A day as a Goblin

Introduction

We all have our places in the universe, we all serve a purpose, but do we all understand and respect each other’s way of living and meaning of life?


The fan-favorite, high-posh elver Carøe forced himself to get a full understanding of the Goblins. He sacrificed a whole day out of his comfort zone for the greater good to provide personal experiences to his beloved High Queen.

This is his scroll of how he lived as a Goblin for one day.

The scrolls of Carøe to her holiness The High Queen:

An everyday report to understand the living at Yellowrod, under the title of:

“A day as a Goblin.”


To my beloved High Queen. I sincerely excuse the delay in this report. A justification will follow.


There has been a truce for 5 years now after the Goblin war and the death of the Human King his majesty the White King the Fourth. The extraordinary Human known as Amir has founded a knighthood under his stepbrother’s name, theWhite King the Fifth.

Together they have redeemed balance and even the Goblins are authorized to visit King City as… ehm… tradeable species and with that I wish to lecture myself with a deeper knowledge of the Goblins


To research them I had occupied myself at the dreadful Ursanias Human place called Helga’s Inn. It is the last resort before entering the Goblin Wasteland and is run under the management of the only Ursanias Human here (gladly for that). Here I could monitor the Goblin’s activities with some safe distance. Princess Elvira thought that I should have an escort, but I’m not afraid of one single Human, and you specifically had instructed me to be closer to my source and not only rely on my informants.


While I was observing the Goblin stronghold in the wasteland distance and struggling to figure out if the Goblins were starting a civil war or just having fun, I found Helga trading with some of them behind her house. (Note: How can uncivil people have a civil war anyway?) Helga and the two Goblins were speaking in confidentiality as she was selling them a big sealed chest for an unusually large bag of gold. Helga promptly changed the subject and introduced me to her “friends'' and my project.


Goblins are not used to any kindness or open-minded people of their ways of living. They got thrilled that I, a high-class Elver of the supreme race, was willing to understand them. What happened next was a blur to me, I failed to recover my full memories to report how in the good name of the Moon Dragon they made me follow them to their stronghold. But they did.


I remember that I was confident, walking over the wasteland knowing that my report will be the fullest, as I was about to get a closer look at their living. But I could also feel fear and how my connection to my moon magic faded as I walked further and further away from the forest. I kept an open mind, peace has ruled for five years after all, and all people here at Yellowrod have become closer and closer to each other after the past Goblin war, even the Human Helga was trading with Goblins but with what, I unfortunately never found out.


The Goblins were cheering and greeting me and my two companions as we came to the Goblin Stronghold. I felt like a homecoming King. They were all curious and happy about having an Elven coming to them, as this has never happened before. I was unsure if this was a trap, but the overwhelming mixed feelings made me forget about any logic and I was surden that they would not harm me intentionally at this point. I felt like I had no additional choice.


A Goblin came to me and looked at my scrolls. It asked: “Elf-man not know how Goblin live?”

I tried to lower my vocabulary to its understanding and answered: “The task of gathering knowledge is within my possession to bring forth the only true ruler, her supreme majesty The Elven High Queen. This scroll is under development to understand the living of the species known as Goblins. Also, may I lecture you that “Elf-man” is not any polite indictment, but an insult and a disgrace of the Elven noble race that I am a member of.”


A great silence washed over the Stronghold. I had triumphed over their brain capabilities and I expected them all to submit under my present. It was a joy to see their empty eyes of low IQs. I even remembered one Goblin in the back fainted.


Unfortunately, all good must end at some point, and it ended with the Goblin Shaman named Globerg stepping out of a tent.


The silence became even a greater vacuum of silence. Even the sounds of the waves against the cliffs seem to be swallowed by an empty vacuum. The Goblins' eyes turned away from me and focused only on the Shaman.


This I report to you my High Queen, there is no doubt that the regular Goblin is independent-thinking, but there is a hypnotic power overruling them from the Shaman. He does not ask or force for power, he is power. His entire aura is filled with darkness and power. Wherever he is present, fear will overtake any emotions you may have. You only feel yourself lesser than him, even if it isn’t the truth.


Globerg approached me. “Elf-man makes Goblin silent, Globerg not like silent Goblin, Goblin must make noise and chaos. If Elf-man wants to know how Goblin lives, then Elf-man must stop being an Elf-man. Elf-man must become Goblin.”


I feared my life, I was locked in anxiety and had no control of my body. This was when a miracle happened out of nowhere, the most embarrassing and un-civil gestures appeared as my savior. I, Carøe, The High Queen’s official reporter, released the loudest and largest abundance of flatulence for any Elver to have accomplished in the history of the universe under the duty of your holy name. I made a fart. I apologize again for the delay in this report, but please understand my sceneries of staying true, which made me wait until I had the nerve to bring you this.


As this action is in deep contrast to any Elven, and some Human civilizations, it is not an uncommon gesture of greeting for the Goblins. They all cheered and they all started to make silly noises and went back to whatever chaos they were performing.


