Egads, this took longer than I thought. I haven't written fanfiction…or any fiction, really, in nearly six years. I'm ridiculously proud of this one, despite the fact that I'll no doubt find it horribly embarrassing mere seconds after I post it.
Anyway, this entire story came from a halfhearted daydream I had driving home from work. The daydream resulted after I asked myself the question, "We've seen the cruelty of the Goblin King. What would his generosity look like?"
This story was my best guess.
Jareth: Sarah, beware. I have been generous up 'till now. I can be cruel.
Sarah: Generous? What have you done that's generous?
Jareth: Everything!
Emma was woken by the soft whimpering that always came just before he started wailing in earnest. She stifled a groan and rolled out of bed, quickly throwing a robe over her nightgown. The faint sounds of London waking could be heard through the window, testament to the fact that the city was still alive and standing, despite the Germans' best efforts. Emma felt a slight tinge of patriotic pride at that, but she hushed it as she entered the adjoining room.
Steven was fretting in his crib, and moments away from crying. He had somehow pulled his blanket over his head during the night, and was rocking from side to side to try and free himself, his whimpers becoming more frantic.
Emma smiled, and folded the blanket away from his face. Steven blinked comically for a second in the sudden light, eyes roving blearily before they found her face. Steven paused as his eyes focused, then his face broke into a wide, toothless grin. Emma thought that grin was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. He never smiled like that at his mother and father, only her. She picked the baby up and bounced him on her hip once or twice.
"Good morning, sweetheart. Here, hold still.." She untied the tiny bag she had knotted onto a corner of his nightclothes. Salt, to keep the fairies off and the changelings away, although the lady of the house would certainly disapprove if she knew. Steven squealed happily and waved an arm, knocking the sachet out of Emma's hands and spilling it on the floor.
"Oh, you little monster! Look what you've done now."
Emma tutted, kneeling to sweep up the salt and toss a bit over her shoulder to hit the devil in the face. Unperturbed, Steven cooed and blew a bubble. Emma rolled her eyes and smiled.
"Now, no more mischief. We have to make sure you grow up into a proper gentleman."
Emma winced at herself a little as she said that. Discouraging mischief and being a proper anything wore against her personality like an ill-fitting shoe. She had been an unrepentant hellion most of her childhood, leading a dozen or more neighborhood children in a reign of terror (or at least, a reign of major annoyance) on the unsuspecting populace. That was all behind her now, of course. Her family had been so happy when she had gotten the job as a nanny, her mother and uncle and grandmother fussing over her like a bunch of hens over a new chick. What a privileged position it was, and for such a wealthy couple, they said. A real step up for the family, and how proud they were, supporting her poor widowed mother like that, and a bit left over for gran's medication, and didn't she look fine in her new clothes. Emma did look fine (even if the clothes itched), and she was dutiful, and her family had been proud, and gran had been getting better, and then the bombs had come..
Emma shook herself out of her reverie. No. Mustn't think about that right now. Can't change the past. She was a respectable nursemaid for a genteel family now (whether I want to be or not, a part of her whispered), and she loved her young charge with all her heart. He was the light of her life.
"Are you hungry, sweetheart?"
Steven grabbed at her nose and made a burbling coo, which she took as a yes. She turned and headed out the door. She took the back stairs to the kitchen, to prevent Steven's small sounds from waking up anyone else. The kitchen was dark, and remained so when Emma flipped the wall switch. She frowned. The electricity must have been knocked out by the last attack. She walked to the stove, turned a knob, and sighed with relief at the sound of hissing gas. At least that still worked.
Emma worked quickly, boiling water, opening cupboards, moving Steven from one hip to the other as she prepared his breakfast. She noted the milk in the icebox had gone bad, and absentmindedly cursed the goblins who had no doubt caused it, reaching instead for the evaporated milk. Mary, the other servant, peered in the kitchen, frowned at the darkened lights, and left to check on the furnace.
Emma had just finished popping the rubber top on the baby bottle when a cold, clipped voice spoke behind her.
"And what do you think you're doing with that?"
Emma turned. Steven cooed and waved a hand at the newcomer. Mrs. Preslund, the lady of the house, stood in the kitchen doorway. She was wearing a silk robe, holding a half-empty glass of some sort of liquor (pricey in this age of food rationing), and seemed to be glaring at Emma's knees. Emma looked at her knees for any sign of something offensive. Nothing but her dressing gown and a pair of slippers below.
"Ma'am?"
Mrs. Preslund's mouth pursed.
"I believe we had made the particulars clear. You are to rise, bathe, and dress before the baby wakes, and only then are you to leave your quarters. You are not to go gallivanting around the house in your night things! It's not proper!"
Mrs. Preslund gave Emma's bare ankles a withering glare. Emma's stomach clenched a bit, in anger or embarrassment.
"Yes, ma'am. Steven was hungry, ma'am."
Mrs. Preslund took a sip from the glass and looked imperiously down her nose at Emma.
"You are to anticipate the child's needs, girl! We didn't mean to hire a simpleton! Remember, if it wasn't for our goodwill you'd be out on the streets starving, or dead in the rubble!"
Emma blinked back sudden tears at that. Two months into the job, one month after the bombs began, an explosion had destroyed the home where her family lived. Her mother, her grandmother, everyone…..It hadn't even been a year since then. Emma tried to control her emotions as she stared levelly back at Mrs. Preslund. How dare she. How dare she.
"Yes, ma'am. Sorry, ma'am. I didn't get much sleep because of the air raid sirens, ma'am. Perhaps if we had gone to a bomb shelter…"
Mrs. Preslund waved a hand, cutting her off.
"None of that, girl. I won't have us cowering in the dirt like animals. This silly war has everyone jumping at shadows. Now, when you're done making a mess of the kitchen, I have a few errands for you to run.."
Emma grip on Steven tightened a little as Mrs. Preslund began rattling off a list. Jumping at shadows? Her family had died! A building just down the street had been half-crumbled! Despite her constant hints, worries, and outright pleas, the Preslunds treated the danger of the bombs as if they were a particularly obnoxious distraction, irritating but harmless. Her tearful request that Steven be sent to the countryside to be safe, like so many other London children, had been met with scorn. Emma had spent most of the previous night crouched under the sturdy nursery room table, whimpering babe on her lap, waiting in terror as the sirens sang and the ground shook with faraway blasts.
