She shrugged. “It’s not like I didn’t have good reason to. But I think, in the end, the only thing my parents care about is my happiness. And I’m… I’m happy now – with you.”
Ren’s eyes widened, a brief beat of surprise before their features softened into something tender and warm. They smiledand said, “I’m happy too.” And Pansy knew immediately, her heart soaring higher than ever before, that they meant it.
Now, if only the rest of Haverow could see them the way her parents had.
14
Ren
“Dark lords are just wizards who refuse to wear color.”
UNKNOWN
Ren heard the festival long before they saw it. Music and laughter tumbled over the hills, rising on the wind like the twinkling of a chime, building and building until it overwhelmed all else.
Pansy had warned them on the walk over from the cottagethat halfling parties could get “a little wild”, as she’d put it – especially once they brought out the casks of ale. But nothing could prepare Ren for the sight that unfurled ahead of them, sweeping across an enormous meadow dotted with tiny yellow wildflowers.
The festival was a veritable maze of stalls and tents, all packed so closely together in a haze of colorful streamers that one would’ve thought space came at a premium. In truth, it did. Despite the meadow’s impressive size, it was barely enough to contain the full breadth of the festival. Every single scrap of free space had been put to use, plugged with tables, chairs, decorations and, of course, food. So much food.
Although Ren had been prepared for it, the sight nonetheless registered like a kick to the chest. Not even the clan’s stores at their fullest could match the sheer scale and variety on display; and here the halflings were about to devour it all in only a day.
Granted, there were a lot of them. Ren had never seen so many halflings in one place. It made sense; Pansy had said that this festival was for all of Halvenshire, which, as Ren understood it, included at least six other villages, several of which were quite a bit larger than Haverow. So, the amount of food madesense, especially for something like a festival. Ren was just… envious, they supposed.
In a way, it had been easier, hiding behind the ill-fitting veil of unkind stereotype, to discount the feeling congealing between their ribs like blackened tar as mere contempt, rather than the complex tangle of want mixed with fear. Because as much as Ren wished they could give their clan the ability to celebrate like this, they were only one goblin, and no amount of hard work would change that. This fact was inalienable, situated wellbeyond the bounds of their control, and still it felt like a personal failure, one they needed to atone for.
“Are you okay?” Pansy asked, her face, creased with concern, abruptly jutting into Ren’s line of sight.
“Fine,” Ren lied. Now was not the time to bog either of them down with Ren’s personal baggage. Nature knew that Pansy had already brought along plenty, and today her burdens were as much Ren’s as they were hers. Unfortunately, Pansy proved, yet again, far too perceptive for her own good, and so Ren added an all-too-believable “I’m just a little nervous,” if only to erase the line of discontent that had etched itself into one corner of her mouth.
“It’ll be okay,” Pansy assured them, her lips stretching into a smile. “I’m right here with you. See?” As if to underline her point, she slipped her hand into Ren’s, fingers twining together until they were nigh on inseparable.
Ren blinked, the shock of her touch momentarily overwhelming the rush of heat that sparked against their palm. “Are you sure—”
“More sure than I’ve ever been in my life.” Pansy grinned and, with one last squeeze, pulled them down into the festival proper.
Immediately, everything stilled. In her exuberance, Pansy had sent Ren’s hood flying. Now, it lay flat around their shoulders, leaving their face, their ears, the long strands of their hair, for once untangled to the best of their ability – everything about them that was innately, unmistakablygoblin– plain to see.
As all eyes turned towards them, Ren fought against the urge to retreat knotting tight in the pit of their stomach. “Pansy…” they started to say, their voice barely managing to squeeze past the unease narrowing their throat.Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea.
But Pansy’s grip on their hand only tightened. She held herchin high, marching headlong into a crowd that was about as welcoming as the roiling sea, thick with salt and scorn.
That’s right, Ren realized, eyes widening. It wasn’t Ren the other halflings were looking at; it was Pansy.
Barely hushed whispers rose from the crowd, piling up and up until they’d amassed into a deafening roar.
“Is that the Underburrow girl? What is shewearing? Is that a skull?”
“Some disgusting goblin trinket, no doubt. I always knew that girl wasn’t right.”
“You know what they say: ‘the apple never falls far from the tree’. And I’m sad to say that this tree isrotten. What happened last year with the grandmother was bad enough, but this is on another level completely.”
“Truly. We should be lucky if that goblin doesn’t immediately make off with everything that isn’t nailed down.”
“And to think I was told my fears were unfounded when I said that moving the festival from Halfend to Haverow was a mistake…”
“The Committee really should have made barring the Underburrow girl a condition for hosting.”
“Gosh, I hope my own little ones don’t turn out like that. How terrible her parents must feel.”
