Chapter 15 Pansy #4
She half-expected Ren to make another wry comment about halflings helping themselves to every good goblin idea, but they were surprisingly quiet, their brow furrowing, as if lost in thought.
At last, they said, uttering words she never could have predicted, “What if both stories are true? As much as goblins and halflings proclaim to hate one another, we do often end up living rather close to each other. So, it’s entirely believable that a dam like the one in this particular story could flood two sets of homes at once, one underground and one… slightly less underground, I suppose.”
“That’s a fair point,” Pansy said, now thinking too. “And you’re right: at the end of the day, what really is the difference between a burrow and a cave?”
“Humidity,” Ren answered with a smile. “No way we could grow our moss and mushrooms half as well in a burrow like your parents’.”
“Some of us do have cheese cellars, you know,” she pointed out, not unkindly. “Not only are they much cooler, they’re also rather damp.”
“Great,” Ren drawled. “So, we goblins can go live in a halfling cheese cellar. Wonderful. I’m certain my clan will be positively jumping for joy at the suggestion.”
“All right, all right,” Pansy said with a laugh.
“I’m just saying that all these differences we’ve made such a big deal about over the years, maybe they’re not actually that significant?
Take Wolf Banefoot and Aconite, for example; if they were able to be this ragtag goblin and halfling duo, why can’t the rest of us find common ground too? ”
Ren was quiet for a moment, then they said, “I’m actually suggesting something far more radical – at least, when it comes to Aconite and Wolf Banefoot. I’ve been thinking about it since you read that first story to me. What if…? What if they’re the same person?”
Pansy’s eyes widened. “You mean he’s both halfling and goblin? Is that even possible?”
“Children of mixed heritage have been born within the clans. Though, as far I know, none of them have had a halfling parent.”
“I suppose that makes sense,” Pansy admitted after a beat, her face coloring as an image of a child bearing a mixture of her and Ren’s features sprang to mind. “But why conclude that Wolf Banefoot and Aconite are the same person, instead of two close friends working together?”
“The halfling and goblin versions of these stories aren’t just similar – they’re practically identical, especially when it comes to the hero himself.
If this was actually a case of two different people working together, I feel like there’d be more differences.
Subtle ones, to show a change in perspective.
Because no two people are going to think alike, no matter how aligned their goals might be.
Also,” they added, their lips parting around a long, slow smile, “the names are too on-the-nose for any other possibility. Aconite? Wolfsbane? It’s all the same plant. ”
Pansy’s eyes widened. “Really? Oh, gosh. You’re absolutely right! I can’t believe I didn’t notice that.”
They shrugged. “In your defense, you’re not the one who enjoys gardening.”
“Hey! It’s growing on me. That being said, there’s one thing I’m still getting snagged on.
” She tapped a finger against her chin. “What about the stories where Wolf Banefoot fights against other goblins? Because if he is a goblin – or part-goblin, rather – why would he fight against his own people?”
“To free them,” Ren replied, seemingly surprised that this conclusion hadn’t occurred to Pansy. “No goblin should have to serve under a dark master.”
“Oh.” Pansy ducked her head, her face heating in an all too familiar way. “The Wolf Banefoot stories never talk about that, so I didn’t realize – sorry.” She chewed on her lip.
“It’s okay,” Ren said with a shrug too stiff to convey the nonchalance they were doubtless going for.
“But I do wish the assumption that goblins want to fight on the side of Evil wasn’t so ingrained; this idea that it’s ‘natural’ for us, so we shouldn’t be upset or disappointed when a loved one does end up falling into a dark lord’s service.
If it was, I wouldn’t be working so hard to keep members of my clan from making that sacrifice. ”
Pansy’s breath caught in her throat, her eyes going wide.
If things were truly so dire… Something hardened inside her chest, the fires of her determination solidified.
“I’ll go back to Haverow, talk to my parents.
Blossom, too. Maybe we can get more seeds or convince some of the younger residents to open up their own pantries.
No halfling likes seeing anyone go hungry – not even goblins. ”
Ren sighed, their shoulders already slumping in defeat. “As nice as that sounds, Pansy, I don’t really know how much good it’ll do. They didn’t want to listen to you earlier at the festival. What makes you think this time will be any different?”
“Because this time I’ll make them listen,” she replied, hands balling into fists at her sides.
Whatever future she and Ren had, it couldn’t be cobbled together from hopes and dreams alone.