Tirade completed, Mrs. Preslund swept out. Emma sighed and finished giving Steven his breakfast. A hurried wash and change of clothes later, and she walked out of the house with quick, businesslike steps, pushing Steven ahead of her in the pram.
The day was cloudy, and smelt strongly of rain to come. The neighborhood the Preslund's house stood in was gentrified, but also near several markets, and an early-morning crowd was already beginning to bustle in the streets. Emma carefully steered around some rubble, and delivered a letter to the post. She avoided a lump in the sidewalk with a "CAUTION: UNEXPLODED BOMB" sign displayed prominently above it, and picked up two loaves of bread at the baker's. Next the seamstress's, and the greengrocer, and a quick stop at the shop of Mr. Rothschild, who sold black market meat that needed no rations coupons. Then the florist.
It was almost eerie how quickly London had accustomed itself to the war, Emma thought for what seemed the hundredth time. People kept calm and carried on. None of the panic or running in the streets the enemy had most likely anticipated. No, Londoners cleaned up the bodies and stepped around the rubble and turned Underground stations into bomb shelters, and went on with life. It was just that the faces were more pinched, the footsteps were quicker, overheard conversations more clipped and tense as you walked through the streets..
Emma felt the first big raindrop splat on her cheek. She squinted at the sky and sighed, increasing her pace. Dark clouds roiled across the heavens, moving more quickly than before. It looked like they weren't going to beat the rain after all. Steven began to fuss, and Emma paused to kneel down and adjust the pram's umbrella when a rising wail, not from the baby, made her freeze. Her blood turned to ice. The air raid sirens. Emma looked up.
"No.."
Coming out of the east, flying with the storm, Emma could just make out a series of black spots across the sky, getting larger. Bombers.
With a breathless shriek, Emma shoved the pram and took off running, ignoring Steven's surprised cry. An attack during the day?!, her mind screamed. They must have been using the storm for cover!
There were shouts, and people were beginning to run. The flowers and bread dropped out of Emma's hands and were immediately trampled. Where to go? The nearest public bomb shelter was behind her, and twelve blocks away. The house was closer, and it had a basement. The black dots were nearer, and dropping what looked like tiny seeds on the city below. Emma felt the ground begin to shake and heard the first booms, mixed with the first crack of thunder. The sky opened up, and the rain began to pour.
Emma rounded a corner and slipped on a patch of mud just as the next explosion shook the ground. The pram skidded on two wheels and toppled to the side, Steven screaming inside. Ignoring her ripped dress, Emma scooped up the baby and ran, leaving the spilled pram and groceries behind her. There was a nearby "BOOM" and a crashing sound, closer than Emma had ever heard one before. A rising cloud of dust could be faintly seen through the rain, one street over. Emma slowly became aware she was chanting a breathless mantra under her breath as she ran.
"Not us not us please not us please please not us.."
One more corner, and the street loomed up in front of her, seeming to be miles long in the nightmare world she was running in. Steven was screaming, tiny fists flailing in fear. A house exploded behind them and Emma screamed, too. Her ears rang. Fifteen houses until home. Ten houses. Seven. Five. Three. Two…
There was a flash of light bright enough to blind and a sound so loud that it was felt, not heard. Emma was flung backwards by what felt like a huge hand. There was light. There was light. It hurt.
Emma squinted her eyes open. Everything was blurred, and the world was strangely silent. She was on the ground, across the street. Water in her eyes. Splinters in her hair. Splinters? The baby! He might be hurt. The baby…She looked down, and realized that she was curled around Steven, her body used as a shield against the worst of the onslaught. Steven's face was red, and his mouth was open. He was howling, but there was no sound…
Sound and sensation came rushing back in a huge WHOOMF! of stunning pain. She had hit her head, and everything sounded hollow. There was a crackling noise as something burned. The ground shook and there was another "BOOM," off to the left this time. The bombs. The house. Emma looked up.
The house was gone. In its place was a hole and a pile of burning rubble, a piece of hell brought up from the depths. Clutching Steven to her chest, stumbling as the ground shook again, Emma got to her feet and shambled across the street. It was gone. No one could have survived. The house was gone. Emma made a noise halfway between a scream and sob. There was another explosion down the street, the shaking knocking Emma forward. She landed heavily on her side, taking the full weight of the blow, trying to keep Steven clear of the ground. Emma stared wildly at him through the rain. Steven. No. She had to get him away, get him to safety. Where? The house was gone. There was nowhere to go. She had to get him away now.
Be careful what you wish for around babies, child... Goblins will steal a baby away to their king in a twinkling…
One of her mother's many bits of superstitious advice swam up in her mind through the fog. She had to get Steven away. The house was gone. The explosions were getting closer.
"I..."
Be careful what you wish for…steal it away, turn it into a goblin, they will, mark me words…
Steven. The explosions were getting closer they were getting closer they were coming back…
"I wish…"
Careful what you wish for…
Emma stumbled to her feet and held the baby up to the stormy sky.
"I wish the goblins would come and take you away right NOW!"
There was a jagged streak of lightning, a deafening crash, and then an even more deafening silence. Noiselessly, the blanket that baby Steven had been wrapped in unfurled, revealing a bundle of sticks and leaves that crumbled to the ground. Emma stared. The world seemed to have been slowed to a crawl. Raindrops fell in front of her at a lazy creep, suspended in the air like pebbles in gelatin. Flames turned and danced with aching slowness in the wreckage of the house.
Ears echoing, Emma turned her head. A small, scurrying shape flashed out of view. She heard quick footsteps behind her, and turned. Another fast-moving shadow disappeared. There seemed to be whispers and faint tittering laughs all around her, just barely at the threshold of hearing.
Something made Emma turn back to the burning rubble, in time to see a hand reach through the slowly-dancing flames and leisurely part them to the side, like someone drawing back a curtain. A man stepped through the gap.
He was tall, pale, dressed in some fantastical outfit from a storybook. Leggings, leather doublet with strange decorations adoring it (bones? Were those bones?), high-collared cloak made of some half-rotted, wafting material. His hair was a wild mass, his brows swept up like the wings of a bird and were oddly colored. The eyes below regarded her coolly. Some might have considered him handsome. The air seemed to have a different weight around him, as if he was a solid piece of reality walking through a dream. Emma began to shake. She couldn't help it. Here was everything her mother had been warning her about since she was a toddler, standing in front of her, real as stone.
"Y……y…you…....you………"
The man lifted an eyebrow, the slightest of smiles quirking up the corner of his mouth.
