A Goblin Tale

Hargax was a Goblin both in name and activity as he gnawed through the bones of his boiled fish. The trout only softened the blow of his recent conversation.

"You're too young," Jargix said.

“I’m older than you!” Hargax replied.

“And you have no experience.”

"How do I get experience if you won't let me hunt with you?"

"It's because you lack experience."

A conundrum Hargax suspected many goblins dealt with in their journey to adulthood.

He looked out to the forest clearing, his clan’s territory fringed with dense shrubbery. Crossing the threshold was only for the hunting parties, as put forth by the Elders.

A butterfly caught his attention and his mood improved, its wings fluttering in his face like an errant eyelash.

He had no time to consider how an adult would handle this situation. The butterfly took off and so did he. He ducked and weaved through thick vegetation, soon finding himself halfway over the clearing.

He looked around. He wasn’t too far from the tree line, and the butterfly taunted him.

‘The others go out there, why can’t I?’ he asked himself, bounding towards the forest like a child hunting their favourite pet rat.

Before long the sun struggled to penetrate the canopy of the strange new forest. He pressed on, following the erratic movements of the butterfly until it took rest on a large leaf. The kind of leaf used to cook a rodent over coals. Except this one smelled like pickled trash.

Hargax slowed, removing a net from his pocket. He’d not noticed a pair of eyes staring back at him from beyond the leaf, but a sharp movement startled the butterfly and Hargax. The set of eyes belonged to a human, it held a bow in one hand, the other hand reached for its sword.

“You’re on your own butterfly!” Hargax yelped as he ran faster than a goblin tailor on the eve of Jiggens Day.

As quick as he ran, the human kept up with him. In a flash they were both running through the clearing, an arrow whizzed past Hargax’s head as he stumbled on a rock. He was in the shrub, but still too far from safety. His only chance was to lose his attacker in the forest. So once again, he ducked and weaved, the smelly human right behind him. It got closer, and Hargax tripped.

The human stood over him now, sword in hand. It held it high as Hargax cowered in terror, his back to a stump and nowhere to run. A haunting smile crept over the human's face, but the smile was dashed as a familiar looking arrow penetrated its bicep.

“Nice work leading it into our trap, young one,” Jargix said, jumping from a tree and offering a hand.

Hargax grabbed it, barely noticing the human screaming as another goblin unceremoniously hacked off its head.

“Now can I join the hunting party? Is this enough experience?”

“Not yet. You’re still too young.”

Hargax screamed.