Chapter 8 Ren #3
The cottage’s lower level, with all of its cool darkness and moist earth that smelled of home, proved far less comforting than Ren had expected.
A current of unease prickled beneath their skin, insistent and relentless.
No matter how studiously they dedicated themself to rearranging the contents of their potions cupboard, which, to be clear, was already plenty organized – immaculately so, even – the feeling continued to pick at them, whizzing through their thoughts like an especially irritating gnat.
Ren told themself it was just lingering fury; the fire smoldering in their gut simply hadn’t extinguished quite yet. However, the conclusion, plausible though it might’ve been in isolation, didn’t stick, and that proved equally intolerable.
Letting out a snarl of frustration, Ren slammed the cupboard shut only to wince when the glass panes along the front gave a worrisome rattle.
Okay. Clearly distractions weren’t working and, at this rate, would probably end up doing more harm than good.
Because Ren liked this cabinet, even if it looked like a rainbow had vomited all over it in that distinctly halfling sort of way.
It was large, sturdy and altogether suitable for their purposes.
Not to mention, the thought of having to secure a replacement sent a shudder roiling through them.
The sheer inconvenience of it all! Not just finding an appropriate substitute, but also getting it down here, a task that would almost certainly require a full complement of featherflight talismans, which Ren didn’t have.
Ugh. And if that wasn’t bad enough, the loss of the cabinet would mean one less thing of Ren’s in a house that seemed to be rapidly skewing towards Pansy, given the sudden rug infestation.
That was it! Understanding unfurled across Ren’s brow, smoothing out the wrinkles their frustration had carved.
No wonder they felt so uneasy. They were meant to be pushing Pansy out, and apart from the dirt they’d ultimately been forced to clean up, all they’d done was plant some Running Beans in a garden she didn’t seem to care about.
Granted, they’d also applied some growth paste, but that had proved equally unsuccessful, much to Ren’s consternation.
Meanwhile, Pansy was throwing down rugs, putting up paintings and knitting who-knows-what.
And Ren – Ren was hiding downstairs like a petulant child who’d just come off a tantrum.
Truly the pinnacle of so-called goblin “craftiness”, that.
Ignoring the slight twinge that hooked into their belly – the one that said, No, you’ve rather missed the mark yet again – Ren began to gather what they needed.
First, several sheets of moss, all in various shapes and sizes; then, a squat section of log, perfectly proportioned to serve as a side table, its graying bark festooned with scraggly bits of lichen and flat whitecaps; and, lastly, an especially large red-and-white-spotted mushroom, its head bulbous and soft, hastily glazed with a Potion of Ever Endurance.
While the moss had been easily procured from the cottage’s lower level, the latter two items had necessitated a short trip into the forest, which Ren had undertaken at a near sprint – at least, in one direction.
The return journey would’ve doubtless proved equally quick had Pig been around to help, but for once she was nowhere to be found.
Not even Ren’s voice had been able to reach her.
It was strange. Ren could’ve sworn they’d passed her on their way down, curled up on a patch of moss near the base of the stairs; Mushroom had been there, too, actually.
But by the time Ren had set out in earnest, the two of them had vanished.
In the end, it didn’t matter. Ren needn’t have rushed.
Pansy was well and truly occupied, having holed up in the kitchen with Blossom, where they spoke in low, hushed tones that Ren could’ve strained to hear, if they so cared.
They didn’t. Not really. The fact that they’d overheard Pansy complaining about “the kitten plan”, as she called it, not having immediately driven them from the cottage, was nothing but pure chance.
Granted, they’d smiled at it, gratified to know that their own stubbornness had proved equally maddening.
But when Blossom replied with a thoughtful, “It’s so strange that the kitten seems so taken with Ren, though.
Cats are usually excellent judges of character,” Ren’s smile promptly vanished.
Instead, there was only that same tightness in their throat from earlier, and not even the sight of the sitting room decked out in moss and wood and mushrooms, alongside the halfling rugs and hideous knitted pillows, could chase it away.
But maybe once Pansy saw it…
As luck would have it, when it came time for Blossom to leave, the two halflings took the long way around, bypassing the sitting room entirely. Probably because I’m in here, Ren thought with an oddly sour note.
