Given the sheer breadth of the market, Pansy assumed this would be something easier said than done. However, not even ten minutes later, Ren led her to a small makeshift stage – what was really a very large, worn-down stump – upon which an elaborately dressed goblin stood, hunched over a gnarled walking stick.
“How did you know where to go?” Pansy asked, careful to keep her voice low, so as to not interrupt the storyteller’s performance.
Ren gestured to the veritable sea of goblin children currently clustered around the stump-turned-stage, their eyes wide in rapt attention. “It’s easy,” they replied. “Just follow the children. They always seem to know where there’s fun to be had.”
“And let me guess, there’s nothing more fun than listening to stories about a certain goblin trickster named Aconite?”
“You know it,” they said, their lips parting around a grin.“Now, shh. She’s getting to the best part.”
Smothering a laugh behind one hand, Pansy did as instructed, turning her attention to the storyteller, whose voice swelled in anticipation of the coming climax. Although the two of them had arrived well into the story’s course, following it proved surprisingly easy. Not because the plot was especially simple or anything like that, but, rather, Pansy alreadyknewthis story. Knew it in the same way Ren had known the Wolf Banefoot halfling story she’d read to them that one afternoon.
It was strange, hearing a tale that was so familiar yet also not, with goblins in the place of halflings and a dwarven dam threatening to flood a series of caves instead of a valley dotted with halfling villages. Every time Pansy tried to lose herself in the storyteller’s performance, to allow herself to be awed by the flashpowders and the scented smokes, the way they brought to life what had otherwise only existed in her imagination, another thread of recognition served to pull her right out.
“I recognize this story,” Pansy said once the storyteller had taken her leave in a cacophony of clinking beads. “There’s a Wolf Banefoot one just like it. He sabotages the construction of a dwarven dam to save a bunch of halfling villages that would otherwise have been flooded.”
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 lessunderground, 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 halflingandgoblin? 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 thatWolf 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 fallinginto 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’llmakethem 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.”