The Shaman smiled grimly, turned his back to me, and walked into the tent he came from together with my two Goblin companions and the mysterious chest from Helga’s Inn. He then spoke the word as he conjured dark magic from the sealed chest:

“Glober most powerful Shaman. Globerg tell you this. Elf-man not Elf-man anymore. Elf-man is now Tall-Goblin. If Tall-Goblin leaves before the moon is back in the sky, then Tall-Goblin will die. If Tall-Goblin makes Goblin silent, then Tall-Goblin will die. Globerg welcome Tall-Goblin to his Stronghold. Globerg wish Tall-Goblin have good death now, bye bye.”


I feared that he might have cast a spell and had transformed me into a Goblin, but he had not. I had not changed appearance, but the Goblins’ reality had changed. They did not see me as an Elver, but rather a tall Goblin.


Imagine having that kind of power over your people, changing their reality just by telling them what you want them to believe. The Shaman controls their entire reality by his presence alone.


The Goblin that had asked about my scrolls now asked me: “How Tall-Goblin has Elf-man scroll???” Then it snatched them from me and ran away.

I felt that I had enough information collected for one day, and needed a bath too. I had to leave.


But as I walked out of the gates, I started to suffocate, my life-essence was draining and I felt death coming. I was in panic and misbelief that the Shaman had altered my reality too as I was laying in the dirt trying to crawl away from the taxing air outside the Stronghold, it could not be true, could it?. The Goblin guarding the gate angrily dragged me back into the stronghold. “Stupid Tall-Goblin no listen to Globerg, Tall-Goblin makes stupid death,” it said as another Goblin laughed. “Me Goblin show Tall-Goblin good death,” it said right before kicking one of the large Wild Hogs from their farm so hard that it squealed like nothing I had heard before. The Goblin then just pulled its own tongue at it as the heavy creature rampaged with madness towards some tents and random buildings. Every Goblin from the Hog’s path of destruction ran for their lives. When the hog finally stopped, a Goblin shouted: “Who kick Hog?” and the Goblin next to me who started the trouble answered loudly: “Tall-Goblin kick Hog!” Then every Goblin made a path where they all kicked the hog to angrier it even more and decanted it towards me. I could feel the beast's eyes solely on me as it tumbled towards me. The Goblin next to me just stood still, proud and welcoming the beast's rampage.

“Now Tall-Goblin have good death.”


Without magic, but with pure adrenaline alone I ran. I ran for my life around the entire Stronghold, tripping over various fireplaces as the Goblins started to make bets on my life instead of helping me. I can not report to you for how long the beast was changing me, but I soon gave up and collapsed with my face first in a pool of mud. The Goblins cheered insanely; I have broken a Hog-run record apparently.

I was rewarded with as much gold as I could carry from all the betting Goblins. They made me a hero and carried me on their shoulders. I then saw that other Goblins had been injured and some even had died in my path of escape. I felt grief and sorrow and asked them to put me down again.

I looked at the chaos I was responsible for and started to apologize from my heart. The Goblins listened, and some even got emotional, they saw life just as I saw it. They went silent, as one said, “Damaged Goblins was stopping Hog from killing Tall-Goblin to win bet.”


Suddenly I started to suffocate again and I felt air quickly escaping me. The reality from the shaman was real: if I left before the moon was up or if I was to make the Goblins silent I would die. I had to live as a Goblin, I had to make chaos or I would die.


In panic I took a wooden board and smacked it on my face, just to feel that I was alive and to break the silence. My muddy face made a fine print of my face on the board, and the Goblins saw this as a fine way of making portraits. They all started to mud themselves and wanted me to smack boards in their faces to make family portraits and whatnot.


The rest of my day, I lived with them as the tall-face-smacker-Goblin. The moon finally came up in the sky and I felt its wonderful presence. I looked around me. The Goblins saw me as the Elven I am. A Goblin came with my scrolls that I had lost. “Me Goblin steal Elf-man scrolls from Tall-Goblin, to give back to Elf-man, now Elf-man can go home.”

They all waved at me as if we were the best of friends. As I left the gates of the Stronghold,

I too felt a connection, and I see the Goblins in a new way that I did before. They are not evil, they are just Goblins I suppose?


My dear High Queen, I fail to bring you any higher point of understanding or summary of what I have or not have learned from my experience. I will let you decide what good use my report may be to you. I have simply been your true reporter of my data collected of the Goblins here at Yellowrod.


-Yours, Carøe.


Together with this scroll, Princess Elviara Isabell has made her own scroll that should be delivered together with this scroll. I have sent the two scrolls together with the Moon Ship in a sealed box. I do not know the context of the scroll from Elvira, but it is important that it is taken in the context of my scroll, I was told.



Scroll of Princess Elvira Isadbell of Elvenland at the Island and Kingdom Yellowrod under the rule of the Human King The White King the Fifth.


Please Mother, for the sake of everyone's sanity do not ask Carøe to do any field operation ever again. Let him operate with my Foxes as his informants.


-Elvira.