"I?"
Emma swallowed. Her throat clicked.
"You are the Goblin King." A statement, not a question.
The man bowed with a flourish, evidently enjoying her reaction. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and he regarded her with a look of amused indifference.
"And you are the woman who wished away her son to me, forever."
"He's not mine," Emma spoke without thinking. The man's eyebrows rose and his smile vanished. Emma flinched and looked away.
"I…I mean, I'm his nanny, not his mother. I….," Emma looked back at the Goblin King, tears beginning to come, and spoke in a sudden rush.
"Please, he'll be safe, won't he? He'll be safe and healthy and happy, please, you'll turn him into a goblin and he'll be safe, right?"
The Goblin King's eyebrows lowered, giving his face a hard, unreadable expression.
"You would give a child to me freely, one that is not yours to give, so that I may turn it into a goblin? Why? For revenge? To use me as a weapon against your employers? Or…perhaps you simply tire of your duties?"
Emma wasn't looking at him, wasn't listening to the clipped tone. She had spotted something, hidden in the rain, perhaps thirty feet almost directly above them. A black, elongated shape, smooth, oval, and moving at a glacial creep towards the ground below. Her trembling increased. So close!
She pointed at it.
"That," she quavered, "is a bomb. It would have…it will land here in a moment, and explode, and….that's what happened to the house, his parents are dead! That's what happened to the house, you're standing in it!"
The Goblin King's eyes narrowed, and he looked around, appearing to take notice of his surroundings for the first time. Emma gabbled on, fear and nerves not allowing her to stop.
"There was an air raid, another one, I told them to go to a shelter, there's air raids all the time now, it's the war." Emma briefly wondered how much a creature who seemed to have stepped out of a fairy tale would know about modern wars, bombs, or airplanes, but continued on regardless. "They call it a world war, the second one, the whole world has gone mad and is killing each other, there's bombs falling every other day and…and it's not safe for him! It's not safe for baby Steven, please, he can't stay here, our families are dead, we have nowhere else to go! Please! Keep him safe! Please!"
Tears were running freely down Emma's face now. The Goblin King was looking at her again, expression still unreadable, although there was perhaps a softening around the eyes.
"Well, now, this is an interesting change of pace," His tone was suddenly light, almost jovial. He began to circle Emma, eyes never leaving her. "Most children wished away to me are done so through lost tempers, slips of the tongue, idly spoken incantations, accidents. Not often is one given to me so…openly. Most seem to think the childrearing abilities of goblins to be suspect."
Emma wiped an eye and swallowed.
"But…they won't…he'll be…"
"Safe? Of course. Safe, happy, and healthy as any young goblin. He'll be curdling milk and stealing keys in no time. Or perhaps, considering the circumstances of how he came to us," here he looked skywards, and Emma noticed with a sickening lurch in her stomach that the bomb had fallen closer, perhaps now only twenty-five feet away. "Perhaps he'll join the new group causing mischief on the warplanes. Gremlins, I believe they're calling themselves now. "
So he does know about bombs and airplanes, some distant part of Emma whispered. The rest of her blinked back more tears as the tightness in her chest seemed to ease a bit. Even if the bomb would kill her, Steven would be all right. She closed her eyes and bowed her head.
"Thank you."
Emma waited for time to resume and the bomb to come. Several moments passed, the tension growing with every second. When the Goblin King's voice broke the silence, she was so startled she had to bite back a yelp.
"Our exchange is not quite done yet, I'm afraid."
Emma's eyes flew open. The Goblin King was leaning nonchalantly against one of the columns that had, until recently, supported the roof over the front door. The fire danced with hypnotic slowness behind him. Emma glanced up. The bomb was still held in the aspic of the air.
"In dealings such as this, it is customary that I offer you a trade," he waved a hand, and a small crystal ball materialized out of nowhere onto his fingertips. He rolled the ball briefly over his hand, giving it a considering look, then, with another flick, the crystal disappeared. "Or a challenge."
Emma stared, uncertain of how to react.
"A…challenge?"
The Goblin King smiled. He stood straight, and began to pace briskly.
"Yes, a challenge. My castle lies past the goblin city, at the center of my labyrinth. Reach it within thirteen hours, and you will win back the right to keep the child-"
"I don't want that."
"I know. But reach my castle, and I will let you see the baby one last time."
Emma took in a ragged breath. One last time…she had never said goodbye, she suddenly realized. The thought of seeing him again, even though she had held him not ten minutes ago, nearly broke her heart.
"And…I will give you a gift."
Emma blinked.
"A gift?"
"Exactly. So, the challenge it is, then," the king strode past her, his mind seemingly made up. Emma whirled after him, mouth open to ask another question…and her mouth stayed open. In front of her…below her, really, as she seemed to be standing on a steep hill, stood the most gigantic maze she had ever imagined, stretching to the horizon. There was no sign of the bomb, or the storm, or London. At the maze's distant center was a walled city, and at the center of the city was a castle stretching into the sky. Emma boggled. The Goblin King stood a little ways in front of her, and pointed towards the castle.
"In there, you will find my throne room, where some of the less repulsive of my subjects are watching the baby as we speak. Reach it within thirteen hours and you'll have your reward."
Emma took a shaky breath, still not quite believing what was in front of her.
"And if I don't reach it in time?"
The king shrugged.
"Then I will return you to your world and your time with my heartfelt thanks, and my assurance that your young charge will be kept healthy and safe in my kingdom."
Back to the bomb, Emma's mind whispered. She hushed the thought with another. I'll be sent back either way, my fate's decided. At least this way I have a chance of saying goodbye.
Mind made up, Emma nodded slowly. The Goblin King grinned, mismatched teeth giving him a look of sinister glee.
"Excellent." He took a step backward and began to fade, the outlines of the rocks and scrub visible through his body. His voice rang out one last time, echoing strangely.
"Then, Emma, I shall be waiting for you in the castle…if you arrive in time."
And he was gone. Emma stared at the spot where he had been, and several thoughts began to appear in her mind, slowly, as if they had come through a great ; magic was real, her mother's stories were real, this was real. Two; she might have just done something very foolish. Three; she had thirteen hours left to live. Four; she had never told the Goblin King her name.
Emma let these thoughts bump around on the inside of her head for a few moments, then took a deep breath, setting them all aside. All of those things didn't especially matter right now. She had chosen a path, and there was nothing left but to walk it. She nodded once, set her mouth in a line, and started marching towards the wide wall at the bottom of the hill.
