly, “My name is Ren.”
“Ren,” Pansy confirmed with a nod. “I’ll remember that. Now, with all that settled, I’m going to go ahead and take a look around. And don’t you even think of throwing my stuff out behind my back while I’m gone. That, may I remind you, would be cheating.”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” Ren said with a derisive snort. “As if I’d need to cheat to get you out.” Then, with a sharp twist of their heel, they headed for the garden, pointedly leaving Pansy – and her plethora of bags – behind.
Granted, this didn’t stop Pansy from calling out after them, the need to have the last word in all things evidently yet another universally halfling trait. “Don’t forget to take off your shoes before coming back inside! Remember: dirt belongs outside, not in the house!”
We’ll see about that, Ren thought with a smirk. Because now they had an idea – a very, very good idea – one that Pansy was all but guaranteed not to like.