Chapter 32

He’s Like, Bronze or Something!

“Well that sucks,” I said.

Thrush helped me move barrels and furniture around while he tended to the next few rounds of smoked swordfish.

“There’s nowhere to put anything,” I continued. “I can’t very well leave things outside. Not if they need to stay warm to ferment. This is a disaster. I’m running out of room.”

The cellar was packed with gourds, a couple of firkins, shelves and sacks of food, and a few barrels. The cabin was full of the remaining barrels. Thrush was hunched over in the corner of the cellar. I held up a small candle over his shoulder. His ears switched, zeroed in on sounds I couldn’t hear.

“Mice?” I said.

“Not mice,” Thrush said.

He stood and dragged out one of the barrels filled with cabbage. When he turned it around, a huge hole was revealed. It was nearly the size of one of Thrush’s eyes. Shredded cabbage had fallen from the hole when Thrush moved the barrel. I moved the candle to get a better look and discovered dozens of teeth marks along the edges of the hole and in the cabbages.

“Damn. Not only did I lose a barrel, but cabbage too. This isn’t good,” I said.

“Food is very important for you during the winter. Isn’t it?” Thrush said.

“As a human, yea. I need food to survive the winter.”

“I’ll stay with you for the winter. We can go fishing together and smoke all the fish we want. That way you won’t die of hunger.”

“That sounds good, but I’d like to enjoy the food I spent all year planting, growing, and harvesting.”

“The stuff you put in soup?” Thrush said.

“And salted fish, don’t forget,” I said. “Speaking of…”

I lifted the lid off the barrel of salted fish and nearly fainted. It had been nearly 75% full, and now there was nothing but a single skeletal fry at the bottom of the barrel beside another large hole. I ran a hand through my hair in frustration. Thrush put his paws over the lip of the barrel and peered inside.

“That’s not a lot of fish, Hawkin. You can survive all winter with those bones?”

“They’re… They’re all gone…”

“Don’t worry,” Thrush said. “We’ll go fishing today. We can celebrate our catch with a new beer, perhaps.”

“We have to find where they’re coming from,” I said. “If they’re not mice, what are they?”

“Besties,” Thrush said. “Blue Besties.”

“Blue Besties? We need to block where they’re coming from,” I said.

Thrush sniffed out the hole and I shoved a pane of scrap metal over it. Then we scooted one of the 15.5 gallon barrels and placed it against the pane.

“That oughta do it,” I said.

Thrush laughed as he climbed the ladder and hoisted himself up out of the cellar. I handed him the candle, then made my way up to make some breakfast.

While the smells of onion, cardoon, and squash filled the cabin, I checked on my fermenting beers. The barrel was still going strong. The lone bottle that was dry hopped with white hops was slowing down. A smaller column of white smoke rose from the partially covered neck of the clear bottle. The ceiling was covered with rippling white smoke. Thrush and I had watched the mesmerizing effect for hours last night.

After our meal and a mug of horrendous goblin spit beer, Thrush and I went to chop some wood from the old oak that still slept in the woods. On our third trip of logs, Thrush dumped them all by the wood pile behind the cabin and raised his snub nose to the air.

“Grab your axe,” he said. “Goblin Freebooters.”

I hesitated long enough for my brain to process what he’d said. Then I dumped the logs from my arms and bolted into the cabin for my axe. I came out in time to witness dozens of goblins advance through the forest and up the path from the sea.

Thrush casually strode toward them and I followed a few paces behind. The goblins stopped. All were shorter than Thrush except for one with large black boots. He wore a tattered canvas dress tied around his waist with a leather strap. A stained canvas bandana drew attention to his large, gold ring, pierced ears. He cleared his throat and gulped. All the other goblins stepped back and cast nervous glances at their taller leader.

“I am—” The leader said, voice cracking. He cleared his throat once more and tried again. “You there!” He pointed at Thrush. “You—we—King—Now you listen to me! You stole our ship and cost us many lives! I d-d-d-demand that you return our ship!”

“No,” Thrush said.

“Or else!” The goblin leader said.

“It’s that way,” Thrush said, pointing with a stubby paw down the path he’d plowed.

“T-that way?” The leader said.

“Yes,” Thrush said.

“We didn’t see it in the water, or ashore.”

“It’s in pieces in the woods.”

“Pieces? Is the harpoon still there?”

“Would you like to try my new smoker?” Thrush said. “I made a beautiful smoker for smoking meat. You’re just in time.”

We’ve just pulled the last round of smoked swordfish from the smoker. There was nothing else to smoke.

“Just in time,” Thrush repeated. “What’s your name?”