The wall was taller than it looked, close up, and there were no visible openings. Emma craned her neck to look at the top, then looked to the left. Some tattered-looking flowers crawled up the wall here and there, and there was the odd stone plinth or statue, as if the place had tried to be a garden once but had given up. Everything, wall, plants, even the flowers seemed to glitter strangely.
"It ain't over there, you're looking the wrong way."
Emma jumped, and turned. She looked blankly at the empty space to her right for a moment, then looked down. The owner of the voice was a short, stout man who looked like a grumpy, wrinkled potato. He wasn't looking at her, instead seeming to be searching the nearby ground for something. He appeared to spot what he was looking for, and began to stomp on what looked like a snapdragon with every sign of satisfaction. The flower let out a piteous squeal. Emma blinked.
"What? And what are you doing to that plant?"
The potato-man glared up at her, then turned back to searching the ground.
"Pest extermination, of course. Gotta get 'em when they're small, or else they grow up and start biting anybody walking by. And the gate's behind you."
"But dragons don't come from…flowers don't….," Emma paused as the last thing he said registered in her mind. She turned, and sure enough, there was a gate in the wall directly behind her, even though she could have sworn it wasn't there a moment ago. She hurried towards it, giving the creature one last confused glance. He appeared to be stomping another snapdragon into submission, and was grumbling some nonsense to himself.
"First he tells me don't tell nobody nothin' unless they ask it right, and then it's just point the way to the next idiot girl to come by. Stupid way t'run things, but no, nobody ever asks me what I think."
Emma shook her head and went through the gate. Beyond was a long corridor, running as far as she could see in either direction. She turned back to the gate to ask the grumpy potato-man another question, but the doors closed before her with a resounding boom. She paused, then squared her shoulders and set off to the left, which looked as likely a direction as any. She had been walking for nearly fifteen minutes when she paused, looked thoughtful, then reached a hand out towards the wall on her right. She nearly fell forward when her hand went past where she thought the wall was, and she quickly stepped into the newly-revealed doorway. She smiled.
That was lucky, she thought. I might have been stuck in that corridor forever if I hadn't seen that little creature run through the wall right there.
An hour later, Emma was beginning to suspect that her luck was more than just…..well, luck. Some passageways suddenly became dead ends the moment she set foot on them, forcing her onto a certain path. Whenever she couldn't decide between two paths, some unseen person would hit her with a pebble or whisper "Over here!" in one of the two directions, and she seemed to have much easier going when she followed the hints. When she was faced with a riddle involving two doorkeepers, one of whom always told the truth and one who always lied, she was certain she heard a small voice coming from under the stones yelling what sounded like "Youwitdablinkitywokkityheadannatakenaright!" After she had fallen down a shaft lined with hands, several of the hands formed a face with large finger-eyelashes, and a surprisingly feminine voice called out, "Ready? One, two, three, hup!" With a "Hup! Hup! Hup!" from other hand-faces, Emma was quickly lifted out of the tunnel and deposited back on the ground.
It all seemed much too easy. Emma sat on a stone bench and took off her horrible, too-tight shoes. It couldn't be this easy. It was almost like the Labyrinth was helping her. And since the Goblin King ruled the Labyrinth… Emma began to contemplatively massage her poor, blistered feet. Well, she thought, why wouldn't he want me to win? He was going to get the baby either way, she had told him as much.
Maybe….Emma stopped rubbing her feet for a moment as a new thought entered her mind. Maybe the labyrinth challenge was just a formality in this case, a requirement that had to be observed. Fairy tales were always full of strange requirements like that. Three days to guess the dwarf's name. Eleven shirts of nettles to sew to save your brothers. Three pairs of iron shoes to wear out before your true love is found. Emma frowned. But that couldn't be all of it, could it? He had also mentioned that he could just give some sort of trade, but he passed that over and went straight to the challenge before Emma could think to say a word. Then why? Did…was he giving her more time, an extra thirteen hours before she had to go back to the bomb? That didn't sound like something a goblin would do.
Emma was startled out of her reverie by movement to her left. She jumped up, and saw what appeared to be a mobile mound of rags slowly shuffling towards her. After a confused moment, she made out a wrinkled mustached face and realized the figure was an old man. Or possibly a very old-mannish goblin. Either way, he looked fairly harmless. She cleared her throat.
"Um…excuse me…"
"Huuuhnnn?," The old man ponderously turned his head towards her. The movement was copied, much more quickly, by what Emma had thought was a strange chicken-headed hat.
"Woo-woo! We have company!"
Emma blinked. The hat had a Spanish accent.
"Hnnn..," the old man blinked slowly, and focused on Emma. "Yes, what can I do for you, mmm, young lady?"
"I..um, I…...," thrown off balance by the new arrivals and the question, Emma's mind quailed. She hadn't been allowing herself to think about what had happened, she'd just kept herself moving. But now that she'd stopped, it was all finally beginning to hit her. The air raid, the house exploding, losing baby Stephen, her family gone, her home gone, the bomb waiting for her upon her return... To her horror, Emma realized she was suddenly on the verge of tears. Her voice shook.
"I,I need….I…."
The old man's eyes widened a bit, and he shuffled towards her at a slightly faster pace, arm out to guide her back to the bench. He sat beside her heavily.
"Now, then…hmmm…young lady, what seems….to…be..-"
"What's the matter?," The man's hat asked, evidently not patient enough to wait for the old man to finish asking his question. He glared up at his hat and continued.
"-be…the matter?"
Emma rubbed her eyes, swallowed, and started talking, slowly at first, but then telling the pair everything that had happened, from getting the job to the start of the war to the bombs to…here. The hat interjected every few sentences with a comment or question, which Emma tried to respond to while the old man yelled at the hat to be quiet. Twice, the old man seemed to fall asleep, but when Emma would stop, he would open his eyes and ask her to continue.
"…and even if I survive the bomb, I have nowhere else to go. My family is gone, my home, everything I ever owned or loved.."
"Hoo, you got it bad, seester."
"Quiet!," the old man glared up at his hat, then slowly leaned over to pat Emma on the knee. Emma blotted her face with her sleeve, trying to dry the flow of tears.
"Sometimes….when we think….everything is lost…..there is everything to gain."
Emma looked at him with red-rimmed eyes, confused. The old man continued.