From the entryway, Blossom asked, “Is it really okay if I take the rest of the cookies? They’re so delicious I’d completely understand if you wanted to keep them for yourself.”
Pansy laughed, and Ren nearly flinched, the memory of her trembling lip cracking across their consciousness.
“You’re acting like I can’t just make another batch,” she said, all warmth and openness.
“I’m sure Ren will give me some more sugarfern if I—” Her jaw snapped shut with such force that even Ren could hear it.
“Oh, Pansy,” Blossom said. “Do you want to spend the night with me in Haverow instead?”
“No. It’s – it’s fine. I don’t really care what they think of me. I know I’m not selfish or greedy or…” She hesitated, wincing perhaps, around the word. “… or a glutton. Plus, I can’t leave now. Ren will think they’re winning if I do.”
Yes, the bet. That’s what was important. Unfortunately, no matter how fervently Ren attempted to remind themself of this fact, their thoughts slid right off it, down and down into the dark morass stoppering their throat.
Guilt. That’s what it was. Like a thicket of bramble, it had ensnared Ren completely, tiny barbs digging deeper every time they tried to escape. But the truth, once acknowledged, could not be so easily discarded. It sat at the forefront of their mind, unmoved by the shifting of their thoughts.
You hurt her, it said, low and steady, as if fashioned from the earth itself. Unwilling to suffer the sting of your own shame, you turned that blade outwards instead. Gave it a new target, one even less deserving of the blame than you.
The admonishment registered with all the brutal clarity of a slap to the face, unflinching in its accuracy.
As much as Ren wanted to deny it, they couldn’t.
Because Pansy, for all her faults, her annoying habits and occasional thoughtlessness, was not a monster or a villain.
In fact, she wasn’t even a bad person, merely flawed in the way all people were.
And Ren – Ren, unfortunately, owed her an apology.
The realization sat heavy in their gut as they waited for Pansy and Blossom to finish exchanging their goodbyes – something that took far longer than it should have.
By the time the front door finally clicked shut, Ren could’ve sworn an entire age had passed.
They practically had to rouse themself, head jerking up as Pansy’s footsteps began to pad down the hall once more, keeping closely to one side. The side opposite to Ren.
So, she means to avoid me, they thought, ribcage squeezing tight around their heart. I shouldn’t be surprised.
Still, at the first sign of red hair, peeking around the corner in a familiar mess of curls, Ren called out to her.
“I’m sorry about earlier,” they said, the unfamiliar words rolling across their tongue like rocks.
“You didn’t deserve… I shouldn’t have taken my frustrations out on you like that. ” You’re a person, not a punching bag.
For a moment, Pansy said nothing. She didn’t have to. Her expression alone spoke volumes, the tired lines framing her too-stiff mouth suggesting she’d rather swallow glass than have this conversation.
Eventually, she let out a sigh and said, “I know I’m not perfect, Ren. Far from it, in fact. I let my excitement get the better of me today, and for that I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have taken your things without asking—”
“That’s not—” Ren clamped their jaw shut, words too vulnerable for present company – or any company, really – itching across their tongue. At last, they managed a strangled, “You’re allowed to drink my tea. I don’t mind.”
Pansy eyed them warily, her disbelief plain to see.
“If you’re certain… But I do want to point out that I’m trying very hard to leave the old prejudices of my village behind.
I only wish you’d afford me the same courtesy.
Why can’t we just be ‘Pansy and Ren’ instead of monoliths of our respective heritages?
It’s rather exhausting being the be-all and end-all of halflings and goblins, don’t you think? ”
“It is,” Ren agreed, their voice barely more than a low murmur.
“Also,” Pansy continued, her expression softening around a small, self-deprecating smile, “I’m a very poor example of a halfling.
” Then, as if to underscore her point, she kicked off her slippers and padded into the room, letting out a tiny sigh of satisfaction as the bare soles of her feet dragged across the soft tunnel moss Ren had so painstakingly laid down.
Well, so much for that plan…
“You know, this is really quite nice,” Pansy remarked as she settled into the old, halfling-style armchair, her toes pointedly curling into the bed of green beneath it.
“Saves me the trouble of lugging some more rugs from Haverow. I’ve already cleared out the few that were put away here in storage. ”