“Captain FlyBooger.”

“Would you like to be the first to see how the smoker works, FlyBooger?” Thrush slowly said.

“We just want the harpoon turret!” FlyBooger said, getting angry and raising his voice. “You’re surrounded. There’s no need for battle. Our numbers speak for themselves.”

Thrush’s ears switch backwards. He turned and I followed his gaze back at the cabin. At least a dozen goblins were exiting my cabin, carrying various goods. Eight of them had managed to get the still fermenting barrel of beer out the door and were just putting it on its side. The bunghole cover came off and beer began glugging out. The goblins shrieked when they noticed we’d seen them. All of them dropped everything, except for the eight who began madly rolling the barrel away. Thrush sprinted after them, but snatched up a goblin who’d gotten in the way instead. Thrush ripped the goblin in two. My soul shrank when I heard the goblin’s spine simply crack apart. The barrel of beer was out of sight by then.

“ATTACK!” FlyBooger hollered.

Unlike Thrush, I tried not to kill the goblins. Thrush moved as fast as the wind, mostly swallowing goblins whole. As his stomach filled up, goblin arms began dangling out from his throat and clutched at his fangs.

I used the butt of my axe to knock goblins senseless as they swarmed me. Kicking them was successful, but also earned me a few knicks and scratches from various tools they wielded as weapons, or claws. The fight lasted long enough for Thrush to have taken out several handfuls of goblins. His belly was so large now that he had to waddle around, his speed awesomely unimpeded. Thrush’s carnage petrified the rest of the goblins. When he’d caught and held FlyBooger upside down by the ankle, the rest of the goblins suffered from a sudden fear and all receded to the perimeter of the clearing.

After a mighty, fur shaking, eye wobbling burp, Thrush lifted FlyBooger up so they were face to face. A digesting goblin’s hand reached out of Thrush’s mouth, through his teeth, and clutched at anything it could grab for dear life. The upside down collar of FlyBooger.

“FlyBooger,” Thrush said. “You’re going to sit down with us. We’re going to have a chat.”

“P-p-please don’t eat me,” FlyBooger said, gazing into Thrush’s maw. “Pleeez. I’ll do anything. Anything!”

“I’m looking for something,” Thrush went on. “Maybe you’ve heard of it. A Fable Stone.”

“F-f-fable stone? King GloomGlower has some. He gives them to accomplished goblins as rewards.”

“I want one,” Thrush said.

“GloomGlower won’t part with it so easily.”

“Which ship is GloomGlowers?”

“They’ll kill me if I tell you! I’ll be dead either way!”

“Maybe there’s a way where no one has to get hurt,” I said. Both looked at me. The digesting goblin’s hand relaxed and fell limply between Thrush’s long teeth.

“Put me down, please,” FlyBooger said, very near to tears. “If you spare me, I’ll do what I can to help.”

Thrush dropped the captain. Rising to his feet, FlyBooger sighed in defeat and said, “King GloomGlower loves to barter. That’s how he’s got the biggest fleet. That’s how we got all the ships and knickknacks. More than any other goblin army. Harpoons too. He’s not happy to lose a harpoon.”

“Barter,” Thrush said.

“Yes. He loves to barter.”

Thrush looked at me. His eyes throbbed and pulsed for a moment.

“I’d like to barter with this GloomGlower,” Thrush said.

“I can arrange that,” FlyBooger said. “I don’t think it’ll work. GloomGlower is a high leveled King goblin.”

“What rank is he?” I said.

“Pshh. He’s like, bronze or something,” FlyBooger said with wide awestruck eyes.

“We’re going to sit down and enjoy some beer and smoked fish,” Thrush said. “Do you like beer and smoked fish, FlyBooger?”

FlyBooger nodded perceptiply. He gulped and licked his lips.

“Well it’s up to Hawkin. This is his cabin. We’ll have to see if he’ll let you come in.”

“As long as you promise not to eat him,” I said.

“Promises,” Thrush said, contemplating. “The first promise I ever made was that these goblins won’t be trouble for you. I’m going to work on that promise before I start adding more.”

I sighed, but appreciated the integrity.

“You’re now a guest in my home, FlyBooger,” I said.

“W-what are you going to do to me?” FlyBooger said as Thrush ushered him towards the cabin. FlyBooger picked at his nails as he walked, hunched over in fear.

“Like I said,” Thrush said. “We’re going to talk. You’re going to tell me everything you can about bartering with your GloomGlower King. We’ll drink some beer and eat some smoked fish.”

“C-can we start with food and beer?” FlyBooger said.

Thrush laughed with his entire body. “I’m already one step ahead of you!”