"And when….we think….we have lost something forever, that….is when we find it."
He gave her one last pat on the knee, then settled back, head drooping. In a matter of seconds, soft snores started coming from under the mustache. The hat looked down, then looked at Emma.
"And I theeenk…that's all you're getting. Please leave a contribution in the leetle box."
Although he still seemed to be sleeping, the old man held out a wooden box with a slot on the top for coins. Emma looked at it blankly for a second, then began patting her apron, before she remembered it had no pockets. She had dropped her threadbare purse with the rest of the groceries when the air raid started. She looked at her feet in their worn stockings, then reached down to pick up her leather shoes. They were too tight, anyways.
"Um…I don't have any money, but would you like these?"
The hat perked up and made an interested noise.
"Si, si, very nice! Gracias, señorita!"
Emma put the shoes on the bench next to the old man, then stood up, brushing her skirt. Oddly enough, and although she didn't believe a word of it, the old man's words had comforted her, a bit. She picked a likely-looking path and started walking again, stocking feet making whiffing sounds against the stones.
It was later, although Emma could not tell how much later. The sun didn't seem to be moving in the sky, or if it was moving, Emma had gotten so turned around that she couldn't tell if it was rising or setting. She had dropped down trapdoors, tromped through tunnels lined with glowing mushrooms, gotten completely lost in a forest of talking trees, and had fallen in an ornamental pond.
She was also, unexpectedly, having fun. In fact, if it hadn't been for the circumstances that brought her here in the first place, Emma suspected she would have been having the time of her life. Here was the sort of world she'd been wanting her entire life, full of magic, and danger, and utter nonsense, and no bloody rules about propriety. Her stockings were more hole than cloth now, her skirt was fluttering about her knees in rags, and every inch of her was covered in mud. Emma hadn't had a chance to be properly dirty since she was a child, and she was reveling in it. When her horrid apron got caught on some thorns in the talking forest, Emma tore it off and then gleefully stomped on it a few times for good measure. She'd been grinning for five minutes after that, until she remembered why she was here, and what was to come. That stopped the grin quickly.
It didn't kill the grin, though. That grin had the sneakiest way of sliding back onto her face when she wasn't expecting it. After she had tricked a surly talking gate into opening for her, for example. Or after she had met a group of three goblins and led them on a merry chase through a bit of the maze, eventually ending with the three goblins all chasing each other in a circle around a huge statue and Emma two courtyards over, trying to stifle her laughter. Or after she met of wildly-dancing, fire-colored creatures that could take their heads off as easily as she could take her hat off , which was how she tricked them, as well. She had waited until no one was looking, quickly tucked her head into the neck of her dress, then tossed her silly floppy maid's cap into the bushes and yelled for someone to find it. In the great rush to help the "little lady," as they called her, Emma was able to make good her escape. The grin was a slippery, devious thing that didn't know it wasn't wanted, and came back whenever Emma let her guard down.
It hadn't been around for the past hour or so, however. Although Emma had no idea of the time, she felt like she had been walking for ages, and her strength was beginning to waver. It didn't help that her body seemed to have sped past mere hunger into a gnawing, nauseated dizziness. The land had segued out of forest into a sort of boulder-heavy, rocky scrubland that cut Emma's feet and tripped her every few moments. The goblin city was closer than ever, though, and the castle as well. Emma felt a new point of pain between her toes and sat, groaning, to dig the pebble out of her stockings.
"Well now, how are you enjoying my labyrinth?"
Emma jerked her hands away from her stockings and whipped her head toward the voice. Leaning against one of the massive boulders, looking as if he had been waiting there all day, stood the Goblin King. Emma blinked a few times, and tried to swallow, although her mouth was bone-dry from thirst.
"I…it's…,"Emma blinked again and the grin was back, stealthy and devious and suddenly taking control of her words. "It's amazing! I've never seen anything so…I've never dreamed anything so…it's wonderful, there was a tunnel made of hands, and the riddles made of doors, or maybe it's doors of riddles, and there was this trapdoor leading down into a room that was covered in purple glass that reflected rooms that weren't there, but I found the way out hidden behind a-"
The Goblin King raised his eyebrows and looked slightly amused at Emma's sudden torrent of words. He crossed his arms and listened, nodding in recognition at her description of creatures or places, and pinching his nose briefly when she told him of how she outwitted the goblins. Emma excitedly prattled on for a few minutes before she remembered where she was, and who she was talking to, and why.
Treacherous, double-crossing grin, she thought. She tried to swallow again, and looked at her feet, embarrassment and fear fighting for control now that the grin was subdued.
"And…and, well, anyways….I've gotten this far. I might make it."
"Indeed," said the Goblin King, standing straight and sauntering slowly towards her, taking in her ripped clothes, bare feet. "You might. You have come a long way, Emma. You must be tired, hungry."
Emma remained silent, staring at her feet. A gloved hand holding a crystal suddenly waved beneath her nose, and Emma jerked up. The Goblin King was standing right before her, closer than he had ever been. Emma took a step back and tried not to yelp. His eyes were mismatched. She hadn't noticed that before. The king seemed unconcerned, and rolled the crystal once in his hands before tossing it to her.
"Here."
Emma caught it without thinking, then looked at what she had caught. A peach. Her eyes went back to the king. He gave a slight bow, an enigmatic smile playing about his lips.
"With my compliments."
With that, he walked behind a boulder. Emma waited a beat to see if he would reappear, then looked behind the boulder herself. There was no one there. She looked at the peach. It was perfectly ripe, and smelled delicious. She took a bite.
It was the most glorious peach she had ever tasted. Her hunger and thirst seemed to melt away with the sweet taste. Quickly, Emma finished the rest of the peach, dropping the pit on the ground behind her. As she walked away, she didn't notice the pit dissolving in a puff of glitter any more than she had noticed that her feet were no longer bruised or bleeding.
The walls of the Goblin City loomed over Emma, promising and foreboding all at once. Picking a path through the great junkyard just outside the gates had been difficult. The trash seemed half the leavings of the city's inhabitants, and half things from Emma's world, things forgotten or lost, and coming from all eras of time. Emma could swear she had seen a rotting Spanish galleon half-buried under a pile of bicycles, and when she had come across a bomb shell from her own war, she began shaking so badly she had to sit down and put her head between her knees for five minutes.
But she was here! Emma felt a surge of exhilaration at making it to the gates. The feeling was quickly replaced by dull dread. But…she was here. One way or another, her journey was almost over. She would see Stephen, she would say goodbye, and she would be sent back.