This time, she wouldn’t run, not even to spare her own feelings.
Plus, if Ren was right – if Wolf Banefoot and Aconite were the same person – then that was proof enough that what she wanted with Ren was possible, and that alone was worth fighting for.
Ren watched her for a moment, seemingly searching for cracks in the armor she’d forged from her own resolve, then said, “Thank you. I’m sorry if I sounded ungrateful.
I’ve spent so long trying to shoulder every burden on my own that I’ve forgotten how to accept help from others.
Even now, it feels like a failure on my part, relying on someone else. ”
“It’s not a failure,” Pansy assured them. “That’s why we have friends, family”– partners, her brain unhelpfully supplied – “to share the load. No one will think less of you for it. I certainly don’t.”
Ren let out another breath, their shoulders dropping another fraction – this time from relief rather than hopelessness. “You’re right. My clan’s been saying the same thing for years. Maybe it’s about time I started listening.”
I think we’re past the point of “maybes”, Pansy was about to say, when a heavy stone plunked down into the ground beside her, sending a flurry of damp earth spraying halfway up her skirt.
Letting out a yelp, she jumped right into Ren’s waiting arms, their foresight nothing short of blessed.
Without them, she would surely have a whole lot more mud on her person.
“Sorry!” called out a voice from somewhere higher up. Turning, Pansy found the largest goblin she’d ever seen peeking over the edge of a nearby slope with an embarrassed grimace twisting across his lips.
A goblin, it turned out, Ren recognized. “Please, no,” they groaned, casting a pleading look up at the ceiling.
Unfortunately for them, their prayer went unanswered.
As if summoned, the goblin’s gaze swiveled to focus on Ren instead.
“Ren!” bellowed the goblin, his expression parting around such unadulterated glee, Pansy might have found it sweet had he not just single-handedly ruined her skirt. “I’ll be down in a second!”
“We need to run,” Ren whispered in Pansy’s ear, their arms still keeping her upright. “Quickly. Before he catches up.”
“Why? Who is he?” she asked, unable to tear her eyes away from the goblin’s mad dash towards them, punctuated by several shouts of surprise, a half-collapsed tent, and the distinct sound of glassware breaking.
Grim-faced and full of distress, Ren only said, “My cousin, Thorn.”
“The weird one?” Pansy managed to ask before every last mote of air was forced from her lungs, the world devolving into a strange, indecipherable blur as she found herself swept up alongside Ren into a great, near-bone-crushing hug.
Not even the most impassioned of halfling grandmothers could hold a candle to the sheer power of this display.
“We can’t… breathe,” Ren managed to choke out after a handful of seconds without reprieve, prompting their assailant to relax his grip at last.
“Oh, sorry,” said Thorn, setting the two of them back down. “I got a little over-excited there.” Then, turning to Pansy, who was in the process of smoothing out the front of her mud-spattered skirt, now freshly rumpled at that, he added, “I’m Thorn, by the way.”
“Pansy,” she said, flashing him a small, slightly nervous smile as she folded her hands primly across her front. Her skirt, unfortunately, proved a lost cause.
“I know.” Thorn grinned. “Ren’s told me all about you.”
Pansy’s eyes widened. “They have?” she asked, darting a look at Ren, who studiously managed to avoid her gaze.
“Mm-hmm. Sorry about the wayward stone, by the way. I promise I wasn’t aiming for you – or anyone else. I entered tonight’s moss-put competition, and, well, obviously I ended up with a slippery one.” He grinned sheepishly.
Pansy blinked. “Moss… put?”
“It’s a goblin sport,” Ren explained, though not before they shot their cousin one last dirty look.
“The goal is to throw a moss-covered rock as far as possible. Sometimes, the moss is sticky; sometimes, it’s slippery; sometimes, it’s dry and springy.
Depends on the variety. You never know what you’re going to get until the rock is in your hand. ”
Pansy looked at the slope and then back down at the rock, still embedded in the earth. “Is this far?” she asked, gesturing towards it.
“I believe Thorn was supposed to throw it in the opposite direction.”
“You caught me there,” he said with a chuckle, lifting a hand to scratch at the back of his head.
“Hey, uh…” He darted a worried look behind him, where the swell of discontent left in his wake was growing louder by the second.
“Why don’t we go up to my stall and talk there?
I need to be getting back anyway. Bad for business to be closed for too long. ”