A/N: Written for the Hogwarts Houses Challenges Forum: Magical Creatures and Camp Hogwarts.
Main Prompt: Goblin, Archery
Other Prompts: (word count) 1357 words, (word) harsh, (quote) "I am free of all prejudices. I hate everyone equally", (word) always, (sentence) It will never change.
Word Count: 1357
All conversation has been translated from Gobbledegook for ease of the reader. Any mistakes in this translation were entirely unintentional.
"Gornok!" a voice cried, sounding both grated and shrill over the noise echoing throughout the Inn.
"Bodrod," the other replied, annoyance clearly portrayed by the word.
"What do you think you are doing?" the first began, finally catching up with his younger counterpart, "You will continue this battle when there is a chance we could end it?"
Gornok chuckled sarcastically, "End it? Do you truly believe that Urg the Unclean will give up so easily? No."
Sheathing his sword, Bodrod eyed his young commander, "Enough goblin blood has been spilled already. We must at least give them a chance."
"They want to side with the wizards. They want us to remain slaves to those foul beasts," Gornok spoke the words through gritted teeth, " But I for one will not have that, I - "
Bodrod raised a hand for silence and the other obeyed, "Do you not think you are being too harsh, friend? Not all wizards are the evil creatures you believe them to be. Do not let your prejudice be your undoing."
Letting out a cold laugh, Gornok shook his head at his leader: "That is not a problem, sir," the last word was spoken with utter disrespect, "I am free of all prejudices. I hate everyone equally."
His elder sighed, "That is what I am worried about."
Confusion flashed momentarily through Gornok's icy gaze, but he quickly concealed it, "Why do you fight on this side if you do not believe wizards to be in the wrong?"
Bodrod gave him a small smile, "I did not say that they are not wrong. In this situation I believe they have made a mistake. But that does not mean that all wizards are evil."
"If I could kill every one of them right now, I would do it," Gornok stated firmly, though his voice wavered slightly.
"And I believe, if you were given that chance, you would regret it," Bodrod responded, "Thankfully, though, that decision is not yours to make. Nor is it anyone's."
Gornok did not respond, but his leader could tell that the young goblin did not agree. His hand still gripped his sword and his countenance was that of one set on vengeance. This goblin's mind would not be easily swayed.
The front door of the Inn swung open and a middle-aged goblin darted inside, panting heavily.
"What is it, Riphook?" Bodrod's voice sounded over the now silent crowd, "What news do you bring?"
After a moment's pause the goblin caught his breath and looked to his leader, "They are coming. Urg and the other goblins plan to attack again momentarily."
Gornok gave Bodrod an I-told-you-so look, and brandished his weapon. The other goblins surrounding him did the same.
I hope that they live to understand the foolishness of their ideas, Bodrod thought, watching their excitement. Truth be told, he himself had been just like them at one point. It had taken an older and wiser goblin to put him on the right path. He only hoped that he could pass this wisdom on. As much as he and most other goblins hated it, they lived in a world in which wizard kind was considered the epitome of goodness. Which meant standing up while still being very careful.
"It will never change," Gornok said from behind Bodrod, "If we don't win, we will always be slaves. Always."
"You are young, Gornok. There is much that you do not understand," Bodrod replied coolly, becoming fed up with the younger goblin. Without another word he walked away, rejoining the company of older goblins from whom he had initially departed.
BANG!
As one, the company of goblins hushed, turning towards the door which had suddenly swung open. In the open doorway stood none other than Urg the Unclean, leader of the goblins loyal to wizard kind.
They were few, this group of goblins. But they had other races on their side.
"We give you a choice," Urg called in a gravelly voice, "Surrender…or die."
The words were so cliché that Bodrod almost laughed, but he knew that Urg meant exactly what he said.
What he didn't know was whether the other goblin could deliver.
The Inn was entirely silent, every goblin looking to Bodrod for an answer. He knew what he needed to say, whether or not he was certain of the answer. If he called off the attack they would go forward without him – it was a fight either way.
"Then we will die," Bodrod replied, knowing his answer to be as cliché as his opponent's statement.
The racket that followed this pronouncement was deafening. The opposing group had expected such an answer and was waiting to attack. Within a moment the sound of clanging swords filled the room. Bodrod pulled his own blade from its sheath, but no opponent was yet within his reach.
Goblins had their own form of magic, but when battling each other they preferred not to use it. Though wizards often considered this form of dueling lesser than their own, goblins saw it as the highest form of honor. To die by the sword was to die a hero.
Some considered Bodrod a coward, for having survived so many battles. The truth was not that he was afraid, but that he knew that when he fought he would almost certainly win. And the thought of killing his kindred was almost unbearable. In this way, he was different from many goblins.
If they all thought as I did many lives would have been spared, he thought, watching the fighting taking place around him. The enemy was almost on him. He would have to fight if he wanted to live.
His first opponent dropped dead after only a minute, throat sliced open. Bodrod's blade gleamed red and it sickened him.
The second lay in a heap of broken limbs and spattered blood, both arms cut at the elbow and a gaping wound in his midsection.
And then the only goblin in all the realms who might be a match for Bodrod stepped in front of him. Urg the Unclean.
"We are going to win," Urg spit out venomously, "And you traitors will all die, whether now or after spending the rest of your pitiful existence in Azkaban."
"You don't have to do this," Bodrod responded, lowering his blade slightly.
"But I do. You of all goblins should know why. Fair or not, wizards have the upper hand. Fighting them will gain us nothing."
"Perhaps it will gain us respect."
Urg laughed humorlessly, "You know so little of war."
"I know far more than you think."
The two stared at each other, only then realizing that the Inn had once again gone silent. This was the only battle that mattered. Urg the Unclean versus Bodrod the Bearded.
The winner would decide how this rebellion ended.
Bodrod raised his sword and saw, for a moment, a glint of fear in his opponent's eyes. Urg was outmatched, and he knew it.
They both did.
Is this what you want? A voice in Bodrod's head questioned, To kill their leader, to potentially cause a goblin uprising of the highest sort.
There was no easy answer. It was not a black and white question.
The goblin-made swords wielded by the two goblin champions struck each other and the clanging of metal striking metal sounded throughout the room. The battle had begun.
Up. Down. Strike left. Step right. Defend. Thrust.
Are you sure this is what you want? The voice repeated.
And now Bodrod knew the answer.
"No," he stated, dropping his sword. Urg saw his opportunity and took it, kicking Bodrod to the ground and holding his sword over his opponent's chest.
"No?"
"I won't kill you," Bodrod responded, "It can't end like this."
Urg grinned maniacally, "Then you shall die."
The two stared at each other for a moment, and then Urg raised his sword.
"Goodbye, my brother," he whispered harshly, and plunged the blade into the other's chest.
Bodrod the Bearded died a hero.