"….Well, I'm not giving up now."
Emma was surprised by the words, and even more so after realizing they had come out of her own mouth. No, she wasn't giving up. She had come this far, she had seen proof of real magic, she had bargained with the bloody king of the goblins to save the life of a child, and she had been having a damn good time for the last few hours, too! There were worse ways to spend the last day of your life. All that was left was saying goodbye. Shoulders squared, Emma strode up to the gate.
The gatekeeper seemed to be sound asleep, and Emma was able to slip in silently. There was an inner gate, but no one appeared to be guarding it. Emma walked past the huge inner doors, which seemed to have some kind of odd sculpture on them, and saw the goblin city close up for the first time.
It looked like a picture of a fairytale village, but scaled to smaller sizes and half falling over. Goblins bustled about everywhere, and Emma allowed herself a few moments to gawk. There were so many! Any none of them looked the same. Goblins nearly as tall as she was, goblins that hardly came up to her ankle, gray goblins, green goblins, one pompous-looking pink goblin, goblins that had faces like birds, goblins that looked like pigs or dogs, goblins that looked like giant mouths with eyes and legs, goblins that looked exactly like goblins, and goblins that looked nothing like goblins, goblins nearly naked and goblins in full battle regalia, more kinds of goblins than Emma could have ever imagined, and they were all yelling, running, loitering, buying, selling, fighting, and kicking chickens right in front of her.
It took a few moments before the first goblin noticed her. A squattish, large-nosed goblin wearing a horned helmet spotted Emma and dropped the fish he was sniffing in surprise.
"Hey! It's a girl!"
A grubby goblin in oversized spiky armor slapped Helmet.
"I told you I was a girl, idjit!"
Helmet pointed insistently at Emma, who was now staring at three goblins who seemed to be trying to stuff a fourth goblin into a bucket, much to the fourth goblin's irritation.
"No, there! It's a human girl!"
Spikes squinted at where Helmet was pointing.
"No, it ain't. King woulda told us if there was a girl coming. It's just Spubb in a dress."
"Spubb ain't that tall! And where's her tail?"
"You calling me a liar?"
"AAAAAAAUGH!!"
Helmet and Spikes started attracting attention when Helmet tried to use the fish to beat off the smaller goblin and Spikes counteracted by attempting to eat Helmet's weapon.
"Gerroff! That's cheating!"
"Mmf-mrrr-MRNGG-gnnnm!," Spikes retorted through a mouthful of cod.
"Yeah, get 'im!"
"Anybody know where he got that fish?"
"What's going on?"
"Leggo me fish! And that ain't Spubb!"
"It's a fight!"
"Great! Whose side're we on?"
"AAAHHHH! MY RIBS!"
"Mnng-NGGN-mummbb!"
"Hey, who's the tall girl in the dress?"
"Who's chewing my legs?!"
"I CAN'T SEE!"
"Mgnn-MFFMM!"
"A girl? Whut?"
"Fight! Fight! Fight!"
"Is Spubb wearing a dress again?"
Emma slowly became aware of the crowd's growing interest in her, and she realized (a bit too late) that she shouldn't have spent so much time looking around. Half of the crowd in the courtyard was staring at her now, looking as if they were unsure whether to attack her or not. She couldn't get stopped now, she was so close! She began to slowly edge towards a street that seemed to be heading towards the castle, but goblins quickly moved to block her way. Something was niggling at the back of Emma's mind, something about the goblins, the way they stared, they way they spoke and stood around idly hitting each other and arguing constantly, something about the goblins seemed so familiar…
"Outta da way! I wanna see!"
"King didn't say nothin' 'bout no girl."
"MRMMF-MMNN-GNMMGGN!"
"Gerroff me head!"
"Dere's a baby in da castle, I saw it. Dat means dere's a girl or somefing around."
"The girl's in the fight? Whose side is she on?"
"Hey lady! Whose side are you on?"
She nearly burst out laughing as the realization hit her. Children! They acted like children! Smelly, noisy, destructive, violence-prone children, but that wasn't anything new to Emma, former leader and de facto den mother of the Crudley Street Terrors. The devious grin had snuck its way back onto her face. She knew this. This was her element.
Emma pointed to a thickset goblin wearing a helmet with only one horn.
"I'm on his side."
"You are?," One-horn looked surprised, then pleased, then nervous as the other goblins started sizing him up.
"His side? Wut?"
"Hey! How'd she get on his side?"
"King didn't say nothin' 'bout no girl."
"Get off my foot!"
Emma shoved a chicken off a nearby barrel and clambered up on top of it. She raised a hand.
"All right! Everybody who wants to be on the winning side, raise your hands!"
Most of the goblins instantly raised their hands, except for those fighting, out of earshot, or slow to react. Emma nodded, grinning madly.
"Right, you're with us. ATTACK!"
Emma leaped off the barrel, pointing at those who hadn't raised their hands. With a happy roar, the mob of goblins immediately rushed at the luckless others, and within moments, the entirety of the courtyard was an all-out brawl. One-Horn in particular looked pleased, as most of the goblins were following him into the thick of the fray. Emma threw a few buckets and a chair indiscriminately, then ducked down behind an overturned wagon and made a dash for a nearby alley. Two goblins just inside the alley gaped at her. Emma pointed towards the sounds of mayhem behind her.
"Hurry up! You're missing the fight!"
They both beamed and ran out of the alley, yelling. The grin was nearly threatening to take off the top of Emma's head. It had worked! She hadn't had this much fun since she was running the Terrors! And now she knew how she was going to get to the castle.
With a mad little giggle, Emma ran farther into the city. She dashed and darted and occasionally yelled and strutted her way through the goblin city, instigating fights, creating factions, adding chaos, and slipping away just as things got out of hand. She arrived at the castle stairs in what seemed like no time, and had to dodge out of the way as a squadron of guards crashed down the stairs and were immediately engulfed by an oncoming goblin horde. Emma skirted around them and sprinted up the stairs, taking them two at a time.
The doors to the castle had been left open by the guards, and Emma slipped inside. A vast hallway stretched in front of her, corridors peeling off to one side or the other along its length, none giving any hint of where she was supposed to go. Emma nearly quailed at the sight when she heard a noise to her right. She turned, and seeing a well-used hallway, started down it. The hallway became a set of stairs that suddenly opened out in an oblong room, with a circular pit in the center and lined with goblin-sized balconies. The balconies, the pit, and all the corners of the room were full of goblins, but Emma's eyes were on the raised throne directly across from her. Lounging on it, gazing into a crystal, managing to look amused, annoyed, and bored all at once, sat the Goblin King.
