Thankfully, the pig’s listening skills seemed to have improved since their encounter in the forest. And though it did give her a dubious look, as if to say,You’re not fooling anyone, before trotting off, at this point Pansy would take whatever she could get.
There was dirt on the floor – in the hallway and in the living room. A whole trail of it, too thick and uniform to have simply hitched a ride on someone’s shoes. No, this looked deliberate, like someone had filled a sifter full of dirt and shaken it with every step, more heavy-handed than even the local baker, who always piled the powdered sugar a mile high. As for the culprit – well, that proved equally clear.
“Ren!” Pansy bellowed, loud enough to send whatever had been nestling in nearby fronds of bracken scampering away in terror.
“There’s no need to yell,” Ren said once she’d stomped her way into the kitchen, a narrow, galley-style room outfitted with dark green cabinetry and whitewashed paneling that had been nearly swallowed whole by the encroaching coil of some variety of plant life.
“No need to—” Pansy cut herself off with an aggrieved scoff, fury boiling red across her skin. “I have every reason to yell!You”– she jabbed an accusatory finger in their direction – “dumped a whole bunch of dirt in the house! After I told you not to!”
“I did,” Ren agreed, not even so much as glancing her wayas they pulled a wicker basket towards them from across the counter.
Pansy blinked. “Is that really all you have to say for yourself?”
“What more are you expecting?” they asked, turning towards her at last. “We both agreed that we could only add to what’s already here, and I added soil. I did nothing wrong.”
Pansy would argue that the self-satisfied curl tugging at the corner of their mouth was proof enough that they had, in fact, done something wrong. But in that moment, she could only gape, her thoughts brought to a complete standstill by the sheer audacity of it all. In what world diddirtcount as a worthwhile addition to any home?
Shaking her head, Pansy threw up her hands and said, “Fine. I’ll just clean it up myself.”
“Oh no you won’t,” Ren countered, their expression hardening. “No destroying each other’s stuff, remember? Another part of our agreement.”
“It’s dirt! It’s no one’s ‘stuff’.”
“Well, I’m telling you that it’s mine. How else am I supposed to make this place more cave-like?”
“This is a halfling burrow! It’s not supposed to be cave-like in any respect. If you want to live in a cave that badly, then just go home!”
Ren canted up their chin, obstinate to the end. “No.”
“Well, I’m not living in a house full of dirt,” Pansy declared, crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s unsanitary.”
“Good thing you can always leave,” Ren replied with a shrug. “No one’s forcing you to stay.”
“Except it’smyhouse! My grandmother wrote it into her will and everything! I can actually prove that, by the way; unlike your little story about your clan having lived here for years.Because I looked around, and this place is practically empty! Youliedto me, Ren.”
“Ah. That.” A pause, filled with the sounds of restless shuffling, of Ren turning back towards their basket and removing its contents, one by one; proof, in Pansy’s mind, that she’d caught them red-handed. At last, Ren said, calm as ever, “I didn’t lie to you. My clan has been using this cottage for decades now.”
“Then where is all your stuff? And don’t tell me that goblins don’t use furniture because that’s nonsense, and I won’t believe it.”
Ren let out a harsh breath, nostrils flaring as they cast a look up at the wooden beams overhead – seeking divine guidance or perhaps just patience. “Is there any point explaining it to you?” they asked, bitterness oozing from every syllable. “You’ve already come to the conclusion that I’m a liar, and I’d rather not waste my time beating my head against a rock that refuses to be moved.”
Pansy stiffened, not sure whether to take Ren’s comment as an insult. It probably was, all things considered – even if being called a “rock” was hardly the worst thing in the world. Still, Pansy wanted answers, not a crash course in goblin put-downs. She said, “I’m not so prideful that I can’t admit when I’m wrong.”
Ren scoffed. “You’re a miracle among halflings, then. But – fine. I only became this cottage’s Caretaker recently. Yesterday, in fact. This place used to be my aunt’s responsibility, but she – she got sick. The clan needed someone else to shoulder the burden in her stead.”
Seeing the way Ren’s throat bobbed, how it snagged on the knot of emotion that had stoppered it, Pansy couldn’t help but soften, the jagged memory of her own grandmother’s recent illness still as sharp as ever. “I’m sorry,” she said, the heat ofannoyance evaporating from her skin as quickly as the early-morning dew in summer. “Is it serious?”
“Yes,” Ren replied, a hoarse croak that spoke volumes. Far more than they’d wanted to convey, it seemed, because they immediately rushed to clear their throat. “As for the furniture, if I’d asked, my aunt would have left some things behind. But right now, she and the clan can make better use of whatever used to be here. So, I told them I’d be fine with only the necessities.”
“And the absolute barest of them at that, given what I’ve seen…”
Ren shrugged. “Goblins have all learned to make do with little. I’m no exception.”
Pansy paused, considering. “You called yourself the cottage’s ‘Caretaker’. That’s an interesting choice of words.”
“I’m sure you halflings would much rather call me a squatter,” Ren snapped, their voice sharpening once again.
“Well, it wouldn’t be inaccurate,” Pansy shot back. “But my point is that ‘Caretaker’ is an awfully weighty word. Serious.” Plus, there was something about Ren’s explanation in general that had struck her as odd. Granted, it could’ve just been her imagination, but it almost seemed like they didn’t actually want to be here. So, why stay?