He looked up as she ran into the room, and Emma skidded to a stop, accidentally kicking a goblin into the pit amidst yells and cheers. The king raised an eyebrow, rose in one smooth movement, and began to walk towards her. Emma swallowed and tried to stop panting. She was suddenly aware of her appearance, how her dress was pretty much rags at this point, her hair a bird's nest of muddy curls, her stockings just a web of strings. She could nearly be one of the goblins laughing and jostling and muttering around the edges of the room. Emma tried not to think about her looks, or what would happen next, or the bomb, or anything besides the fact that she had made it. She raised her chin and waited for the Goblin King to come to her.
He stopped a few feet away and looked her up and down, amusement and annoyance still together on his face.
"Well, now. You've solved my labyrinth. You've also annoyed the gardener, got the fierys on a rampage through the forest looking for your head, and managed to incite the largest riot the goblin city has seen in the past three months."
Emma flinched to the side as the king walked past her to look out the room's one window, showing the chaos in the city below. He continued, voice steady and light.
"I believe there are currently twelve buildings reported destroyed, five major explosions, one priceless statue obliterated, and..," he rolled a crystal onto his palm and briefly checked it. "…forty-eight fires currently spreading."
Emma winced.
"No one's hurt, are they?"
The king gave her a Look.
"They're goblins, Emma. It would take more than a small city rampage to put a dent in them. Still, I must admit that I'm impressed," He flicked his hand, making the crystal disappear. "You seem to have a way with goblins."
Emma swallowed and shrugged.
"They're like me old…my old gang back on Crudley Street. Just kids looking for a good time, really." She straightened her shoulders and looked the Goblin King in the eyes.
"I'm here, though. I'd like to see the baby now."
"But of course," the Goblin King gestured towards his throne, and Emma's heart leaped as she saw a cradle half-hidden behind it. "You have earned your reward."
Emma wasn't listening. She was rushing forward, shoving goblins to the side, ignoring shouts as others scrambled out of her way, running to the cradle, pulling back the blanket…and there he was, sleeping soundly. There was a crystal nestled by his head, and a few black feathers clutched in his pudgy fist. Carefully, so as not to wake him, Emma lifted the baby out of the crib and held him to her chest. He made the smallest of sounds and nuzzled into her shoulder. The world turned blurry. She was dimly aware of the curious crowd of goblins around her, but none of that mattered. She had Steven.
"Girl got the baby. Girl never gets the baby!"
"She gonna take it? I like that baby."
"No, king said we keep it!"
"Lemme see!"
"Is that Spubb? Spubb is a girl?"
"Hooray! New baby!"
"Get off my helmet!"
"AAARGH!"
"Girl's face is leaking. Is she broken?"
"I think the baby looks like me!"
"You're too ugly! He's got my elbows."
"What's baby's name?"
Emma looked up. That last question had been asked by a particularly tiny goblin with huge ears. It had climbed up on top of the king's throne to get a better look, and was level with her shoulder. She smiled, paying no attention to the tears running down her cheeks.
"Steven. His name is Steven."
The big-eared goblin furrowed his brow.
"Steeb?"
Emma nodded. The goblin nodded too, grinned, and reached down to pat the baby's head.
"Good Steeb."
The pat woke Steven, and he gave a slight gasp and a whimper as his eyes opened. His gaze roved around for a moment, and he looked like he was about to start crying when he saw Emma. He stopped. His eyes focused, and he gave a wide, toothless grin. Emma felt her heart break again, and she hugged him.
"Forever, Steven," she whispered. "Love you forever. Please don't forget that. Love you forever, no matter what."
The baby wiggled happily in her arms, and one stray fist hit her in the nose. She smiled and lifted a hand to gently push the fist away. As she lowered her hands, she saw the Goblin King, leaning against his throne and watching the exchange. She wiped her eyes with one hand, and wordlessly held Steven out to him. The king took the child and looked at him for a moment with surprising tenderness, then met Emma's eyes.
"He will be raised with the same care you would give him yourself."
Emma nodded. She felt…calm. Distant. She had fulfilled her purpose, accomplished her quest. What would happen now, would happen. The king reached into the cradle with his free hand and took the crystal lying there. He rolled it briefly across his fingers and presented it to Emma.
"For you."
Emma blinked.
"What is it?"
"A crystal," the king replied, rolling it back and forth over his hand. "Just a crystal, nothing more. But if you turn it this way, and look into it, it will show you your dreams."
The crystal stopped rolling, and he held it out. "Do you want it?"
Her dreams….Emma took a breath. This was it, then. A final comfort. She could spend her last few minutes lost in her dreams, and maybe then…maybe she wouldn't even notice the bomb when it came. She took the crystal. It was surprisingly light. The Goblin King's voice was quiet, and low.
"Look into it."
Emma held the crystal up, turned it, and looked. The background noises seemed to fade. For a moment, there seemed to be nothing, but then, there! The reflections on the outside of the crystal seemed to be moving….they were people. People, moving inside the crystal. People she knew. Emma squinted, and as the tiny room and the tiny people in the crystal began to come into focus, she barely heard the Goblin King's last whispered words.
"And let nobody say that I cannot be generous."
The people seemed to grow before Emma's eyes, and one in particular seemed very familiar. It was a woman, wearing a faded blue dress, hair tied back with a kerchief. As the woman grew clearer, Emma felt an enormous rush of unidentifiable emotion.
"Mama?"
The woman turned, and let out a cry of delight, and suddenly she was holding Emma in her arms, hugging her so tightly Emma couldn't breathe.
"Emma, sweetheart, finally! They said you wouldn't make it, and I told them, I said, 'Don't you talk about our Emma that way, she's a handful but she's a good daughter,' I said. Florence! Florence, come see who it is!"
Another woman bustled over, wiping her hands on a dishcloth. When she saw Emma, her face cracked into a wide grin, the very image of Emma's own, and she threw her arms around the girl.
"Emma, dear! Where have you been? Oh, now, never mind, come over here, we're getting everything ready."
"Aunt Florence?," Emma wavered. She felt unsteady, like the ground was tilting under her. "But…didn't you die in the explosion?"
"Oh, now, don't be silly, child," her mother took her arms and guided Emma farther into the room. Emma heard her aunt close the door behind her. "Your great-uncle Mark invited us to the country right before Christmas, you remember Uncle Mark, don't you? We weren't anywhere near when those bombs hit. It's no wonder you didn't get our letters, the post is a mess these days. Mama, look who it is! Our little Emma, she's finally made it!"
Emma's chest hitched as her grandmother turned and exclaimed over her. She looked old, but healthy, and was wearing the same ragged shawl Emma had made for her when she was twelve. She looked around the cottage…it was a cottage, she saw now, and the English countryside outside, green and peaceful. How could she have forgotten Uncle Mark's country home? And hadn't her mother mentioned spending Christmas in the country months ago? Why hadn't she gone with them? How silly to have forgotten and made a big fuss over nothing!
"Mark, come look who's finally here!"
And here was her great-uncle Mark now, and Uncle Joseph, who was on leave from the army, and all those silly rumors about him being killed in France were just that, silly rumors.
"Is that little Emma? I was beginning to worry she wouldn't make it!"
"Oh, shush, Emma's a good girl and this is the opportunity of a lifetime," her aunt Florence shooed Uncle Joe away. "We're all so proud of you, dear!"
Emma grinned widely and wiped her eyes as her family gathered to fuss over her.
"-can't believe the luck, really, it's such a-"
"-how big you've gotten! Good thing you got here on time, or we'd have to send ol' Flo in your place, eh?"
"Now, none of that, Emma was born for this job, mark me words, you've seen how she is around those kids, and they're nearly goblins themselves, so I says-"
"What happened to your dress, sweetheart? No, no, never mind, we have some proper clothes, here, Joe, help me with the packages-"
"-so proud of you, Emma! And for a King, too! This is a feather in the family's hat, I'll tell you-"
"-look so beautiful now, and tough as nails to boot!"
Emma, blushing and grinning, accepted the congratulations and praise. The atmosphere was electric, and she couldn't help but feel excited, although she couldn't quite remember what she was excited about.
"I still can't believe this is happening. It's like a dream come true!"
"It's real enough, Emma. Now let's come over here and try on your new clothes, hm? They're the newest fashions in the goblin court, I've been told!"
Emma let herself be led behind a screen while the menfolk politely looked in the other direction. The clothes were perfect, tough leather breeches, a long tunic and belt decorated with scraps of feathers and fur and tiny skulls, a bit of armor about the shoulders, everything she could have wanted. They felt like clothes she'd been born to wear.
"-and don't worry about a thing, dear, His Majesty is paying for the house, Gran's medication, everything. All our worries are over!"
"Hired by the King of the Goblins hisself, can't believe it!"
"How do those fit? Not too tight? Good, now try the jacket, you might get cold, you never know."
"Oh, look at you! Uncle Mark, Joe, turn around! Isn't she a sight?"
"Looks like she could be a goblin herself, she does! Now, don't you worry about us, girl, we're all taken care of, His Majesty saw to that."
"Yes, you don't have to worry about us anymore, sweetheart," this last was from her mother, who took Emma by the arms and pushed her daughter up straight, looking her in the eyes. "We're all fine, we're alive, we're proud of you, and we love you, Emma. You never need to worry about us again. Now, shoulders back, hold your head up high, go to the King, and don't look back. This is your dream, Emma."
Emma nodded, beaming. Her shoulders were squared, her head was high, and her chest was full to bursting with excitement. She gave everybody one last hug, then turned and opened the cottage door. She stepped through.
Her foot landed on the stone floor of the Goblin King's throne room, which was full to bursting with the usual rabble of goblins. A ragged cheer went up when she was spotted, and one of the goblins threw a chicken into the air in celebration.
"Girl here!"
"Spubb is a girl?"
"That's not Spubb, that's Emma!"
"HOORAY!"
"OW!"
"New girl new baby YEAAAAHAAAY!"
"Embagirl is here!"
"Get off my head!"
The king, lounging in his usual place on the throne, regarded Emma with a smile. Barely able to contain her own smile, Emma strode over, stepping around goblins and detritus, and bowed before him.
"I am here at your service, Your Majesty."
The king nodded and motioned for Emma to rise. He looked over her new outfit and gave a small smile of approval.
"You are to be my new Warden for the young goblin horde. They can be a handful, but you've been highly recommended."
Emma nodded, and grinned.
"I have a way with kids, Your Majesty. The wilder, the better."
The Goblin King grinned back.
"I don't doubt it. Now," he slapped the riding crop he was holding on the side of his throne. "Your duties. You are to watch over and care for any young, parentless goblins in my kingdom. Keep them fed, clothed, and away from anything too breakable, at least in the palace."
He waved a hand lazily in the air.
"Keep them busy. Do some mischief, lead raids, steal socks from people's washing….use your imagination, Emma, I'm sure you'll think of things."
Oh, Emma would think of things. Ideas were already beginning to percolate in her head, and her hands itched to try them out. Lost keys and spoiled milk were only the beginning. What had the king said earlier about goblins on the warplanes? And there were so many ways to cause mischief with new technology.. Her grin grew a bit toothier.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
The king nodded, looking pleased.
"You'll have full run of my Labyrinth, of course. I'll arrange for someone to tutor you on little things like disappearing, moving between worlds, and chicken tossing. Oh, and one more thing," the king reached down and picked up a small bundle by his feet. It was wrapped in a blanket, and moved a little. The king held it out to her.
"Your first charge. I trust you'll raise him well."
Emma took the bundle and lifted the edge of the blanket. It was a sleeping goblin baby, still a little pink and pudgy, although its ears were pointed and it already had a fine set of claws. A small, large-eared goblin sitting on the back of the king's throne reached down to pat the baby's head.
"His name Steeb," he announced with an air of importance.
"Steeb?," Emma asked, furrowing her brow a little. Why did that name sound familiar? The small goblin nodded. Emma moved a little to the side, so that the light fell on the baby goblin's face. The baby made a small sound and opened his eyes.
Steeb blinked comically for a second in the sudden light, eyes roving blearily before they found her face. Steeb paused as his eyes focused, then his face broke into a wide grin which already had a few pointed teeth poking out of the gums. Emma thought that grin was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.
"Good morning, sweetheart," Emma grinned back. "Now, let's go do some mischief. We have to make sure you grow up into a proper goblin."